Crown of Blood

by Nicola Tallis

  Mary, though, chose to follow her heart and her faith, and ignoring the concerns of her people, she resolved to pursue the marriage. Accordingly, the terms were sent from Spain for the approval of the Queen and her Council, but there were whispers of dissension from those who were unhappy, for it ‘caused dissatisfaction in many quarters as it was shown shortly afterwards’.21 Though Jane was in the Tower, she almost certainly heard of the Queen’s plans for matrimony to a foreign Catholic prince. Like Mary’s subjects, she was probably appalled by Mary’s choice, but her own situation demanded her undivided attention. She had been through a lot, but it seemed likely that she would survive the dangerous web of intrigue in which she had become hopelessly entangled. Despite the chilling outcome of her trial, the fact that Mary had made no attempt to implement her sentence may have convinced Jane to hope that her life was safe, and thus at present she perhaps gave little thought to the Queen’s marriage. Little did she know that it would prove to have far-reaching, and permanent consequences for her.

  CHAPTER 20

  Liberty of the Tower

  AS THE DAYS passed by and November turned into December, ‘the day of Christmas as celebrated in our lands was approaching’, and the conditions of Jane’s imprisonment in the Tower were relaxed.1 Sir John Brydges had been appointed Lieutenant of the Tower in August with his brother Thomas to assist him, and already Sir John had become extremely fond of Jane.2 To outward appearances this was surprising, for Sir John was an ardent Catholic whom Jane’s supporters had, in the past, tried unsuccessfully to rally to her cause. However, he was a kindly man, in his early sixties, and quickly discovered that he liked and admired his young ward. Sir John visited Jane in her rooms, and she too may have been invited to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, which were close to her own. While in her company, Sir John encouraged Jane to look positively towards the future and to hope for a pardon and freedom; though inwardly this was what she had every reason to expect, to the Lieutenant she simply replied that her mind was occupied only by thoughts of heaven.3 Nevertheless, she was heartened by ‘all hope of life’.4

  On 17 December Sir John received instructions from the Council,

  [w]illing him at convenient times by his discretion to suffer the late Duke of Northumberland’s children to have the liberty of walk within the garden of the Tower, and also to minister the like favour to the Lady Jane and Doctor Cranmer, upon suggestion that divers of them be and have been evil at ease in their bodies for want of air.5

  It is unsurprising that several months of close confinement had taken their toll among the prisoners. It is unclear if Jane specifically was suffering, but given that she had fallen ill on previous occasions, perhaps exacerbated by stress, it is certainly likely. Sir John implemented his orders immediately, and the following day Rowland Lea noted that ‘the lady Jane had the liberty of the Tower, so that she might walk in the queen’s garden and on the hill’.6 This taste of freedom must have been exhilarating for Jane, but even as she walked on Tower Hill the sight of the Tower loomed large, a constant reminder that she was still a prisoner. Perhaps, as she stood close to the site where her father-in-law had lost his head, she was reminded that she too had been condemned to die on that same spot.

  Guildford and his brother Robert had been moved to apartments in the Bell Tower, possibly due to the fact that apartments had recently become available there; with the four Dudley brothers lodging in the Beauchamp Tower, it had become somewhat cramped. Although there is no evidence that Guildford met with his wife during this time, given that the conditions of their confinement were improving it is perhaps possible. Jane had certainly been permitted the occasional visitor besides the kindly Lieutenant; according to Florio she was visited by ‘noblewomen’.7 The identities of these women are sadly unknown; one of them may have been her mother Frances, who had undoubtedly been concerned for her daughter’s welfare. If this was the case, though, then it seems likely that Florio would have named her. More probable is that the ‘noblewomen’ were the wives of Sir John Brydges and his brother, for Sir John’s wife was distantly related to Jane.8

  If Jane’s husband were among her visitors then their meetings would most certainly have been supervised. For Jane and Guildford there were to be none of the opportunities granted to his brothers John, Ambrose and Robert, whose wives were permitted to visit them in their prison quarters for private trysts.9 Even if permission to meet had been granted, it is possible that Jane chose not to see her husband. After all, relations between them were hardly close, and she would later deny Guildford his request of a final meeting. Whether Jane communicated with her husband or not, Guildford could probably see her from a distance, for he too had been granted some leniency in his confinement. Lea observed that Guildford and Robert were given ‘the liberty of the leads [flat lead roof] in the Bell Tower’, allowing them to see beyond the Tower’s menacing walls.10

  Having been allowed these small freedoms, it must have felt like it was only a matter of time before it became a reality, especially as those incarcerated alongside them were beginning to be released. A few days before Christmas, William Parr, Marquess of Northampton, who had been tried and condemned beside Northumberland, ‘had his pardon, and was delivered out of the Tower’.11 Northampton was living proof that those who had been judged to die could evade execution. Yet freedom still eluded Jane and Guildford, and as the city of London began its celebrations for Christmas, it showed no signs of materializing.

  Queen Mary’s court had removed to the splendid Richmond Palace for the festive season, where there were many reasons to be joyous. Foremost among them was that with God’s help Mary had triumphed over her enemies, and was now reigning supreme over her kingdom. On 15 December a proclamation for the re-establishment of the Mass was made: the true religion of Catholicism would be restored throughout the land. It was observed that ‘all the services began again in Latin in all the churches through the Queen’s dominions by Act of Parliament’, and placards announcing the religious changes were posted across the country.12 It took some time for these to infiltrate across the whole country, but in London Renard reported that generally ‘there seem to be no signs of protest, such as were feared’.13 There was, however, no news as of yet from the rest of the country, and when it came it was not good.

  The Queen, though, was ‘utterly delighted to embrace a Spanish marriage’ with Prince Philip, and preparations were now well underway.14 The Emperor had written to the Queen assuring her that marriage with his son ‘will be instrumental in God’s service, and of great profit to our realms and dominions’.15 For Mary, the future was full of promise and hope:

  Moreover, since this most honourable sovereign had no desire to conceal the betrothal, she caused Winchester [Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester], the Chancellor of England, to proclaim it throughout the realm, so that everyone might rejoice with their sovereign at this, the most splendid royal match since the Norman Conquest.16

  However, such joy was not shared among her subjects, for Renard had heard that ‘the country-nobility and people are as hostile to the alliance as they are to the old religion’.17 Despite Renard’s claim that London seemed content with the changes, some ‘heretics’ in the city had already ‘torn down’ the placards posted in several places, and as a result ‘ten or twelve of them were seized and two hanged’.18 Though Jane’s father claimed that he would support the Queen in her choice of a husband, Renard had heard rumours that Jane’s paternal uncles, Lord Thomas and Lord John Grey, ‘are conspiring to prevent his Highness from landing, though the only argument they have left against the alliance is that the Spanish will wish to govern’.19 They were not alone, for the Queen had been warned that ‘attacks, verbal and written, were being made against the Spaniards and the alliance in terms that rang with revolt’.20 Nevertheless, Renard was still hopeful that ‘his Highness may enter the realm in safety’, but as a precautionary measure he advised the Emperor that it would be ‘very opportune to make a few gifts of money in order to win ov
er persons who might become dangerous’.21 To make matters worse, ‘every day that passed was revealing signs of a rebellious spirit in the country against the Act of Parliament on religion’.22 The policies of Mary’s reign, though still in their infancy, were already proving to be unpopular.

  More alarming for Jane, perhaps, was the news that the Lady Elizabeth, the cousin she had so praised for her religious modesty, appeared to be outwardly conforming to the Catholic faith. Retiring from court for Christmas, Elizabeth, who ‘makes a show of her great satisfaction with the Queen’, had entreated Queen Mary to send her ‘ornaments for her chapel: copes, chasubles, chalices, crosses, patens and other similar objects’, and the Queen had graciously done so, ‘as it was for God’s service and Elizabeth wished to bear witness to the religion she had declared she meant to follow’.23 In spite of this, Mary was suspicious of her half-sister, and Renard claimed that she ‘recalls trouble and unpleasantness before and since her accession, unrest and disagreeable occurrences to which Elizabeth has given rise. There is no persuading her that Elizabeth will not bring about some great evil unless she is dealt with.’24

  It is probable that this news was relayed to Jane, who would surely have been horrified. From a distance, Elizabeth had witnessed the events of Jane’s downfall unfold. Aware that her half-sister was surrounded by those who spoke against her, perhaps the same who had whispered about Jane, Elizabeth was intent on self-preservation and avoiding the same prison that Jane now occupied. Before Elizabeth left court, she had urged the Queen ‘not to believe anyone who spread evil reports of her without doing her the honour to let her know and give her a chance of proving the false and malicious nature of such slanders, that were only designed to harm her’.25 Despite Elizabeth’s protestations, Queen Mary was wary, and her young half-sister was probably wise to her having given orders for spies ‘to watch what takes place in her house’.26

  Christmas in the Tower proved to be a sombre one for Jane. No doubt Master Partridge and his wife tried their best to make the most of the occasion, while Jane also had her three ladies for company. She had remained optimistic throughout the days of her imprisonment, but at this time of year, when families were supposed to be together to share in the season of peace and goodwill, Jane must have yearned in her heart for the familiar surroundings of home. The company of her parents, the annoying chatter of her younger sisters, and the sermons once preached by James Haddon in the family chapel would all have been a most welcome distraction from her situation. At the Charterhouse, too, where Jane’s family were residing over Christmas, Jane was conspicuous by her absence. There seemed to be little cause for celebration, for though the Grey family had emerged largely unscathed from the cataclysm of the summer, Jane was still not home. The Christmas of 1553 was filled with none of the laughter and revelry that the family had once enjoyed at this most holy time of year – those days were long gone.

  At Richmond Palace, Queen Mary celebrated the season with a heightened sense of fervour. She anticipated that she would soon be wed to a handsome husband, ‘a prince ripe in age and estate, worthy of her pleasant embraces’, and that together she and Philip could build a strong, Catholic dynasty to rule across Europe in future generations.27 She was blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. Underneath the surface of revelry, however, opposition to Mary’s policies was already beginning to simmer. Jane’s father may outwardly have claimed that he was content for the Queen to marry where she would, but his true feelings were very different. What is more, he was not alone. For while Christmas was celebrated at Richmond Palace in hopeful expectation for the future, Henry was embarking on an expedition that not only highlighted his own stupidity, but also put the lives of his family in grave danger. As Jane languished in the Tower, like Mary, she was unaware that plans were already afoot that would test the loyalty of Mary’s subjects, and would seal Jane’s fate.

  NEW YEAR WAS then, as now, a time of fresh starts and anticipation. As the new year of 1554 began, Jane’s hopes for the future may have been high, for once Queen Mary was married and the security of her throne and faith assured, surely she would be released?28 On 2 January there was ‘a great peal of guns in the Tower’, as the Emperor’s envoys ‘landed at Tower wharf’, having arrived in England to finalize the negotiations for Mary’s marriage to Prince Philip.29 Jane heard the guns sound, and though she may have been hopeful of the personal consequences for herself once the marriage was concluded, privately she likely shared the thoughts of the Queen’s subjects on her choice of groom. The previous day the retinue of the Spanish envoy arrived in the capital, and ‘the boys pelted at them with snowballs’, then, as the envoy himself made his way through the streets of London to the Palace of Westminster, ‘the people, nothing rejoicing, held down their heads sorrowfully’.30 It was not an auspicious start.

  Upriver at Sheen, while the Christmas and New Year celebrations had been underway, Henry Grey had been busy. But it was not thoughts of masques and feasts that had occupied his mind: it was rebellion. Thus far, Henry had been fortunate that through his wife’s intervention with the Queen, and Mary’s good graces, his family had been allowed to slip into a life of peaceful obscurity, with the hope that their daughter would later be returned to them. But this was not enough for Henry, and always naïve by nature, he showed himself to be ‘ungrateful for the favour he had received and the pardon he had obtained from his sovereign after Northumberland’s sedition’.31 Unbeknown to the Queen, Henry had been engaged in secret communication with Sir Thomas Wyatt, ‘a young man disposed to every kind of mischief and an experienced soldier’.32 Wyatt was fiercely anti-Spanish, and was one of several ‘demented fellows’, that ‘made the prospect of this wedding an excuse for rebellion’.33 Henry, equally vehement in his distaste for a Spanish king in England, carelessly allowed himself to be drawn into the plots of ‘secret treachery’.34 Not only was Henry riled by the prospect of Mary’s marriage to a Spaniard, but he was also motivated by religious factors. Despite Henry’s outward display of conformity to Catholicism, James Haddon was at pains to assure Bullinger that this was not where his heart lay: ‘The duke himself holds to the true God, and I hope by God’s help will fully retain his opinions about true religion, in opposition to the devil, whose agents are striving with all their might to lead his lordship astray.’35 Henry’s eldest daughter was still a Tower prisoner under sentence of death, and he himself was disgruntled by the fact that although he was foremost among the leading peers of the realm, he had been excluded from a place in Mary’s government. His expectations, given the seriousness of the events of the past months, were preposterous. Besides that, he had been incredibly fortunate to avoid both forfeiture and execution – he had walked away almost completely unscathed. He also chose to involve his younger brothers and his halfbrother George in this new treason, thereby demonstrating the lengths to which the family were prepared to go in their efforts to support one another. As Henry exchanged letters with Wyatt and his co-conspirators in order to discuss plans, Henry cannot have failed to have been aware of the risks involved. He knew that he was placing his family in grave danger, and more pertinently, that his actions were putting Jane in mortal peril.

  WITHIN THE SERENITY of the Kent countryside, at Allington Castle, Sir Thomas Wyatt and his colleagues planned their move. First and foremost, the marriage of Queen Mary to Philip of Spain must be avoided at all costs, but there was also another objective. Though she had only been queen for a matter of months, Mary had already begun her efforts to transform England into a Catholic realm ruled by the Pope once more, much to the dismay of her people who were widely in favour of sovereign authority. Perhaps it was time to replace her, and with someone whose aversion to Catholicism was as strong as that of many of the English people. Clearly Lady Jane Grey was not a popular choice, for her queenship had already been tried and resulted in dismal failure. But what of Queen Mary’s half-sister, the Lady Elizabeth? She was young, and she was popular. Outwardly she may have had to conform to the Que
en’s religious policies, but there was no doubting where her heart really lay in matters of conscience. Moreover, if Elizabeth became queen she could then be married to Edward Courtenay. Not only was Courtenay an Englishman and a Protestant, but he was a marital candidate with royal blood who had been rejected by Mary, and whom the conspirators chose to involve in their plans.36 As a Protestant, it was only natural that the leaders of the conspiracy should look to Elizabeth as the focal point for opposition to Mary and the Spanish marriage.