Betrayal in the Tudor Court

Mirabella was found in the chapel or praying before her priedieu. Her interactions with the rest of the family were limited and she saw Lady Grace as little as possible. But Mirabella still confided in Father Alec and he listened, trying his best to soothe her anger with urgings that she forgive and find peace in God. The ritual of her prayer and incantations became as much her escape as wine was Grace’s. Father Alec did not know if this was a good thing. He had always fancied that the true calling to God should be taken up with a peaceful heart, not one filled with the acute desire to avoid reality. But then he could not judge Mirabella. His reasons for entering the priesthood had been no better.

The glimpses of hope and indeed the only place from which a measure of sanity prevailed came from Cecily and Brey, whose light seemed so misplaced in this dark place. Yet there it was, white, shining, emitted like rays of sunshine bursting through the clouds in their giggles and plots and shrill, happy voices. Bosom companions, Cecily and Brey collected animals and insects together, making the nursery a veritable menagerie. No one stopped them, and if anyone dared, Father Alec would have had their head. The children would be allowed their happiness and Father Alec thanked God they found it in each other. Cecily emanated joy; it came natural to her. She was by no means simpleminded. Her wise eyes could be seen making their observations and Father Alec wondered what went on behind them. What conclusions had she drawn about this place so tinged by tragedy? She did not reveal them. Instead she smiled her sweet smile, she laughed her infectious, lilting laugh, and pressed on, always inventing new ways to spread cheer.

Father Alec continued to pray for her and Brey, hoping nothing would invade the world Cecily so lovingly created.

For his part, he kept them busy. They took many of their lessons out of doors during the warm months. He utilised anything he could think of to tie in his lessons with the wonders of nature. Instead of studying astronomy in the stuffy library, they spread blankets out in the garden and looked up at the dazzling array of sparkling stars littering the night sky. The children snuggled against him as they pointed out each of the constellations and discussed navigation, astrology, and the myths from which the constellations derived their names.

Father Alec loved to discuss military history and reenacted battles with toy soldiers. This became a favourite sport of Brey’s and together they spent many hours fashioning their soldiers and kings out of wood, painting them, and reliving the battles of old just as Father Alec described them.

The children learned of flora and faunae by taking long walks through the forest. Father Alec taught them about herbs and mushrooms with medicinal properties, in which Cecily took great interest.

With them the knot in his heart eased. They were the hope of this broken household. With love and guidance, they could still prevail to be productive, successful individuals.

What’s more, and what was most important to Father Alec, they could be happy.

“The king has broken from Rome!” Lord Hal cried one evening as he burst into the solar where Father Alec had been engaging Mirabella in a game of chess while Brey and Cecily drew purposefully unflattering pictures of the servants.

Mirabella rose. “No!”

Lord Hal nodded, his handsome face ruddy from riding. “King Henry has been named Supreme Head of the Church of England by Parliament. It is because of the Boleyn woman, of course. It is almost certain he will marry her.”

“But the Pope—” Father Alec began, rendered breathless at the prospect. He was more than interested in the whole affair. The king’s will intrigued him. He seemed so intoxicated by this Anne Boleyn that he would rearrange the world for her. Father Alec could not imagine the power she must have over him. He wondered after her beauty. She must be in possession of something extraordinary for the king to be so taken with her. Father Alec had heard she held the New Learning in high esteem and for this he admired her. He wondered what influence that had on His Majesty’s startling decision.

Lord Hal shook his head. “Is no more, not for England, anyway.”

Father Alec could not imagine it. But others had broken away, though not on such large scale. It was interesting. “This could create a great deal of strife. Catholics loyal to His Holiness will never abide it.” He wondered if he could abide it. He was alarmed at how unperturbed he was by the news. But what did he know of the Pope? Was he not as corrupt as every other church official jealously guarding his ill-gotten gains? Yet was he not God’s representative on earth? Wasn’t the king? What an opportunity this could be! Imagine the possibilities of reform he could be bringing! Imagine the new age of thought he could be ushering in, an age where simplicity replaced extravagance, an age where priests could not be bought, an age of humility and true devotion to God, not under the grandeur and illusion the Church provided. It did not have to be Lutheran per se but something different, something tailored for English people and English needs. … Oh, bless this King Henry!

Father Alec tried to rein in his enthusiasm as he speculated, focusing on the reactions of the room.

“Oh, Father,” Mirabella interposed, addressing Lord Hal. “What is going to happen to poor Queen Catherine?”

“No one is sure yet, lamb,” Lord Hal told her. “I suppose all we can do is wait it out.”

“Oh, that Boleyn woman!” Mirabella cried, narrowing her eyes. “I have heard the names they have called her—all fitting, it seems! For her to corrupt His Majesty this way … she is an abomination!”

“Whatever she is or isn’t, Mirabella, we are the king’s subjects, you must remember,” said Lord Hal. “And we are beholden to him. He is not one to tolerate differences in opinion.”

“So we accept it? The displacement of an anointed queen and a split with the Holy Father?” Mirabella asked, eyes wide, incredulous.

Her father nodded. “Yes, Mirabella. Whatever the king’s pleasure. If we want to keep our place, if we want to keep our heads, we keep silent.”

“But you cannot think this is right!” she cried, appalled.

Lord Hal shook his head again, running a hand through his dark hair. “I am not one to judge what is right, Mirabella.”

“Your father is wise,” Father Alec said. “None of us can know God’s will. There could be a message in this for us, a sign that things are meant to change—”

“But to break with His Holiness, Father Alec?” she cried, scandalised. “Let alone the notion of divorce!”

Father Alec pursed his lips. “You know that as a priest I do not support divorce in most cases. However, the king is far from most cases. He needs a legitimate male heir to succeed him and unfortunately the queen has not been able to provide that. In matters of state, my child, sometimes exceptions have to be made. I do not condone it, but to a degree I can understand its need for the stability of the realm. And as your father said, it is not for us to judge.” He paused. “Regarding the situation with the Holy Father …” He drew in a breath. “I must pray on that.”

“Oh, Father …” Mirabella’s eyes were lit with disillusionment as she regarded him, causing his heart to lurch in unexpected regret.

But he could not change his opinion. Ever since his tour of Europe, observing the change and the excitement the New Learning was bringing, he knew he could support the king’s split with the Pope. Likewise, he understood the king’s Great Matter. And he felt he understood humanity. He was no fool. He knew it was not all about the succession. But he could not explain matters of lust to a young girl and disillusion her even more. Best cloak it in a (semi) noble cause.

“Pray for them, Lady Mirabella,” Father Alec urged her. “Pray for all involved. And you must be confident that whatever happens, even if it is beyond your understanding, even if you do not agree with it, is the will of God.”

Helped along by men, he added silently.

But it consoled Mirabella to the desired degree and she quit the room to indulge in her favourite pastime.

Father Alec excused himself to do likewise.

Unlike Mirabella, he did not pray for the preservation of the Church in England.

He prayed for continued change.

Cecily affected genuine cheer in Brey’s gentle presence. With him there were no complications. The rest of the household had sunken into general decline, save Father Alec, who scrambled to uphold a façade of normalcy in the hopes of preserving some semblance of happiness. Cecily did the same. She steered Brey away from unhappy introspection with games and smiles. They rode, they composed little songs and plays together, they lay awake in the nursery, talking and conspiring about the next day’s adventures till the sun began to filter through the bay window. Together they visited Lady Grace in her apartments, always an experience Cecily approached with a measure of dread and hope—dread that she must see the poor woman in such estate, hope that it had somehow improved. It never did. Though Brey was brave when he saw his mother, he cried in Cecily’s arms afterwards. Cecily always let him. She would never tell him not to cry. If Lady Grace were her mother, she’d have cried, too.

Lord Hal attempted to cheer them by taking them hawking and hunting. Cecily proved an archer unmatched in her abilities, earning admiration and praise by all. With Lord Hal the children also indulged in games of dice and cards. Brey challenged him to games of chess that the boy always won, while Cecily had the luck of beating Lord Hal at cards. Lord Hal, who made the effort to be in good cheer around the children, smiled and laughed. “Two little cheaters I’ve got!” he would exclaim at the close of each game he lost. He’d shake his finger at them. “I don’t know how, but wait till I have you figured out! Then we’ll see who emerges the victor!”

Cecily and Brey exchanged a triumphant glance. They would never let Lord Hal win if they could help it.

It went along like this, a little routine of emotional preservation and survival that the children had fallen into until the beginning of their early teens. And then one ordinary day, for a perfectly ordinary reason, everything changed.

Cecily woke up with her courses.

She knew what had happened. For weeks her tummy had been cramping, her back aching, and the two tiny swells that served as breasts hurt so much she could not even cross her arms. For a while she just lay there, contemplating her new status.

She was something resembling a woman. It was an overwhelming thought. She did not feel altogether grown-up. She had imagined that when a woman began her menses she received some kind of epiphany, as though with the ability to bear children came the innate knowledge of how to be everything woman. She was disappointed. There were no divine awakenings; she was, in fact, quite uninspired, hungry, and irritable.

Mirabella had been removed from the nursery years before for just this reason. This meant she, too, would be given her own chamber. Her nursery days were over. No more conspiring with Brey until the wee hours of the morning, no more behaving as the carefree child. Everything was going to change. She closed her eyes, squeezing back hot tears.

At last she called for Nurse Matilda, who cleaned her up and gave her instructions on how to care for her new plight.

“What’s happening?” Brey inquired upon hearing the commotion. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Cecily?”

“Nothing!” Cecily and Matilda shouted at once.

The startled lad pouted and went back to bed.

Cecily, now cleansed and uncomfortable, quit the nursery.

She needed to be alone. She needed to think about womanhood.

“You will have to wear the proper corset now,” Mirabella told her after Cecily imparted the unhappy news of her ascendance to Venus. They were in Mirabella’s chamber, which was as unlike the nursery as a pup to a mule. There was a prie-dieu, of course, and several portraits of the Blessed Virgin, one of her holding baby Jesus to her breast, all surrounded in a halo of golden light, another of her alone with a sparkling rose. Cecily’s eyes were treated to an ensemble of saints and statues the like of which belonged at the chapel. She could not imagine why Mirabella needed the convent with all this about her.

Cecily’s thoughts were drawn from the décor to her own estate. Acorset. Her shoulders slumped. She had not been looking forward to that. “I won’t be able to breathe. How will I play with Brey wearing a corset?”