Bloody Tower

by Valerie Wilding

  17th July 1553

  This morning, Mother told me to chase after Sal, who had gone to the market. The stupid girl forgot to take any money. I ran out, and as I rounded the Byward Tower I bumped into Tom – really bumped! It was so sudden that we burst out laughing. And he had been coming to look for me, to tell me that in the afternoon a pair of leopards was to arrive.

  “Maybe the Queen will wish to see them,” he said. I did not think so, but would not spoil his excitement. He walked with me to the gates, which was lucky, because the Tower dog-keeper came up behind us and we were surrounded by his slobbery mastiffs. They were loose, and I do not care for dogs at all, having often been snapped at by the shoemaker’s nasty little terrier.

  Tom knows I am afraid. “I’ll walk alongside of you for a step or two, Tilly,” he said, and took my arm, which I liked. As we talked he told me why he has not spoken to me. At first it was because of the baby that died. He felt awkward, he explained, and did not know what to say, so hid his face when he saw me. “And then,” he said, “you were cold to me.”

  “Are you surprised?” I asked, crossly, and we nearly quarrelled again.

  As we reached the corner where the one-legged beggar sings his saucy songs, Sal appeared, hot and red-faced. I gave her the money, and told her to be quick, for Mother needed her. She stuck her tongue out at me, but I just gave her a superior sort of smile – I was with Tom after all! Tom and I walked home, and all was peaceful until we reached the Lion Tower. Master Worsley had turned up early, so had the leopards, and Tom was in bad trouble for walking out without permission. I don’t know who snarled more, the leopards or Master Worsley. It was time to go!

  In the early evening, while Father and William were attending a prisoner in the Martin Tower, Mother dozed beside the fire and I slipped back down to the Lion Tower.

  The leopards were in their cage, but were angry and tired all at once, and of course there was no word of the Queen coming. Tom and I talked, and I was telling him all I knew of the problems with the Lady Mary, when suddenly we realized that there were none of the usual comings and goings outside. We strolled towards the Middle Tower and saw the guard party just in the act of locking the gates. I could not believe it – it was far too early. I yelled for them to stop and let me through. It was fortunate that two of the guards know me well, for Father always threatened William and me with a whipping if we should ever be outside the gates at locking-up time. Once the gates are closed, they are opened for no one less than the monarch.

  A lucky escape, but I am happy because Tom and I are friends again. I must ask him why he seems to like Sal so much. It still makes no sense to me.

  18th July 1553

  The gates were locked early last night because one of the Queen’s council had slipped out, and it was thought he might be up to no good. He was brought back later, but the Queen wanted to make sure nobody else had the same idea. Everyone in the Tower is testy and their nerves trouble them. The news from the Duke of Northumberland is not good, they say. I think that must depend whether you are for the Queen or for the Lady Mary. The crews of six ships, sent to stop Mary escaping the country, have changed sides, and she now has a huge number of supporters and protectors.

  “What will happen now?” I asked William.

  “I shall not waste words explaining,” he said, looking down his sharp nose. “You would not understand.”

  In my opinion, he does not know. He is a pompous ass.

  Later

  Father would not let me stir today, not even as far as Tower Green. There are more men guarding the Tower today than ever before, and many of Queen Jane’s nobles have left. Father snaps at everyone, and Mother weeps all over the house. “The poor child,” she says. She means the Queen. “God help her.”

  Never mind the Queen – what about me? I am cooped up like a hen. Father told Mother to keep me busy, so I have been made to cook and sweep and weed, and to feed children and chickens until my legs ache and my hands are red and sore.

  19th July 1553

  God help the Queen. But which queen do I mean? We seem to have two.

  This afternoon Tom came to fetch me (and Sal, which made me cross). “Come into the city!” he said. “The Lady Mary is to be queen!”

  Mother would not let Sal go, for someone had to look after Harry and Jack. I remembered then what she did the day before yesterday, and stuck my tongue out at her. That pleased me.

  As we started off, church bells began to ring from all directions. I looked back over the top of the Lord Lieutenant’s lodgings at the turrets of the White Tower and thought about little Queen Jane. How long would she be there?

  My candle flickers. I will rise early to write more. Meanwhile, I shall work a little at my hole in the roof. It needs to be bigger. Then I shall sleep – if I can. The bells have not stopped!

  20th July 1553

  It is very early in the morning, and church bells still ring! Yesterday the whole of London was alive with whispers and shouts and talk and cheers and quarrelling. In the late afternoon, the Lord Mayor of London proclaimed the Lady Mary, daughter of the noble King Henry VIII – Queen of England, France and Ireland!

  All around us the people went wild! Bells chimed and pealed and there were fires lit in the street, and children danced, though I am sure they could not understand. Tom and I could scarcely hear ourselves speak! He was scared he might lose me in the throng, and held tight to my hand. I liked that.

  We made our way – slowly because of the crowds – as far as St Paul’s, which must be more than a mile. The name “Mary” was on everybody’s lips, and those who spoke for Jane were quickly silenced as the mob closed round them. Tom would not let me stop to see what happened.

  Outside every tavern, drunken men and women staggered about laughing and singing. I do not think they were capable of knowing who was queen, but they were good-natured and did not bother us. We passed a man leading a dancing bear and swigging from a tankard. He was clearly very drunk, and was being chased and taunted by a group of children. I was afraid he might let go of the bear, and told the smallest children to stay back, but they cursed me – such words as I have never heard except from soldiers!

  At St Paul’s there was a great gathering – more people than I have ever seen (except at executions) and even the church bells couldn’t drown the noise they made! We did not stay there long. St Paul’s churchyard reeks of rotting corpses more than any other I know, and on this warm summer evening, it was worse than ever. Father says the graves are too shallow.

  We turned about and made our way back by a different route. While we were watching a juggler who used knives and did not cut himself, Tom said, “It grows dark, Tilly. Do you think they might close the gates early tonight?”

  We ran!

  “If you are locked out,” Tom panted, “you will have to sleep where I do, in the Lion Tower.”

  I laughed. I have seen where he sleeps. It is little better than the animals’ cages, and I think the lion called Edward VI (after the late king) sleeps in more comfort.

  Later

  Mother and Sal have gone to the city, William is closeted with Father and his friends downstairs, and the boys are asleep, full of a good dinner. Through the hole in my roof, which is now the size of a large cooking apple, I can see the early afternoon sun lighting the White Tower. Just now, while I put the pots away, I listened to the men’s talk. Yesterday, poor Jane – just Lady Jane once more – was told by her own father, the Duke of Suffolk, “You are not the queen any more,” and he tore down the canopy of state – tore it down! She was utterly dignified – simply said she was quite happy to give up the crown, and asked to go home. Suffolk, cruel man, leaving her with just her women, went out through the main gates on to Tower Hill and shouted, “God save Queen Mary!” or something similar and disappeared. That is a change of heart (if he has a heart).

  Now there are guards at Lady Jane’s d
oor. But they are there to keep her in.

  Mother has returned. I must stop writing and look as if I am attending to Harry and Jack.

  21st July 1553

  Guilford’s father is under guard now, and we expect Queen Mary in London soon. I suppose she will come here. I was going to say that she will be safe, but poor Jane Grey was not. Two days ago she was the queen. Now she is a prisoner, and so is Guilford. My uncle told us that after Jane’s father gave her the news and tore down her canopy of state, she said to her old nurse, Mrs Ellen, “I am glad I am no longer queen.” Her ladies said nothing. They could not speak for weeping. They fear that the Lady Jane is now in danger of her very life. To take the throne from the true monarch is treason, and the punishment for this is beheading.

  Today Father sent William to deliver an ointment to the Master of the Wardrobe. William has no apprentice to make him look important, so he made me carry his bag. I longed to tell the people we passed that there was nothing more in it than a book, a pair of gloves, and some gooseberries, which he is to deliver to the Master’s wife. As we passed the White Tower, I looked up. I did not know which were the Lady Jane’s windows, and William would not tell me (he does not know, I am sure) but I smiled and hoped she saw me and would know that someone thought kindly of her. She must be so frightened, and when I think of that small freckled face, I want to cry. But I dare not say this aloud. Father warns us every day that the stone walls of the Tower have ears. And so have I! I believe I learn more by being quiet and listening, than by asking questions and getting scolded for being pert.

  25th July 1553

  Our house being against one of the outer walls of the Tower, I can often hear when something is happening on Tower Hill – as long as the rest of the family is quiet. This evening, Father and William have been called away to attend Mistress Partridge, the wife of the Gentleman Gaoler, who has a fever and sweats mightily. We are told to pray that it is not the sweating sickness, or we are all in danger of our lives. I prayed a good deal, but had to stop because I cannot concentrate for wondering what is going on outside the Tower. I can hear shouts, and horses squealing. I wonder if I might slip out of the house without Mother seeing me.

  Later

  There is much trouble. As I turned into the lane by the water, towards the Tower gates, I had to jump aside as a strange procession came towards me. Procession is the wrong word, for that implies something grand and beautiful. The men entering the Tower might have been grand last week, but tonight they are prisoners, and a sorry sight. The Duke of Northumberland, who put the Lady Jane on the throne, led his sons and other nobles, surrounded by a larger number of guards than I have ever known before. He held his head high.

  It was soon clear that the guards were not there just to prevent Northumberland from escaping. He needed them to protect himself from the angry Londoners. Like the others with him, he was plastered with muck and filth, thrown by the people. I swear my mother could have smelt him from our house. Slimy raw egg hung in strings from his hair, and bits of shell clung to his clothes. His eldest son looked as if he was struggling to hold back tears. Indeed he was, for William told Mother later that as the prisoners were marched past the Garden Tower and they saw Tower Green he began to howl, and wept all the way to the Beauchamp Tower, where they were imprisoned. He howled with terror, I suppose, and I am not surprised, for these men stand accused of the worst crime of all. Treason.

  I almost feel sorry for them. If Edward VI wrote that he wished the Protestant Lady Jane to be queen, then is that not the law? But William says that people who wanted to be rich and powerful put Jane on the throne for their own ends, and that is Northumberland’s crime. Perhaps he somehow talked Edward into naming Jane as his heir.

  It seems Northumberland will be punished – together with all the others involved. I suppose it is right and proper. But I do feel sorry for the Lady Jane. I believe it was never her wish to be queen, so surely she will not be so severely punished.

  26th July 1553

  The Lady Jane, with her three women and her page, is to be moved from the White Tower to the Gentleman Gaoler’s lodgings. I am pleased, for Master Partridge is a kind man, and his house is next to the Beauchamp Tower, where Guilford is imprisoned with his father and brothers. I am sure she will be allowed to walk on Tower Green, and maybe Guilford will see her. Perhaps I will, too. She might even speak to me. Imagine – to be addressed by a queen – even one who was queen for only nine days!

  27th July 1553

  Father has forbidden me to wander the Tower as I am used to doing. “There are new warders and guards who do not know you,” he said. I will offer to help him and William and Mother whenever they go out of the house. That way, everyone will soon recognize me as the physician’s daughter, and I will be able to wander freely as before. And why not? Father’s father was once the Tower physician, too, so we are true Tower people, and have every right to be here.

  I love to wander. There are many small towers along the outer and inner walls. Some hold prisoners, of course, and give me shivers, but in others I often find someone to talk to, or somewhere cool to sit when it is hot. Some parts of the Tower are far too noisy and busy. The Mint is dreadful. There it is hot and smoky and smelly, and how they manage to turn out such beautiful shining coins from all that busyness, I do not know.

  One good thing is that Mother has said I may walk into the city occasionally, but I am not to stop at the menagerie. I promised I would not. Today I spent an hour there, talking with Tom, but I did not break my promise. How? I simply kept walking, and did not stop! There was bear-baiting this morning, and a mastiff had been killed. I followed Tom as he cut chunks of meat from the dead dog and tossed it to the beasts. How they rage and roar and tear at the flesh! I had to leave when a party of ladies and gentlemen wanted to be shown the new monkey. I am furious with Tom. I had not known there was a new one, and when I told Sal she said, “Oh, yes, I know.”

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “Tom showed it me, he did,” she said, and tossed her head. I asked her what it was like, and she said, very slowly, “Well, let me see, ’tis brown, methinks, with spots.” I was suspicious, and said, “Tom told me it has long claws shaped like hooks. Is that true?” Sal nodded. “Ay,” she said, “ ’tis true, and I have seen them.”

  She lies. She has not seen it.

  30th July 1553

  Yesterday, Princess Elizabeth rode into London at the head of 2,000 men all dressed in green and white! William said the colours are to show the people that she, as well as Mary, is a Tudor princess and I think, for once, that he is right. From what I overheard after church this morning, I gather that Elizabeth fears for her own safety. She, like poor Lady Jane, is a Protestant, and there are concerns in Royal circles that she might be planning to seize the throne, to keep England Protestant. She has come to London to show the Queen that she is Her Majesty’s true and loyal subject and does not desire the throne. I pray nightly for her safety, and that I might have a chance to give her mother’s precious little letter.

  31st July 1553

  The Lady Jane’s father, the Duke of Suffolk, has been a prisoner in the Tower for the last three days, and no one told me. “What need have you to know?” Father demanded. I was about to tell him that I write such things in my diary, but I shut my mouth. I do not think he would approve.

  The Duke is a lucky man, but a cruel one. He is lucky because Queen Mary has allowed him to go free. He is cruel because the talk in the Tower is that he has made no attempt to plead for his daughter’s freedom. He and his Duchess scuttled away as fast as they could. Mother says it is because he is afraid for his own life, but I still think that he is bad. Even though my father is stern, and not very understanding, I believe he would always try to keep me safe.

  I think the Duke will behave himself from now on, because Queen Mary will be watching him. I know I would!

  2nd August 1553

 
Princess Elizabeth and her men (fewer this time) have ridden out of London to meet Queen Mary’s procession and tomorrow they will ride back into the city, together! And, better than that – the Queen is to lodge here, at the Tower of London! Oh, what a sight we shall see! I hope the Princess Elizabeth will come too.

  I keep the letter safely for her.

  3rd August 1553

  This morning, Father and William were out early among the Tower dignitaries – making ready for the Royal arrival! I rose early to do my work, because I wanted so much to be finished in time to watch the Queen and Princess Elizabeth ride into the city. As I worked, I plotted ways to persuade Mother to let me go and see it all for myself. But I need not have worried. Mother said, “This is a great day, Tilly – one you must remember to tell your children. Would you like to watch the procession enter the city?”

  I hugged her. “Oh, thank you!” She hugged me back, smiling, then pushed me away. “Hurry and get ready, child!”

  It is so good to see her smile again. And Sal was furious because Mother did not suggest she should go. That was good, too.

  Tom was not allowed out either. Master Worsley was cautious in case the Royal party wished to see the wild beasts, and all the menagerie workers were busy with buckets of water and shovels.