To Mary’s surprise, she’d gained someone with whom to share the ordeal of being … if not a princess, then at least one of the first ladies at court. Very often now, she went along to the queen’s bedchamber so that they could get ready together.
But they hardly shared secrets, because for every minute they were still accompanied by Jane’s numerous ladies. Jane didn’t seem to have the confidence – the confidence which Mary’s mother had possessed in abundance – to send them away.
In general, Mary found her curious stepmother to be almost dismayingly eager to please. Mary could not understand quite how Jane got through court life with her nervous, anxious manner, worried all the time about what people would think of her. But Mary could see that her father liked the fuss that she made of him.
When they were all three together, he made a great play of it, claiming that they were a family, and classing them together as his girls.
This made Mary slightly want to roll her eyes. If she were queen like Jane, she wouldn’t want to be called a girl. But Jane just simpered, and lapped it up.
He thinks she’s perfect, Mary said to herself. And my father likes the idea of me, too, more than the reality. He likes telling people that I’m his daughter, and don’t I look like him, and how clever I am. But he never really asks me any questions. That was how her father preferred it, Mary realised sadly. She wondered when, if ever, he would take her seriously.
Then it was winter, nearly Christmas, and they were to ride in a splendid procession from Westminster through the city of London back towards Greenwich, the palace where they would stay for the twelve days of the festival.
Mary understood that her mother’s friends, like Sir Nicholas, were very glad that she was to take part in the procession. The ride through the city with Queen Jane would be a sign of her return to … something like her former status.
Jane and Mary dressed in furs and velvet for the chilly ride, and then found themselves in the palanquin together, being lifted to a swaying shoulder level. Mary noticed the queen gulping, and holding on tight.
‘It’s all right,’ Mary said. ‘They’re hardly going to drop the queen of England on the ground, are they? They’ll do everything in their power to keep us up!’
‘That’s not what worries me,’ her stepmother admitted. ‘Sometimes I worry so much about doing the wrong thing that part of my mind almost forces me to do it anyway, just to spite myself.’
Mary laughed. Although the queen was supposed to be older and more powerful than herself, she sometimes felt that she had the advantage over Jane. After all, Mary had arrived at court long before Jane. After all, Mary had been born here.
The high, swaying palanquin excited Mary as much as it dismayed Jane. There was so much to be seen from up here, as they looked high over the heads of their bearers. Once the procession had started to move out of the palace courtyard, and to travel down the street, Mary noticed something unusual. The crowds lining the roadway were roaring now with excitement to see the two royal ladies. And on this occasion, she suddenly realised, the ladies-in-waiting were all travelling in a wagon, which had fallen a little distance behind.
For once, Mary noticed, they could talk without being overheard.
‘We are in our own little world!’ Mary observed. ‘Like a ship at sea.’ She’d never been on a ship, but she imagined it was thrilling, like this, to be carried upon the waves. She was looking away from Jane, to smile to the crowd, and occasionally to wave. Jane was doing the same on the other side, but she could hear Mary perfectly well.
‘Yes,’ Jane replied, but taking Mary more seriously than she had intended. ‘We are often in a little world of our own at court,’ she continued. Mary could tell from her voice that Jane, too, had spotted the rare opportunity they had to speak privately. ‘You know, Mary,’ she continued, ‘I fear that the news of what’s happening in the world is kept from us.’
Mary whipped her head round to give Jane a glance. The serene curve of her cheek looked just as usual, but in her words Mary detected something amiss. Smile and wave, smile and wave, Mary thought.
Across the river, the sun was shining brightly and winter-low. Jane now raised a hand to shield her eyes, and turned her head as if to avoid the rays. She was looking straight at Mary.
Suddenly she was speaking very fast and very low.
‘While there is nobody to overhear us, Mary,’ she said, ‘I need to tell you that there is serious news from the north. My family have let me know … discreetly. The rising in the north, in Lincoln and other places, is worse than you think. In fact, there is bad news which closely concerns you. You remember Sir John Hussey?’
Mary felt a pang of regret for her forgetfulness of him.
‘Oh!’ she said, matching Jane’s mutter, although her feeling was painfully sharp. ‘It has been too long since I have seen him. And his wife, Nan, who was once my closest servant. She has … I’m afraid she has suffered in my service.’
There was a pause. Jane turned back briefly to the riverbank crowds, making great arcing waves with her arm to acknowledge their ragged cheers and cap-waving.
Mary noticed that their bearers were now moving away from the river. Great mansions and palaces were standing between the water and their road. They were getting into the City of London. There was an arch in golden tracery erected over the way, with a red and white rose in each of its spandrels. It had been knocked up overnight by carpenters, obviously, but was no less impressive and beautiful for that.
The two of them fixed smiles on their faces and craned their heads upwards. Jane clasped her hands together. ‘Beautiful!’ she called. The nearest members of the crowd broke into spontaneous applause.
Mary feasted her eyes on the ingenious construction for as long as she could, but then they were off again, lurching forward with a bump. ‘There must be many more of these to see along the way,’ she said, ‘or else they would have let us spend more time, perhaps get down to thank the builders.’
But Jane was again turning towards her, and Mary saw that her pale blue eyes were elsewhere, thinking about something far removed from Christmas decorations.
‘It pains me to tell you this,’ she said urgently, before breaking off.
‘I’m so sorry to tell you, Mary,’ she began again, ‘that Sir John Hussey is dead. He was on the side of the rebels, you know. Who rose up in favour of the Old Religion.’ She paused, and swallowed hard. ‘The religion of your mother.’
Mary clutched a hand to her side. She felt a dull ache there, like the rumble of thunder warning of a storm of feeling to come. Nan tortured … and now Sir John killed? How had this happened? This was terrible news.
But she also knew that this was no place or time to show weakness.
‘Why did my father not speak of this?’
‘He is very sparing with, um, with information,’ Jane admitted. ‘Have you not noticed that? If something displeases him, he acts as if it isn’t really true. I believe he thought that when you were in … captivity. I believe he truly didn’t think that anything was wrong. Master Cromwell kept telling him that you were well, and would soon submit.’
Mary stared at her.
‘Wave, Mary, remember to wave,’ said Jane, turning away. They were now near St Paul’s and yes, here was another display – a choir of friars, dressed in golden cloaks. The sun sparkled on the jewelled crucifixes they raised as the ladies passed.
Mary looked at those crosses. What kind of a God would allow Sir John Hussey to die? A stern God, Mary thought to herself. She knew that it wasn’t her place to question His will, but this was hard to bear.
Jane could sense that Mary was in pain.
‘I tell you this now, Mary,’ she hissed, ‘because I think you have the right to know. But I beg you, tell no one else. Please act at Christmas as if nothing is amiss.’
Mary did not need to ask why.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, in a ragged whisper. ‘I won’t tell.’
They rode on further, passing narrow streets clogged with dung, and women who looked cold, and babies who looked dirty. They were still cheering, cheering, to see the queen, and the king’s eldest daughter, the Lady Mary.
‘I’m not really worried about myself,’ Jane said. ‘I know that sooner or later I must die. But I want you to live, Mary. You are so straight, and strong, like an arrow fired from a bow. I think you will be all right.’
Mary made a quick gesture. ‘But God will surely spare you until you grow very old! Why talk of dying?’
Jane was shushing Mary. Yes, unassertive Jane wanted to speak so badly that she was actually demanding Mary’s attention. Mary thought she had better listen.
‘Oh no, my way is set,’ Jane said grimly, ‘as it is for the wife of any king. I must bear a son, that’s all that matters for me. As soon as I’ve done that no one will care what happens to me. But you know this, don’t you, Mary? You have been locked up for being born royal.’
‘Why did you marry him, then?’ Mary could feel her eyes growing round like saucers. What a surprise it was to hear this neat little doll saying such dark, dreadful things!
Mary saw that Jane’s hands were shaking slightly.
‘Because I fear the king,’ she said, ‘and I fear Master Cromwell.’
‘Master Cromwell! What has he to do with it?’ Mary was aghast. She had no wish to hear more of his power and influence.
‘He controls everyone, everything,’ Jane said, through pale lips. ‘He controls your father. It’s like witchcraft. They accused the old Queen Anne of witchcraft, but it’s Master Cromwell who is the wizard. Whatever he wants, he gets, and he wanted the king married to me. He thought I would be easy to manage. Well, I am easy to manage. I give very little trouble. And I will be happy to give the king a son, if I can.’
Mary took all this in, scarcely hearing the buzz of the people on the streets.
‘Now smile, Mary,’ the queen enjoined her. ‘Remember, you have to be seen to be believed.’
The unwitting echo of her mother caused Mary’s heart to skip a beat. And yes, it was exactly as her mother had warned. It may have been difficult and dangerous when she was exiled, but life could be even more difficult and dangerous here at court.