The Manner of Amy's Death (25 page)

      With Owain’s grimy face and dust covered clothes and my face red and swollen with crying, we hardly look like a prince and princess, but I pull myself together and try to muster some dignity.

      “Yes,” I say to the cheers of the onlookers.

       Inside the inn the landlord opens his best wine and Owain is embarrassed because he has no money to pay for it.  “I will pay as a gift,” says the landlord but Mrs
Odingsells insists that she will do so.  I’m now so sorry for her.

       “Wh
at will you do?” I ask.  “You’ll have no one to keep you company.”

       “Nonsense
, my son will know of other gentlewomen, even though I will not enjoy their company as much as I have enjoyed yours, Kat.”  These kind words make me cry all over again.  Mrs Odingsells now asks the landlord for a pen and a paper.  She writes a note to Sir Anthony explaining that I am about to be married and asking if I can stay at Cumnor for another week until the wedding can be arranged.

       So I am about to be made the happiest woman in the world and I wonder what the chances will now be for
another couple - Elizabeth and her ‘sweet Robin’.

A Secret Wedding

It’s Advent 1560.  In a bedchamber
at a Seymour residence in Cannon Row, London, another Katherine and her beloved ‘Ned’, the young Earl of Hertford, are about to be married in a secret ceremony.  The two young people are passionately in love and determined that no one will prevent their wedding – not even Queen Elizabeth herself.

       Ned produces a ring,
five links beautifully inscribed with a poem he has composed for the occasion, and Katherine, who has always been led by her heart rather than her brain, gives a gasp of pleasure when she sees it.  Ned grasps her hand and looks at her directly; he raises his eyebrows and gives her a secret, knowing smile, which makes her giggle as it always does.  The priest coughs to draw their attention to the solemnity of the occasion, getting married is not a frivolous event and not to be entered into lightly.

       Ned and Katherine become serious, the priest recites the marriage ceremony and
, after they have made their vows, pronounces them man and wife.  There is only one witness, Ned’s younger sister named Jane Seymour after her royal ancestor.  The couple thank the priest who allows himself a smile and a sigh.  Ah, these impetuous youngsters, do they really know what they are entering into?

   
   The four in the wedding party help themselves to some refreshments that have been left out for them, after which the priest leaves soon followed by Jane.  Then the newly weds are left alone in the chamber where they strip off their clothes as quickly as possible and jump into bed.

       Do they really know what they’re doing?  Katherine is the younger sister of the executed Queen, Lady Jane Grey, who died with her husband Lord Guildford Dudley almost eight years ago.  In the event of Queen Elizabeth’s death she would have a claim to the throne of England to rival that of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots –
and some would say a better claim since Katherine is a Protestant and therefore more acceptable to the people than Mary.  If Elizabeth puts a tiny foot out of line, Katherine could well become the centre of a conspiracy to overthrow the Queen.

      
Worse still, Ned is first cousin to the now deceased King Edward VI and has a not insubstantial claim to the English crown himself.  Between them the couple eclipse all other members of the nobility in their suitability to rule the country and produce male heirs.  Elizabeth had better watch out!

       The storm clouds gather.

September 1561 - One Year After Amy’s Death

I can’t tell you how much the life of a farmer’s wife suits me!  Owain and I have been married now for over a year and we have three children, his small boy aged three named Henry, a little girl of two, Dwyfor, who was still a newborn baby when her mother died, and our own tiny baby, Llewellyn.  The work is hard but I learned how to cook and bake bread from the servants at Mr Hyde’s when Amy would eat nothing that I had not prepared for her.  And I can sew and make clothes for the little ones.

       Owa
in has help on the farm and we’re doing well.  We have two farm hands and a girl who works in the dairy and the kitchen and I’m helped with the children by the parents of his first wife who live in a cottage close by and treat me as if I were their own daughter.  They’re happy to be close to their own grandchildren and our little girl and boys will always live in a world of love and happiness, far away from the diseases and plagues of the court and royal palaces.

       Robert and Elizabeth have still not married.  We hear from Owain’s contacts that
Elizabeth sought to make Robert an earl soon after Amy’s death and this was seen by many as an attempt to ennoble him so there could be no objection to her marrying a commoner.  But William Cecil had pointed out that Sir Robert now had so many enemies among the nobility that such an act, and so soon after his wife’s death, would only lead to infighting and civil war.  Apparently Elizabeth had been filling out the document making Robert ‘Earl of Leicester’ when Cecil stopped her - so she took a dagger and slashed the document again and again in temper and frustration.  Amy, were you looking down and laughing!

       One evening Owain comes home with some startling news.  The inquest into Amy’s death has final
ly made public its findings – an accident says the jury - and did I know, he says, that Amy had suffered two head wounds from the fall! 

       No, I did not
; and what is more I did not see how that could possibly be the case.  Her cap had been still on her head when we found her and there were no blood stains there at all. 

       “
How could Amy have suffered wounds to her head and not have bled profusely?  Were they small wounds?”  I ask.

       Owain is amazed
at what I say.  Her cap must have been soaked in blood, he says.  One of the wounds was the size of two thumbs in depth and the report calls them ‘dints’ which implies they were sustained in a violent way as might a soldier receive such a blow in battle.

       “Perhaps she hit her head on a step.”

       “What – twice?”

       “There were two wounds, you are sure of this?”

       “There were indeed but the report still says that her death was an accident.”

       “What do you think, Owain?”

       “I think it’s suspicious, Kat.  For there to have been a deep wound and no blood reported at the scene can only mean one thing.  She must have suffered the dints somewhere else, in another chamber at Cumnor maybe; which would mean that her body was placed at the foot of the stairs to make it look like an accident, or to make it seem as if she had taken her own life.”

       I cast my mind back and wrack my brains to try to recall the scene.
  There was no puddle of blood, I’m sure of it.

       “But who would have do
ne such a thing?” I venture.  Owain and I have often wondered about the circumstances of her death and the strange case of the note I found in the pocket of her sewing apron, a note which was not in Sir Robert’s handwriting but purported to be from him.

       “All the usual suspects can be eliminated, if you a
sk me,” says Owain, “But there’s something I have not yet told you, Kat; something which I thought strange at the time and which I later dismissed as having no significance.”

       “What – you mean that you saw Richard Verney at the fair?
  There’s been so much gossip about that.”

      “No, I have no idea who that gentleman is and would not recognise him if I fell over him.  I know that it was rumoured that he was at the fair but what motive would he have for killing Amy?  Unless it was a bungled attempt to win Sir Robert’s
favour by doing something he’d not been asked to do.”

     
“Well it’s possible.”

       “There’
s another possibility you know.  And you have to ask yourself who has the most to gain from Amy’s death.”

       “I don’t understand
.”

     
Owain hesitates as if he does not like to voice his suspicions. “Remember that I told you how I went to Spain as a young man to learn about the way they made tapestries and crafted fine metals for daggers, swords and drinking cups?”

       I do.  I love these stories of foreign lands that Owain tells the children at bedtime.
  He continues, “My travels took me to southern Spain to a place called Ronda and then to Seville.  Eventually I met a group of Spanish noblemen who were travelling to England to be in the company of the ambassador at Mary’s court.”

       “Ambassador de Feria?”

      “Yes the Count de Feria.  These young men needed a translator and by this time I could speak both Spanish and English as well as my native tongue, Welsh.  So I came back to Mary’s court with them at the time that Robert Dudley was striving to gain acceptance among Prince Philip’s men.  They were, of course, using him because they needed help to fight their battles – remember St Quentin and that ghastly business of Henry’s death?”

        I certainly do
.  Robert was not the same man after seeing his little brother torn to pieces by a cannon ball right in front him.

       Owain goes on.  “B
ut Robert was ambitious and eager to get himself and his brothers back in Mary’s favour after their humiliating disgrace over the Jane Grey affair.”

       “Yes
, we know all this but what has it to do with Amy’s death,” I ask impatiently.

       “Now remember the time when we were at the fair at Abingdon,” says Owain.  “I forgot all else when I met you ag
ain on that day but now I remember seeing some others that I knew.  They didn’t recognise me; I’m a poor farmer now and they last saw me wearing fine clothes at Mary’s court.  Do you remember the man with the dancing bear?”

       “Yes
the poor creature, I certainly do.”

      “He had with him two companions.”

       “Hm …. I don’t remember.”

       “Well I can tell you that he did and perhaps the people of Abingdon thought that they were Welsh and speaking Welsh for they were dark haired and dark skinned a
s we are.  But they were not from our country; they were Spaniards and I now recall some little snatches of conversation they were having.”

       “About Amy?”

       “About something they had done; a deed completed, a duty performed.  And they spoke about the Bishop.  At the time I thought nothing of it.”

       “The Bishop?”

       “De la Quadra, the new ambassador.”

       “
I’m not following you. What had the Spanish to do with the fair at Abingdon?  Surely you do not think …..  but why would the Spanish want Amy dead?”

       “You have to think, Kat, who wins and who loses.  Either Robert and the Queen marry after Amy’s death and there is
protest and civil war or they do not marry and the Queen is free to marry Archduke Charles, a Hapsburg cousin of King Philip of Spain.  Either way the Spanish win and we all know that many would have welcomed any marriage rather than one to a Dudley.”

       “But I still don’t understand.  How would the Spaniards gain from a civil war in
England?”

       “You, of all people, Kat, remember the Jane Grey affair or should I say Queen Jane?”

       “Yes, but ….”

       “Jane had a sister, your namesake, Katherine.”

       “Who was married at fourteen to Henry Lord Herbert and then divorced from him when her father was declared a traitor.  Amy and I were at their wedding and she was heartbroken about the divorce for she loved him dearly.  And Henry loved her but he had to obey his father.”   

       “
So Katherine was then free to marry elsewhere and do you realise, Kat, that she has as great a claim to the throne as Mary Queen of Scots.  So if Elizabeth died childless – and some people claim she cannot have children even if she marries – or if there is a civil war and Elizabeth has to renounce her throne, then Katherine Grey would be the obvious choice for the people of England.  Her claim would be better than that of Mary Queen of Scots -  a Frenchwoman who is also a Catholic.”

       “But what has this to do with Amy’s death?”

       “Now does it surprise you if I tell you that the Spanish have long plotted to marry Katherine Grey to a Hapsburg nobleman?  I know this from the time I spent at court translating for the Spanish.”

       At this point I remember
with a shiver the garden one evening at Camberwell when Amy and I overheard Blount and Verney talking about Elizabeth’s ill treatment of Jane Dormer.

       Blount’s words come floating back to me,
“Well I expect Jane Dormer deserved it.  Her husband can’t stand Elizabeth, that’s why he’s quitting.  He thinks her reign will end in tears and there’ll be a rebellion against our good Lord Robert when the Queen marries him.  Rumour has it that Feria’s wife has been trying to smuggle Jane Grey’s sister out of the country so she can marry a Spanish Hapsburg.”