“You will not dare to go against the Queen's order.”

“My lady, I believe this to be no order from the Queen, but from others.”

“Please explain, Lord Chandos.”

“When I received the document and knew what it was, I was overcome with grief and I thought you should be warned at once in order to make your peace with God, for I feared the executioner would not delay his visit. But when I examined the warrant closely, I saw that it did not contain the sovereign's signature which is usual in these cases.”

“Not the Queen's signature! Then…”

“My lady, the Queen is very sick and has taken to her bed. It occurs to me that some may have taken advantage of this.”

“Stephen Gardiner has done this,” I said.

Lord Chandos did not speak but I guessed that he agreed with me. The Queen was ill and Gardiner was terrified that I might come to the throne, for he had clearly shown himself to be my enemy, so his plan had been to dispatch me speedily and when the Queen recovered—if she did—to present her with a fait accompli, and the country would be without its Protestant heiress.

“What shall you do, my lord?” I asked.

“I shall say that I refuse to carry out such an order except under the command of the Queen.”

An immense relief swept over me because I believed fervently that she would not sign my death warrant until Gardiner, Renaud and the rest of my enemies could prove something against me. This would not be easy to do because I had committed no treason and I should take good care not to do so.

So Lord Chandos saved my life, for it was true that Mary had no knowledge of such a document and when she recovered and learned what had been done she was very disturbed. It must have occurred to her that one who would go so far as to send a death warrant, hoping that the absence of the royal signature would not be noticed, would stoop to any means to be rid of me. She, who was truly religious, did not want murder on her conscience.

I discovered later that her attitude toward me changed from that time, and she was most displeased if anyone spoke disparagingly of me. She referred to me again as her sister, and my portrait, which had been taken away and hidden, was restored to its place in the gallery beside her own.

She was very uneasy and clearly did not trust those about her. She must have been a most unhappy woman. I was in danger of imminent death but even at such a time I would not have wished to be in her shoes.

Chandos came to me. He was in a state of bewilderment.

He said: “The Queen is sending Sir Henry Bedingfeld to be in charge of the Tower and I think this is because of recent happenings.”

I was overcome with horror. “But, my Lord Chandos…do you mean that Sir Henry Bedingfeld is coming here to guard me?”

“It would seem so, my lady. I wish you well. I am sorry I can no longer be of service to you.”

“You have served me well, Lord Chandos, and that is something I shall never forget. Tell me… this Bedingfeld, what sort of man is he?”

“A stern Catholic, my lady, but I believe him to be a man of high principles.”

“One who would be ready to commit murder for a cause?”

“I think not.”

“Was it not his father who was the jailer of my father's first wife, Katharine of Aragon, when she was at Kimbolton?”

“The same, my lady.”

“I do not think he showed great kindness to that lady.”

“He obeyed the orders of the King and now I am sure his son will obey those of his Queen. He may be a stern custodian but I believe him to be a deeply religious man. I would say that under his care you may be restricted but your life will not be in jeopardy.”

“It would be comforting to believe you, my lord, but much royal blood has been shed in this place and when men come in such a manner as this, it seems that there must be plans behind it.”

“I must tell you, my lady, that Sir Henry Bedingfeld will not be the Lieutenant of the Tower. He will have for a while command over me, but his stay here will be temporary. He is coming here while it is decided where you shall be taken. I believe you are to be removed from the Tower.”

“From one prison to another. Perhaps it will be easier to dispose of me in some remote castle. Where will they take me? Have they said?”

“Pomfret has been suggested.”

“Oh, dear God preserve me! That was where they held my ancestor Richard II. Some believe that he was murdered there.”

I was sick with fear. I had dreaded coming to the Tower, but I did not wish to be removed to some gloomy faraway castle remote from my few friends in London and haunted by the ghosts of murdered men and women. Robert Dudley was here, and although I could not see him, his presence comforted me.

Almost immediately Sir Henry Bedingfeld arrived. I disliked him immediately because I saw at once that he was one of those men who would not have the slightest compassion for my feminine helplessness. He was the stern supporter of my sister and he saw me as a menace to her safe holding of the throne. It was true that he was deeply religious and I at once sensed that he was sincerely so. This should have comforted me, but I disliked him and feared him; and he came with one hundred and forty armed men—to guard one poor prisoner! He seemed old to me—in fact he must have been about forty-three years of age! He had no graces, no charm, and I showed him clearly that I found his presence near me distasteful.

IT WAS ON THE TWENTIETH OF MAY—TWO MONTHS AFTER my arrival at the Tower through the Traitor's Gate—that I left that formidable fortress.

I should have been delighted, but I could not rid myself of the terrible fear that I was leaving one prison for another which might be even more dangerous.

I felt a sudden wave of hope, though, when I heard that I was going to Richmond, for the Queen was there and I believed that if I could see her I could convince her of my loyalty to her and appeal to her sisterly feelings for me.

As we moved along the river I could not but exult in my freedom, brief though it might be. How beautifully green were the trees, and the fragrance of the wild flowers was particularly poignant to me because it seemed so long since I had smelt them. Rose-colored apple trees and white cherry were in bloom in the orchards close to the river and the hawthorn was weighed down with buds. I wanted to capture the colors and smells, for they meant freedom. And there was Richmond Palace which had been built by my grandfather on the site of old Shene. I alighted at the stairs and went through the gates into the palace.

As soon as I was in the apartment allotted to me, Sir Henry Bedingfeld came to inform me that the Queen had graciously agreed to see me. Haughtily I inclined my head. I hated the man and I wanted to demand how he dare address me as though I were some wayward schoolgirl. I supposed to men of his age I did seem young, but I was now twenty-one years old… old enough to be a queen.

I was ushered into my sister's presence and saw to my relief that we were to be alone. I should have been dismayed if that old villain Gardiner had been there.

The first thought which struck me was how old and ill she looked. The crown seemed to be a heavy burden for her to carry.

I knelt and she gave me a hand to kiss but there was no real warmth in her greeting.

“I trust your health is improved, sister,” she said.

I thanked her for her concern and said that I was as well as I could hope to be after my sojourn in the Tower.

“Let us hope that you do not return there,” she said enigmatically.

“I share Your Majesty's hope,” I replied quietly.

“You come to me as a prisoner of the state,” she went on. “It grieves me that it should be thus with my own sister. You are my father's daughter and that I do not forget. My ministers and I have discussed your future. There have been suspicions regarding your conduct and although the traitor Wyatt exonerated you from complicity in his plot when he was on the scaffold, there are certain matters which remain unclear.”