Bloody Tower

by Valerie Wilding

26th March 1556

  Jack is now six, Harry three and the twins are eighteen months old and wear me out!! I have no time to write these days and go to bed exhausted. The new baby was born much too early, but he is strong and will live, we are sure. He is called Edward, after the baby before me, who died when he was barely two. I wanted to call him Thomas, but Father barked at me, “We are not giving him the same name as that dung-boy.” I had not realized that Mother discussed my friends with Father. I should not have thought it that important.

  We have just heard that Archbishop Thomas Cranmer has been burned. His behaviour has been very strange. One day he would sign a paper renouncing Protestantism and say he would become a Catholic. Another day he would change his mind. He kept doing that, and I thought him weak and guessed he was doing it to try to save his own life. Indeed, the night before he died, he wrote a recantation, saying he gave up Protestantism (again). However, in the end, perhaps because he knew he was to die anyway, he stayed true to his Protestant faith, and told all those listening that he took back what he had written. As the fire was lit, he held up his right hand. “This was the hand that wrote it,” he declared, “and therefore shall it suffer first punishment.” Then he thrust it into the flames crying, “This hand hath offended.” I think he meant it offended God. Anyway, in no time he was dead. Another death, to add to all the men and women, rich and poor, who have been burned for their faith.

  28th April 1556

  I must write down a horrible thing I heard. The new Archbishop of Canterbury is called Reginald Pole. One of the Yeoman Warders said that Pole’s mother, Margaret, was beheaded in 1541 on Tower Green. Well, it’s not quite clear exactly where she was beheaded. She refused to kneel and put her head on the block because that was for traitors, and she shouted, “I am no traitor!” She told the executioner that if he wanted her head he would have to get it off the best way he could. And he did! The warder said she ran around, and the executioner chopped and hacked as if he was after a chicken.

  31st December 1556

  It is so cold that I think my ink might freeze. Discovered I am good at sewing, if it is not mending, and I like it. Mother is pleased and lets me make pretty things for the twins, while Sal does the mending. That girl becomes more and more sly as time passes, but I no longer worry or fret about her seeing Tom.

  There have been many burnings this year. The Queen is still alone – Philip does not seem to want to return to England. Tower Hill has had more executions than usual, and we have hordes of prisoners. I have heard city dwellers call this place the Bloody Tower, and they do not just refer to that little tower next to the Lieutenant’s garden. They mean the whole Tower of London. My home. You would think a woman’s reign would be a gentle reign – but it is all death and fear. She has no heir though, which encourages me to hope that maybe. . . No, if I write more it would be treason.

  7th April 1557

  I saw a horrible sight today, by the river at Wapping. A crowd had gathered, so I went down to the shore and pushed my way through to see what was happening. Seven men accused of robbery at sea were tied to a stake while the water was low. The tide came in and it was dreadful to hear their cries as it came ever higher. One brave man deliberately thrust his head underwater to try to drown himself quickly, but he must have panicked. His head came up and he choked and spluttered, then screamed for mercy. I hope never to see the like again and that, by writing it down, the sight will leave my mind.

  7th June 1557

  King Philip has finally come back to England, but the story goes (though I cannot believe a man of noble birth would do such a thing) that he said he would only come back to the Queen if she agreed to make war on France. She must have been thrilled to see him because every bell in London rang that day for hours. Needless to say, we are at war with France.

  1st January 1558

  Bad news. I am sorry to say so, but the Queen is pregnant. The baby is due in March, but her husband has returned to the Netherlands and has been gone six months so far this time.

  Now Elizabeth will never be queen and the burnings will go on and on until Mary runs out of heretics. Unless it is not a baby, but the wind. Is it treason to say that? Probably, but I do not care. I have kept my book safely for nearly five years and apart from Father seeing it once, nobody knows about it (Tom is sure to have forgotten) and I hide it well. I do take out the letter sometimes. It is my secret, and I am not allowed many of them!

  7th September 1558

  I am eighteen years old and today I think back to when I first had this book. Tom was the only person I wanted to be with then. I remember the day I laughed when he said he would become Keeper of the Royal Menagerie! Poor Tom. He still looks after the beasts, and I expect his shovel is as busy as ever. I seldom see him now – we seem to have grown apart. I spend all my spare time, such as it is, with Frances. We go into the city together, to the market, and just walk round looking at people’s clothes and seeing everything that goes on. Sometimes William comes with us, which I do not care for much. Frances does not seem to mind at all – in fact I think she rather likes him (strange!). I work hard in the house – Mother is much easier to get on with these days. I told her she had changed. She laughed. “I have not changed,” she said. “You have grown up!” The little ones take up most of my time, but I do not mind. I love them dearly, and they love me, too. One day, I will be married and have children of my own. I shall like that. Father never mentions the possibility of marriage. Frances does, often.

  The Queen is unwell. (There was no baby – again.)

  26th October 1558

  Much muttering about the Queen’s poor health today. It is so exciting to think that we may soon have a new monarch, one who I know will be a good queen. (Though of course, I am sorry for Mary’s bad health.)

  15th November 1558

  Sick as she is, and often barely able to open her eyes, the Queen still wishes to burn heretics. It is said that more than 300 have perished horribly in the flames. I wonder, though, if the burnings have been her will alone. I confess I have never given this a thought before. I remember Lady Jane Grey and how men plotted and used her for their own ends. There are probably men who encourage Mary, in the name of God, to do the things she does. I feel hot and uncomfortable now. I have said such bad things about her.

  18th November 1558

  Mary is dead and THE LADY ELIZABETH IS QUEEN! Oh, I am so excited! One thing I know is that before her coronation, the Queen must spend at least one night in the Tower of London. Surely, this time, when she is here without guards and moving about freely, surely this time I may make my curtsey and give her the letter? I will keep it on me always, just in case, tucked into my bodice.

  Now the burnings will stop, I am sure. One thing is certain: England will be Protestant once more (how we do bounce back and forth!) and Frances thinks that the Lady – no, Queen Elizabeth will let people worship the Lord as they wish, whether Protestant or Catholic. I like that idea. Which will I be? I scarcely know myself.

  21st November 1558

  We are told that when Mary’s ring was taken to Princess Elizabeth at Hatfield and she realized she was now queen, she knelt and said, “This is the Lord’s doing. It is marvellous in our eyes.” She actually said it in Latin, which I do not know, but William told me what it meant. I think she must have been very relieved indeed. At last she is free of the threat of being imprisoned. Or worse.

  5th December 1558

  She came, and now she’s gone. Queen Elizabeth. She stayed in the Tower for several days sorting out her Council, which I did not expect, and I have not even seen her, let alone had a chance to make my curtsey. All I heard were the guns saluting her as she arrived. My bad luck was to have been ill and to endure Father’s leeches, and now my face has spots. I screamed when Harry told me, for I thought it was the pox, but Father laughed, saying, “Anyone who can make that much noise is not very ill!”

  William has been insufferabl
e and even came to my room, trying to act the physician. I would not let him touch me. He looked around and I was afraid he might poke about and find my book but, “ ’Tis a mess,” was all he said. And so would his room be if Sal did not tidy it for him.

  I will still have a chance to see and (I pray) speak with the Queen before her coronation, although I know she will probably be busy with her clothes and jewels.

  14th January 1559, Coronation Day

  I have just watched Queen Elizabeth ride in a litter, with the curtains pulled back so all could see her, out of the gates of the Tower of London. The joyous shouts that went up when the crowds outside first saw her were wonderful to hear. Sal, who was in the Lion Tower with Tom, said even the lions roared their approval as the Queen passed! Everyone is so happy, including me!

  My big chance came, and I took it. Last night, some dogs were fighting over something outside (an injured rat and good riddance) and Mother sent me to chase them away before they woke the children or William, who was dozing by the fire. I went unwillingly but once outside, I heard a shout. A royal page ran towards me.

  “Are you from the physician’s household?” he called. I nodded. “Fetch Master Middleton’s apprentice at once,” he said, “and bring him to the Queen’s apartments.” He added that William was to bring Father’s small medicine chest.

  An imp took charge of my tongue. “My brother is not at home,” I said, “but I often assist my father. I know what to bring.” I slipped into the house. William snored noisily. I went into Father’s room and picked up his medicine chest. I was glad it was the small one. I could not have carried the larger. “What are you doing?” Mother demanded. I told her Father had sent for his chest and the messenger was outside. I went straight to where the page waited.

  “Make haste,” he said. “The Queen needs to sleep and cannot. Master Middleton gave her a draught that helped her once before, and she has not forgotten.” He took me into the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, where I have never been. I had no time to look about and we rushed from room to room until we reached a closed door. The page knocked and the door was opened.

  I will never forget what I saw – the Queen, in a simple gown, and my father, standing side by side. She looked amused. He looked appalled. Then the Queen said, “Your apprentice, Master Middleton?” He spluttered, “I – I. . .” and went so red that I thought he might explode. This was my chance – the one I had waited years for. Thrusting the chest into Father’s arms, I curtsied, then knelt before the Queen. “Your Majesty, I have something for you. I have kept it for several years, and I believe it is your own.” Father’s mouth fell open as he listened to me tell of my book and how it came to me, and of how I believed it had belonged to Her Majesty’s mother, Anne Boleyn. The missing pages, the scratched-out letters. . . The Queen listened in silence.

  Finally, I reached into my bodice and took out the tiny fold of paper. It was creased and warm. The Queen held out her hand for it. She looked at the seal which, of course, was unbroken, then turned it over and ran a fingertip across the tearstained word which must once have clearly read “Elizabeth”.

  “You have kept this safe for me?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, Majesty.”

  The Queen reached out, took my hand and raised me up. “Your name?”

  “Tilly – Matilda Middleton, Majesty.”

  She turned to Father. “Your daughter is a true and faithful subject, Master Middleton.” Then she looked at me. “We will speak again, Matilda. For the present, I have much to occupy me. Goodnight.”

  Father watched me as I backed away. I watched the Queen. She turned the letter over and over, then picked up a small black book – maybe a prayer book – and slipped it inside. Patting the book, she murmured, “I will read it when I am alone.”

  I raced home, my heart thumping. I was glad Father still had his sleeping draught to prepare – I hoped he would calm down before he saw me again. He did not, but he dared not punish me, for I had pleased the Queen. And now, as I write these words into the final page of my book, I shall not mind if he demands to see it, for I have no secrets now.

  I do wish I’d remembered to tell the Queen that we share a birthday. Perhaps when I see her next, for I have a feeling I will. . .

  Historical note

  Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon, was originally married to Henry’s brother, Prince Arthur. When Arthur died, the Pope in Rome gave Henry permission to marry Catherine.

  At first, they were happy together, but Henry desperately wanted a son to succeed him as king. Catherine had only one child who lived – the Princess Mary. Hopes of having a son faded as Catherine grew older, and the couple grew apart. Henry fell in love with Anne Boleyn and decided that he must divorce Catherine and marry Anne.

  The Pope refused an annulment, which would have put an end to Henry and Catherine’s marriage, so Henry took matters into his own hands and divorced Catherine. He married Anne and, in the same year, she had a baby girl, the Princess Elizabeth. In less than two years, Anne was executed for being unfaithful to the King.

  Henry’s quarrel with the Pope caused a complete break with the Catholic Church in Rome, and resulted in Henry making himself Supreme Head of the Church in England. The Pope’s power in England was over.

  During the next few years, Henry closed down the monasteries and confiscated their riches and lands. Anyone who opposed him was severely punished.

  There were great changes afoot in the country’s religious life. People were trying to reform the Catholic Church. The new Protestants (people who were protesting against the old ways) wanted to make services simpler, and easier for ordinary people to understand. This movement was called the Reformation. Henry, although he’d broken with Rome, remained a Catholic in every way, except that he refused to obey the Pope.

  His next marriage to Jane Seymour produced what he’d always wanted – a son, Edward. Sadly, Jane Seymour died soon after the birth, and Henry’s next three marriages were childless.

  In 1547, Henry died, and his son became King Edward VI. He was a studious, intelligent boy, and grew up staunchly Protestant. During his six-year reign, he provided all churches with an English-language Bible, which meant everybody could understand it, and made the Roman Catholic mass illegal. Religious statues were removed and wall paintings were whitewashed over.

  Edward’s health was poor, and when it became clear that he was soon going to die, his council began to tackle the problem of who was to succeed him. His half-sister, Mary, clearly had a strong claim to the throne, but she was a Catholic. Edward didn’t want her undoing all his work on behalf of the Protestant Church.

  The power-hungry Duke of Northumberland had great plans. He married his own son, Guilford Dudley, to Lady Jane Grey. She was Henry VIII’s great-niece, and was next in line to the throne after Mary and Elizabeth.

  Northumberland was in a very strong position. He was Lord President of the Council while Edward was still a child, and exerted great influence over the young king. Soon, Edward had signed a form of will called “My Device for the Succession” which named Lady Jane Grey as his successor. Now Northumberland could foresee a time when his son, Jane’s husband, would be king. More power would come to the Northumberland family.

  The sickly Edward died at the age of fifteen, and Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed queen. Mary Tudor immediately reclaimed the throne for herself and, with the will of the people behind her, succeeded.

  Now Mary set about restoring England to the Catholic Church of Rome, and imprisoned some of the most important Protestants. She married a Catholic Prince of Spain, then began punishing heretics – those who would not follow what she declared was England’s true religion. Punishment was usually death by fire, and she soon become known as Bloody Mary. Around 300 men and women, including many priests, were burned at the stake before her death in 1558.

  Mary and Philip had no children, and the crown pas
sed to Henry’s second daughter, Elizabeth. She had a more tolerant and open attitude towards religion, and was much loved by her people. England prospered under her reign, and became a great power. Elizabeth I was one of England’s most successful rulers and, since she remained single all her life, she was the last of the Tudor monarchs.

  Timeline

  1509 Henry VIII marries Catherine of Aragon.

  1516 Henry and Catherine’s daughter, Mary, is born.

  1531 Henry VIII declares himself head of the Church in England.

  1533 Henry and Anne Boleyn marry in a secret ceremony.

  September 7 Anne Boleyn gives birth to Elizabeth.

  1534 The Act of Supremacy. Henry VIII is recognized by Parliament as the supreme head of the Church of England.

  1536

  January 7 Catherine of Aragon dies.

  May 19 Anne Boleyn is executed on Tower Green, in the Tower of London.

  1537 Jane Seymour gives birth to a male heir, Edward, who later becomes King Edward VI.

  Lady Jane Grey is born.

  1547 Henry VIII dies at the age of 55.

  Henry’s son, Edward VI, becomes king. He is nine years old.

  1553