The Bastard Princess

by G Lawrence

  If it was true that Thomas Seymour had plotted to marry an heir to the throne without permission, he could lose his head. If they could find any of us complicit in this plotting, then Kat, and Parry, and I were in danger too.

  As I mounted my horse to leave, Anthony Denny came softly to my side and pressed his hand in mine. “Say nothing more than what you have to,” he said gently. “Remain true to the fact that you authorised nothing, and agreed to nothing. Stay strong my lady, that is your best defence.” I nodded to him and squeezed his fingers gratefully, feeling little surprise that he knew my affairs so well. I hoped Kat would guard her tongue better within the prison they took her to now, than she had when she was at liberty with me.

  “You have been a good friend to me, Sir Anthony, in this time of sadness and trial,” I said. “It will not be forgotten.”

  We rode out that day.

  Sir Roger Tyrwhitt, officially my escort and guide, unofficially my investigator, took me to Hatfield. He had served in the household of Katherine Parr as her Master of Horse; his wife had been one of Katherine’s chamber ladies during the time I was living there. I was well aware that he and his wife, like the others in that household, would have heard all the rumours there were to tell of me.

  As Hatfield loomed before me I looked on it for the first time not as the house of my childhood, or a place of safety, but as a jail.

  I was a prisoner.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Hatfield House

  1549

  I was so afraid.

  Hatfield was a familiar house, I had spent most of my childhood divided between here and Eltham Palace, but it had never felt more unfamiliar and strange as when I was brought to it under armed guard. I was not a princess, I was a prisoner first and foremost, and that was on everyone’s mind as they saw me.

  I stuck my pale chin in the air and held my head up high. I faced all the glances and glares with all the courage I could muster.

  I had done nothing wrong. I had not agreed to marriage with Thomas Seymour. I had taken no vows, made no promises. I had refused to consider the idea when it was set to me. I had said all along that the Council would not approve of the match. But in my heart, I feared deeply what my beloved Kat might say when scared and alone at the Tower. I feared too what my slack-tongued governess may have said to Parry, which might allow him to incriminate me as well.

  They had separated us to strike fear into us this I knew. To weaken the courage within us that might have been bolder if we were together. Together, Kat and I would have stood more of a chance at standing un-quailed before them. Removed from me and taken to the Tower, a place that held fears for all in this land after my father’s reign, would be enough, they hoped, to quell her into submission and to incriminate Thomas Seymour… and possibly me.

  I hoped I was wrong.

  The only member of my household they allowed to stay with me was my old bedroom and riding attendant Blanche Parry. I don’t know why she alone was allowed to remain with me, but it was of some comfort to have her there.

  Tyrwhitt questioned me. What was the nature of the relationship between Thomas Seymour and me? What was the reason I was sent from Katherine’s house? Was it true that Thomas had visited me in secret when I was at Cheshunt? Had marriage ever been discussed or offered between us? Had Kat ever passed messages between Thomas Seymour and me, before or after Katherine’s death?

  They were endless… The questions went on for hours and they went in circles. When I had answered one, another would come up and then after four, the same one would come in again. He was trying to trip me up. Confuse me into saying something incriminating against Thomas, or against myself. I was still unsure which of us they were really after. But with the Lord Protector Edward holding the strings of power over the Council, I felt fairly sure they wanted Thomas. Perhaps this last, rash, bold move to invade the King’s apartments had convinced them that he was too much of a liability to leave alive.

  After all, he had jumped in and married the Dowager Queen without permission. Was he now seeking a claim to the throne, through marriage to me? This would not be something his ambitious brother would want to see occur. Even amidst the overwhelming feelings I had for Thomas, I too had wondered if it was me he truly wanted, or my titles. These men clearly thought only the latter.

  I stood firm. In those rooms where I sat pounded by Tyrwhitt’s questions I found strength by staring at the wall just past his ear and imagining what my father would do when so confronted. I remembered too the calm and collected advice of Anthony Denny. I spoke out loudly and coolly; I was innocent of all they accused me of. Kat had not spoken to me of marriage to Thomas Seymour. It was well known that I was too young for such a state and that my person was the property of the country and the King. I spoke of my love for my brother and tried to impress on Tyrwhitt that none could understand love as we Tudors could, for loyalty, for family and for the crown.

  “My brother is the sole owner and commander of my person,” I said. “In all ways as he is my King and my kinsman, this is as right, and I have never overstepped the bounds of loyalty to him.”

  I stood up to his questioning with courage and spirit, but I knew nothing of what was happening to Kat, Parry or Thomas within the Tower. Were they singing the same song as I?

  Later, I was told that Kat had been moved to the darkest and most uncomfortable cell they could find in the Tower. It was enough to make her suffer, but not enough to make her talk. She refused to speak against me, even though she was wet, cold, hungry and left in the dark for days. But she refused to speak against me.

  It could not last. Everyone has their own breaking point.

  They beat Parry, they threw him around his cell, they deprived him of sleep and of food and after a month of constant abuse, it was enough to soften his tongue.

  Kat had confided enough in my senior household members when we had all been at liberty and this had all been a game. So Parry knew enough of what had gone on at Katherine’s house, and of Kat’s ideas and ambitions for me and Thomas, to give them a rich and tasty story. He told them all he knew, including that Thomas Seymour had enquired about my property several times… but there were more damning stories to tell than just that… The bedrooms romps, the incident of the dress in the gardens, the blushes, the dances… and the final awful tale that Kat had told him, unbeknown to me, that Katherine had found me in Thomas’ arms, and had sent me from her house for it. When they confronted Kat with Parry’s confession, she broke down and although she cursed him, she did the same.

  The first I knew of this was when Tyrwhitt came to me with a look of triumph on his smug face as he sat down before me. I crossed my hands in front of me, ready for another barrage of the same questions, and he informed me that both Kat and Parry had betrayed me, and had told all to those questioning them.

  I looked at him steadily, though my heart shook within me at his words. “Since there is nothing to betray,” I said coolly, “I would think that you say this in order to bring forth some lie you think I hold. But I hold none.”

  He laughed. “You are as full of lies as Jezebel!” he said. “And as brazen! It is time to confess. You have been betrayed now by your own servants; things will go easier for you if you speak.”

  I pushed my chin up and eyed him again. He held out a paper to me. I took it and read Kat’s confession which had followed on that of Parry. I blushed when I read of the encounters between Thomas Seymour and me and I looked up into the smug face of my interrogator who was almost dancing with glee.

  “I will neither refute nor confirm anything written in this report,” I said holding it out to him and rising to stand as though I were at court. “For I believe this confession as you call it has been drawn from the mouths of two frightened and abused servants, who never otherwise would have stated such salacious words against a beloved mistress.” I paused, feeling my thoughts and my heart race.

  “I will tell you that I talked with the Lord Admiral, Thomas Seymour,
sometimes, and that when his wife, my honourable stepmother the Lady Katherine Parr died, my governess did mention the idea of marrying the Lord Admiral to me, to which I said that nothing of the sort could be suggested without the approval of the King and the Council. That is all I have to say on this sordid matter, in which my own reputation has been so laid out for all to abuse that I can scarce believe this is the land that my own father once ruled and made a Godly kingdom. Were he alive today, he should never have stood to see his daughter treated with such contempt.”

  Tyrwhitt did not believe me, but despite the confession and betrayal of Kat and Parry, I stuck to my own words. They would get nothing more from me.

  It was the inclusion of my insistence that nothing could be done on a matter of marriage without the approval of the King and Council that saved me. Thank God for my own mouth! Kat and Parry’s confessions both agreed that I had repeatedly said this, and no matter how far our other versions differed, this fact remained true.

  However improper they chose to believe my relationship with Thomas had been, I had refused to consider the idea of marriage without consent of the King and Council, and therefore I had not committed treason.

  Kat was dragged in front of the Council itself and roundly shouted at and abused for her part in all this: for not protecting my reputation as she should have done; for encouraging a young girl and older man in a fantasy that meant treason in the outside world. She was stripped of her position as my governess. Lady Tyrwhitt, an awful woman, as humourless and colourless as a dead fish, was appointed as my governess.

  When I heard of this I took to my chamber weeping… for Kat to be removed, for my last and greatest friend to be taken from me was awful punishment. It also meant that the Council and therefore everyone else, believed the very worst of my conduct. Despite my own protestations of innocence, they all thought me a whorish harpy.

  Roger Tyrwhitt was horrified that I should be so upset at losing someone whom he thought had been a terrible influence on me. I said to him, “if Mistress Astley is removed from my service then all will believe me culpable of all the ills that have been put on me in this matter, and I say to you that I am not! I will accept no other mistress but my own governess Katherine Astley!”

  It did little good. I had no real power here and now; no power to command or chose my own servants or order my own life. Kat was lost to me, at least for now. I was a prisoner in a house guarded by a cold fish and her horrible husband, and I was branded a traitor and a slattern to the outside world.

  In March the two Tyrwhitts came to me to tell me that Thomas Seymour had been found guilty of treason; guilty of trying to marry me against the knowledge of the Council, of interfering with my person, and of trying to take the King into his own power by force. All of these actions were judged as High Treason.

  He was executed at the Tower of London one cold morning. His own brother, Edward Seymour, and the King, his little nephew, signed the death warrant.

  The Tyrwhitts watched me carefully as they told me the news, still eager to report my words and anything else incriminating to their masters. I listened to them tell me that the first man I had fallen in love with was dead, that his handsome head was cleaved from his body… that another person I had known and loved was lost from my life.

  I breathed in and looked up at them, my face still and my voice calm.

  I said, “on this day died a man of much wit, and very little judgement.” Then I excused myself, rose, and left the room.

  My tears would be saved for the saving grace of the night, not to be crowed over by the servants of my enemies.

  Chapter Forty

  Hatfield House

  1549

  I hated Lady Tyrwhitt.

  Even if the woman had been a loving and warm person, learned in the ways of books and history, I would have disliked her. Replacing my dearest Kat was not something that anyone could do, but Lady Tyrwhitt was just horrid.

  She was everything I hated in a person; she was dull, stupid, without wit or understanding… but thought she knew everything. She thought that her limited and stunted understanding of the Bible and all matters spiritual were without question, that her moral compass, as cold and unfeeling as it was, was righteous, and that her word was law.

  She was rigid and unmoving on all matters. She hated discussion and seemed to like only the Bible. Whatever affection I had for that good book aside, I felt this was rather limiting in life.

  She was in all ways the polar opposite of a woman like Katherine Parr. Both Tyrwhitt and Parr were of the new religion, both were pious; but there the similarity ended. Tyrwhitt was cold, dead and flat where Katherine had been warm, gracious and lively. Tyrwhitt was solemn, forever atoning for some sin or another, whereas Katherine had understood that God loves us and does not call for us to suffer every day in order to understand his greatness.

  It is a great sadness of this life that those who are dull of wit and understanding are sure enough of themselves to be confident in their beliefs, whereas those who are intelligent and wise know only too well that they can never know everything. Trust better the wise person who tells you that something is complicated, than the fool who says it is simple.

  Kat was taken from me, Katherine was dead. I was in the custody of these dull-witted, puritanical fools, and I was alone. Blanche Parry was the only friend left to me in this household where I felt constantly spied upon. I asked Blanche to teach me Welsh, so that we might converse in secret without the Tyrwhitts understanding.

  And… Thomas Seymour was dead. They had taken that handsome head and cleaved it from his body.

  My life was in ruins. I had nothing left to me but my own self, and the chin that I had to keep raised high against the Tyrwhitts and their constant, nagging presence.

  If I ever again achieved my liberty, I swore to myself that I should never treat it as childishly nor as lightly as I had done before. Just being able to order my own day became a struggle against the tyranny of the Tyrwhitts who wanted to control every aspect of my life. Punishment for my sins, they seemed to think, although I had been convicted of naught.

  But perhaps I had them to thank for some things, at least. The grief that swallowed my heart when I was told of Thomas’ execution was mitigated by my constant annoyance at the Tyrwhitts. Fighting against them for everyday privileges took my mind from the sudden death of my first obsession, my first love. And after all, the dead have no need for the living to fear for them, they are in the hands of God. It is the living who have greater cause to fear for each other.

  I spent a lot of time worried for Kat and Parry, for the other members of my household who were still locked in the Tower. What were they doing? Were they treated well? Were they eating? Did they blame themselves for betraying me? Did they think I loved them not? I hoped not. For all their flaws and betrayals, I loved my servants dearly and Kat was the greatest and longest-standing friend I had ever had. Parry had betrayed me, Kat had betrayed me, but how could I blame them for that when I thought of all they had been put through on my account? I wanted them to know that I was not angered at them, that I loved them still… that I missed them.

  It was worries like this, and everyday battles to be treated with the respect due to a princess that enabled me to put Thomas Seymour and all my confused feelings for him to the back of my mind. When I thought of him, my heart felt weighted and heavy, so I tried not to think on him. He was lost to me now as so many others had been before him.

  I hoped he had found Katherine in God’s kingdom, and that together, there, they should have happiness.

  Lady Tyrwhitt was always calm, always cool and always spoke in a monotone. She was a religious obsessive, given to the trend of puritanical Protestantism that was starting to take hold in Edward’s reign. There were many advocates of the severe and joyless in the realm now. But it was too extreme, too fanatical for my blood. I did not hold that God would not have wanted us to laugh, or dance.

  “Not all those things are creation
s of the devil,” I said when she informed me that dancing was the work of Lucifer. “Who are you to say you know the truth of God? Is not that great arrogance? To presume you know the heart and will of the Lord alone?”

  She eyed me coldly. I think that her extreme brand of religion may have been one reason she was given as my new governess in the first place, perhaps to teach me a more reserved manner of seeing the world than my dear Kat was prone to.

  “None of us can know God’s mind,” she said in her dull monotone. “But we can seek His truth for our betterment, and it is easier to seek when one looks in the Bible, rather than throwing oneself around a floor like a whirling fool.”