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souls who may have been misguided in life butsurely is deserving of the sweetness of Heaven. Before I leave, I remember topray for the child too, for only God knows what her future will be – daughterof a queen and a reprobate.

My heart isheavy. I grieve for Katherine, for the loss of my father, and for the end ofthe world I loved, the religion I refuse to divert from.

I pray forlittle Mary Seymour, and for all the children of the true church in theseperilous days. The summer passes, wet and warm, the crops rot in the fields,the cattle take sick and die. And, months later, when Thomas Seymour is takenup for treason and condemned to death by his own brother and nephew … it seemssomehow fitting. I never expect to hear good tidings in these sorry days. Asthe world slowly implodes, the only thing in my power to do is pray.

St James’ Palace – October 1558

“Werethose times truly perilous, Your Majesty?”

I squint at the child, flexingmy toes beneath the covers.

“Of course they were; it wasterrifying. I could trust no one. I had never had faith in Thomas Seymour but Icannot truly believe he meant to hurt the king. He was always fond of children,especially us royals, and he never once called without a gift of some kind; a boxof sweetmeats for Elizabeth, a toy for Edward. I recall he once gave my brothera pet monkey. It may have all been … to the purpose of securing favour and aplace in the future royal household but … I will not believe that. He was afool but he did not deserve to die.

“In those uncertain times, perilwas around every corner especially if, like me, you refused the jurisdiction ofthe protector. I, and people like me, found ourselves caught in a cleft stick.I could not forswear Christ, and I could not in conscience obey the law of theland. I stood in direct conflict to Somerset’s wishes and yes, my life was in greatdanger just like anyone else who stood in opposition to him.”

Anne shuffles closer, her faceshining like a moon in the darkness of the chamber.

“What happened? Why did theynot arrest you?”

I sniff, wipe the tip of mynose on the edge of my sleeve and try to blink away the darkness that encroacheson my vision.

“Ah, well I had the backing ofSpain, you see. I’ve relied on Spain, some might say unwisely, throughout everycrisis of my life. Had Somerset come down too hard on me, he’d have been everafter looking over his shoulder to see if my cousin was coming for him. TheSpanish ambassador … what was the fellow’s name … Van de Delft … he suggested Iflee the country and take up residence at Charles’ court but … I could neverleave England. It is the only home I’ve ever known. I always looked upon it as mycountry … even then, when I appeared to have no part in its future.”

“So what happened next?”

I peer into the past, thatseems to have come to life among the bed hangings.

“Well, in the end, aftermonths, years of bullying, even the council had enough of Somerset. Thecitizens whom I lived amongst in Norfolk rioted – I swear I had nothing to dowith it. Somerset sent Dudley to deal with the trouble and the fighting wasfierce, and the punishment of the rebels fiercer still. The people of EastAnglia hated Dudley ever after … and Somerset too. I was powerless whileEngland balanced on the edge of civil war and could do nothing but pray, but …it seems that God was listening after all.”

“What did He do?”

Anne’s eyes are shining as ifshe expects me to reply that Heaven sent a fearsome angel to smite down Hisenemies. I smile at the image, laughter bubbling in my belly.

“He just made Warwick,Southampton and other members of the privy council come to their senses andtoss Somerset from his pedestal.

“He didn’t go easily, ofcourse. As soon as he got wind of what was happening, he took possession of Edwardand bundled him away to Windsor Castle. To speak plain, he kidnapped the king.”

Her mouth falls open, her eyesswivelling as she tries to absorb the enormity of the events I describe.

“Kidnapped the king?”

She plucks a grape from mybowl, forgetting whose company she is in, but I don’t mind. I rather enjoy herlack of fear, the absence of false deference. I have the feeling that when Godfinally frees me from this earthly penance, she will be one of the few toregret it.

“Yes. He wrote to me of itafterwards; the king, I mean. He complained of rough treatment and of catchinga fever. He said he greatly missed his chamber and servants, and having booksor toys to play with. As I recall, Somerset had forgotten to take the king’sspaniel along. I laughed when I read that. The country in turmoil, an anointedking in danger of his life, and my precocious little brother is angry that hehas mislaid his pet dog.”

Our conjoined laughter makesthe candles dip but I sober quickly and frown at the top of her head. “The truthof the matter is, the coup turned my brother, who was the hope of Tudor dynasty,from a revered king into a frightened little boy. I never forgot that andneither, I suspect, did Edward.”

“So, everything was all rightafter that?”

“I thought so, for a while. Iimagined the coup was a triumph for the old church and that the ancient wayswould soon be restored but I was wrong. Northumberland was just as ambitious asSomerset, you see; another scoundrel who was just as wed to heresy as the restof them.”

A door opens, the past and thepeople who inhabited it with me trickle away and I remember I am trapped in thepresent.

“The doctor is here, YourMajesty.”

I tug the covers to my chin.

“I have no wish to see him.”

“But you instructed me to sendfor him, Your Majesty.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ve beentalking to Anne here.”

I glance at my companion, buther seat is empty, the skeletal remains of the grapes she has eaten the onlytestament to her having ever been with

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