The problem was solved by a high, white, close-fitting headdress heavy with jewels and by attaching three-inch chopines to the bottoms of Queen Jane’s shoes.
We moved on to Durham House to dine. While we ate, the Privy Council made final plans. Then we were on our way again, traveling downriver through the city of London to the Tower of London. The royal apartments there had been prepared to receive the new monarch.
It was a heady journey. Huge crowds gathered and cheered, although they must have been puzzled by the display—the king’s death had yet to be announced. Queen Jane and Lord Guildford were not the only ones resplendent in luxurious fabrics and glittering jewels. We all wore our best. I had rarely seen so many diamonds and sapphires and emeralds. When the sun struck them, they shone in all their brilliance.
Cannon boomed as we approached the Tower. By the time Northumberland helped Queen Jane onto the wharf, rumors of the king’s death had begun to spread. The crowd expected to see Princess Mary and was confused when Queen Jane and her young husband appeared, walking beneath a ceremonial canopy. Having this held over their heads clearly indicated royal birth, but no one recognized the couple.
“They do not know her,” I whispered to Will.
“As soon as we are safely within the Tower’s walls,” he whispered back, “proclamations will be read to announce to the people of London that Jane is their new queen.”
We passed through the Lion Gate. Waiting just inside were the lord lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Edward Warner, and his wife. Once Queen Jane passed by, Aunt Elizabeth enveloped me in a warm hug. I had seen her from time to time since her marriage, but not often. I promised to come and sup with her in the lord lieutenant’s lodgings and then hurried after Her Grace.
“This way, Lord Guildford,” Sir Edward said when Queen Jane had been shown into the royal apartments. “I will take you to the consort’s lodgings.”
“You will address me as Your Grace,” Lord Guildford said.
“You are not king, Gil,” Queen Jane said in a soft voice, laying one hand on her husband’s white satin sleeve.
He stiffened and glared at her. “I will be.”
“No, Gil, you will not. You are my consort only.”
“I was promised—”
“Not by me.”
Gil continued to protest in heated terms. The queen remained firm. She had issued her first royal decree and did not intend to change her mind. After a few more minutes of fruitless argument, Lord Guildford stormed off in high dudgeon. His mother went after him.
Queen Jane studied those of us who remained, then told everyone to leave except her own woman, Mistress Tilney, and young Lady Throckmorton, a knight’s wife.
I exited the royal apartments and went in search of Will. We were to remain in the Tower for the time being. Officially, I was one of the great ladies of the household to Queen Jane.
When I found him, I recounted the scene between Queen Jane and her husband. “Her Grace may not be as easy to control as Northumberland believed,” I warned, “and yet I think she may have the makings of a strong ruler. She certainly put Lord Guildford in his place!”
The Duke of Northumberland, and Will with him, left the Tower after dinner on the thirteenth of July. Mary Tudor had eluded capture by Lord Robin Dudley and was gathering support in the countryside. Northumberland forces, six hundred strong, were mustering at the duke’s Durham House and at the royal palace of Whitehall and would march out, passing through London, the next morning. This army included Will and three of Northumberland’s sons—Jack, Ambrose, and Robin Dudley—but Gil would remain with Queen Jane in the Tower.
A few privy councilors were also to stay behind, among them my father. We supped together with Aunt Elizabeth that evening in high spirits. We were confident that Mary would be in custody within the week and Queen Jane’s hold on the throne secure. I gave a passing thought to Elizabeth Tudor, but everyone said she had no legitimate claim to the Crown and I soon forgot about her again.
On the morning of the nineteenth, Queen Jane announced, after breaking her fast, that she intended to leave the Tower to attend a christening at the church of All Hallows Barking.
“You cannot go,” her mother said. “It is neither safe nor seemly for you to leave the Tower before your coronation.”
“I promised Master Underhill that I would stand godmother to his six-day-old son.” The queen’s lower lip crept forward in a pout.
“Send a proxy,” Jane Northumberland suggested. “That is what queens do.”
“I suppose it is.” Her Grace looked thoughtful. “Lady Throckmorton, you will go in my stead. You are to name the boy Guildford, after my husband.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Lady Throckmorton said. “May I ask a boon? I should like to dine at my own house afterward and retrieve one or two things I did not have time to collect before I came here.”
Queen Jane graciously granted permission.
Soon after Lady Throckmorton left the precincts, my father sent word for me to meet him in the lord lieutenant’s lodgings. I was glad of the excuse to leave the queen’s apartments. The day seemed likely to proceed exactly as those preceding it had—uneventful, even dull, with entirely too much praying for my liking. I was counting the days until Will’s return, but had no premonition that everything was not going smoothly. By now, I was certain, Mary Tudor had been captured.
“I am about to leave, Bess,” Father said. “It would be best if you came with me.”
“Leave?” I stared at him blankly.
“The other lords of the council have already fled.”
The image of rats leaving a sinking ship sprang immediately to my mind. A sick feeling crept into my belly. “But why?” I whispered.
“The tide has turned. Mary Tudor is marching toward London at the head of an army. The common people flock to her. In their understanding, she is her brother’s rightful heir. That matters more to them than their fear of a return to the Church of Rome.”
“But . . . but King Edward made his cousin Jane his legal heir. We are only carrying out the late king’s dying command.”
His pitying look told me that this signified nothing. A terrible coldness encased my limbs. The people had turned against Northumberland, and Will was with the duke’s army. He was in danger. My legs suddenly felt too weak to support my weight. I grasped Father’s arm for support.
He broke my hold with no more effort than it would have taken to dislodge a clinging toddler. “There is only one course open to us now, Bess, if we want to avoid attainder for treason. Pembroke, Clinton, and some of the others have gone to the Earl of Pembroke’s London house, Baynard’s Castle. I will join them there and together we will proclaim Mary queen. I pray to God this gesture will be enough to save me from the headsman’s ax. If you know what’s good for you, daughter, you will make haste to Winchester House, gather up those possessions most dear to you, and abandon the rest.”
“But where am I to go? And what of Will?”
“Cowling Castle should be safe. You can take refuge there with your mother.”
“What of Will?” I repeated.
Father sent a pitying look my way as he opened the door. “You can do nothing for him. He’s too entrenched as Northumberland’s second in command.”
As shaken by Father’s abrupt change of allegiance as by his news and his warning, I turned to Aunt Elizabeth after he’d gone. “I do not know what to do,” I wailed. “Will expects me to stay here with Queen Jane, but if I could find him, warn him—we might escape Queen Mary’s wrath if he joins the others at Baynard’s Castle.” What did I care who ruled England, so long as Will was safe?
“If your father is right,” Aunt Elizabeth said, “we will all suffer for our support of Queen Jane. I have no advice to give you, Bess. I am worried about my own husband’s fate.”