Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,132
for once in his life, couldn’t he have listened to me?
The verdict came as no surprise: Harry was found guilty, after he argued that preserving the realm from strangers was not treason. The Earl of Arundel, who had arrested Northumberland, sentenced Harry to death. He was to die on February 23.
I pleaded for Harry’s life, but more, I am ashamed to admit, for form’s sake than out of affection; in my grief and anger, I truly did not care much whether my husband died. Yet a more impassioned plea would probably have not met with any better result. I heard nothing from the queen until the morning of February 22, when she sent word that if I wished to see Harry before his death, I could.
“Should I go?” I asked Adrian Stokes, who sat preparing a list of horses and stable goods I hoped to keep for myself and my daughters.
“You are thinking of not going, Your Grace? It may have been his last request.”
I winced at the reproach in his voice. “I cannot forget that it is his folly that brought us to this. If only he had listened to me.”
“He is the father of your children. The lady Jane loved him dearly.”
“She was the only person who meant anything to him, I think sometimes. And his stupidity killed her.”
“Your Grace, if you do not go and wish him well, you may forever regret not having made your peace with him in this life.” I shook my head, and Master Stokes continued. “You know that is true, or you would not be asking me for my opinion. Go, my lady. He and you will both be better for it.”
I sighed. “Will you go with me? I do not think I can face the Tower by myself.”
“I was going to offer to accompany you, Your Grace.”
***
Harry sat at a table, reading, when I was shown into his cell. Before his rebellion, he had been tending toward stoutness; now, he looked thinner and coughed when he spoke. His doublet was torn and dirty. It must have been what he was wearing when he was caught hiding in a tree. “Is that all you have to wear?” I said as he rose.
“I’m saving my best for tomorrow. It’s not much better, but it’s clean.”
“I will have some things sent over for you this afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
I looked around the chamber. Save for a few books—some, I supposed, sent from Jane’s rooms after her death—it was comfortless. I could have at least thought to inquire about my husband’s material needs after he was taken prisoner. “I would have sent some of your things here to you earlier, if you’d asked for them.”
“I didn’t want to trouble you.” Harry looked at the ground. “Truth is, I wasn’t sure you’d come here today.”
“I wasn’t sure, either.”
“I know you must hate me for what I did. Trust me, I hate myself for it. It never occurred to me that Jane would be in danger.”
“It should have.”
“Yes.” Tears were running down Harry’s face. “I saw her die, saw her pay the price for my folly.”
“You watched?”
“From beginning to end.” He indicated the window seat behind him. “I could see everything from there.”
For the first time, I realized Harry’s chamber looked directly onto Tower Green. I glimpsed Jane’s scaffold, still standing, before I quickly turned my head. “The guards made you watch?”
“No. I made myself watch. It was the worst punishment I could think of, other than having to swing the axe myself.” Harry wiped his hand against his eye—he had no handkerchief—and continued, “I saw Guildford walk to the scaffold, too. They were both so calm, Frances. They’d looked more uneasy the day of their wedding.” He reached for a small prayer book that was lying on the table. “This is what Jane brought to the scaffold. I can’t give it to you. Jane inscribed it to the lieutenant, as he had become fond of her, and he will be keeping it for himself. But there are two messages there for me, one from Guildford and one from Jane. I keep reading them. They have brought me indescribable comfort.”
Harry turned to first one page of the book, then to the other.
Your loving and obedient son wishes unto Your Grace long life in this world, with as much joy and comfort as ever I wished to myself, and in the world to come joy everlasting. Your most humble son till his death.