The Taming of the Queen

‘None at all,’ Nan says without a quaver in her voice, without the flicker of an expression on her blank face. ‘There is no heresy here and there never has been. The councillors questioned myself and two of your ladies and were satisfied that nothing had been said or written by us, either in your presence or in your absence, that could ever be construed as heresy.’

I hesitate. I can’t think what more can be said for the listening court. ‘Have they cleared your names and discharged you?’

‘Yes,’ she says, and the other two nod. ‘Completely.’

‘Very well,’ I say. ‘I will change my gown and we will go out riding. You can help me.’

We go into my room together, Catherine Brandon comes in too, and the moment that the door is shut behind us we clutch each other.

‘Nan! Nan!’

She holds me with a fierce strength, as if we were little girls in Kendal once more and she had to keep me from jumping out of a tree in the orchard. ‘Oh, Kat! Oh, Kat!’

‘What did they ask you? Did they keep you awake all night?’

‘Hush,’ she says. ‘Hush.’

I find I am choking with frightened sobs and I put my hand to my throat and pull back from her grasp. ‘I am all right,’ I say. ‘I won’t cry. I won’t go out there with red eyes. I don’t want anyone to see . . .’

‘You’re all right,’ she confirms. Gently she takes a handkerchief from her sleeve and touches my wet eyes and then dabs at her own. ‘Nobody must think that you’re distressed.’

‘What did they say to you?’

‘They’ve been questioning Anne Askew,’ she says bluntly. ‘They have tortured her.’

I am so appalled I cannot speak. ‘Tortured her? The daughter of a gentleman of the realm? Nan, they can’t have done so!’

‘They’ve lost their minds. They were authorised by the king to question her. He told them that they could take her out of Newgate Prison and frighten her into confession, but they took her to the Tower and they put her on the rack.’

The terrible pictures of my dream come back to me. The woman with the feet turned outwards, with a hollow where her shoulders should be. ‘Don’t say it.’

‘I’m afraid it’s true. I think they must have shown her the rack and then her courage enraged them and they couldn’t resist it. When she wouldn’t say anything they went on and on; they couldn’t stop themselves. The constable of the Tower was so appalled that he left them to it and reported it to the king. He said that they had thrown off their jackets in the torture room and racked her themselves. They pushed aside the hangman to do it. One at her head, one at her feet, they turned the wheels. They didn’t want the hangman to do it, it wasn’t enough for them to watch, they wanted to hurt her. When the king heard that from the constable he commanded that they stop.’

‘He has pardoned her? He had her released?’

‘Not him,’ she says bitterly. ‘He only said that they might not rack her. But, Kat, by the time the constable had got back to the Tower, they had been working on her all night. They carried on while the constable rode to see the king. They did not stop till he came back and told them.’

I am silent. ‘Hours?’

‘It must have been hours. She’ll never walk again. All the bones in her feet and hands will be broken, her shoulders, her knees her hips will be dislocated. They will have broken her spine or pulled it apart.’

Again I see the image from my dream of the woman with her wrists pulled from her arms, her arms detached at the elbow, the strange hollow where her shoulders should have been, her strange poise trying to hold her dislocated neck. I can hardly speak.

‘But they have released her now?’

‘No. They pulled her off the rack and dropped her on the floor.’

‘She’s still there? In the Tower? With her arms and legs torn from their sockets?’

Nan nods, looking blankly at me.

‘Who was it?’ I spit. ‘Name them.’

‘I don’t know for sure. Richard Rich was one. And Wriothesley.’

‘The Lord Chancellor of England racked a lady, in the Tower? With his own hands?’

At my appalled face she only nods.

‘Has he gone mad? Have they all run mad?’

‘I think they must be.’

‘No woman has ever been racked! No gentlewoman!’

‘They were determined to know.’

‘About her faith?’

‘No, she speaks of that quite willingly. They had everything they needed about her beliefs. Enough to find her guilty ten times over. God forgive them, God help us, they wanted to know about you. They racked her to make her name you.’

We are both silent and, though I am ashamed, I have to ask my next question. ‘Do you know what she said? Did she name us as heretics? Did she name me? Did she speak of my books? She must have done. Nobody could stand that. She must have done.’