The following day the Countess walked out from the Tower to Smithfield Green, which was close by.
The Lord Mayor, with several other prominent Londoners, came to witness the end of the Countess. The block was a low one and no scaffold had been erected. The Countess prayed for the King, the Queen and the young Prince Edward. She also spoke movingly of the Princess Mary, whose governess she had been, and whom she had openly supported when the King was trying to divorce her mother in order to marry Anne Boleyn. The poor Countess had not had a happy life since that time, and this was largely due to her opposition to the King’s wishes. And now … she had come to her death. Having said her prayers, she held her head high and, standing by the hastily erected scaffold, she announced to the watchers that she was condemned to die as was the fate of traitors.
“But,” she said in louder tones, “I am no traitor, and if you will have my head, you must win it.”
I could not believe this when Jane reported to me. She was romancing, as she could do at times.
“It was a moment of horror,” Jane went on. “The headsman caught her and dragged her to the block. He could do no other. Was he not acting on the King’s orders? He forced her down. She was weak. Do not forget, she had spent a year in the Tower. He struck. The first blow missed her neck. So he hacked again … and again and again … until he had her head from her shoulders.”
I covered my face with my hands. “It was not so! It was not so,” I cried. “I do not want to hear.”
“I was not present,” said Jane. “But that is the tale as I heard it.”
And if that account of the Countess’s death was not exactly accurate, there was no doubt that something similarly horrific had occurred. People crossed themselves when they spoke of it. The King would not have it mentioned in his presence. The woman might have been royal. Her son might be a traitor. But, for the comfort of all concerned, she was best forgotten.
The Duke of Norfolk was begging an audience with me. I liked that. The mighty one humbly begging to see me! Graciously I agreed to see him.
He was looking embarrassed and uneasy as he bowed, which I supposed was because he must show the necessary respect due to the Queen, who was, after all, only the silly little niece whom he had hitherto despised.
His first words were: “Your Majesty, I trust this is a time when you will remember that I am your uncle, who wishes you nothing but good fortune.”
“Your Grace is kind,” I said, rather flippantly.
“I would serve you well.”
“Your Grace has something to say to me?”
“That is so. We have just been made aware of the discord in the North.”
“I was of the opinion that the King had settled that matter.”
“Praise God, he has put down the revolt and punished those who have been responsible. But the King is uneasy.”
I looked surprised. “He has not told me.”
The faintly contemptuous lift of his lips was hardly perceptible, but it was there.
“The King, I know, is very concerned for your comfort. He would not wish you to be worried with such matters.”
“The King does confide his troubles to me, I should tell you.”
“Indeed he does. He often speaks to me of his growing love for our family, and he is grateful to the Howards for having given you to him.”
I did not like this reference to the magnanimity of the Howards. Previously they had always considered me unworthy of them. But I was the one who had captured the heart of the King. They seemed to forget that I had, without effort, done that which they had all spent their lives striving to do.
The Duke went on: “I was referring to this trouble in Yorkshire which, as Your Majesty says, the King has settled. The King fears there may be other insurrections, and that is something he greatly wishes to avoid.”
“Indeed he does. It is a most disturbing matter, with so many men going to their deaths.”
“Traitors,” said the Duke. “The King will not have traitors in his realm. There was the Countess of Salisbury.” He coughed slightly. “It came to my ears that Your Majesty had supplied the lady with garments—furred garments.”
“The nightdress was furred. She needed it against the cold. And there were hose and boots.”
“The Countess was the King’s prisoner.”
“She was a lady unused to the hardships of prison.”
“As she had been in the Tower for a year or more, it is to be presumed she was accustomed to them by that time.”
“My lord, such hardships are something to which one never grows accustomed.”
“It is the fate of prisoners. And this, Your Majesty, was the King’s prisoner. I must stress that point. Now, if you had consulted me …”
“Your Grace was not one I would consult regarding an errand of mercy.”
He flinched a little. I fancied he was growing angry. Oh, I had undoubtedly changed since I had become the Queen, beloved of the King.
He went on: “I should have warned you that it is a little unwise to … er … show friendship toward the King’s enemies.”
“The King has not mentioned this.”
“The King is indulgent … to some. Your Majesty has not, I dare swear, discussed the matter with him.”
“I had not thought it of any great importance.”
He forgot then that he was talking to the Queen, for he said sharply: “Then ’twas a pity you did not give the matter more thought.”
“I believe the Countess derived much pleasure from the gifts.”
“I doubt not that she did … in more ways than one. There is much trouble in the country. I would speak to you of that.”
“Pray do,” I said. We were indeed changing. It was the first time he had ever thought it necessary to talk to me of the country’s affairs.
“When the King removed the Church from Rome, there were many in the country who were deeply disturbed, and it is their intention to take it back. This the King will never allow.”
“I am aware of that.”
“It causes strife. There will be others like Neville. There is a division in the country. Times are dangerous. You are a great comfort to the King, and I rejoice in that, but do not try him too far. You must strive to remain as you are now. That brings good to the King … and our family. Your task is to soothe him. Never attempt to try his patience.”
“Do you suggest that this is what I have done?”
“Your Majesty,” he said, remembering who I was once more. “I am your uncle. I have always had your well-being and that of our family in mind. For the good of the family and the country, you must keep the King’s favor. I hope you will allow me to speak my mind.”
“I was under the impression, my Lord Duke, that you always did.”
“If, when Your Majesty decides to take some action … something which might be misconstrued by some as being a little rash … if you came to me, I could advise you as to its wisdom. Believe me, there are some matters so intricate … so open to misconstruction by one’s enemies, that they need the utmost care in handling.” He meant, of course, that they were beyond the understanding of simple people like myself. “For instance, the clothes you sent to the Tower.” He shook his head slowly. “If you had asked me, I should have advised against that.”
“It is a matter long forgotten, my lord. The lady is now dead … hacked to pieces, I hear.”
He held up his hand just like the uncle of old. I knew what it cost him to treat me with respect, and I was beginning to feel impatient with him. Did he intend to play the wise uncle of a stupid girl all my life?
“The King believed her to be a traitor,” he went on. “She was aiding her son, who was aiding Neville. She died for that reason. That is enough. I would ask you … I would pray you … to consider before you take such an action again. A word from you will bring me immediately to your side.”