by Alison Weir
There was no court mourning. Sir John had never been a prominent figure, and few were aware of his passing. After a day spent in sorrowful seclusion, Jane put on a brave face and played her part, trying to suppress her grief. The revelry around her made a mockery of it, and she felt guilty for joining in. But Henry said it would take her mind off her loss, and besides, she was the Queen, not just a bereaved daughter. So she could not even pay her father the tribute of wearing black.
Chapter 32
1537
When the new year of 1537 had been rung in, Master Aske went home, convinced that his sovereign was on his side, and Edward and Thomas returned to court, leaving Harry at Wulfhall to run the estate. Mother was bearing up bravely, they told Jane, and the funeral had been well attended. Edward had given instructions for a fine monument to be raised in Father’s memory. Evidently the scandal Sir John had caused had been buried with him.
Henry gave Thomas a command in the navy, saying it would suit him well and channel his abilities in the right direction, and Bryan was willing to keep Thomas’s position open while he was away. Thomas was jubilant. Nothing could have appealed to him more than the prospect of adventure on the high seas, and he went about the court swaggering like a bantam cock, boasting to any who would listen of his promotion. Monasteries were still being dissolved, taxes remained heavy, and nothing more was said of Parliament being held in York, or of Jane being crowned there. Before long, Master Aske would realize that nothing had changed and that Henry had no intention of honoring his promises, and the rebels would know that they had been duped.
In February, Jane was not surprised to hear that they had regrouped. “No more fair words!” Henry thundered. “Norfolk is to ride north again, and this time I’m sending a great army with him to teach those traitors a lesson they will not forget. They will learn the hard way that they must not presume to question the will of their King!”
He had come to supper seething, and not just on account of the rebels.
“You may have heard of my cousin, Reginald Pole.” He spat out the name as if it were poison. “Lady Salisbury’s son. Last year, he wrote a vicious, offensive and treasonous treatise against me—after all I had done to advance him! That’s why he’s in exile in Italy. Today, I received two reports from Rome. That scoundrel of a pope has rewarded him with a cardinal’s hat! And he has appointed Reginald to plot an offensive against me while I am occupied with this rebellion! Apparently all the princes of Christendom are being encouraged to unite in opposition to me! And that my own kinsman should consent to it! It’s treason of the worst kind!” His eyes were glittering with hatred. “I have summoned Reginald back to England, on the pretext that I want him to explain certain difficulties in the treatise; but I know he will not come.”
“He must know what awaits him,” Jane said.
“Yes, but his family are here,” Henry said. She caught her breath. He raised an eyebrow. “They are of the old blood royal. Lady Salisbury thinks she is grander than I am, as her father was brother to King Edward IV and the usurper Richard III. He was a traitor too! By God, Jane, the whole family is tainted with treason. I’m convinced that the true object of this new offensive is to depose me and set up Lady Salisbury or one of her sons on the throne. Reginald’s out of my reach, but they aren’t, and by all that’s holy, I will make them suffer!”
She had rarely seen him so incensed, yet she detected the fear behind his anger. He was wary of his Plantagenet relations, the Poles and the Exeters. Always, at the back of his mind, there lay the suspicion that they would plot to win back the throne; and there was resentment too, for he was in no doubt that they thought themselves more royal than he was, and that the Tudors were an upstart dynasty with a weak claim to the Crown.
“Cromwell is writing to Lady Salisbury to inform her of her son’s treason,” Henry told her. “We shall see what she says.” He pushed his plate away and threw down his napkin. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I can’t eat tonight.”
* * *
—
Three nights later, he was still in a grim mood. “Lady Salisbury has written to me. She expressed horror at what Reginald has done, and said that he is no son of hers. But Cromwell has warned me that, out of fear, she and her sons might unite with the Exeters against me. From now on, they will be under surveillance.” He smiled at Jane grimly. He would kill them all in the end, she feared. He would never be comfortable while they lived.
“I’ve had word from the north,” he told her, loading his plate with food. At least his appetite had returned, even if he was still acting like an angry bear. “Martial law has been imposed there, and Norfolk and Suffolk are dealing with the rebels as they deserve.” She could imagine what that meant. “Wiltshire has gone to help. He makes no secret of his desire to win back my favor.”
Of course, the man who had condemned his own son and daughter to death would not hesitate to crave the favor of the King who had signed their death warrants. It seemed that Wiltshire was ready to do anything to preserve his position at court. All he had lost had been the office of Lord Privy Seal, which Cromwell now enjoyed. Jane wondered how Wiltshire managed to sleep at night. But his ambition was notorious, and so was the fact that he always acted in his own interests.
* * *
—
Jane had planned to visit Wulfhall in February, but Henry did not want her traveling abroad without him at such an uncertain time, and part of her felt relieved to hear it. She was feeling unaccountably tired, and put it down to her grief for her father. She wrote to Mother, explaining the situation, and Mother wrote back with her blessing, saying she was in health and that Harry was managing well in Edward’s absence. Jane was to recover her strength before she contemplated making the journey.
Jane sent another letter to Lizzie, but there was no reply. Her anxiety deepened. Pray God her sister was safe!
* * *
—
Norfolk crushed the rebellion and hanged as many traitors as he could lay his hands upon. The north was a forest of gallows trees. But in London, the bells were ringing out, and in churches thanks were being rendered. Nevertheless, Henry was stern in his triumph. “Over two hundred have been executed. Their bodies will be left to rot on their gibbets, as a warning to any who dare contemplate rebellion in future.”
“What of Lord Darcy?” Jane asked.
“He has been taken, and is being brought south to the Tower. Aske and Constable have gone into hiding, but they will be rooted out, never fear!”
Cromwell, standing by, looked as pleased as a fat tomcat who had caught a mouse. “This victory has strengthened the throne. His Grace is now more powerful than ever, and he will be more respected than before throughout Christendom.”
“I rejoice to hear it,” Jane said. “But I fear for my sister, Lady Ughtred.”
Cromwell smiled. “You will be pleased to know that I have word of her, Madam. She is in York, well and safe, although I gather young Darcy is still a suitor for her hand.” Henry grunted, frowning.
“Then she cannot have received my letters conveying the King’s wishes,” Jane said.
“Your Grace must not worry. Sir Arthur Darcy was not involved in the rebellion.”
“I am most relieved to hear it.” She turned to Henry. “And now, Sir, I can rejoice fully in your great victory!”
There might be another reason for rejoicing too, but she was not certain yet. It was too soon.
* * *
—
Henry came to her bed that night and took her with renewed vigor. “I feel a new man,” he said afterward, cradling her in his arms. “You know, darling, if I have learned one thing from the late rebellion, it is that I have perhaps gone too far in my reforms. Last year I had Convocation and Parliament set forth ten articles of doctrine for my Church. I felt they offered a middle way between traditional religion and the more radical beliefs of the reformers. But
now I know I should have leaned more toward the traditional, to discourage any other would-be rebels.”
It was what the rebels had asked for! Jane held her breath.
Henry wound a strand of her hair around his finger. “I’ve asked Cranmer to write a book outlining the doctrines of the Church of England. It’s to be called The Institution of a Christian Man, and it will signal a return to more traditional tenets of faith.”
This was good news. “The reformers will be unhappy,” she said.
“They will have to be. We’ve just seen where reform has led us. My reforms must be of the right kind, what the Church needs.”
She took a breath. “And the monasteries?”
“Are hotbeds of popery and vice! No, Jane, that law stands.”
* * *
—
The middle of March brought the first warm day of the year, and with the coming of spring, Jane knew with glorious certainty that her hopes were realized. “I am with child again,” she told Henry, when he came to bed intent on making love to her.
Instantly, he drew back. “You are sure?”
“I have missed two courses. There can be no doubt. I have been feeling tired and my breasts are tender, but I am very happy.”
He embraced her gently. “Sweetheart, I have prayed for this! Maybe Heaven is smiling on me after all. A son to crown my victory—it would be like one given by God.” His kiss was full of joy. “We must take the greatest care of you this time.”
She thought of all the things that could go wrong. She might miscarry again, or bear a dead baby, as Anne had done. She had never forgotten how Anne had suffered. And then there was the pain of childbirth to endure. Or the child might be a girl. Suddenly she was filled with fear.
“What is it, darling?” Henry murmured, still holding her closely.
“It is just that I worry that we will be disappointed yet again.”
“You must not worry. Just rest and keep calm. When you are past your dangerous times, we will tell everyone the glad news. And then you shall be crowned!”
* * *
—
Norfolk and Suffolk returned to court in a blaze of glory, to be warmly received by their King. Norfolk was back in high favor, and the battle lines were being drawn between the Howards and the Seymours, the old guard against the new. Edward’s anger at Surrey still festered, and Surrey went out of his way to provoke him. Naturally, Norfolk took his son’s part.
“I blame Surrey!” Edward said, sitting next to Jane in her privy garden. “He’s a troublemaker. He can’t stand the fact that we Seymours now occupy a higher eminence than he does. He’s so jealous.”
“And will have more cause soon,” she replied. “I am with child.”
“Jane! That’s marvelous news!” Edward’s smile was radiant. “When?”
“October, I think.”
“A Seymour king on the throne—think of it! Surrey and his friends will be green with envy. No Howard can compete with that. I can’t wait to see his face when he hears the news.”
“You must be patient. It will not be announced for a little while.” And nothing was certain in this business of getting heirs.
“I will tell no one then. I trust you are well?”
“Perfectly. The King’s doctors assure me that all is progressing as it should.” Dr. Butts and Dr. Chambers had asked her a lot of questions, then departed nodding their heads sagely.
“Good. I will pray for a happy outcome. My own prayers have been answered too. Nan is also with child, and it is due around the same time as yours. You can support each other!”
Jane congratulated him warmly, with genuine pleasure. But if he thought she was about to indulge in expectant-mother confidences and cozy little chats with Nan, he was mistaken. They would be wrangling over every last aspect of the whole process of childbearing and rearing. Nan would always have to be right, and Jane did not think she could face it.
Edward, however, was preoccupied with something of graver import. “Jane, this rivalry with Surrey. It’s not just about Nan. I am for reform, while the Howards are stout Catholics and see themselves as champions of the old ways. And they want supremacy at court. They won’t attain it, of course, but that won’t stop them trying. Be on your guard.”
“They cannot complain about me. I am for the old faith too.”
“You’re a Seymour, sister. That’s bad enough.”
* * *
—
The warm weather continued, but Henry could not enjoy it. The trouble with his leg had flared up again, and now the other leg was affected too. He was limping around with bandages under his hose, feeling very sorry for himself.
“I intended to go north next month, to overawe those subjects who dared to rebel against me,” he told Jane as they sat watching Surrey slaughtering Sir Thomas Wyatt at tennis, “but to be frank with you, with this humor in my legs, my physicians have advised me not to go far in the heat of the year.”
“I do feel for you,” she murmured. “Are they very painful?”
“Very,” he admitted.
They did not improve. The next day, he was confined to his bedchamber. Jane sat with him, looking on anxiously as his physicians tried remedy after remedy, and administered poultices he had devised himself. He bore it all ill-temperedly, barking at them when the treatment hurt.
“Why not try a herbal bath?” she suggested. “I have heard they can be most efficacious.” He took her advice, but to no avail. His incapacity, and the pain, depressed him and made him irascible. As King, he could not be seen to be losing his grasp on affairs, and she knew what it was for him, who had led such an active life, to be incapacitated. Moreover, he was a fastidious man, and found his condition distasteful and humiliating. In despair, she summoned his fool, Will Somers, knowing that if anyone could rouse Henry’s spirits, he could. Somers was a kindly soul, an unobtrusive and constant presence in his master’s life, and he alone was allowed to speak plainly to him. Sometimes she thought he was the only true friend Henry had. Everyone else wanted something from the King. Somers was not like that.
“Well, Hal, what a state you’re in,” he said cheerfully when he arrived, wearing his old brown gown and twirling his stick with the bells attached—the staff of his office. “Old lady been beating you up, has she? Or was it the dastardly French?” Jane had to smile.
“Go away,” Henry growled.
“But I like it here!” Will retorted, hunkering down by the fireside and warming his hands. “Come on, Hal! What can’t be mended must be borne bravely. And the Queen’s here, looking ever so pretty. Won’t you give her a smile? She has a lot to put up with while you’re stuck in here. All those clamoring courtiers—and that long-faced brother of hers. Not much company when you’re used to that fine fellow what sits on the throne. What’s his name? People are forgetting…”
“All right, all right,” Henry conceded. “You’ve made your point, Fool. But it’s miserable being stuck in here, as you put it, with two bad legs, when the sun is shining outside.”
“Could be worse, Hal. Could be three bad legs—or four.”
Jane let them get on with it, suppressing a smile. Hopefully Will would work his usual magic on Henry. But he was having to work especially hard at it today.
* * *
—
The next day, she was sitting sewing in Henry’s chamber when an usher announced the arrival of a French merchant.
“Oh, no,” Henry moaned. “Not now. But I did agree to see him and I suppose I must do so.”
“You can buy me a gown!” Will cried. Henry gave him a none-too-gentle cuff, and he leapt away and huddled behind a chair.
The merchant approached, bowing obsequiously, and laid out his wares for the King to see. Henry cast baleful eyes over the latest velvet bonnets, lace trimmings, biliments, embroidered gloves and other exquis
ite luxuries from Paris.
“I’m too old to wear such things,” he muttered.
“But these are beautiful,” Jane said, trying on a pair of the gloves.
“Very well, set them aside.” He peered at the other items. “Hmm. That rich collar is well made. I’ll have it. And that hat. I’ll have the furs too, and a bolt of that linen.”
The merchant bowed, and added them to the pile. “I have something special that your Majesty will like.” He placed a burnished silver mirror, adorned with cupids, before Henry.
“That also,” Henry said. Jane suspected that he was beginning to feel better. He never could resist the chance to adorn himself in fine clothing, and loved to see all the men at court rushing to copy each new thing he wore.
Within three days he was up and about again, his bad mood banished.
“I trust you are feeling well, darling,” he said to Jane, when she came to see how he was.
“Never better,” she told him.
“Good! Because we are going on a pilgrimage to Canterbury, to the shrine of St. Thomas.”
She was astonished to hear it. “But surely it is now forbidden to worship at shrines?”
“Not any more. And we have need of the intercessions of the holy blissful martyr.”
“It does my heart good to hear that,” she breathed. “But I shouldn’t be riding.”
“You can travel by litter, resting on cushions. It will do us both good to go on progress.”
* * *
—
They had passed through Rochester and Sittingbourne, and were now entering Canterbury. Jane waved from her litter at the citizens lining the streets to see them, and soon she and Henry were entering the massive cathedral and kneeling together in front of the gold-plated, bejeweled shrine, one of the most famous in Christendom. Head bent, Jane beseeched St. Thomas to intercede for her, that this child might live. She knew with absolute certainty that Henry was offering up the same prayer.