The Manner of Amy's Death Page 6

  “I have a chamber here,” says Mary. “You’re both welcome to share it with me.”

  So that’s what we do. The three of us retire to Mary’s small bed chamber, strip down to our shifts and share the very small bed where our proximity to each other, though hot, is most comforting - even though the smell of the Tower is pungent and even though, despite Amy’s efforts to squash as many bugs as possible before we get into bed, we spend a night being eaten alive!

  Chapter Seven

  Saving our Skins

  The next day we’re up early, dressed and waiting for the Tower gates to be unlocked, which means waiting for Jane to arise since she has the key. Once outside we part company with Mary and thank her for her kindness. She’s returning to her husband, Henry Sidney, and we’re to await his instructions at Somerset House.

  “Please take Henry’s advice,” says Mary. “On no account return to the Tower.” She lowers her voice and whispers. “Henry believes Jane’s cause is lost and cannot be revived. Mary has too much support now around the country and in the city itself. The situation’s been handled badly and won’t improve.”

  “What about Robert and his brothers?” asks Amy fearfully.

  “Henry will do what he can when the time arrives,” says Mary. “He’s tried to distance himself from the plot for this reason, not out of disloyalty to us but because he can do little good if he’s executed too.”

  ‘Executed too’ – the words run round my brain. Clearly we have all to take care of ourselves. Who knows how Mary Tudor may decide to take revenge on the Dudley family.

  “I’ll keep you informed of any developments,” says Mary, “And meanwhile stay inside and don’t venture out.”

  Back in Somerset House we discuss what to do next. The servants bring us food but – is it my imagination? – they appear to be less willing to please and less talkative. Do they understand already that we members of the Dudley family will be on the losing side or are they simply mistrustful of everyone at the moment? Only Mrs Picto, who looks after Amy’s gowns, behaves as she has always done. She and Amy spend the time packing two wooden chests with our clothing and rich cloths, taking care to pack only what is ours and to leave everything that was in the house when we arrived.

  We didn’t have to while away too much time. On Wednesday 19th in the afternoon we hear the sound of trumpets and a great cheering in the city followed by the sound of church bells ringing everywhere. The servants rush out of the house to join the crowds in the streets and the smoke of many bonfires lit in celebration rises above the houses. As darkness falls the bonfires glow red in the night sky and still people are celebrating.

  We can guess what has happened. There’s been no war and the Privy Council has betrayed the Duke and declared for the Princess Mary. That evening Amy and I go down to the kitchen and prepare our own supper. It’s something we’ll have to get used to if we’re lucky and escape imprisonment.

  The following day we get our own breakfast. The servants have returned but are still sleeping off the ale from the previous night’s celebrations and even Mrs Picto’s disappeared! Half way through the afternoon Mary Sidney arrives. We exchange hugs and kisses. Mary apologises for not coming earlier.

  “Events moved so fast yesterday and took us all by surprise,” she says. She then explains how Jane’s father, the Duke of Suffolk, foolishly allowed the Lord Mayor and members of the Privy Council to leave the Tower for a supposed meeting with the French Ambassador to plan for reinforcements to be sent to the Duke of Northumberland. But Suffolk had been tricked.

  Instead the councillors met the Earl of Pembroke and the Earl of Arundel at Baynard’s Castle, Pembroke’s home in London. From there they proceeded to Cheapside in the city where they made the proclamation that Mary was now Queen. By the time they reached St Paul’s the crowds of cheering people were so thick they could hardly pass through. Back in the Tower Jane’s father was forced to sign the proclamation for Mary and announce it on Tower Hill. He then broke the news to his daughter who sadly left the throne room and the panoply of state and retired to the royal chambers.

  The news this morning is that Jane’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk, have left the Tower for Pembroke’s home to make an appeal for clemency for their family. Mary Sidney is fearful that they will claim, as will the other members of the Privy Council, they were all coerced into the plot by her father and that Northumberland will pay the price.

  “So where is Jane now?” asks Amy.

  “She’s been removed from the royal apartments and is under arrest in a small house within the Tower,” says Mary.

  “And Guildford?”

  “He’s imprisoned in the Beauchamp Tower. The Duchess, our mother, is also under arrest. I’m afraid our kin will pay the price for all of this.”

  “Is there any news of Robert or the Duke?”

  “The Earl of Arundel has set off with a large force to arrest the Duke, Ambrose, John and Henry. We have no news of Robert.”

  “Maybe he’s escaped to France,” says Amy hopefully.

  “Maybe.”

  “What a scoundrel Arundel is,” I say. “He pretended to support your father – he even said he was sorry he couldn’t join him in the pursuit of Mary - and all the time he was scheming against him.”

  “Yes and so was Pembroke. And to make matters even worse Katherine Grey, Jane’s sister, is married to the son of that treacherous old hypocrite. How must Katherine now feel? Her husband’s father has betrayed her mother, father and sister!”

  The three of us are silent as we reflect on the nasty business of politics.

  Finally Mary says, “Henry has sent me to advise you to leave London at the earliest opportunity. We cannot offer you shelter as we have to appear to be unbiased for now and disconnect ourselves from my kin. Very soon Queen Mary will be back in the city and there will be an attempt to arrest all those implicated in the plot in any way, whether directly involved or not. Equally, when the servants realise the way the wind is blowing, they may well decide to betray you to Mary’s men. You must leave quickly. Is there anyone you can trust?”

  “There’s James, Robert’s groom.”

  “Pack up your things and ask James to take them to ….”

  “My mother’s cousin has a small house in the city,” says Amy.

  “Well it’s a start. Will she shelter you?”

  “I expect so. I’ll send James to ask her first.”

  “Do that this evening. Leave as soon as you can and tell no one where you’re going.” With this Mary wishes us ‘God Speed’ and takes her leave.

  Amy goes in search of James but returns in despair. He’s vanished into thin air.

  “Go and find Picto, Kate,” says Amy. “We’ll just have to go and hope our cousins will take us in.”

  “But what about the clothes you packed? There’s a cart in the stable.”

  “No that belongs to Elizabeth. We don’t want to be accused of theft as well!”

  Amy rummages in a small wooden box that she keeps locked and takes out some coins.

  “I’ll go down to the street to see if I can hire a cart and a driver,” she says.

  We go our separate ways but, while I come back with Mrs Picto, Amy returns still clutching her coins.

  “They’re either too drunk or too scared to help. No one’s able to take us.”

  I can understand why. They could be accused of helping traitors to escape.

  “We’ll just have to leave without the chests. Maybe Elizabeth will have them sent on to us when she returns to Somerset House,” says Amy.

  Ha! From what I know of Elizabeth, Amy is dreaming! The princess has a reputation for acquisitiveness second to none and the dresses will go straight into her own collection, even if Amy were her best friend – which she clearly is not.

  The three of us put some things into small bags that we can fasten to the saddles of our horses, clean shifts, fine woollen and linen stockings, combs and hoods decorated with pearls. Amy fas
tens a silk bag to her waist containing her jewellery and money.

  In the stables are our two horses, two mules and another horse, a lovely mare, belonging to Robert. Valiant has gone with him into Norfolk. We can’t take all of them and Mrs Picto will struggle to ride any of the horses.

  “We’ll saddle our two and a mule,” decides Amy, “And we’ll take the other mule to carry the bags.”

  “What about the mare? We can’t leave her on her own.”

  But we have to. We can’t lead Mrs Picto’s mule and the baggage mule and manage the mare as well. Had Amy and I been better horse women it might be different.

  The two of us set about saddling the horses and mule. When this is done we find a man’s saddle for the second mule and fasten the bags securely onto this. But, as Amy goes to find some hay for the little mare we’re leaving behind, she uncovers a heap of rags on the ground. Imagine her surprise when the rags give a loud snore!

  “James, you lazy dog,” she says kicking the rags with her toe, “Get up straight away. It’s nearly evening.”

  James struggles uncertainly to his feet. He’s obviously been sleeping off the effects of last night’s ale. Amy grabs him by his collar and pushes his head into the horse trough outside.

  “Waken up!”

  Unsteadily James begins to saddle Robert’s mare. Amy holds her while he hoists himself into the saddle. He’s staggering on the ground but, once on the horse, he can ride as well as anyone. I then help Amy onto her horse and she takes the lead reins of the two mules, one on each side, while I help Mrs Picto into the saddle of one of them. Then I climb the mounting block and attempt to get on my horse unaided. James, who’s now coming to his senses a little, rides alongside and steadies her.

  Once I’m safely in the saddle, James takes the lead rope for Mrs Picto’s mule and we set off for Amy’s cousin’s house. Outside the gate we stop and take a last look back at Somerset House. We’ve lived in this palace for six months and we won’t see it again, ever. Our lives have changed irretrievably, we have no home and no idea what lies ahead.

  When we arrive at our destination there are looks of astonishment and disapproval. Amy’s cousin is much older than we are and scowls at us in a most unwelcoming manner. “Word gets around! She wasn’t like this when I had the most powerful man in England for a father-in-law,” remarks Amy grimly as we help James take the bags from the mule. A manservant comes out of the house and he and James lead the horses and mules to the mews round the corner. He’ll sleep in the straw in the hayloft over the stable and the manservant takes him a bowl of pottage to eat.

  The wooden and clay house is tiny compared to what we’ve been used to. Mrs Picto goes to join the two servants in the kitchen and, as the rest of the family have had their supper, Amy and I sit at the table to a bowl of mutton in a broth and some bread on a wooden platter. The bread is the coarse kind mixed with rye rather than the fine, sweet manchet bread we are used to and we are served ale instead of wine. Amy does not ask for sugar!

  We eat everything we’re given and are grateful. We have no idea when the next meal will be served and I have a strong suspicion that we’ve just eaten the finest in the house despite the homeliness of the fare and the icy welcome we received. The parents sit at the table and watch us eat, stony-faced, while their son and daughter, a little younger than we are, stand and watch, overawed by our fine clothes.

  After the meal Amy thanks them kindly and asks if we may stay the night. Humility does not come naturally to her but now she must be humble. Unsmilingly the cousins agree and we’re shown upstairs to a chamber that’s clearly just been vacated by their daughter. The bed appears to have been slept in many times but we’re grateful anyway.

  “It’s better than the Tower,” says Amy when we’re alone.

  I’m wondering what will happen to Jane and Guildford now. Northumberland is as good as dead, that’s a certainty, and I fear for all his sons though I cannot voice my fears to Amy whose face is pale and pinched with worry for Robert. As for the two of us - we are now homeless.

  Chapter Eight

  Retribution

  The following morning I’m lying awake, and wondering whether Amy is too, when a voice says, “We’ll go to William Hyde’s house at Throcking. He’s a loyal friend of Robert. He’ll help us.”

  We sit with Amy’s cousins and eat our breakfast in silence while James and the servant saddle the horses and mules. We won’t be travelling at any pace faster than a walk so we eat our fill and forget the niceties of pretending we’re not hungry. The next meal may be this evening.

  After the usual courtesies we mount our horses and leave, riding for most of the morning up the road to the north, skirting the city and leaving it far behind. By early afternoon it’s clear that Mrs Picto can travel no further.

  “Are you unwell?” Amy asks her and the poor woman tells us that she’s spent the previous night sleeping in a chair.

  “What? They didn’t find you a bed?” says Amy, incredulous and furious at the same time.

  At the next inn we make a stop and James comes out with the good news that we can have chambers for the night.

  Good news indeed! A more flea ridden place I’ve yet to find! In the morning we’re all glad to be leaving it far behind. A good dinner at a hostelry at midday puts us in a better mood but I can see Amy counting the coins in her purse when she thinks no one’s looking. I look down at my mother’s brooch pinned at the top of my bodice and prepare myself to say goodbye to it.

  That night we reach Ware, find good lodgings and are much cheered. Unfortunately Amy is ill the next day and has to stay in her chamber. We spend another night there but by midday she’s well enough to travel again. Throcking is just to the west of Bury St Edmunds and we want to be at Hyde’s house by evening.

  But as we prepare to set off there’s a huge commotion outside. A column of soldiers and horsemen are coming down the road from Cambridge to the north and we rush to the roadside to see them pass. At the head of the procession is the Earl of Arundel and who should be behind him but Northumberland, clearly discernable in his red cloak. Behind the Duke, mounted on their horses, are John, Ambrose and Henry, Amy’s brothers-in-law. Young Henry is only sixteen; he looks terrified and is weeping. They are all surrounded by armed foot soldiers.

  The people of the village jeer at Northumberland as he passes by and there are shouts of “Traitor!” and “Death to the enemies of Queen Mary!” Our manner of dress marks us out from the crowd and I rather think that Ambrose sees us as they ride past for he gives a faint smile. But he doesn’t acknowledge us, knowing the danger that may place us in. Amy scans the procession for Robert but he’s not with them.

  Subdued and silent we mount our horses and head north in the opposite direction. By late afternoon we’re in Throcking.

  The reception at William Hyde’s house is so different from the one we had in London at Amy’s cousins.

  “My dear Amy, you look so pale and ill. You are welcome here. Come inside, come inside.” Amy bursts into tears and sobs with relief and self pity.

  Once inside and fortified by a glass of spiced wine, she begs for news of Robert but William and his wife are unable to help. We then exchange our news from London with William’s from Cambridge.

  It seems that the Duke left Bury St Edmunds when he received news of the Council’s treachery. His recruits had begun to desert him and he fled to Cambridge where he thought he would receive a sympathetic reception, pleading that he had only been carrying out Edward’s wishes. He had thrown his hat in the air, feigning joy at the proclamation that Mary was Queen. But his dissembling didn’t impress anyone and he was detained by the city magistrates. Then Arundel arrived and arrested him with his sons but Robert was not with the other brothers. This story tallies with what we saw at the roadside outside the inn at Ware.

  The next day William Hyde sends one of his men to London to find out the latest news. We’ll have to wait several days now and spend the time with Mrs Picto attendin
g to what’s left of our possessions. Mrs Hyde has given us two of her old gowns and some material out of which we hope to fashion new gowns and kirtles. Mrs Picto is an expert needlewoman and, though the material is plain and unfashionable, at least we will have a change of dress. Our best clothes can be put away for special occasions.

  On 6th August William’s man returns. The news is both good and bad. Elizabeth, having heard the proclamations of Mary’s victory, had ridden from Hatfield where she’d been lying low. Together with a great retinue of followers she went out to greet Mary as she rode in triumph into London. The two sisters had put on an unrivalled show of splendour and unity as they entered the city to the cheers of the crowds.

  “Trust Elizabeth to come out of the woodwork and emerge on the winning side,” says Amy sarcastically.

  More importantly as far as Amy is concerned is the news that Robert is alive, having been taken prisoner in King’s Lynn and then to Framlingham Castle in Suffolk. He’s now with his father and brothers in the Tower. William Hyde’s man has discovered that Mary does not wish to begin her reign with violence and recrimination. She will execute only the ring leaders after they have been tried for treason and will pardon where she can.

  As far as Northumberland’s sons are concerned, this sends a mixed message. Certainly the Duke is doomed but how many others? We will have to wait and see.

  “What of the Sidneys? Have you heard anything?” asks Amy.

  But the man has heard nothing. Only that Queen Mary has freed the Duke of Suffolk, Jane’s father, at the Duchess’ request. When we reflect how Jane once insulted Lady Mary with great arrogance over Mary’s religious beliefs we’re amazed at this. We can only assume that Suffolk has pleaded coercion by Northumberland. It’s obvious who will pay the price.

  So we have no choice other than to sit, sew and wait for news. William Hyde and his wife are great friends of Robert and are most kind; Amy and I are very comfortable at Throcking. She writes to her parents in Norfolk to tell them of our situation and well being and her father replies affectionately.