stronger and wrenched the locket from her hands,
making Jane scream in pain. Blood oozed from her fingers as the chain sliced
into them.
'You've hurt me,' she cried at the Queen.
Anne did not answer. She was looking at the locket,
her eyes wide in horror, her head shaking as if she could not believe the
evidence of her own eyes.
She turned to look at the King. He must have heard the
furore but he steadfastly refused to look towards them. His eyes remained glued
to the Masque but I thought he no longer saw any of it. Not really.
'See how the gauntlet is thrown down,' Philippa
whispered. 'See how Jane pushes the witch onto the slippery slope which will
prove her doom.'
'I turned to look at Philippa. I could not believe
what she was telling me. And then a seed of doubt opened in my heart. And that
doubt grew stronger with every passing day. For every day she seemed to gloat
over how Jane's star was rising and Anne's falling.'
Even as I said those words I realised how often I had
denied this doubt, told myself it was a fancy and nothing more. Philippa was a
friend of mine, I would tell myself, and surely a friend could not be so
different from me. I realised now how I had been deluded.
I passed my hand over my eyes, kept them closed for a
moment while I steadied myself. When I opened them I saw that Susan was looking
at me with deep concern.
'I always suspected something amiss with you and
Wicks,'she said.
'I wish I'd realised it sooner,' I said. 'But I know
now; for certain.'
Susan patted my hand. She pulled her collar further up
her neck and shivered. 'But I had not realised about Jane.'
I shook my head. 'Few people do. But it was Jane
Seymour as much as anybody who caused Anne Boleyn's death. And maybe one day
she will pay for her treachery. Or so I think.'
Susan reached out and took my hand. 'I think so too,'
she said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Death of a Queen.
24th October 1537
Twelve days after she gave birth Queen Jane gave up
the ghost. That's what Susan said at any rate. Cruel, I know, but witty. Susan
never had much time for Jane Seymour.
It was not news for anybody in the Court if truth be
told. Jane had never recovered from the rigours of childbirth. Her strength of
body, unlike that of her ambition, had never been noteworthy.
But at the time the Court was more than usually a
hotbed of rumour and gossip.
The night the prince was born, rumour had it that the
child had only come into the world after the Queen's legs had been stretched so
wide her hips were almost dislocated. Nobody could say whether or no this was
true. There had been no midwife in her chamber for the Royal physicians had
attended her. These venerable old men were learned in the words of ancient
doctors, herbs and astrology. But not one of them had ever before helped a
woman give birth. They probably had many Latin and Greek authorities to support
the racking of limbs.
Darker rumours whispered that the Queen had been cut
open while still alive and relatively hale. That she had lingered on her bed,
in agony, her life ebbing from her, screaming curses on the King for valuing an
heir more than her life.
I doubted Jane would ever have cursed in such a
fashion. Her motto had always been, 'Bound to obey and serve.' She was, despite
her fierce ambition, a simpleton, and I thought she would hold to her motto
even to her death.
Others said that Jane was very much alive days after
the birth of the child. She was said to be strong enough to see the boy
immediately after his Christening when he was three days old. However, her weak
constitution meant that she was not allowed to leave her chamber. Her
non-appearance served only to fuel the more lurid rumours.
At any rate, a week after the Christening, whether
from the rigours of natural childbirth, dislocated hips or the cut from the
surgeon's knife, the Queen had died.
I received the news with a horror which surprised me.
Jane and I had been friends when I first came to
Court, two
making Jane scream in pain. Blood oozed from her fingers as the chain sliced
into them.
'You've hurt me,' she cried at the Queen.
Anne did not answer. She was looking at the locket,
her eyes wide in horror, her head shaking as if she could not believe the
evidence of her own eyes.
She turned to look at the King. He must have heard the
furore but he steadfastly refused to look towards them. His eyes remained glued
to the Masque but I thought he no longer saw any of it. Not really.
'See how the gauntlet is thrown down,' Philippa
whispered. 'See how Jane pushes the witch onto the slippery slope which will
prove her doom.'
'I turned to look at Philippa. I could not believe
what she was telling me. And then a seed of doubt opened in my heart. And that
doubt grew stronger with every passing day. For every day she seemed to gloat
over how Jane's star was rising and Anne's falling.'
Even as I said those words I realised how often I had
denied this doubt, told myself it was a fancy and nothing more. Philippa was a
friend of mine, I would tell myself, and surely a friend could not be so
different from me. I realised now how I had been deluded.
I passed my hand over my eyes, kept them closed for a
moment while I steadied myself. When I opened them I saw that Susan was looking
at me with deep concern.
'I always suspected something amiss with you and
Wicks,'she said.
'I wish I'd realised it sooner,' I said. 'But I know
now; for certain.'
Susan patted my hand. She pulled her collar further up
her neck and shivered. 'But I had not realised about Jane.'
I shook my head. 'Few people do. But it was Jane
Seymour as much as anybody who caused Anne Boleyn's death. And maybe one day
she will pay for her treachery. Or so I think.'
Susan reached out and took my hand. 'I think so too,'
she said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Death of a Queen.
24th October 1537
Twelve days after she gave birth Queen Jane gave up
the ghost. That's what Susan said at any rate. Cruel, I know, but witty. Susan
never had much time for Jane Seymour.
It was not news for anybody in the Court if truth be
told. Jane had never recovered from the rigours of childbirth. Her strength of
body, unlike that of her ambition, had never been noteworthy.
But at the time the Court was more than usually a
hotbed of rumour and gossip.
The night the prince was born, rumour had it that the
child had only come into the world after the Queen's legs had been stretched so
wide her hips were almost dislocated. Nobody could say whether or no this was
true. There had been no midwife in her chamber for the Royal physicians had
attended her. These venerable old men were learned in the words of ancient
doctors, herbs and astrology. But not one of them had ever before helped a
woman give birth. They probably had many Latin and Greek authorities to support
the racking of limbs.
Darker rumours whispered that the Queen had been cut
open while still alive and relatively hale. That she had lingered on her bed,
in agony, her life ebbing from her, screaming curses on the King for valuing an
heir more than her life.
I doubted Jane would ever have cursed in such a
fashion. Her motto had always been, 'Bound to obey and serve.' She was, despite
her fierce ambition, a simpleton, and I thought she would hold to her motto
even to her death.
Others said that Jane was very much alive days after
the birth of the child. She was said to be strong enough to see the boy
immediately after his Christening when he was three days old. However, her weak
constitution meant that she was not allowed to leave her chamber. Her
non-appearance served only to fuel the more lurid rumours.
At any rate, a week after the Christening, whether
from the rigours of natural childbirth, dislocated hips or the cut from the
surgeon's knife, the Queen had died.
I received the news with a horror which surprised me.
Jane and I had been friends when I first came to
Court, two
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