here for months. She became engaged to a gentleman of the court without permission of the king, so he sent them both here. It is treason for a member of the royal family to arrange her own marriage because of the succession.” Bess sighed. “She’s very difficult to please because of—”
Another crack of thunderdrowned her out, and a gust of wind blew inside. “Why aren’t you drenched from the rain?” I asked, curious, looking at Bess’s dry dress.
“Underground tunnels connect the buildings,” she said. “But I can’t stay long. It would look suspicious. I could only come now because it’s Susanna’s day to visit her family in Southwark.”
“But what of my situation? What have you heard?”
“Not a word,” she said. “I listen every day, but Lady Kingston hasn’t mentioned you, nor has anyone else.”
Two weeks later, Bess managed to visit me, and again, she had nothing to report. “It’s so strange, it’s as if you aren’t even here,” she said.
That was it.
I don’t exist anymore,
I thought, not listening as Bess prattled on about Lady Douglas and her crying fits.
The heat of the summer passed. The nights grew cooler. One day, on an afternoon walk with the lieutenant, I saw a spattering of gold leaves in the mulberry trees. It made me unbearably sad, to see proof of time passing. What had happened to my father? What was going on at Dartford Priory? My throat ached, and tears ran down my cheeks. The lieutenant pretended not to see.
That day I entered my most difficult period in the Tower. A dull sorrow weighed me down, body and mind. I could no longer concentrate on Thomas Aquinas. Some days I never rose from my bed. At night, always the time my fears were most urgent, I abandoned myself to weeping. I thought of my mother a great deal. In the last years of her life, her health was broken, yes, but also her spirits frayed. She slept in darkened rooms. I could still feel the dread in my heart as I’d walk down the passageway of Stafford Castle, carrying her tray, knowing that I’d push open her door to see her once again slumped in bed, listless and despairing. I felt a dark kinship with her now.
Everything changed when, one cool evening, past the time when my dinner tray was removed, I was surprised to hear a jingle of keys at the door.
Bess burst in, her eyes bulging.
“Your father is in the Tower,” she said, breathless.
“What?” I shot toward her.
“I heard that Sir Richard Stafford is being kept in the White Tower, on the lower level. Theybrought him in two days ago. Something is happening to you tomorrow.”
I took Bess’s hands in mine. “Bess, I want you to tell me exactly what you heard. Leave out nothing.”
“I came in to clear the table, and Lady Kingston said, ‘Is it true he’s coming to examine Joanna Stafford tomorrow?’ And Sir William said, ‘Yes, that’s why they sent over her father two days ago. Norfolk brought him in to deal with the Staffords. He’s the only man Norfolk pays heed to, save the king.’ ”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. There was nothing else. But I heard one of the warders say earlier that there was a new man, a nobleman, on the lower level of the White Tower. It must be your father.”
All my lassitude, my despair, and my fear disappeared, replaced by a fierce, raging purpose.
My father is alive. My father is here. I must find a way to see him.
Bess said gravely, “Mistress Stafford, I could be whipped and branded for it, but I’ve brought paper and quill with me. If you write him a message, I will take it to him and ask him for reply.”
As I stared at her, the plan slipped into my mind, fully formed.
“No, Bess,” I said. “You’re going to take me to my father tonight. And I know a way to do it.”
10
B ess , stop trembling.” The candlelight leaped and shook against the dark walls, because of her unsteady grip.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Stafford, I can’t help it.” Bess’s loud voice echoed down the long
Another crack of thunderdrowned her out, and a gust of wind blew inside. “Why aren’t you drenched from the rain?” I asked, curious, looking at Bess’s dry dress.
“Underground tunnels connect the buildings,” she said. “But I can’t stay long. It would look suspicious. I could only come now because it’s Susanna’s day to visit her family in Southwark.”
“But what of my situation? What have you heard?”
“Not a word,” she said. “I listen every day, but Lady Kingston hasn’t mentioned you, nor has anyone else.”
Two weeks later, Bess managed to visit me, and again, she had nothing to report. “It’s so strange, it’s as if you aren’t even here,” she said.
That was it.
I don’t exist anymore,
I thought, not listening as Bess prattled on about Lady Douglas and her crying fits.
The heat of the summer passed. The nights grew cooler. One day, on an afternoon walk with the lieutenant, I saw a spattering of gold leaves in the mulberry trees. It made me unbearably sad, to see proof of time passing. What had happened to my father? What was going on at Dartford Priory? My throat ached, and tears ran down my cheeks. The lieutenant pretended not to see.
That day I entered my most difficult period in the Tower. A dull sorrow weighed me down, body and mind. I could no longer concentrate on Thomas Aquinas. Some days I never rose from my bed. At night, always the time my fears were most urgent, I abandoned myself to weeping. I thought of my mother a great deal. In the last years of her life, her health was broken, yes, but also her spirits frayed. She slept in darkened rooms. I could still feel the dread in my heart as I’d walk down the passageway of Stafford Castle, carrying her tray, knowing that I’d push open her door to see her once again slumped in bed, listless and despairing. I felt a dark kinship with her now.
Everything changed when, one cool evening, past the time when my dinner tray was removed, I was surprised to hear a jingle of keys at the door.
Bess burst in, her eyes bulging.
“Your father is in the Tower,” she said, breathless.
“What?” I shot toward her.
“I heard that Sir Richard Stafford is being kept in the White Tower, on the lower level. Theybrought him in two days ago. Something is happening to you tomorrow.”
I took Bess’s hands in mine. “Bess, I want you to tell me exactly what you heard. Leave out nothing.”
“I came in to clear the table, and Lady Kingston said, ‘Is it true he’s coming to examine Joanna Stafford tomorrow?’ And Sir William said, ‘Yes, that’s why they sent over her father two days ago. Norfolk brought him in to deal with the Staffords. He’s the only man Norfolk pays heed to, save the king.’ ”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. There was nothing else. But I heard one of the warders say earlier that there was a new man, a nobleman, on the lower level of the White Tower. It must be your father.”
All my lassitude, my despair, and my fear disappeared, replaced by a fierce, raging purpose.
My father is alive. My father is here. I must find a way to see him.
Bess said gravely, “Mistress Stafford, I could be whipped and branded for it, but I’ve brought paper and quill with me. If you write him a message, I will take it to him and ask him for reply.”
As I stared at her, the plan slipped into my mind, fully formed.
“No, Bess,” I said. “You’re going to take me to my father tonight. And I know a way to do it.”
10
B ess , stop trembling.” The candlelight leaped and shook against the dark walls, because of her unsteady grip.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Stafford, I can’t help it.” Bess’s loud voice echoed down the long
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