Bloody Tower

by Valerie Wilding

  I went to walk away, but she grabbed my arm and spun me round. “Tell me!”

  But however much she begged, I would not tell her what the something was, and when we met Sal coming back from the water pump, Frances could not resist taunting me. “Guess what Tilly did, Sal?” she said. “You may have three tries.”

  I told Sal to hold her tongue, but she would not.

  “Sat in a puddle?” she said hopefully. “Kissed the Master of the Horse? Set the prisoners free?”

  “It is about a prisoner,” said Frances and, even though I pinched her hard (and I hope her arm is black and yellow and painful), she proceeded to tell Sal what I had done.

  Sal, of course, ran straight home and told Mother, who flew at me and beat me with the soup ladle. Father has gone to apologize to the Gentleman Gaoler, and I am in deep disgrace. I hate Frances, I hate Sal, I hate this house and this book and EVERYTHING.

  18th April 1554

  Now they tell me! At least, William does. Father and he have actually attended the Princess on two occasions. William, of course, only told me to tease me – he will give no more details, except to say that she is courteous and tall. Well, everybody knows that. However, my ears serve me well, and I believe that it is Father’s sleeping medicine that she likes to take. I am not surprised she has difficulty sleeping, for the Queen still suspects that Elizabeth was involved with Wyatt’s uprising. Both have been questioned often, Wyatt not as gently as the Princess. However, he said nothing to prove she was at fault, and will certainly say no more, for he was executed a week ago. I feel sorry for his friends and family, as they have no body to bury. Once Wyatt was dead, his body was cut up so the bits could be displayed in different places. I suppose that was done so as many people as possible can see the dreadful result of being a traitor. Today, Tom told me the head has been stolen, probably by Wyatt’s followers. Ugh!

  Princess Elizabeth will not be released until Queen Mary is sure of her innocence. But I watch and wait for that day to come.

  21st April 1554

  No one, however important, is safe. Not only is the Lady Elizabeth imprisoned here, but also Sir Edward Warner – once a Lieutenant of this very castle! The muttering after church was all about him being involved in Wyatt’s rebellion.

  30th April 1554

  More and more beheadings! I truly believed, when Mary came to the throne, that we should have fewer torturings and executions, but it is not so. Once, I enjoyed going to an execution. It was pleasant to all go out together. But now these deaths do sicken me. I talked of this to Father. To my surprise, he understood, and spoke gently. “These days,” he said, “the Tower is indeed a bloody place. But understand, Matilda, that the Queen must be secure upon her throne. Until she has a child, the line of succession to the throne is not secure, and she must remove all threats.” I asked if the Lady Elizabeth was still a threat. “I think not,” he said, “but it is not my opinion that will decide.”

  I went to see Tom when I knew he would be alone, after the menagerie visitors had gone, but he wasn’t there. I bet he was with Sal. Even though we seldom see each other now, the thought of Tom with Sal makes me wild with jealousy. She had asked Mother if she could walk a while outside, as she had a bad head. I’d like to give her a bad head!

  Tomorrow I will find Frances. I would like us to be friends again, and I have seen her walk past my house often, so I think she wants it, too. I miss our long talks, and our walks, and I even miss her getting me into trouble. Mother says I am not to lead her astray, but I think it is the other way around. She loves to play tricks on the warders or guards. Once she spread honey on the step old Rufus likes to rest on when no one is watching. He had flies around him all day, and the dogs drove him mad with their sniffing. I laughed and laughed until I realized she had taken the honey from our house.

  These days there are often mutterings about our behaviour, but if silver-tongued Frances is around, I am usually safe!

  3rd May 1554

  A murder plot has been discovered! One of Wyatt’s men, William Thomas, who was once clerk to King Edward’s council, is to be hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn because he planned to murder the Queen. Father was called to see him when he tried to kill himself. It’s not surprising, for he has already been put to the rack, and must prefer death to more torture. I have never seen the rack. Sal says she has, but she lies. William told me once, when I was small, that they tie your hands at one end and your feet at the other, then turn a handle, and the machinery pulls your bones apart and you scream and scream. No one would have heard Master Thomas’s screams. The rack is in a chamber, close by Little Ease, deep down beneath the White Tower, and those walls are about fifteen feet thick. How cold it must be.

  19th May 1554

  Oh, I am so angry! Today was probably my last ever chance to see Princess Elizabeth, and to give her the letter, and where was I? Sitting like a tree stump halfway up the stairs of the Well Tower, keeping guard while Frances held hands (that’s what she says she was doing) with a new young worker from the Mint. She is a lunatic. If Master Lea finds out, she will be whipped within an inch of her life and sent back to the country. The boy will lose his job, of course, which is a good one. And me? I should never be anywhere near the Well Tower. It is too near the Royal lodgings.

  But they were not caught. So why am I furious? Because while I was sitting in the dark on a cold, damp stair – for show me a tower that is warm even in summer – Princess Elizabeth was taken under guard to a barge and off upriver. She is to go to a palace called Woodstock, and will be kept there under what is called house arrest, unable to leave.

  The first I knew of it was when I heard gunfire a mile or so away. Some of the people believed she must be free, and cheered her. (The guns were a salute, not an attack.) Tom said Master Worsley’s own boat passed her, and he saw people cheering and waving all along the riverbank! Father said the same people who cheered the Princess could be the ones to bring her to her death.

  “Why?” I asked.

  His voice snapped like a whip. “She is next in line for the throne, child! Do you think Queen Mary will be happy that Elizabeth is more popular than she is?”

  I think Father likes the Princess, and fears for her. That is why he was irritated with me, for I am sure I spoke politely. I forgive him. Of course, I shall not tell him so!

  20th May 1554

  Frances told me something I did not know. Yesterday, the day Princess Elizabeth left the Tower, was the anniversary of the beheading of her mother. How glad she must have been to leave.

  But the little letter . . . maybe I should have told Father about it, and asked for his help. But if I do that now, he will be angry that I kept it secret all this time. He is very irritable at the moment, and I think he worries about Mother. The women spend much time with her, and they feel her belly and whisper and tut-tut to each other. I pray all will be well when her time comes.

  I am amazed to see how full of words my book is – over three quarters! I will form my letters as small as I can from now on.

  25th July 1554

  Queen Mary will be excited, for last week Prince Philip sailed into Southampton. Sal heard the news from Tom. The prince’s arrival must have been a truly magnificent sight, for the Spaniards have sent more than a hundred ships! He has brought with him hundreds and hundreds of nobles and servants. Imagine how much baggage there will be for all those people. The horses! The clothes! The money! Frances and I spent a happy hour imagining what would happen if two young Spanish noblemen should come to the Tower and see two beautiful young ladies (us) and fall in love and take us away to live in palaces. “I would leave everything I own behind,” said Frances, “and have all new clothes.”

  I agreed. “But should I take my book with me?” I mused, “or should I have a scribe to do my writing for me?” Without a doubt, I would keep this pleasure all for myself. How could I let a complete stranger in on my secret
thoughts!

  For the rest of the day Frances never stopped demanding to know about my book, even though I took her to the menagerie (Mother said I might show Harry the lions one day, and this seemed as good a day as any). Luckily, she did not have the wit to ask Tom, whose tongue would surely have wagged, about my secret. Rather like my parents, I don’t think that Frances approves of Tom – and generally won’t give him the time of day. I am glad we went to see Tom, for we learned that the Queen’s marriage is today in Winchester. Sal does not know about that, and I shall not tell her.

  30th July 1554

  This evening, Sal was sent upstairs to settle Jack, who has a fever. Father says it is mild and he will be well tomorrow. We had several guests (two of whom attended the Queen’s marriage) and Mother is so heavy now that she needed much help, so I was able to listen to all the talk about the Royal wedding. This is what happened. The Prince (who it turns out is suddenly a king – his father having given him the kingdoms of Naples and Jerusalem) arrived first at Winchester Cathedral, which is many miles from London – more than 60, I believe. I cannot imagine walking so far – or even riding if I had a horse. When the Queen arrived, they made their confession to the Bishop, and then he performed the marriage service. The Queen has a very old-fashioned ring: plain gold, with no gems. How strange. I should like a gem of every colour. Afterwards, wearing cloth of gold, they each held a sword of honour and walked beneath a canopy held by four knights. Then they sat, which must have been a relief, for there were many prayers and readings. During the mass, which lasted a good hour, they knelt the whole time, which I would find agony, for my knees are bony.

  Feasting and dancing has gone on for days since. Wherever Mary and Philip travelled there were fresh celebrations. But not everyone is happy. Father has heard much muttering among Londoners about Spain wanting to rule us. This is from people who wanted Mary to marry an Englishman.

  My mother is huge. It must be a giant baby. She is weeks past her time. Surely it will come soon.

  31st July 1554

  When I told Frances about last night, she said, “People who fret over Spaniards wanting to rule us are dolts.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  She gave me a most superior look. “Because the Queen herself is half-Spanish, so in a way, Spain already rules us.”

  She is so simple-minded. You can tell she is from the country.

  2nd August 1554

  It is hard for me to write. Mother is in labour and the women are with her. Father is out and I have escaped up here for a few moments. Mother’s cries are loud and terrifying and upset me greatly. And from where I sit in my little room, it doesn’t sound like she will survive this ordeal. I pray that she does, and that the little one will be with us soon.

  29th January 1555

  At last Mother is better. I thank God every night for that, and especially so on Sundays. I have not written in my diary for nearly six months. How could I? I go to bed exhausted each night, and simply drop asleep as if I were dead. Our family of six is now eight, for we have beautiful twin girls! Mother was ill for months, but Susy (Susannah, named for the baby who died) and Mary (for the Queen) are fine, fat babies with huge appetites and powerful lungs, and they keep Sal and me busy day and night. Mary, the elder, soon became so strong that it took two of us to put swaddling bands on her, for she fought to be free. I was all for letting her wave and kick, but Father insisted she be swaddled. “Do you want a sister with crooked limbs?” he would bellow.

  Oh, I do love them, but I have such little time. I have not seen Tom, apart from in church, for months. Even though Mother is now up and about the house, it is so cold and frosty that I would rather stay in and feed babies before the fire. She has been pleased with me, and calls me “little mother”, which made Frances shriek with laughter. I do not often see Frances these days. She does not care for children.

  William has become quite soft since Susy and Mary were born, and I almost like him. Father was cheerful today and told me that Sir Edward Warner (the old Lieutenant, who has been imprisoned here since last April) has been released. He had to pay up £300 though. It made me wonder how many people would not have been executed if they had owned such a sum.

  The Lady Elizabeth’s letter is now tucked into the month of May 1554 – the last time she was here in the Tower. I think she will never sit on the English throne, so it may be she will never come here again. For Queen Mary is to have a child – a prince and heir. William let this slip, and I am not supposed to know it.

  20th March 1555

  Dreadful happenings! Bishops are being burned, and it is on the orders of the Queen. How can she burn holy men? I do not understand. In the last few weeks there have been several burnings in London. I have never been to a burning, and do not wish to, but I have smelled one and found it disgusting. How Mother can stand it I do not know – her nose is so delicate that she could smell when I even looked at Tom (which I have not done for some while). These churchmen were accused of heresy, which means they did not agree with how Mary wishes us to worship. Heretics are always burned. Often, a bag of gunpowder is hung round the victim’s neck – it helps them to die quickly when the fire makes it explode. One poor bishop’s gunpowder did not explode, and people say he died in terrible, horrifying agony. I thought Mary would be a good queen. But I was wrong – she is not a merciful one.

  Now everyone knows she is expecting a baby.

  Later

  Poor Bishop Latimer was a prisoner here and a few days ago he was taken to Oxford to be tried for heresy. He will probably burn too, along with all the others. And I wonder if that will make Protestants who have refused to worship as Catholics change their minds. I think, in their shoes, that I would. I would be afraid of the fire.

  24th April 1555

  There was gossip that the Queen is not truly pregnant. But she has put a stop to all that by appearing yesterday at a window in Hampton Court with a very swollen belly. It was St George’s Day. I must write smaller. I have few pages left in my diary. Perhaps I should save them for important days.

  27th August 1555

  If such terrible things were not being done in the name of God and the Queen, I would be more sorry for Mary. Many weeks have passed since the Royal baby was due, and now it seems there will not be one. It was a phantom – something that never is and never was! And now Philip is leaving her, to visit the Netherlands. I would leave her, too – many more men and women have been burned at the stake. There cannot be many Protestants left. Even Princess Elizabeth, who is staying at court for a while, attends mass every day. She has had to hide her Protestant beliefs, and very wise I think she is.

  18th October 1555

  If I had not stopped to argue with Sal, and if I had not called to Tom as I went past the menagerie, and then stopped to watch the lions feed. If I had just done as I was told and gone straight to the poulterer, I might have – no, would have – seen the Lady Elizabeth as she rode to her own home in Hertfordshire. She has the Queen’s blessing, and is a free woman. I heard the bells ringing, but took no notice until I saw the crowds. Too late. When I told Father, he said he was glad I missed her. “I hear the people clapped and cheered her and bells were rung,” he said. I told him I believed that was true, and he said, “Do the fools not realize what danger they put the Lady Elizabeth in? If the Queen should ever fear that the Lady was becoming too popular, her life would be worth very little, especially as there is no heir to the throne.”

  “Nor ever likely to be,” said William. Father told him to hold his tongue about such matters. I smiled at William, which annoyed him.

  26th October 1555

  William is much kinder to me these days. He said I will one day become a good housewife. And so I will, if I ever marry. That is years away, and none of us are even considering who would be a good husband for me. (When we do, I just hope we all agree!) For now, Mother needs my help more than ever with Susy and Mary, a
nd I secretly suspect that if God is willing we shall soon have another member of the family. Sal suspects, too, I know, and keeps bleating that we need another servant. She is right.

  Father was distressed to hear that Bishop Latimer has been burned as a heretic, and another Bishop, Master Ridley of London, was burned with him. Thomas Cranmer, the Protestant Archbishop, was forced to watch. The Queen wanted him to see what will happen to him if he persists in his Protestant ways, and hoped it would change his mind.

  William told me Latimer died bravely and, fortunately for him, quickly. He stayed strong to the end, crying out, “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man! We shall this day light such a candle, by God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.” (I like those words and have memorized them.) Poor Master Ridley suffered very badly in the flames. My skin prickles when I think of it. I am very careful to do the right thing always in church.