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Authors: Pauline Francis
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in the pulpit tomorrow. Then we can all sleep off our wine!”
He laughed and I hated him. But I had the last word. I prayed aloud to God, shouting above the music, shouting above the laughter. “Save me, Lord, from evildoers. They are always plotting evil, always stirring up quarrels. Their tongues are like deadly snakes; their words are like a cobra’s poison. Lord…”
“AMEN!” Dudley said.
My father dragged me into the garden and shook me until my head hurt. Then he left me under a sky bright with stars, so angry that I did not see her standing in the shadow of the house: the Lady Mary. I had not seen her for two years and then I had mocked her faith.
“You are direct in your speech, pequenita , and I like that.” I turned round to face her and sank into a deep curtsy. Her likeness to my mother – her cousin – startled me, but although they were the same age, she looked older. There was no trace of Tudor colouring in Mary, thanks to her Spanish mother, Catherine of Aragon. Catherine lived on in her daughter’s dark eyes and hair, and in her Spanish accent. “So you see my little brother still allows me to visit him, as long as I hide my faith inside my robes.” She parted her jewelled black fur and fumbled inside her gold-edged collar, lifting up a rope of rubies which held a golden cross encrusted with more rubies, so red that blood seemed to seep from Christ’s body. Then a rosary. I stepped back. Everything about her repelled me.
“I should prefer to stay in Hertfordshire where I am allowed to pray to my God as I wish. At least the King understands that.” Her hands fingered the ivory beads of her rosary as she spoke. “But, as you see, the King is not well and I must see him.” She came towards me. “So you are not yet betrothed to my little brother?”
I shook my head. “I do not wish to be Queen of England, ma’am, although if the King wishes it, there is little I can do. I still fear that he will.”
“You fear it! And that is all I wish, to be Queen of England and to bring this unhappy country back to the true faith. So fear is the cause of your unhappy face. I recognize it well, pequenita .”
Her dark eyes looked me up and down. “Pearls are only as good as the skin that reflects them, Jane, and your skin is too pale.” She took off the ruby necklace, unhooked her crucifix, and placed the rubies around my neck. “It will bring a bloom to your cheeks. It is yours as a keepsake.”
I thanked her and she smiled at last. Then she closed her eyes and moved her lips, in what I assumed was silent prayer.
I longed to see Ned. I had missed him. Yes, I would go straight to the forest when we returned home. I had never been there at twilight. The trees would gleam red in the sunset, patterned by flocking birds.
I would meet him on his way from work, his axe swinging over his shoulder. My lips parted in a smile as I imagined his pleasure when he saw me, when I told him that I loved him.
She will be home tonight.
I smile to myself as I walk with Thomas. He strides among the trees, peering and prodding, until he comes to an elm edging the pool, so tall that I cannot see its crown. “This’ll give us enough wood till winter,” he says.
He scrambles up the trunk and onto the lowest branch. There he raises his axe and chops. The branch falls easily. Thomas swings round to the other side of the trunk and raises his axe again. I hear the familiar creak, the rustle. Then a crack as the branch gives way too soon, throwing Thomas to the ground.
I drag the branch from him and wait for him to jump to his feet. He has often fallen further and lived to tell the tale, so he has always boasted. But he does not move. I kneel down beside him. No scratch. No graze. No blood.
Then I take the flask of water from my bag and lift his head. I know then that his neck is broken, snapped in a second, snuffing him out like a candle.
The birds continue to sing, the wind continues to stir the leaves. I
He laughed and I hated him. But I had the last word. I prayed aloud to God, shouting above the music, shouting above the laughter. “Save me, Lord, from evildoers. They are always plotting evil, always stirring up quarrels. Their tongues are like deadly snakes; their words are like a cobra’s poison. Lord…”
“AMEN!” Dudley said.
My father dragged me into the garden and shook me until my head hurt. Then he left me under a sky bright with stars, so angry that I did not see her standing in the shadow of the house: the Lady Mary. I had not seen her for two years and then I had mocked her faith.
“You are direct in your speech, pequenita , and I like that.” I turned round to face her and sank into a deep curtsy. Her likeness to my mother – her cousin – startled me, but although they were the same age, she looked older. There was no trace of Tudor colouring in Mary, thanks to her Spanish mother, Catherine of Aragon. Catherine lived on in her daughter’s dark eyes and hair, and in her Spanish accent. “So you see my little brother still allows me to visit him, as long as I hide my faith inside my robes.” She parted her jewelled black fur and fumbled inside her gold-edged collar, lifting up a rope of rubies which held a golden cross encrusted with more rubies, so red that blood seemed to seep from Christ’s body. Then a rosary. I stepped back. Everything about her repelled me.
“I should prefer to stay in Hertfordshire where I am allowed to pray to my God as I wish. At least the King understands that.” Her hands fingered the ivory beads of her rosary as she spoke. “But, as you see, the King is not well and I must see him.” She came towards me. “So you are not yet betrothed to my little brother?”
I shook my head. “I do not wish to be Queen of England, ma’am, although if the King wishes it, there is little I can do. I still fear that he will.”
“You fear it! And that is all I wish, to be Queen of England and to bring this unhappy country back to the true faith. So fear is the cause of your unhappy face. I recognize it well, pequenita .”
Her dark eyes looked me up and down. “Pearls are only as good as the skin that reflects them, Jane, and your skin is too pale.” She took off the ruby necklace, unhooked her crucifix, and placed the rubies around my neck. “It will bring a bloom to your cheeks. It is yours as a keepsake.”
I thanked her and she smiled at last. Then she closed her eyes and moved her lips, in what I assumed was silent prayer.
I longed to see Ned. I had missed him. Yes, I would go straight to the forest when we returned home. I had never been there at twilight. The trees would gleam red in the sunset, patterned by flocking birds.
I would meet him on his way from work, his axe swinging over his shoulder. My lips parted in a smile as I imagined his pleasure when he saw me, when I told him that I loved him.
She will be home tonight.
I smile to myself as I walk with Thomas. He strides among the trees, peering and prodding, until he comes to an elm edging the pool, so tall that I cannot see its crown. “This’ll give us enough wood till winter,” he says.
He scrambles up the trunk and onto the lowest branch. There he raises his axe and chops. The branch falls easily. Thomas swings round to the other side of the trunk and raises his axe again. I hear the familiar creak, the rustle. Then a crack as the branch gives way too soon, throwing Thomas to the ground.
I drag the branch from him and wait for him to jump to his feet. He has often fallen further and lived to tell the tale, so he has always boasted. But he does not move. I kneel down beside him. No scratch. No graze. No blood.
Then I take the flask of water from my bag and lift his head. I know then that his neck is broken, snapped in a second, snuffing him out like a candle.
The birds continue to sing, the wind continues to stir the leaves. I
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