Queen of This Realm by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online

deadly rivalry for power between two leading families—the upstart Seymours and the ancient one of Howard. The Seymours were in the ascendant. Of course they were. The Seymour brothers were the uncles of the King to be.
    To my great joy Edward was brought to Enfield.
    It was the last day of January, cold and frosty, when Edward arrived in the company of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, and Sir Anthony Browne. I was amazed to see these two together in apparent harmony because Sir Anthony was a firm adherent of the Catholic Faith, and Hertford, because of his powerful position in the country, was the man whom followers of the Reformed Faith looked upon to lead them.
    As soon as they arrived I was summoned to the hall. Edward was standing there with Hertford on one side of him and Sir Anthony Browne on the other.
    “Edward,” I cried, forgetting ceremony. I ran to him and we embraced.
    The two men stood silently watching us and neither of us cared whether they considered this a breach of etiquette. There are moments when such matters can be forgotten and affection given full rein.
    It was Hertford who made the announcement.
    “My lord and lady, I have grave news for you. Your father, our great and good King Henry the Eighth, has died in his Palace of Whitehall.” Then he fell to his knees and taking Edward's hand cried: “God save the King.”
    Edward looked startled. Then he turned to me. I put my arms about him and we wept. We had lost our father. I was old enough to know that we were fast moving into danger. I was not yet fourteen years old but I felt that I had been learning how to wade carefully in treacherous waters. But Edward… poor little Edward…to be so young… and a king!
    We were crying bitterly and my tears were more for my frail little brother than for the great and glorious, cruel and ruthless yet magnificent King who had just passed out of this life.

MY LIFE CHANGED FROM THAT TIME. ONE THOUGHT WAS uppermost in my mind. It bewildered me—but not for long. It was so dazzling, so truly wonderful, so remote—and yet it was possible. One day I could be Queen of England.
    After having been known as the bastard daughter of the King, of no great significance, scorned and kept in mended garments, sent from place to place at the convenience of others, I had become of no small consequence. Henceforth people would treat me in a different manner. I began to see it immediately. I noticed the covert looks. Be careful, said their eyes. She could be Queen one day.
    I was savoring what a glorious sensation power can be. I was being given just that faintest glimmer of that which my father had enjoyed since the days when he was eighteen years old and became the King. To rule a country— a great country—what a destiny! And it could be mine.
    This new state had come about because of the conditions of my father's will. I was to receive three thousand pounds a year—riches for me—and a marriage portion of ten thousand pounds. True, I could only marry with the consent of the King—my little brother Edward now—and his Council. Edward would be easy enough to handle, but what of the Council? No matter. There was no question of marriage yet. But if any man tried to marry either my elder half sister Mary Tudor or myself without the consent of the Council, serious charges would be brought against him and my sister and me. That did not greatly concern me, for being not yet fourteen I had no mind to risk any lives for the sake of a romantic marriage.
    The crown, of course, would go to Edward. If he died without heirs, it passed to Mary; and if Mary should die, then I was the next in line, although the Catholics believed that my father had never really been married to my mother and I was a bastard! As this will was made a year or so before my father's death, he had stated that before Mary or myself would come any heirs he should have through Katharine Parr—adding ominously “or any future queen.”
    I could not stop