The Lady in the Tower Read Free Page B

So he lived to see the defeat of Richard at Bosworth Field and the arrival of Henry Tudor, who, wishing to reward him for his fidelity to the House of Lancaster, immediately freed him and restored his estate to him.
    Sir Henry never forgot. Whenever I saw him at Allington it was with a cat… not the same one which had kept him alive, but a descendant of that cat; his cat was like a faithful hound; it followed him wherever he went, slept on his bed and was constantly in his company; and to remind himself of how he had been saved, he had pigeons brought to Allington and he said they would be there as long as there were Wyatts in the castle. And the strange thing was that the cat and the pigeons of Allington were friends. They lived together amicably in the castle—symbols of Sir Henry's survival to serve with loyalty the Tudor Kings.
    So Mary Wyatt and I were often together at Allington or Hever until I heard that I was to go to France in the service of the King's sister.
    So here I was about to embark on this great adventure.

    When we arrived at Dover Castle a gale was sweeping in from the sea and white horses were flinging themselves against the white cliffs in an abandon of fury that sent a shiver of alarm through me.
    Lady Guildford, who was in charge of us, came to the apartment to which we had been taken and told us that we should not be embarking yet but that we must be prepared to leave as soon as the sea grew calm, which, she stressed, could be at any time.
    Seeing us settled in our apartment, she went back to the Princess and I was left with the other ladies who were inclined to look down their aristocratic noses at me. I was considered to be the outsider by my companions, Anne and Elizabeth Grey, the two sisters of the Marquis of Dorset, the sister of Lord Grey and the daughter of Lord Dacre. Who are these Boleyns? they were saying. True, I was the granddaughter of the Duke of Norfolk—he who considered himself more royal than the Tudors—and he had actually been in the cavalcade with his son, the Earl of Surrey, but they had pointedly ignored my father as though to disclaim the family connection; and I supposed these ladies took their cue from the Duke. I had always known that he deplored my mother's marriage into a family which had its roots in trade. So I was of little account—and not only because of my youth.
    They talked over my head as though they were quite unaware of my existence. This infuriated me. Who were they? I asked myself. The Greys were descended from Elizabeth Woodville, and who was she before the King married her? I had always liked the story of how he came across her in the forest and had fallen in love with her and secretly married her, and when it was a
fait accompli
he had confronted his ministers with what he had done. This was the glorious Edward IV, grandfather to our present King, and, as some said, the two were very much alike.
    Edward had triumphed in the Wars of the Roses but he was known to be the most profligate man in England, and his mistresses were legion. Our King had not had the same success in battle and he was, I had heard Tom Wyatt say, moderately faithful to his Queen. So perhaps it was only in appearance that they were similar.
    I listened avidly to the talk around me.
    “I am sorry for the Princess. She is so angry,” said Anne Grey.
    “Who would not be, buffeted about like a shuttlecock…fi rst betrothed to one, then to another. And the Princess of all people. We know her temper.”
    “I thought the King might relent right at the last moment. He is very indulgent with her.”
    “But this is politics. It has to be. I think she is a little glad to escape from Charles. By all accounts he would not have been the bridegroom for her.”
    There was laughter. “And you think poor old Louis is?”
    “Hush.
Lèse majesté
. You are speaking of the King of France.”
    “Well, even so, everyone knows he is all of fifty-two. Just think of our beautiful Mary with that old