I encountered a certain amount of adulation and secret congratulations, for most knew that I had come through some hazardous times and still managed to survive.
I was twenty-one, so perhaps a little frivolity could be forgiven me. I danced—as I loved to—and I joined in the festivities with a gusto due to long abstinence. I was, in fact, delighted to be back at Court.
Jane noticed this, and it pleased her. “We shall see that it is just as it used to be long ago,” she told me. “I believe you were then the darling of the Court.”
“That was when I was a little girl … and all was well between my parents.”
Jane nodded and changed the subject. I noticed that she avoided any talk which might be controversial; so perhaps she was not quite so simple after all.
Secure in her friendship, I began to talk more freely.
I told her about my dear Lady Salisbury and how, since she had left me all those years ago, I had not seen her. I wished to hear of her and longed to see her.
Jane understood. “She is well, I think,” she said. “But she does not come to Court.”
“No. I suppose her friendship with me over all those years has debarred her.”
“The King is displeased with her son, Reginald Pole.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “Do you think that, now all is well between us, my father might allow me to see the Countess?”
She said she would see what could be done.
Poor Jane. Her endeavors brought down the wrath of the King on her head.
She came to me in some distress. “He was quite angry. He shouted at me. Had he not warned me not to meddle? ‘No,' he said. ‘The Countess of Salisbury may not come to Court. Her son is a traitor. I'd have had his head if he had not been skulking abroad spreading malice about me. As for the lady in question, she would do well to take care.' He was really angry.”
I said, “I am sorry you did it for me.”
She said, “I know how one feels about the companions of our young days. They pass all too quickly, don't they, and then… one grows up.”
Poor Jane! She was striving so hard to be the docile wife, remembering no doubt the horrific fate of Anne Boleyn, perhaps giving a thought to the tribulations of my mother. She was in a position as dangerous as any in the country, without my mother's stern resolution and strong character and Anne Boleyn's fire and sharp wit to help her face the onslaught when it came.
Jane was already learning that—as with those two—everything depended on her ability to produce a son. I was indeed sorry that she had aroused the King's anger through me.
I did remember, though, Margaret Bryan's concern for Elizabeth, and I talked to Jane about the little girl.
“She is bright, intelligent and very attractive,” I told her.
Jane nodded. She would have liked to bring Elizabeth to Court. I was there, and Elizabeth should be. Jane longed for a happy family atmosphere. The little one was not responsible for her mother's misdeeds. Jane's eyes filled with tears when I told her how the child was being neglected, no money being sent for her clothes, and how Lady Bryan was at her wits' end wondering if in a few months' time she would have any clothes at all.
“There is a very small allowance for her food,” I said. “It is so sad. She is after all the King's daughter.”
Jane listened and sympathized.
“I shall bring her here,” she said. “It will be possible later but just now the King is so angry at the mention of her mother's name that I dare not.”
I understood, of course. She had risked his displeasure when she had talked to him of the Countess. She could not do it again by mentioning Elizabeth.
“It will change,” she assured me. “But as yet I dare not.”
I was liking her more every day.
She told me I must stay at Court. We had become such good friends that we should not be apart.
This was gratifying. Jane might be a mild creature but she was the Queen and might have a little influence on the King. It was an indication of how my character had changed that I could work out the advantages which could ensue from such a friendship. But on the other hand, I was fond of her. It was impossible not to be fond of Jane. I had a strong urge to protect her. She seemed to me like a lamb among wolves, unsuspicious of danger because, for the time being, they were not preparing to harm her.
So I did want her friendship and not only because of the advantages it might bring me. I even thought that at some stage I might be able to help her, for, one day, God knew, she might need any help she could get.
In the meantime she went on in her own sweet way and we were often together.
The King was pleased to see the friendship between us, though there were times when a tremor of fear ran through me because I thought I caught a gleam of suspicion in his eyes.
But Jane continued to delight in my company, and she confided to me that she very much wanted to bring Elizabeth to Court. “In time,” she assured me, “the King will forget her mother, and his attitude will change toward the child.”
I hoped so. But at the moment I must rejoice in my own return to favor.
All through that January I was with the Court. Jane whispered to me with great delight that she thought she was pregnant, and I rejoiced with her. By the beginning of March she was sure.
The King was absolutely delighted. At last he was going to get his son. When he did, he would know that Heaven approved of everything he had done to reach that happy state.
He talked continually of his son; he would pat Jane's stomach “Good girl,” he said. “This is the first of many.”
Jane was happy and at the same time fearful. She must have been feeling what the others had in their turn.
Would she produce the all-important son? And if not, what would happen to her?
SOON AFTER CHRISTMAS Robert Aske, the leader of the Pilgrimage of Grace, had come to London to see the King. My father received him and listened carefully to his complaints. They should have consideration, he told him, and shortly he would make a visit to Yorkshire and visit the city of York, where his Queen might be crowned.
Robert Aske must have felt the visit was a great success, and he returned to his native Yorkshire. But of course the King was not going to give up the supremacy of the Church in favor of the Pope; he was not going to accept the Pope's judgement on his first marriage and declare me his legitimate daughter. I supposed he was just trying to show his benign nature to the people and hoped the revolt would simmer down.
But the people of the North were serious, and no sooner had Aske returned than a new revolt broke out. Sir Francis Bigod led this. The King marched north, and this time there was no miracle to save the rebels. They had no chance against the King's army. The leaders were caught and hanged in the cities where they had raised the revolt. Robert Aske came to London. This time he was sent to the Tower.
My father was done with peaceful negotiations. He was going to show these northerners who was their master.
Robert Aske was taken to York and hanged in chains, where his body was left for the crows and that all might see what happened to those who opposed the King's will.
The Pilgrimage of Grace was over, and the people, he hoped, had learned their lesson.
IT WAS AN ANXIOUS time for me because now I knew that every time there was an insurrection I should be in danger. There would always be a hint that the King was to be deposed, and I was the one who would be put in his place.