The Heretic Wind: The Life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England Judith Arnopp (best books to read in your 20s .txt) 📖

warmingcups of frumenty. I push away memories of thick blankets, gentle arms, andclutch my fur-lined cloak tighter to my throat, lowering my head against thefreezing rain.

Slowly, theeternity of road unreels beneath the hooves of my mount. My head is so heavy Ican scarce hold it erect and I can barely keep my eyes open. I long for a softmattress, a hot drink, for sleep and oblivion.

“Take care, mylady, lest you fall.” A rough male voice jerks me awake. I blink blearily atthe man-at-arms. His hand is clutching my rein and he smiles tightly. “Not muchfarther now, my lady.”

I am sograteful for his solicitation that I cannot find my voice. Ahead, the broadexpanse of Norfolk’s back rises and falls with his horse’s gait. I smile wrylyat the man but he does not return it. I understand that he dare not and make dowith the cold comfort of his unspoken empathy.

Not longnow, I tell myself. Dusk is falling. Ahead, I imagine I see a glimmer oflight, a yellow speck of suggested destination. I blink into the gloom.

“Is that…?”

“I believe so,my lady.”

The lights ofthe inn grow brighter as we draw closer. An ostler looks up as we ride by and tugshis forelock, but that is the only greeting I receive. Usually my arrival ishailed ceremoniously with a fanfare and great pomp, but today I could beanyone. My arrival passes unnoticed. I turn regretfully in the saddle as thebrightness of the inn diminishes behind us, and with it the hope of warm drinksand a lively fire. We climb uphill, my horse’s head nodding at the effort. Thena church looms from the dusk, the stocky bell tower solid and reassuringagainst the dark sky. A cry goes up and the gates of the house start opening.

I have beenhere before, of course. I have stayed here, slept in the best chambers, walkedin the softness of the gardens, sheltered from the rain beneath wide gnarledoaks. In those days, everyone did my bidding, striving one against the other toplease me. Today, the palace yard is empty; only a stable boy comes forward to helpme dismount and lead the horse away.

I standhunched and hungry and wait for someone to appear to greet me, but nobodycomes. Jane Browne, the only woman permitted to accompany me, hobbles forwardas stiff as I from the saddle, and together we move beneath the arch toward thegreat hall.

As we near thedoor I hear footsteps behind me, and Norfolk pushes ahead, causing me to stepaside to allow him passage. I tighten my lips, making note of the incident. Oneday, I vow, I will be in the position to repay him for the slight.

We follow intothe bright hall and I head straight for the hearth, holding out my hands to theflames, wincing at the devilish lick of pain as my fingers begin to thaw.

A light stepbehind. I turn to find a woman, a lady by her dress, and at first I fail torecognise her until she moves forward from the shadow.

“LadyShelton.” I extend my hand but she doesn’t take it and neither does she curtseyas she once would have. Instead, she inclines her head.

“Lady Mary,”she replies indifferently … and then she catches sight of Norfolk. “My lord…” Sheholds out a hand in greeting and he swoops upon it. I recall they are some sortof kin. My gaolers have been chosen well, for she is another cousin of thegreat whore.

I watch as hegreets her, marvelling at his warmth when he has shown me nothing but malice.Ignoring my presence, they rudely exchange news and tidings from court while Iam forced to swallow the slight. Just as I am about to snap, Lady Shelton turnsand casts a derisive eye over my soiled skirts.

“I suppose Ishould show you to your room,” she sniffs.

Turning on herheel, she hurries before me along twisting corridors, up a flight of stairs.Then she halts, fumbles with her keys and throws open a chamber door. I duck myhead beneath the lintel and look around. Jane Browne shakes her head, her eyeswide. “Oh, my lady,” she whispers.

“It isn’t theworst room in the house,” I say, as much to convince myself as anyone else. “Atleast there is a window and … and a brazier.”

But it isn’tlit. I crane my neck to peer across the rooftops and discover my room looksdown upon the barnyard where pigs no doubt root all day in the manure pile, andthe cockerels shriek in the dawn from the stable roof.

“It is not fitfor you though, my lady. It is an outrage you should be housed here. You shouldwrite to the king.”

I sit down onthe bed and find the ropes loose beneath my weight.

“He will notcare, Jane, it would be a waste of ink and paper.”

“Come, let mehelp you out of these wet clothes.”

As I submit toher gentle persuasion, I am overwhelmed with a sense of isolation. I am nobetter than a servant, and there is no one who can help me now. A tear tricklesfrom my eye, drips onto my bodice.

“Ahh, my lady,come here, come here…”

She stands ontiptoe, puts her arms about my neck, and I give way to the tears I have beenstifling for so long. While my body heaves, her hands are gentle on my hair,and she rocks me to and fro as if I were an infant. At length, I pull away, wipingmy wet cheeks with my fingers. She hands me a kerchief and smiles ruefully,tempting me to smile in return.

My mouthwobbles and goes out of shape as I try not to cry again.

“Really, Jane,you must not be so kind, it will be my undoing.”

“Tears arenecessary sometimes, my lady. My mother says they are healing, a gift from Godto help us cope with sorrow.”

I sniffinelegantly and firm my mouth, clenching my weak chin and pushing the raw paindeep, deep inside.

“I suppose Ishould put in an appearance downstairs in the hall.”

“Anne Sheltonis not so bad, my lady, and you must agree her job is not an easy one. She hasnothing against you, I’m sure, but probably feels obliged to not disobey the k… her