Her Highness, the Traitor

31

Jane Dudley

July 12, 1553, to July 19, 1553





I pass over the dreadful scene following my daughter-in-law’s refusal to give Guildford the crown matrimonial. It makes so little difference now—and besides, it was not one of my finer moments.

The arrogant child who had become our queen, however, was to score another victory the following evening when she summoned the council before her and told them her own father could by no means lead the troops against Mary. He was too ill, she said, and besides, she would be lost without him. When tears welled up in her soft brown eyes, the councilors lost all will. Someone else, they agreed, would have to lead the army—and what man would be better for it than the man who had broken Kett’s rebellion, my own dear husband?

As the man who had done more than anyone to fulfill King Edward’s dying wish, John could hardly refuse to lead the army. “Though I would like to,” he said when he brought the news. “I worry about the loyalty of some of the men here. Arundel in particular.” Imprisoned when Somerset fell, he had spent a year in the Tower. Recently, he had been released and had had his fines canceled and his place on the king’s council restored—generous treatment for someone who had been plotting at the very least to arrest my husband.

“Perhaps you should take him with you.”

“I considered it, but there will be enough commanders going with me, and it would look as if I didn’t trust him—which, of course, I don’t, but it can’t look as if I don’t. But perhaps my suspicions are for naught. He is, after all, a close relation of the queen.” John shrugged. “This shouldn’t take too long, in any case. We’re well prepared.”

“I will be glad when you return, so we can get the queen crowned and we can leave the Tower,” I confessed. “I am a little too close to the queen here for my comfort.”

“Yes, I heard about that set-to the other day.” I hung my head, and John grinned. “What a shrew I married. But really, you served Katherine Howard, the silliest queen in Christendom. Jane can’t be much worse.”

“Katherine Howard was irresponsible, but sweet natured and pleasant. And I was much more patient then, too,” I admitted. “Probably because I was younger.”

“Oh? I haven’t noticed such a change.” John drew me close to him and ran his hands along my form. “I shall miss you, my love.”

A knock sounded. “Your Grace? The queen is asking for you.”

“And that,” I said, “is just another reason why I will be glad to leave the Tower.”

***

The next day, July 13, John left the Tower for Durham House, where he was to muster his troops and set out the following morning. With him would be going our sons Jack, Ambrose, and Hal, as well as our daughters’ husbands, Henry Sidney and Lord Hastings. Andrew, John’s brother, and Francis Jobson, his half sister’s husband, were also accompanying John.

John knelt before Queen Jane, sitting in her chair of state. The night before, having heard of his agreement to take her father’s place at the head of her army, she had thanked him, sounding almost human in her gratitude. “We wish you Godspeed,” she said now as John kissed her outstretched hand. “You will keep us apprised of the pretend queen’s movements?”

“I shall, Your Majesty,” said John, rising in response to Jane’s gesture.

“Our trust is in you.”

“And in Your Majesty’s council.” In a low voice, John said, “Your Majesty, do be alert for treachery. I accuse no man, but these are volatile times.”

“We will be, my lord.”

With a final bow, John backed out of the queen’s chamber and walked through the council chamber as I and my daughters followed, wanting to be the last to see him off. The Earl of Arundel stopped his path. “I wish to say, Your Grace, that although we have had our differences in the past, I pray that God be with you,” the earl said, pressing John’s hand. “You may rest assured that I will spend my blood at your feet if the occasion warrants it.”

“I pray it may not come to that,” John said, obviously moved. “But I am grateful to hear this.”

Arundel looked down paternally at John’s page, Thomas Lovell, off for his first taste of battle, which I prayed would be slight. “Farewell, gentle Thomas, with all my heart,” he said, and ruffled the boy’s hair.

At last, I stood by the Tower landing with my daughters and my daughters-in-law as John prepared to step into the barge that would take him to Durham Place. He did not like long, undignified farewells in public, and in any case, we had given each other such a farewell in the privacy of my bedchamber the evening before, with the additional merit of it being pleasurable. So I settled for a kiss and a quick embrace, and my companions with me followed suit. “Do take care of yourself, my love,” I said as we pulled apart. “The Dudley women will not rest easy until you return,” I added lightly.

John smiled, then surprised me by sneaking a kiss just before he got on the barge. We stood there waving a few minutes more. Then John turned his attention to his companions, and we women filed back into the Tower. Back to the councilors waiting there, their false smiles still on their Judas faces.

***

I need not dwell at length on those next six days in the Tower. What is to tell? The council sent out proclamations urging various men to support Jane, who nodded approvingly at the denunciation of her opponents they contained and signed them in a firm, bold hand her great-uncle King Henry might well have appreciated. The Duchess of Suffolk and I sewed shirts for the poor and kept a silent count of the occasions when either Guildford or Jane slighted or irritated the other. Bad news of various defections to Mary trickled in, but there was nothing that made me lose heart entirely. John’s victory would not be as easy as we had hoped, but I had confidence there would be a victory.

Then, on July 19, Guildford came in, ashen. “The council’s taken off. I wasn’t asked to come along. Neither was the Duke of Suffolk.”

“Where have they gone? What are they doing?”

“I don’t know.”

A bell started pealing insistently. Some sort of news was to be proclaimed. Had John won a victory?

Without speaking further, Guildford and I hurried through the Tower gates and to Tower Hill, where a crowd had already assembled. There, I saw with relief, was the Duke of Suffolk, mounted on a horse. We pushed closer to him but could make no progress through the mob, which had started to light bonfires in its midst. Wine, ale, and beer were being passed around freely—too freely, really. John, a temperate man, would disapprove.

Then came the cries, faint at first but growing louder as the speakers approached. “Long live Queen Mary!”

“Good Queen Mary, daughter of our King Henry!”

“Long may she reign!”

Someone shoved a bottle in my face. Unthinkingly, I took a deep draught. “Mary?” I said, passing it back to the anonymous donor.

“Aye, Mary! Take another sip, dearie, you look as if you could use it. Haven’t you heard? The Earl of Arundel and the Earl of Pembroke proclaimed her queen at Cheapside just a little while ago, and they’re still cheering over there, I wager. It’s all up with that little slip of a girl they called Jane, poor lass. Not to mention those who put her on the throne. Whoa! Save some for the rest of us, dearie. It’s going to be a long night.”

A trumpet blasted. “Good people,” called the Duke of Suffolk in an unexpectedly eloquent voice. “Silence!” The crowd instantly grew quiet.

“Whereas it hath pleased Almighty God to call to his mercy our late sovereign lord King Edward VI of blessed and glorious memory,” the duke began, “I, Henry, Duke of Suffolk, do now hereby publish and proclaim that the high and mighty Lady Mary, daughter of King Henry VIII, is now by the death of our late sovereign of happy and glorious memory become our only lawful and rightful liege, Mary, queen by the grace of God of England, France, and Ireland. God save the queen!”

“God save the queen!”

“And the devil take the Duke of Northumberland!”

Guildford muttered a curse that fortunately went unheard by the boisterous crowd. My very ordinary face was of the type that allowed me to blend in to my surroundings, but my attire was another matter altogether. Guildford, tall, handsome, and richly dressed, was even less inconspicuous. If he was recognized as a Dudley… “We must get out of here,” I hissed.

“What do you think is going to happen to Northumberland?” a man nearby asked his companion as the Duke of Suffolk tried to silence the crowd again for the singing of Te Deum.

“It won’t be pretty, if Queen Mary’s made up of the stuff of her father.” The second man chuckled. “Beheading if he’s lucky. Hanging, drawing, and quartering if we’re lucky.”

Guildford’s hand went to the sword he wore at his side. I grabbed his hand. “Take me back. Now.”

A head turned and stared. “Why, it’s—”

I plunged into the crowd, hoping Guildford had sense enough to follow. Fortunately, he did. I felt my jeweled headdress go awry as we pushed against the movement of the crowd, then fall off my head altogether, but I could not bend to retrieve it even if I had dared. At last we were safely inside the Tower gates. Gasping, we made our way to the hall where Jane sat dining under her canopy of estate. The meal had just begun. “You are late,” Jane said, frowning. “And why do you not kneel to us? What disrespect is this?” She looked more closely at our disheveled appearances. “What is this?”

I said nothing, but shook my head and sank onto the nearest bench. Guildford began, “Jane—”

The Duke of Suffolk stumbled in, head lowered and tears streaming down his face. Jane rose. Her voice climbed to a childish squeak. “Father?”

“This morning, after the council conducted its business here, most of the members left the Tower on the pretense of consulting with the French ambassador,” Suffolk said slowly, as if he were reading instead of speaking. “Instead, they met at Baynard’s Castle, Pembroke’s home, and agreed to proclaim the lady Mary queen. They asked the Lord Mayor and the aldermen to join them, and they did. Then they all rode to the cross at Cheapside to proclaim her. I was not there, but they say the crowd went wild with joy and are still celebrating.” Suffolk bowed his head even farther; I could hardly hear him speak. “The council sent a deputation to me, and I have proclaimed the lady Mary as queen just now on Tower Hill. I am sorry, my child. I could not stand against them all. I am but one man.”

He reached up and began tearing down the canopy of state under which Jane was dining, sobbing as the fine cloth came tumbling to the ground. Jane watched openmouthed as the Duchess of Suffolk began to weep. “So we are—I am—no longer queen?”

“Yes, lass. It’s all over.” He swallowed. “The council has given orders. Your mother and I are to go to Suffolk Place and remain there until further notice—after I perform one duty. You are to stay in the Tower and await the pleasure of Queen Mary. None of us knows what that will be. The Earl of Arundel and my lord Paget are riding to Her Majesty at Framingham tonight.”

“What of John?” I asked, breaking the silence that fell over the room. “What of my husband and his army? Has the council forgotten him?”

“No, they have not. As we speak, the council is preparing a letter for the Duke of Northumberland, who is said to be at Cambridge, informing him that he must disband his forces and instructing him to await the queen’s orders. Signing it is the duty of which I spoke.”

“We must warn John,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. “Come, Guildford! We cannot just let him wait to be captured.”

“My lady—”

I ignored Suffolk and ran out of the chamber, followed by Guildford. With the crowd still celebrating outside, leaving the Tower on foot or on horseback would be neither easy nor wise, but if I could go by water to one of our houses, I could take horse to Cambridge. It was a journey of over sixty miles, but I was a country girl by birth, who had learned to ride before I learned my letters, and I could cover that distance quickly if called upon. Or I could send one of our men ahead of me. Or—

“Your Grace, you cannot pass.”

I blinked at the large guard who was blocking my path to the water gate. “What do you mean? Let me through!”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I can’t. Orders of the council.” Seeing my uncomprehending look, he added, “You are Queen Mary’s prisoner now.”