The other queen

1570, JANUARY, TUTBURY CASTLE: MARY

Isee from my window that Shrewsbury’s big horse is saddled for a journey, and then I see there is an armed guard waiting for him. I throw a shawl over my head and go downstairs, not even changing my shoes.

I see at once that he is going alone. Bess is white and looks sick; Hastings and Devereux are not dressed for traveling; they are clearly to stay here. I am very afraid that he is summoned to court, perhaps even arrested.

“Are you going on a journey, my lord?” I ask, trying to sound easy and unconcerned.

He looks at me as if he would snatch me up before them all. He is desperate for me. He puts his hands behind his back as if to stop himself from reaching for me. “I am summoned to court,” he says. “My lord Hastings will keep you safe in my absence. I hope I shall be home soon.”

“I am to stay here until you return?”

“I believe so,” he says.

“And you will return?”

“I hope so.”

I feel my mouth quiver. I so want to cry out that he is not to go, or that I shall go with him. I cannot bear to stay here with his furious wife and with the cold Hastings. To tell the truth I am afraid of them both.

“I shall look for you,” is all I dare say in front of them all. “And I wish you a safe and pleasant journey.”

The twisted smile that he gives me as he bows over my hand tells me that he does not expect either. I want to whisper to him to come back to me soon, but I don’t dare. He presses my hand, it is all that he can do, and then he turns and mounts his horse quickly, and in a second—it is all far too quick—there is a scramble of the guards and he is riding out the gate, and I bite my lip so as not to call out.

I turn, and his wife is looking at me, her face hard. “I hope he comes home safely to you, Bess,” I say.

“You know that I have lost him, whether he comes home or not,” she says, and she turns her back on me, which she should not do, and walks away without a curtsy, which is worse.