Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,57

you, but I suppose it’s best that you know. The Duke of Somerset is plotting against me.”

“John?”

“It is true. He has been discontent for some time, I knew, about being just another member of the king’s council, and we have quarreled over matters of policy, as well, but I did not believe there was anything to be concerned about. But today, I found just how far it has gone. There was a plan to stir the people of London to rise up, and tonight one of my men was in an affray at Holborn Bridge. There are bills being put around the city urging rebellion. If Somerset is not behind these plots, they are at least being organized in his name.” John sighed. “There is no shortage of men to come to his side. You know our difficulties. King Henry left little in the treasury, and Somerset depleted it even further with his vainglorious Scottish wars. The coinage is debased; the harvests have been poor. You hardly need me to tell you these things, though. Our government is trying to improve matters, but it is a slow process. Too slow for the people, who either cannot or will not understand the difficulties involved, and Somerset has been exploiting this.”

“But do you have proof that he is plotting against you?”

“Not enough, and that is the problem. If I return him to the Tower, it must be with good reason and clear proof. If he were tried and found innocent, it would be my own death, either at the hands of the people or on the order of the king. And in truth, I do not want to act against him without good proof. The king has lost one uncle to the axe; I would not have him lose another without the best of reasons.” John stared out the window. “And Somerset has children. I know all too well what it is to have a father executed as a traitor. I am not eager to make his own children suffer so.”

“You could imprison him and keep him there, like the Duke of Norfolk.” The old duke, imprisoned when King Henry was alive, had been spared execution by the king’s own death, but the council had rejected all calls for his release.

“I have thought of that, but Somerset has been imprisoned and released once, with the consequences you see now. No. If he goes into the Tower, I cannot risk ever having him come out alive again.” John stared bleakly into space. After a while, he said, “They shall be married here at Ely Place, in public. Soon.”

“John?”

“Mary and Henry Sidney. I don’t like this secrecy. It could be used against them or their children someday. It won’t be as grand as Jack’s wedding, or even Robert’s, but it will be better than this clandestine affair at Esher. He’s a fine young man. I suppose she could have chosen worse, after all.” He rang for a servant. “Send my daughter Mary to me, along with Henry Sidney if he’s around. Don’t hurry. Let them worry a little while longer about the consequences of their headstrong behavior.”

I wrapped my arms around John and kissed him as the puzzled servant departed. “No goose, please. I hated that.”

“No goose,” John agreed. He sighed. “I wonder if I should invite Somerset to the wedding.”

16

Frances Grey

July 1551

In early July, as I sat sewing with my daughters, I received a message from Harry, who was with the king: the sweating sickness was about. By no means were the girls and I to leave Bradgate, unless the sickness reached Leicestershire, in which case we were to move to one of our more isolated manors.

I stared at Harry’s scribbled message and fancied I was sweating already. “What is the matter, Mother?” Kate asked.

“The sweating sickness.”

“The what?”

“Like the plague,” Jane said knowingly.

“Not quite,” I said. “It does not produce the tokens the plague does, and it is not as deadly as the plague, but it is close. A person can be dead from it within hours. It causes lethargy and a great deal of sweating. That is why it has that name.” I looked at Jane, almost expecting her to contradict me or roll her eyes at the obviousness of my remark, but she merely nodded.

“Have you had it, Mother?”

“No. There has not been a major outbreak since 1528, when I was about Kate’s age. I was lucky. Some people in my father’s household did contract it. They died.” I stared at