I was anxious about the Queen. I wondered what trouble she was storing up for herself. On the other hand, I believed wholeheartedly in the old ways. It was my mission to bring England back to Rome, if ever I had the chance. I was fond of Katharine. I knew she was a good woman; yet we were in opposing camps.
All the same, I wanted no harm to come to her.
THEY HAD TAKEN ANNE Askew to the Tower for questioning. Questioning! That dreaded word! It sounded mild enough—just a few queries to answer; but everyone knew what methods could be used to get the answers, and unless they were the answers the questioners wanted, the prisoner could be maimed for life…if any life was left to him or to her.
Susan said, “She will stand up to it. They will never wring anything from her.”
“What could they want to know?” I asked.
“She will state her beliefs. She always has. They are said to be treason…but she has never made any secret of them.”
“They know that. I fear it is not for her that they go to such lengths. They are angling for bigger fish.”
I knew what she meant by this, and I trembled for the Queen.
Anne Askew's arrest and subsequent incarceration in the Tower set people whispering. There was so much persecution now. Those whom the King called traitors to the Crown fell into two groups: the Lutherans and the Papists. All the King asked was that people should worship in the old way, the only difference being that he was head of the Church instead of the Pope. It seemed simple enough to him; but there were those who had to follow this wretched Martin Luther, and others who traitorously declared that the Pope was still head of the Church of England. Both must be eliminated.
The triumphs abroad had lost some of their glory. The Scots were putting up a great fight and having some success. The French had made an attempt to recapture Boulogne. They had not done so, but they had attempted to land in England and had come as far as the Solent.
At such times my father was at his best. He was a great king and, in spite of everything he had done the people recognized this quality in him. When he was concerned with the affairs of the country, he showed his powers of leadership. He did not spare himself; and although people were heavily taxed to deal with the emergency, he himself gave all he could. The common people had never suffered at his hands as those close to him had. The murdered wives were represented to the people as guilty of loose living in the case of Catharine Howard and of witchcraft with Anne Boleyn. Those who had suffered for their religion were mostly in high places, rarely those of humble origins. The people would always remember him as the glittering sovereign of their youth; even now, in his old age, he carried that aura of royalty with him wherever he went, and it could win them to his side.
Disease was his ally, for it worked for him against the French. The sailors in those French ships which had attempted an invasion of England were so stricken that there was nothing for them to do but turn back, and François was forced to make peace. Boulogne was to remain in my father's hands for eight years, then its fate would be reconsidered. The war with France was over.
True, there was still trouble in the north, but there was often trouble in the north, and my father was able to turn his full attention in that direction since he was not being harassed by another front.
Meanwhile there was news of Anne Askew.
Susan was alarmed. “She has been most grievously racked,” she said. “There are few who can withstand that pain.”
“What do you fear?” I asked.
“The others will be implicated.”
“Why… why should they be?”
“Because they share her opinions… because they have sent comforts to her in the Tower perhaps.”
I knew the Queen had sent warm clothing to her, and I felt sick with fear.
I learned later that the Lord Chancellor Wriothesley and Sir Richard Rich, exasperated with Anne because she would not implicate the Queen, had worked the rack most ferociously with their own hands in order to inflict greater pain.
Poor Anne Askew! There are some made to be martyrs, and she was one. Firmly she refused to betray anyone; nor would she deny her faith; and she was condemned to be burned at the stake.
The Queen was in a state of grief and panic. I do not know how she lived through those days. She must be with the King, talk to him, dress his legs, pretend to be merry … and all the time she must have been wondering when it would be her turn.
There came the day when Anne Askew was taken to the stake. The Lord Chancellor sent her a letter telling her that even now, at this late stage, if she would recant, she would have the King's pardon.
Anne proudly shook her head.
“I have not come here to deny my Master,” she said.
So her poor broken body was bound to the stake, and they lighted the sticks at her feet.
THERE WAS A SUBDUED atmosphere—not only in the Court but in the streets. A pall of smoke hung over Smithfield. People were whispering about Anne Askew—young, beautiful and brave. She had died for her faith. She had done no harm to any. All she had done was read books which were forbidden—that, and cling to her opinions.
People did not like it.
They were inclined to think the King was misled by his ministers. It amazed me how they always made excuses for him. They had made of him the strong leader, and that was how they wanted him to remain. Weakness was the greatest sin; he had never been guilty of that. Sensual he was; oh yes, fond of the pleasures of the flesh; but he always partook of them under a cloak of morality. Other kings sported with countless mistresses; the King had wives, albeit he either divorced or murdered them; but still he clung to the morality of the marriage vows; he might be a callous murderer but he was deeply sentimental; and his old friend—that adaptable conscience—was never far away. And somehow, in spite of all that had happened, he managed to keep his popularity.
He was faintly irritated with those who had arrested Anne Askew and taken her to the Tower. There had been too much noise about the matter because she was young, fair and a woman. He was displeased. Moreover, Boulogne was proving expensive to maintain and, although taking it from the French had been a great pleasure, he was beginning to find it a burden.
But he had driven off the French and had only the Scots to contend with, and they had never worried him very much; he had come to expect periodic warfare on the border, and the lords of the north were capable of dealing with that.
In the old days he would have found great pleasure in the hunt but that was denied him now. Long hours in the saddle tired him. Growing old was unpleasant, and he did not like it.
Edward was sickly. There was no denying it. And what had he besides? Two daughters! I could read his thoughts when his eyes rested on us.
I was very much aware of the tension, although the Queen did not take me into her confidence as much as I am sure she would have done had it not been for the divergence in our beliefs.
I had long become aware of the methods of men like Gardiner and Wriothesley; and I knew they were waiting to pounce. While Wriothesley had worked the rack so fiercely on Anne Askew, his aim had been to implicate the Queen. Previously he would have fabricated evidence, but in view of his last endeavors he dared not be proved at fault again.
He must have known, though, that in time the opportunity would come. And it did.
We were seated in the garden. The King had been wheeled out. That in itself was enough to put him in a testy mood; his leg was so painful that he could not put it to the ground without suffering acute agony.
Gardiner was with him, and the Queen was beside him. He had lifted his leg and placed it on her lap. The Earl of Surrey was present and one or two others.