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

She turns slowly. I sense herdiscomfort, her lack of ease in my presence, and I despise her for wanting toleave me.

“But I was a child, do yousee? I had no notion of the cruelties of this world and I had been brought upto believe I was special. Irreplaceable. Favoured by God. I thought it didn’tmatter that I was a girl because the king loved me … and he did love me,you know, better than the others - despite everything that came after … I doknow that. I haven’t ever forgotten.”

She makes a nervous sound. Itry to win her over with a soft laugh, gain her friendship, but the sound thatemerges is more like a cough. I fumble for my kerchief and spit blood into the fineFlemish lace. When I look up, I sense that all I have gained is her pity.

She steps forward, offers me acup that I take from her with trembling hands. The wine is welcome. It fills mymouth with flavour before flowing down my throat and warming my belly. When I giveher the empty vessel, I sense she is holding back comment.

Narrowing my eyes, I peer ather grubby face. “What is it? What do you want to say? You can speak freely.”

“I – I was going to say …perhaps it would help you to remember that at least you had a father … at leastyou know how it feels to be loved. My father died while I was still in thewomb…”

“And you think it is better toknow what you’re missing, do you? Better to suffer a lifetime of wondering whatit was you did wrong? Sometimes I wish I’d died in the womb like my siblings …then I’d have avoided the agony of watching the father I loved destroy themother I adored.”

My throat closes painfully. Self-pityswamps me. I bite my lower lip to prevent myself from weeping, so this lowlyperson will not witness my pain. It is better that she sees only my anger, but …I should explain the injustice, the suffering, and perhaps she will understandthe battles I have faced.

She clutches the handle of herbucket so hard her knuckles turn white, and I feel a glimmer of admiration forher courage. She is, after all, a nobody debating with a queen. She thinks fora while and when she finally speaks, her words gush like water from a breacheddam.

“Perhaps he loved the queen too,but perhaps he put his obedience to God first. It was all long before I wasborn but … didn’t King Henry claim to believe the marriage to be a - a sinagainst God?”

I glare at her.

“A sin against God? Are you afool? Of course there was no sin, or do you believe his lies like the rest ofthem, and think me a bastard too?”

“Oh no, Your Majesty!”

She wags her head in denial,falling to her knees. “I did not mean to offend. I merely tried to offer youcomfort.” Her voice is a whisper. I turn away and stare moodily into an emptycorner.

“There is no comfort. Not onthis earth. I wait impatiently for God to take me and put an end to this misery… although…”

She looks up, her eyes dark, butthe fear in them is no match for the bleakness in mine.

“What do you think will happento my realm when I am gone? I have worked so hard to undo the damage my brotherEdward inflicted on the church. When I am gone, Elizabeth will have it all. Shewill take apart all I have done to reverse Edward’s heresies, and the bastarddaughter of a whore will hold the reins of England.”

She swallows, wagging her headfrom side to side as she searches for and fails to find an answer.

“I suppose you know verylittle of the real Elizabeth, do you? Yet her day will come. She will be queenand there is nothing I can do to prevent it now. If only I had birthed achild, a fat healthy boy. That would have taken the wind from my sister’ssails.

“She was ill-gotten, you know,born of sin, to a sinner. I knew it as soon as I saw her just as I knew hermother for my enemy on the day I first laid eyes on her. It took my own mothera little longer to realise that the younger of the Boleyn sisters was a verydifferent kettle of fish to her sister Mary, or to Fitzroi’s mother. MaryBoleyn and Bessie were good sorts, they knew their place, but AnneBoleyn refused to be kept down. She continually bobbed to the surface of mylife, like a rotting corpse in a river.”

The door opens and Susan pokesher head into the room. Quickly, I close my eyes, pretending to sleep. When shesees the girl, Susan bustles forward. “What are you doing?” she hisses. “Whyare you taking so long?”

“Her Majesty was talking tome.”

“Nonsense. She’s spoken to noone for days. And why are you tending the fires when it isn’t your job to do so?”

“Her Majesty asked me to. Itwas cold, the queen was…”

“Go and see if Her Majesty’ssupper is prepared…”

“Get someone else to do it,” Iraise my head and snarl, not bothering to open my eyes. They are all sotiresome, so … infuriating. I prefer the company of this half-grown girl to theforced pleasantries of my women. Susan may be my dearest friend but I cannotspeak so plainly to her. She is too close and I would hate to see herdisappointment in me. But this child, even if she judges me … her opinion isnothing.

Unable to hide her disillusionment,Susan withdraws, and I open my eyes, smile conspiratorially at my new friend.

“Now, where was I? Oh yes …Ludlow…”

Ludlow – 1527

My humiliation at being ousted fromcourt is cast into shadow when my cousin breaks our betrothal and marriesIsabel of Portugal instead. I am forced to put away the idea of myself as Queenof Spain and instead I bury myself in study, determined to hone my knowledgeuntil I am as learned as any boy, as good as any prince in Europe. Better thanFitzroi.

 My time isnot restricted