Nor burnèd by the sun
My love is constant through all days
Until our freedom’s won.
I sprinkle it with powder before I take it from the guard’s hand and I read it at arm’s length. The words I hold in my heart. I burn the paper.
THE TOWER, LONDON,
SUMMER 1563
In the early morning, while it is still cool, I can hear the tramp of many feet coming up the stairs to my rooms, which means a visit from Sir Richard, the new lieutenant of the Tower. I stand beside my tattered throne, Mr. Nozzle on my shoulder, Thomas in my arms, Teddy beside me, his hand in mine. Lucy stands behind me. I think we look more like a poor family of plague-struck beggars than the royal heirs of Elizabeth’s nightmares.
The door opens and Sir Richard comes in and bows. “Forgive me,” I say, “but the guards must stay outside. I am afraid of the plague.”
“Of course,” he says. He gestures to them and they step backwards. “I am glad to say that you need fear no more. You are to be released.”
I am so flooded with joy that I cannot hear him. “What?”
He nods. “Yes, my lady. You are to be released from the Tower. You can leave today. You can leave this morning.”
“Released?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “Thanks be to God—and to the mercy of our sovereign lady the queen.”
“God bless her,” I whisper. “I can go when I wish?”
“I have horses ready for you, and a wagon for your goods.”
I gesture at the chipped table and the tattered chairs. “I have nothing worth taking. Lucy can pack our clothes in a moment.”
He bows. “I will wait for your command,” he says. “You should go as soon as possible, before it gets too hot.”
“And the Earl of Hertford comes with me?” I ask as he reaches the door.
He bows again. “His lordship is released also.”
“God be praised,” I say. “I thank the merciful God for answering my prayer.”
We are packed and ready to travel within half an hour. I won’t allow anything to delay me. The well-worn furniture can come in the wagon behind us, along with a trunk of clothes. The linnets will come in their cage shrouded with a shawl, and Jo the pug with her heirs in a basket, a net tied on top so they are kept safe in the open wagon. Mr. Nozzle will go in his cage in the shade. I shall have Teddy before me on my saddle and the wet nurse will carry Thomas strapped before her. Lucy will ride pillion behind a guard, and if Teddy gets tired, she can take him in her arms.
I imagine us riding into Hanworth, the cleanliness of the house, the brightness of the sunshine, the sweetness of the air, with Ned’s mother, Lady Anne, on the front steps waiting to greet her grandson, a Tudor-Seymour boy, the heir to the throne of England.
Sir Richard is in the Tower yard with the loaded wagon and a guard. When they see me coming, they mount up and then I see my husband, Ned, coming under the arch of the stables, surrounded by his guards. He crosses the yard in four swift strides. Before anyone can stop him he takes my hands and kisses them, searching my face for my rising blush of desire, then he takes me into his arms and kisses me on the mouth. I feel a rush of love for him. I put my arms around him and press against him. Thank God we are reunited at last, and tonight we will sleep in the same bed. I could cry for relief, and thank God our worries are over.
His face is as radiant as mine. “My love,” he says. “We are spared the plague and reunited. Thank God.”
“We will never be parted again,” I promise him. “Swear it.”
“Never parted again,” he promises me.
“Now, you must see your boys before we set off.”
Teddy remembers his father, despite these long days of separation, and jumps towards him, his arms oustretched. Ned snatches up his son, and I see how small my boy is, when he is held in his tall father’s arms, against his broad chest. Teddy puts his arm around his father’s neck and holds his face against his cheek. Thomas gives the gummy beam that he shows to everyone, and waves a sticky hand.
“How handsome they are, how well they look! Who would have thought that we would have brought such bright blooms from this dark place?” Ned says. “Truly, it is a miracle.”
“It is,” I say. “And now we will start our married life with two boys, two sons and heirs, in your family house. We are going to Hanworth, aren’t we?”
“Yes. We have to thank my mother for this release. I know that she has been writing constantly to William Cecil about us. She will want us at home.”
The lieutenant comes to my side. “My lady, we have to go now if we are to make the journey without too much fatigue for the children. It’s going to be very hot later.”
“Of course,” I say. I take hold of Teddy’s plump little bottom, but he tightens his grip on his father and insists: “Teddy—Dada! Dada!”
“Will Teddy ride with me?” Ned asks. “I don’t think we’ll get him off me without a crowbar.”
“Do you want to ride with your dada, on his big horse?” I ask him.
Teddy lifts his beaming face from his father’s neck and nods. “Teddy—Dada. Hee-up.”
“Teddy can go before his father, and when he wants to rest he can be carried by Lucy as she rides pillion,” I suggest.
“Your lordship’s horse has cast a shoe,” the lieutenant says to Ned. “Farrier is shoeing him now. He’ll be a few minutes more. Best to let her ladyship start her journey so she can rest as she pleases. You’ll catch her up on the road; the wagon will be so slow.”
“Very well. Teddy can wait with me and we’ll catch you up. I’ll hold him steady,” Ned promises me. He kisses me again, over our little son’s head. I have a moment of rare joy when I embrace my husband and my elder son together, my hand on my husband’s shoulder, the other around my little boy.
“I’ll see you on the road.” I cup my hand around my son’s cheek. “Be a good boy for your dada and keep your hat on.”
“Yeth,” my boy says obediently, his grip tight on his father’s neck.
“He’s choking me.” My husband smiles. “Don’t fear he’ll fall off. He’s clinging on as if he was Mr. Nozzle.”
I kiss him again and then I climb on the mounting block and into my saddle. Everyone is mounted and waiting for me. I wave my hand to Ned and my son, and follow the guards out of the stable yard. “See you in a little while!” I call. “See you soon.”
The horses’ hooves clatter on the cobbles of the main gate. We ride under the arch of the gateway and, as the shadow falls on me, there is a deafening roar. Beyond the gateway, the lane is lined by the guards of the Tower and the bridge over the moat is massed with the Tower servants. As I ride past, the guards present arms and salute, as if I were a queen riding out to take my throne, and I emerge into the sunshine into a blast of cheering as the servants throw their hats in the air and the women curtsey and kiss their hands to me. I am free at last; I can smell it on the breeze and in the joy of the cry of the seagulls.
I smile and wave at the Tower servants, and then I see that beyond the bridge and the farthest gatehouse the citizens of London have somehow heard that we are free, and there are people being pushed back from the roadway by the guards, cheering, and even holding up roses for me.