by Betty Younis
There were ten of them on the barge. She was the only woman. As she assessed them, her heart sank for she realized that they looked as she did – not poor. Their clothing was well-made, their mien one of confidence, although at this point, clearly overlaid with fear. Who were these men, she wondered? She pulled her mind back to her gambit for freedom and looked down the length of the shallow craft at the two oarsmen and guards who occupied the far end. They showed no signs of worry about their prisoners, for she and her fellow passengers all had their hands tied securely behind their backs. Should they choose to attempt escape, they would surely drown, and as a result the guards had a nonchalant attitude and remained somewhat aloof from their human cargo. She sucked up her courage and shouted down to them now.
“You! Release me at once, for I do not belong here!”
None of them gave her even the slightest glance. She called out again. This time, one of the guards turned and looked steadily at her. He was young and tall, with raven-dark hair which fell in gentle curls to his broad shoulders. His cheeks and nose were chiseled stone and from where Henrietta sat, she could see, and feel, the piercing intellect of his brilliant blue eyes. Their raw intelligence caught her off guard and before she could speak yet again, another of the guards looked her way and laughed.
“You do not belong here – oh aye, I am certain you do not. My bed would be a better place for you by far, young girl. Shall we tarry there before your visit to yon tower? Eh?” He made a move as though he would advance down the barge towards her. Only the uneasy rocking of the craft upon the river stopped his advance.
Henrietta should have been fearful. She was not.
“Mind your tongue, you idiot, for my father is a baron and our sovereign is a dear and steady friend of my family! Mind you keep away from me!” She snorted and looked out over the Thames.
Her outburst had inspired the others who rode with her that day, and a great cry went up from a number of them as the barge passed under London bridge.
“I am an earl! Release me!”
“And I an earl’s son! I say as my comrade does – release me!”
A dozen cries went up, diluting the effect of Henrietta’s claim to nobility. She looked out over the Thames, thinking desperate thoughts about her situation. They would be at the Tower soon, and she knew that the latticed, iron gate would be lifted on the watery entryway known as Traitor’s Gate. The barge would slide past and it would close behind them. No one of her family knew of her fate that morning and should the gate close behind her would they ever know. Many years earlier, as she had sailed with Elizabeth upon the royal barge up the Thames, the queen had described her own entrance into the tower through the very passageway which now awaited Henrietta. She looked back down the barge at the guards, and was surprised to find the young one staring at her still. Their eyes locked in a silent moment. Had something passed? He casually turned and shifted his gaze, and she looked away.
Behind her, a great shout arose and a loud scraping noise engulfed them. They had arrived at the tower. The smell of algae and stale river water assailed her as the barge rocked perilously and passed through the slimy underside of the gate. She had felt rage before. Now she felt terror.
One by one they were pulled roughly from the barge and led through a narrow stone entryway. As her turn approached, the guard who had made the lewd suggestion to her called out.
“Oh, she deserves her own cell, gentleman. I shall take her to it myself. And fear not if I am not back shortly, for I may choose to tarry there.”
Henrietta was appalled and as he approached her she spat in his face.
“I tell you I am the queen’s own woman, and if you touch me you shall pay.”
The guard wiped her spit from his face while staring at her with a malicious smile. Suddenly, his focus shifted to something behind her. After a moment, he bowed with a fearful look and without another glance at Henrietta moved away. She could not turn to see what had caused the man’s sudden respect – someone grabbed her arm and led her to the door. Now, her terror became absolute – the steps inside the doorway led down, not up. She was shoved and forced with her fellow prisoners to descend the cold stone stairs. Round and round the narrow steps curved, sinking ever deeper into the earth. When she thought they would extend even unto hell itself, they stopped, and she found herself in a filthy, darkened pit of a hallway. Without ceremony, her arms were untied and she was thrown through an open door. She heard the lock being bolted behind her and turned to face her surroundings.
*****
A slit in the stones, high above the floor, told Henrietta that night had fallen. Her cell, barely six feet square, was bare and cold and she was suddenly possessed by an involuntary shivering. There was an iron, sliding panel at eye level in the door to the corridor beyond, and just before the last light faded it slid open. A small cup of water and a single slice of bread appeared. She grabbed them both, speaking rapidly to whoever might be on the other side.
“You must hear me – I must see the queen!”
A soft chuckle floated in the air.
“Child, you will not see the queen, but before tomorrow is out, fear not, for you will see God on high himself. Perhaps he will listen to your pleas.”
Henrietta’s stomach churned.
“What do you mean?” she asked in a whisper.
“You are all traitors, and will receive traitor’s deaths on the morrow.”
Henrietta thought fast.
“You there,” she spoke in a confidential whisper, “I have something of great value. I shall give it to you if you open this door for a brief moment only.”
Pause.
“What is it?” came the gruff and cautious reply.
“You must open the door to find out.” The tease was in her voice.
After a long moment, the bolt was slid back and the door opened barely two inches. Henrietta knew she would not have another chance. She backed away from the door, crooking her finger and inviting her jailer into her cell. After a moment, a great hulk of a man shuffled in. Henrietta moved as lightning. A swift, unexpected knee to his groin caused him to double over in pain. With all the strength she had she half-hurled, half-shoved her warder across the floor and dashed through the open door. Down the corridor she flew, on and on until the steps she had descended earlier in the day came into view. She was almost there! She was panting and out of breath as she skipped the first step entirely and landed on the second. Round and round she ran until finally, at the top, she cleared the last course of stone and stepped out into the fading light. A strong arm went swiftly round her waist and spun her back against the wall. A guard with a torch came running, and as he held it up to identify the prisoner who was brazen enough to try and escape, he also lit up the face of the man who had caught her. It was the guard from the morning, and again, as she looked into his intelligent eyes, she thought she saw a slight flicker – was it pity? She reached beneath her dress and in a single hard jerk broke the chain with the ruby cross which hung there. Before anyone could touch her, she looked into his eyes, took his hand, and placed the cross and chain there. They began pulling her away.
“Give it to the queen, I beg you! She will recognize it. I promise! Sir – I beg you!”
She was dragged back down the stairs screaming and spitting.
“Please, kind sir, show it to the queen…” Her voice echoed from the dungeon. The young man pocketed the jeweled piece and turned as his commander appeared.
“What was that? Did that wench have some stolen property? Did she give you something? Eh?”
His jet-black curls shook as he nodded.
“No, she was just looking for another chance to escape, sir. That is all. Nothing new from those wretches below.”
His commander agreed and stroked his beard.
“’Tis the end of your day, Roman. You may leave now and I will see you on the morrow.”
The man with the piercing blue eyes nodded and walked away. Once outside, he patted the pocket in his vest where he
had hidden the necklace away. It jangled, and he strode on into the night.
Henrietta had acted on her best hope. As the door slammed behind her and night cloaked the cell in darkness, she began to pray.