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

I look at herfrom the side of my eyes as we return to the hall. At the top of the stairs, Ihesitate, unsure of the way we took before.

“I think it isthis way…”

I stride aheadand she follows in my wake, and on entering the hall I find Lady Shelton and mylord of Norfolk in deep conversation. No doubt they are concocting further methodsof torment.

“Lady Mary.”Anne Shelton’s smile is like a serpent’s. “Would you like me to convey you tothe Princess Elizabeth so you may pay your respects?”

Norfolksmirks, stroking his malicious beard. I cannot restrain myself any longer. Ihave been stripped of my title, my assets, my status, and I will not be furtherhumiliated by these people. I raise my chin, looking down my Tudor nose.

“I know of noother princess in England other than myself but … I will greet Elizabeth andtreat her as a sister, just as I treat my father’s other bastard, Henry Fitzroi,as my brother. Please, Lady Shelton, take me to her.”

Norfolk snorts,his face purpling in fury, while Lady Shelton opens one arm and ushers me fromthe room. We pass through fine corridors, sumptuously appointed with tapestriesand plate. At the far end of the passage men are standing guard; at ourapproach they throw open the heavy doors and I am escorted inside. The murmurof conversation hushes, mouths drop open, but no one bows as they once wouldhave done. Lady Shelton touches my elbow.

“Come, LadyMary, you must meet the Princess Elizabeth of England.”

I hesitate. Iwant to run away, to quit this palace for the solace of my mother’s arms, but Icannot. I am a prisoner. Held as fast here as the meanest traitor in the Tower.I take a reluctant step toward the cradle, halting when I hear a gurgle ofinfant glee.

“Come, Mary,the nurse has loosened the princess’ bands to let her limbs free for a while.”

I peer intothe nest of satin and lace and a pair of wide blue eyes meets mine. Somethingstabs me, like grit in the eye. I blink rapidly and grip the edge of the cradlebefore reaching inside. She stops kicking, bubbles of spittle at her lips, andgrabs my finger, clings to it and tries to bite it. Despite myself, I smile,and she smiles back, her pink gums gaping. I waggle my hand, making her armdance, and she emits a crow of laughter that pierces my heart like a lover’sdart.

 St James’ Palace – October 1558

“I’venot been free of her since…” My voice echoes around the empty chamber. I lookup from the pillow, remember where I am, who I am.

Night has fallen, the fireslumbers in the grate, and a woman is sleeping at the hearth. Susan … I wasrude to her earlier. That was cruel of me; she has been with me for solong, served me faithfully, through thick and thin.

When she wakes, I will try torouse myself from this megrim and tell her I’m sorry. Her attendance on me thisnight is out of love, not duty. As my mistress of robes, it is far beneath herstation to watch me sleep. The quietest of my women, her services often gounnoticed and unrewarded. I make a note to remedy that when day breaks. I watchthe flames’ shadows dance about her face, deepening the lines and pouches thattime has painted there. We were both young women when we met. What must it belike to spend one’s whole life in the service of another? It was hard when Iserved Elizabeth but … that was forced upon me. Susan serves me from love …devotion. I had her support when all others were turned against me – while Ifought for my throne, while I struggled with my marriage and … the babies.

Susan believed in my babies asmuch as I did.

My hand delves beneath thecoverlet, coming to rest on my flaccid stomach – my empty, barren womb. I closemy eyes against a sudden griping pain. I had wanted a child so much. A braveboy with flame-red hair and the determination of … of a Tudor, to rulein my stead when I am gone.

Elizabeth is a Tudor, she isstrong and staunch, but how can I name her my heir when, despite her pretensions,I know where her heart truly lies? If she inherits my throne, it will condemnmy loyal subjects to her heresy, the realm will once more be thrown intoreligious turmoil. Yet … who else is there? Who else can I trust? There are no CatholicTudors to follow when I am gone.

Susan stirs, wipes a trickleof drool from her chin and blinks about the room.

“Your Majesty.” She runs herhands across her face, rises and moves toward me, the knee that always causestrouble making her hobble. She looks into my eyes and I remember my resolutionto let her see her worth.

“Susan, you must be so tired,you should have gone to your bed.”

“Oh, Your Majesty, you arefeeling better! Do you know me now?” She clasps my hand, holding it to herbosom.

“Was I rambling before?”

“A little,” she confesses withthe suggestion of a laugh. “You had us worried.”

“I was thinking of my father …it was as if he were right here with me. And I was with my mother and my sistertoo, when she was little. I tried so hard to hate her, you know, but she iskin, do you see?”

“She is, Your Majesty. Youcould not hate her.”

She smoothes the coverlet andtucks it so firmly beneath the mattress that my arms are trapped. I struggleagainst the restraint and throw the coverlet back. As she turns from the bed, Igrab her sleeve, and she sinks back onto the mattress beside me, lowering herface close to mine.

“Oh Susan, I fear I have nochoice but to name her my heir.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Herexpression is unreadable.

“But she is a heretic, I knowshe is. How can I be responsible for the hell she will unleash upon the realm?”

Her hands cover mine.

“It is your duty to name anheir. If you fail to do so, there will be unrest, if you name Elizabeth therewill be unrest also. You wouldn’t want her to have to go