To Kill A Queen Page 3

  In moments, he had turned the corner and was lost to sight for – who knows? Weeks? Months? We all went inside and did whatever made us feel better. Beeba cuddled the wooden doll Father gave her. Harry went outside and kicked his leather ball against an oak tree. Joseph and Richard, who had come to say goodbye, disappeared to talk dull talk. Mother scolded the cook, who’d given Beeba the most disgusting curdled milk for breakfast. And me? I sat and cried, and Edmund sat with his arm touching mine, not speaking. I liked that.

  23rd April 1584

  Poor Harry came home from school almost in tears today. He forgot to take his penknife with him this morning, so could not sharpen his quill. He borrowed another boy’s knife, and cut himself. The master gave him two blows across the knuckles: one for being forgetful and the other for being careless. Mother bandaged the ink-stained cut and asked me to take him to Uncle William, but Harry nearly lost his head at that thought. I’m not surprised. Some of the things Uncle William puts on cuts and sore places sting so badly, you would rather have two cuts instead.

  It’s a pity Harry would not go to Uncle William’s – I should have been able to snatch a few minutes with Edmund. I heard Richard say he suspects Sir Francis Throckmorton might be executed soon, and I wish to know if it is so.

  27th April 1584

  Surely the skies must soon be empty of rain. It has poured for three days! The wind is so strong and the streets so muddy that Mother has forbidden me to leave the house. It must be dangerous upon the river. Boats have been abandoned, and the streets are dense with carts and wagons. Everyone is bad-tempered and blames everyone else for the crush.

  I am bad-tempered also, for I hate being cooped up like one of our chickens, and if I see one more frayed hem, I will scream.

  But I soon forgot needles and thread when Edmund arrived with news. “Kitty,” he began. “You know how I detest school?”

  I do. Edmund is always in trouble. He has a quick tongue and is frequently beaten for insolence, though I am sure he doesn’t mean it.

  “Never mind,” I said. “School’s over for today. Come and sit with me.”

  We settled on the window seat overlooking the street. Pawpaw jumped into my lap and stared at Edmund. It is a habit he has. Most people find it disconcerting, but Edmund was too excited to notice.

  “Father is to take on a second apprentice!” he announced.

  That was not the most thrilling news I’ve ever heard, but I pretended to be astounded. “Well!” I said. “Goodness gracious!”

  Pawpaw jumped down and nibbled my duck-egg-blue slipper. I pulled my foot away, teasing him, and he nibbled again.

  “Kitty, listen!” said Edmund. “Who do you think the new apprentice will be?”

  I shrugged.

  “It will be your cousin, you ass! Me!”

  “You!”

  He looked affronted. “I am quite capable of becoming a physician.”

  “When did Uncle William tell you?” I asked.

  Edmund nibbled his lip. “He hasn’t exactly told me, but—”

  The door opened, and Kathryn sidled into the room. “There you are, brother,” she said. “You should have come straight home. Good day, Kitty.”

  She’s so sly. The wretched girl follows Edmund everywhere.

  “Come,” said Kathryn. At the door, she put on her muddy pattens and tottered down the path. Edmund whispered, “Come with us, Kitty. You will hear Father’s answer as soon as I do.”

  “I cannot.” Mother had ridden out with old Tom to visit a sick friend, so I could not ask permission. Edmund promised to come straight back to tell me.

  When Mother did return, she was furious about the teeth marks in my blue slippers.

  28th April 1584

  Edmund did not return, so this afternoon I begged Mother to let me visit the Middletons.

  “Put your pattens on, then,” she said. “I don’t want another pair of shoes ruined.”

  Ugh. I hate pattens. They make me walk as if I have no knees. I fastened the ugly lumps of wood to my feet and stomped to the Tower. Pawpaw ran beside me, his tummy skimming the mud.

  Dolly let me in, and helped me remove the pattens. She took Pawpaw to the kitchen and I went in search of Edmund. Kathryn and Aunt Frances were out, so I knocked on Uncle William’s study door and went in.

  The stink! Some nasty mixture was being boiled up and I swear the steam was green. I don’t look too closely around his study. There are dried bits of plants and animals in jars, and white bones that I shudder to think of.

  Uncle William greeted me and returned to his work.

  “Where is your newest apprentice?” I asked brightly.

  “How did you know?” he asked. “Ah, Edmund told you, I suppose. Well, he begins studying with me in three weeks’ time.”

  “Why not before?” I wondered.

  “He will not arrive until three weeks have passed.”

  “But he’s here already, Uncle William.”

  He paused. “Ah. Edmund has not told you that I turned down his request.”

  Oh, poor Edmund. That is why he did not return. He was probably too upset.

  Uncle William said Edmund needs more schooling yet. “He may not wish to be a physician, Kitty. He may wish to be a lawyer, or find some position at court. He is lucky to be able to choose. I had no such choice at his age. My future was decided for me by my father.”

  That was it. Uncle William droned on and on about the bad old days. How he walked miles to school, and miles home again, trudging through deep snow. (Didn’t the sun ever shine in the bad old days?) How he started work in the dark and finished in the dark. Truly, I have heard it all before.

  Luckily, Uncle William’s hideous green potion boiled over. He completely forgot about me and I was able to escape. I let myself out of the house, rather than disturb Dolly.

  Did my ears ache when Mother saw me! Where were my pattens? Look at my skirt! Look at my feet! How were those shoes ever to be cleaned? On and on she went. I began to think I’d rather listen to Uncle William.

  The worst thing was that Kathryn called later, bringing Pawpaw back. I had forgotten my darling little dog! That awful girl looked so smug, and when Mother said I’m not fit to be the poor creature’s mistress, she positively smirked.

  26th May 1584

  Such excitement! Well, it is terrible, but Edmund is certainly excited. We had been visiting the Middletons, and he asked my mother if we might stroll about for a while.

  “Stay around the Tower,” said Mother.

  We decided to go down to the wharf, which is certainly “around” one side of the Tower. Almost instantly, we found a dead cat washed up by the tide. It was in good condition, so we did what we always do when we find a dead animal – we took it to the Royal Menagerie. You get in free if you take something to feed to the lions. The menagerie is outside the main walls, but is still part of the Tower. We were about to go in when there was a commotion at the main gate. We ran to see what was happening.

  Uncle William’s new apprentice was being carried home. And he was dead! He’d slipped in front of a carriage, and a horse reared and stamped on his head. The poor boy had been with Uncle William for barely a week!

  There was such a fuss! In the middle of it, Mother appeared and swept me away, but not before Edmund whispered, “Do you realize what this means?”

  I do.

  27th May 1584

  Edmund came first thing today before school. I was in my chamber, but he threw pebbles at my window until I looked out. I ran down to let him in.

  “Kitty,” he said. “Do you think I should ask Father again? About being his apprentice?”

  “Of course,” I told him, but a voice behind me said, “Hold on.”

  It was Joseph, getting ready to take Harry to school.

  “Edmund,” he said, “the boy is scarcely dead, and
your father must still be shocked. Wait until things are calm. In the meantime, help him all you can.”

  He turned to me. “Kitty, Beeba is standing at the top of the stairs in a puddle. Call someone to clear it up.”

  “Yes, Joseph,” I said. “See you later, Edmund.”

  4th June 1584

  Today Edmund will ask Uncle William if he can begin his apprenticeship. I am bursting to know the answer.

  Later

  I cannot believe it! Uncle William has agreed to take Edmund as his apprentice, but has extracted two promises from him. First, he must devote himself to becoming a good physician. Easy – Edmund is clever, and he knows lots already from watching his father. Second, Edmund must continue to read Latin and French for an hour a day. He will not do that, I know.

  5th June 1584

  Edmund and I are going to suggest to our parents that we read French and Latin together, to encourage each other! One day we can read at his house, the next at mine. We can even read in the garden. Or as we stroll by the river. We won’t mention the garden and the river just yet.

  7th June 1584

  They have agreed! Edmund and I may study together!

  Mother said, “Your father may think differently, but I am in favour of you learning all you can. And Edmund, I am sure, can teach you much.”

  I don’t know that that is so.

  19th June 1584

  It is not as I expected. I have hardly seen Edmund, and we have not yet read together. Mother says he needs a few days to settle down, and will soon develop a pattern of work and study. A few days!

  24th June 1584

  Mother was right. Edmund and I have met for the last three days in each other’s houses, and we have studied our books. Actually, we talked more than studied, but who will know the difference?

  We plan to escape outside sometimes, when everyone – especially Kathryn – thinks we are studying.

  2nd July 1584

  Today I lost Pawpaw! There was nobody at home except the maids, and Edmund was with Uncle William, tending a prisoner. Prisoner, hah! What about me? What about Pawpaw?

  I tried to remember when I’d last seen him, but I couldn’t. I searched the garden first, in the shrubs, among the fruit bushes, and in the onion patch. The gardeners hadn’t seen him, but they are half asleep most of the time.

  Next, I walked along the street, calling him. Then, as I turned into Watergate, I heard someone call my own name.

  It was Anthony Babington, with a friend. “Sir Anthony!” I cried, and burst into tears.

  “Come, pretty Kitty,” he said kindly. “Why so sad?”

  When I explained about Pawpaw, he told me to stop worrying. “There are three of us now to find him. Eh, Robert?” he said.

  “We started the day with nothing to occupy us,” said his friend. “Now we have a quest!”

  I feared Pawpaw might have gone to the river, so we went in that direction. “Suppose he gets on a boat and is taken out to sea?” I said. “And suppose the boat’s captured by pirates, but suppose they have a cat and they don’t want a dog, and suppose they maroon Pawpaw on a desert island. . .”

  The two men looked at me oddly. Sir Anthony’s lips twitched. “You have a great imagination, pretty Kitty.”

  We combed the river bank, searching among the cranes and warehouses. Suddenly I heard a sharp yap.

  “Pawpaw!” I shrieked.

  He was on the back end of a boat. When he saw me, he leapt into the water. But there were boats everywhere and I was sure he would be hit, and drowned.

  “Holy Mother!” Sir Anthony breathed in a sort of prayer. “Save the poor creature.”

  Pawpaw swam this way and that, his legs beating the water. Then brave Anthony Babington waded towards him – but Pawpaw disappeared beneath the surface. I screamed! Sir Anthony stretched out, almost overbalancing and, at last, he snatched my little dog to safety.

  I burst into tears again when the sopping bundle was put in my arms. I couldn’t stop thanking Sir Anthony all the way back to my house. I put Pawpaw down. “I cannot ask you in,” I said, “as my parents are not at home. But I will never forget your bravery, Sir Anthony.”

  He laughed. “I am glad your little dog is safe. Now I must return to my lodgings. My breeches and hose are no longer fit for London society! Come, Robert.”

  Robert took my hand to say goodbye, and I am ashamed to say that Pawpaw immediately bit his ankle.

  “Forgive him!” I cried, as Robert danced away from him. “He does not know you, and fears you might harm me.” I scooped Pawpaw up and scolded him.

  Robert forced a smile. “He does not know me,” he said, “but he knows what I taste like.”

  Anthony laughed and led him away.

  As I dried my darling dog before the kitchen fire, my mind ran over what had just happened. I remembered Sir Anthony seeing the danger Pawpaw was in, and saying, “Holy Mother!” That is something I would never hear in my own home. For the Holy Mother is the Virgin Mary, and Roman Catholics pray to her in their prayer beginning, “Hail Mary. . .” I do not know the rest of the words.

  But I do know now that Sir Anthony Babington is a Catholic.

  8th July 1584

  At last! Francis Throckmorton, who threatened the very life of Queen Elizabeth, is to die. The execution will be at Tyburn.

  “Madam, will you go?” I asked Mother.

  “You know I will not,” she answered.

  Aunt Frances has told me of the executions she and Mother witnessed when they were girls in the Tower. Mother, of course, being a good listener like me, also heard much about the torture of prisoners from her father and Uncle William. Consequently she no longer has the stomach for the spectacle of an execution.

  “There will be a great crowd going to Tyburn,” she continued. “The streets will not be safe for a young girl alone.”

  Damnation! (That’s a new word I learned from Richard, which I must teach Edmund.) I was bending over my sewing, so Mother couldn’t see how cross I was, when she said, “But Joseph will take you.”

  I leapt up, scattering silks on the floor. “May Edmund come, too?”

  Mother smiled. “If Joseph is agreeable.”

  Of course he is agreeable. Joseph does anything I ask. I just hope we can escape Kathryn.

  11th July 1584

  I slept so deeply last night that my maid had to drag the covers from me this morning. When I opened my eyes, the sun almost blinded me.

  “I can see nothing but yellow blobs now!” I complained.

  Anne grunted. “You will see nothing but stars if your mother finds you still abed. You are to go into the city with her.”

  “Oh, I hope we will ride,” I said. “My legs ache so.”

  “You are unlucky,” said Anne gleefully. “Lady Tilly says it’s perfect walking weather.”

  So it is not until this evening that I am able to escape with a candle and write about yesterday. The day a man died for his evil plot.

  When Joseph and I called for Edmund, he slipped out, quickly pulling the door closed behind him.

  “Hurry!” he said. “Kath—”

  Too late. That witch yanked the door open. “Have you forgotten, brother, that I am coming?” she snapped. “Joseph, give me your arm.”

  Sweet Joseph. He smiled down at her as if she was the loveliest girl in the world, instead of a nasty, sour-lipped, stuffy rat-in-petticoats.

  We set off along Great Tower Street, and were not too early, for many apprentices were already on their way to Tyburn. They had been given the day off by their masters. Everyone wanted to go. It’s not every day you watch the execution of a man who plotted against the Queen.

  By the time we reached Gracechurch Street, the way was busy indeed. It had rained during the night and the cobbles were slippery with mud, horse dung, and other rubbish.

  K
athryn fussed and skipped to avoid dirtying her shoes. She must have driven Joseph mad with her demands to move here, cross there, but he never showed it. We met with a flock of sheep on their way to market, and it satisfied me greatly when a moist, grass-stained mouth nibbled the back of Kathryn’s skirt.

  We passed Newgate prison, went down High Holborn and into the Oxford road. The crowds were thick, and I kept hold of Edmund’s sleeve. Kathryn took all Joseph’s attention. “Hold me, cousin,” she cried in her supposedly dainty voice, which I think is a weasel’s squeak.

  We could get nowhere near the gallows, but we knew we would see Throckmorton when he was strung up, for he was to be hanged, disembowelled and quartered.

  As we waited, I smelled gingerbread, which I can never resist, and Joseph bought us each a piece. Kathryn turned her nose up at it – but in such a ladylike manner – and said she would not eat it, because the woman who sold it was filthy. I thought of her sheep-stained skirt and enjoyed my gingerbread.

  Great cheers and shouts told us the prisoner was near!

  “He will have his last drink at the inn round the corner,” said Joseph.

  Soon the crowds parted as horses carved a path through them, but we could see nothing until the execution party climbed on to the scaffold. There was lots of talk, which we could not hear, then the crowd hushed as Throckmorton made his final speech. I was shocked to see how young he was – not above 30. Then Kathryn started complaining about the crush and the smell, and saying she wanted to go home. She twittered so much, I never heard a word of the rest of the speech.