Chapter Westminster Palace, Summer 1536
Westminster Palace, Summer
BUT THE KING surprises us. As soon as we arrive at Westminster he forces Lady Mary to take the oath, and the young woman, very far from triumph, has to deny her mother’s marriage and declare herself illegitimate.
The king’s wound has opened up on his leg again, he can barely walk, and there is no heir to the throne.
Lady Mary declares herself illegitimate; Lady Elizabeth is illegitimate and too young; Lady Margaret Douglas his niece is still in disgrace in the Tower.
‘Whatever has she done?’ Jane whispers, beckoning me closer.
‘She married young Thom Howard, half-brother to the Duke of Norfolk. Thom is arrested and is being questioned, too.’
She goes even paler. ‘We know nothing,’ she whispers her lesson.
‘Quite right. And anyway, this all happened . . .’ I trail off. Anne and her reign, and even Queen Katherine and her reign, are never mentioned in Jane’s court, which has no knowledge of anything, especially history.
‘But they’ll blame me,’ Jane predicts dolefully. ‘My brother Edward and his wife Anne will blame me. They’ll all blame me, though I know nothing.’
SHE IS RIGHT. The Seymours blame her for Margaret Douglas’ deception, but it is worse for the Howards: the king accuses them of creeping into the line of succession for the third time.
First, there was Anne Boleyn with sortilèges then there was Mary Howard with a marriage contract, now there is Lord Thom Howard with a secret marriage.
What is this, if not a conspiracy of Howards?
To cheer the king, Thomas Cromwell suggests a legal device, to speed up executions – a ‘writ of attainder’.
Now the king can demand an execution without trial, and no one can appeal against sentence of death.
Thom Howard is not accused nor tried nor defended; the king declares him guilty, and parliament slavishly agrees that he must die.
I pass Lord Cromwell on the winding stair. ‘Are we madder than ever?’ I ask.
‘Lady Margaret Douglas had better be mad, for nothing else will save her,’ is all he says, and he goes on down the winding steps to the dark river below.