savagery, the Scots have grown ever more resolute and have formed an alliance with France, with which England has long been at odds. The French declared themselves only too happy to offer asylum to the little Queen, who is half-French through her mother, and she was spirited away across the sea in the dead of night, much to my uncle’s fury. He was even less pleased to learn that the Scots had agreed that she should be brought up at the French court as the future bride of the young Dauphin, which has happily, and finally, put paid to His Majesty’s plans to marry her to Prince Edward.
We can express our jubilation only in private.
“Now the way is clear for Jane,” Henry declares over a toast to the future. “But we must bide our time until the right moment. Yet I think that might not be long in coming. His Highness is so offended by the perfidy of the Scots and the French that he may well heartily embrace the idea of an English bride for his son.”
“A bride,” I add, repeating what I have said many times before, “who has Tudor blood in her veins and is the Prince’s own cousin.”
My lord turns to me.
“I think,” he says, “it is time Jane commenced her education.”
“I entirely agree. And the Queen has graciously agreed to help in the matter of finding a suitable tutor. It would be sensible to take her advice. She has shown great interest in Jane, and you know how assiduous she has been in supervising the education of the Prince and the Lady Elizabeth.”
I am privately relieved that Queen Katherine has offered her assistance in this matter, since although I can read and write adequately, I have no great interest in book learning, or much understanding of the mysteries of academic disciplines. I was traditionally educated, well drilled in dancing, riding, music making, embroidery, and household management, like nobly born girls used to be before this newfangled craze for teaching them the same subjects as boys. And I am glad of it—I need nothing more. All I’ve ever really cared for is hunting, hawking, good food and wine, sex, fine clothes, and the high life at court.
The Queen, on the other hand, has a reputation as a scholar. She is interested in the new learning and the ancient works of Greece and Rome and loves nothing more than a debate about religion. Often I have seen her indulge in a friendly argument about some point of doctrine with Archbishop Cranmer, and even with the King when he is in the mood. Yet there are whispers—no more than that—that the Queen, like Cranmer, secretly adheres to the Protestant faith. If that is true, then she is careful to hide the fact, for my good uncle is even more of a strict conservative in such matters than he used to be. Yet she is clever. She takes care, I notice, to denounce the Pope at every opportunity, which she knows will please the King, and she always defers to him whenever an argument looms.
Hence she is admired by him for her virtue and her learning, and she is also popular with the people. Nevertheless, the Catholic faction at court would throw her to the wolves if they had the chance, for they fear that she favors the reformers and might therefore infect the King with her views, which could lead to even more radical religious changes.
For my part, I wish her well, since I too share those dangerous opinions in secret. Of course, I would never divulge that to her. It would put us both at risk. Henry knows my views, for he is of like mind, but we rarely speak of the matter, even in the privacy of our bedchamber. Walls, you see, have ears, and the penalty for heresy is burning.
Queen Katherine Parr
HAMPTON COURT PALACE, 1543
My stepdaughters are with me now.
“Of course you may have them at court,” Henry said, when I begged leave to summon the princesses to us. “Ask them whenever you like.”
Everyone applauds me for taking them under my protective wing, but it is no hardship, for I am fond of them both. The Lady Mary is but
We can express our jubilation only in private.
“Now the way is clear for Jane,” Henry declares over a toast to the future. “But we must bide our time until the right moment. Yet I think that might not be long in coming. His Highness is so offended by the perfidy of the Scots and the French that he may well heartily embrace the idea of an English bride for his son.”
“A bride,” I add, repeating what I have said many times before, “who has Tudor blood in her veins and is the Prince’s own cousin.”
My lord turns to me.
“I think,” he says, “it is time Jane commenced her education.”
“I entirely agree. And the Queen has graciously agreed to help in the matter of finding a suitable tutor. It would be sensible to take her advice. She has shown great interest in Jane, and you know how assiduous she has been in supervising the education of the Prince and the Lady Elizabeth.”
I am privately relieved that Queen Katherine has offered her assistance in this matter, since although I can read and write adequately, I have no great interest in book learning, or much understanding of the mysteries of academic disciplines. I was traditionally educated, well drilled in dancing, riding, music making, embroidery, and household management, like nobly born girls used to be before this newfangled craze for teaching them the same subjects as boys. And I am glad of it—I need nothing more. All I’ve ever really cared for is hunting, hawking, good food and wine, sex, fine clothes, and the high life at court.
The Queen, on the other hand, has a reputation as a scholar. She is interested in the new learning and the ancient works of Greece and Rome and loves nothing more than a debate about religion. Often I have seen her indulge in a friendly argument about some point of doctrine with Archbishop Cranmer, and even with the King when he is in the mood. Yet there are whispers—no more than that—that the Queen, like Cranmer, secretly adheres to the Protestant faith. If that is true, then she is careful to hide the fact, for my good uncle is even more of a strict conservative in such matters than he used to be. Yet she is clever. She takes care, I notice, to denounce the Pope at every opportunity, which she knows will please the King, and she always defers to him whenever an argument looms.
Hence she is admired by him for her virtue and her learning, and she is also popular with the people. Nevertheless, the Catholic faction at court would throw her to the wolves if they had the chance, for they fear that she favors the reformers and might therefore infect the King with her views, which could lead to even more radical religious changes.
For my part, I wish her well, since I too share those dangerous opinions in secret. Of course, I would never divulge that to her. It would put us both at risk. Henry knows my views, for he is of like mind, but we rarely speak of the matter, even in the privacy of our bedchamber. Walls, you see, have ears, and the penalty for heresy is burning.
Queen Katherine Parr
HAMPTON COURT PALACE, 1543
My stepdaughters are with me now.
“Of course you may have them at court,” Henry said, when I begged leave to summon the princesses to us. “Ask them whenever you like.”
Everyone applauds me for taking them under my protective wing, but it is no hardship, for I am fond of them both. The Lady Mary is but
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