In the Shadow of Queens by Alison Weir

In the Shadow of Queens by Alison Weir

Author:Alison Weir [Weir, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


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One reason why the fuss abated was that there were three other, juicier,

scandals. One was the arrest of Lord Cromwell in June; the second was

the attainder of his colleague, Lord Hungerford, for treason, sodomy

and sorcery. And the third was the matter of the Queen.

I was not sorry to take my leave of her, standing in line with all

her other servants, on the day her household was disbanded. I had

never warmed to her, and I still believed that, but for her coming, the

King would have married me. It was an irrational dislike, because

she had had no say in the matter, but it had been on her account

that he had abandoned me.

I felt even more resentful of Katheryn Howard. Had she not fluttered

her bright blue eyes at the King, and conducted herself provocatively

towards him, luring him into her snares, it might have been me whom

he married that summer – on the very day that the heads of Thomas

Cromwell and Walter Hungerford fell. And I was commanded to serve

her as maid-of-honour. Kat was very envious. Once again, she was

passed over. All she was offered was a post in the household of the Lady

Anne of Cleves.

But when news of our brother John’s death reached us, that all

seemed trivial. He was just twenty-three, far too young to be struck

down by a wasting illness no physician could diagnose. Our thoughts

were at Umberleigh, with Frances, whom he had left pregnant, and her

two fatherless little girls.

Little Arthur, who was named after my stepfather, was born there in

October 1541, the month before the fall of Queen Katheryn. For the

third time in four years, I was present at the disbanding of a royal

household. This time it was Sir Thomas Wriothesley who ordered us all

to repair to our families or friends. Afterwards, though, he took me

aside and informed me that I might remain at court in my old lodgings,

even though there was no queen to serve.

‘His Majesty is conscious of the calamity that has befallen your

family,’ he explained. ‘He will provide for you at his own expense, and

arrange a suitable marriage for you.’

Again, I was struck by Henry’s kindness to me, even in the midst of

his sorrow – for it was no secret how badly the affair of the Queen had

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shaken him. He was out hunting daily, from November until after

Christmas, doubtless trying to divert his ill humour, and it was bruited

about the court that he was neglecting state affairs. Yet he did not forget me or mine. Early in the New Year of 1542, when Arthur had been in

the Tower for twenty months, his arms were restored to their place in

the chapel of the Garter knights at Windsor. Rumour had it that it was

a sign that he would soon be freed. How I prayed for it, and especially

for my mother, who had been permitted to write to me only infrequently.

All her letters had betrayed the incoherence that had alarmed me in the

first place. It seemed that she was no less confused with the passing of

time.



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