“And so she did, since her betrothal was exactly that, but it was clever of her to think of throwing those love letters into the privy. They should have been lost forever. Who would have thought that the Earl of Sussex would order his men to search through the offal and pick out all the bits that could still be read?”

“Go on,” Nan said irritably. She was perspiring again. She hated to sweat. “Take her side. What do you care? You will continue just as you are, in service as Lady Rutland’s lapdog.”

Cat refused to quarrel. “You can always return to Cousin Mary’s household.”

“She pretends she has forgiven me for moving out, but she will never invite me back.”

“Then go to Jane Mewtas or Joan Denny.”

“They only took me in to please the king. What advantage can I bring them now? And do not suggest that I return to Calais, or to France! If Queen Anna’s household is dispersed, I’ll have nowhere to go.”

Cat kept stitching. “John and Frances have property in the West Country.”

“The ends of the earth!” Nan stopped in front of Lady Rutland’s looking glass. She stared at her regular features, her blue eyes, her flawless skin. She was pretty, but who was here to see? Her hopes of finding a wealthy nobleman to marry grew dimmer by the day.

“Nan?” Cat’s voice was tentative. “Did you ever meet Sir Gregory Botolph?”

“Why?”

Cat kept her head down. “I heard a rumor. It is terrible the things people will say. Vicious, untrue things.”

“What did you hear?”

“That Mother was Botolph’s mistress. And that she turned traitor for his sake.”

The idea was so preposterous that Nan laughed aloud. “What nonsense. I know people call him Gregory Sweet-lips, but Mother would never be taken in by honeyed words. Neither she nor our stepfather had any part in the conspiracy.”

Nan was also sure Ned Corbett was innocent.

Always, just at the back of her mind, ready to leap out and squeeze her heart if she let down her guard, was her anguish at Ned’s peril. She did not believe he had been involved in Botolph’s scheme, but these days a careless word or a thoughtless act was enough to condemn a man.

A fearful image suddenly filled her mind: Ned hanged, drawn, and quartered—a traitor’s death. She jumped, a shriek caught in her throat, when the door suddenly creaked open.

The Earl of Rutland stood in the opening, his attention on Cat. “Where is my wife?”

“With the queen, my lord. In Her Grace’s presence chamber.”

“Good.” His gaze shifted to Nan. “What are you doing here? You should be in attendance on Her Grace, as well.”

“Queen Anna prefers the company of the two young women she brought with her from Cleves, especially Gertrude. She scarce notices what the rest of us do.”

“Come with me, Mistress Nan. All the queen’s ladies and maids of honor must stand witness to what I have to say.” Shooing Nan in front of him, he set off for the presence chamber at a brisk pace.

Nan did not argue. As the queen’s lord chamberlain, Rutland was responsible for dealing with all the details of daily life in her household.

When they reached the presence chamber, Nan went to stand with Lucy Somerset, Mary Norris, Dorothy Bray, and the two maids of honor from Cleves. Sensing that something important was about to happen, Nan toyed nervously with her pomander ball.

“My lord of Rutland—you have something to say to me?” Queen Anna spoke English but it was heavily accented.

“Your Grace,” Rutland said in a carrying voice, “you have been ordered to sign your consent to the annulment of your marriage to the king.” He produced a sheaf of papers and presented it to her with a flourish.

A secretary translated his words, although Nan suspected that Queen Anna understood precisely what was afoot. Her Grace took the pages, which she could not read, and stared at them for a long moment. Without warning, she burst into tears.

No one seemed to know what to do. Impatient with protocol, Nan stepped forward and offered the queen a handkerchief. For just an instant, their eyes met. The queen’s conveyed gratitude, but Nan saw something else in them, as well. Calculation?

When more senior ladies took over, Nan was glad to step back. The Earl of Rutland, through his interpreter, attempted to calm the queen. The murmuring went on for some time, but in the end the earl went away without the queen’s signature.

The next morning, the Earl of Rutland made another attempt to persuade the queen to end her marriage. This time he offered a much better bargain. Anna of Cleves would be allowed to remain in England. If she would agree to become the king’s “sister,” she would have an income of £4,000 a year. Richmond Palace and other properties would be given to her. All she had to do was admit that there had been an irregularity in the marriage—that she had been betrothed to someone else before she wed King Henry and that this precontract, although Anna herself had not, at the time, been aware of it, had been binding.

Even Nan could see gaps in the logic of this explanation, but she was not foolish enough to point them out. No one else did, either. Anna of Cleves signed the papers and freed King Henry to marry for the fifth time.

“LORD CROMWELL AND Lord Hungerford were executed last Wednesday,” Cat Bassett told her sister on Saturday, the thirty-first day of July.

Nan was in the maid’s dormitory at Richmond, once again staring out a window at the bleak landscape. The heat wave continued unabated. There had been no rain for weeks. Nan had her partlet open at the throat and her skirts kilted up. Neither measure did much good. Sweat pooled between her breasts where her bodice shoved them up and together.

As Cat’s words sank in, Nan turned to face her sister. “Were there … others who were executed?”

“No one we know. But on the same day, so Lord Rutland says, the king married Catherine Howard. They will not make an official announcement yet. Lady Rutland says they first plan to remain at Oatlands in Surrey for another week.”

“Are more executions scheduled?” Nan asked.

“None that I’ve heard about, but the general pardon the king issued after Parliament adjourned specifically exempted Mother and Lord Lisle and those men from Calais who were charged with treason.” Cat frowned. “And yet, the Calais men who were being held in the Fleet have been released by the lord chancellor.”

Nan had not known there were Calais men confined in that London prison. “Were they accused of conspiring with Botolph?”

“No, only of heresy.” She shrugged. “According to the Earl of Rutland, the lord chancellor told them they were free at His Grace’s pleasure. A pity that pleasure does not extend to members of our family.” She gave Nan a pointed look.

“These days His Grace’s pleasure is Catherine Howard. I doubt he remembers that any other woman exists.”

Long after Cat had returned to Lady Rutland’s chamber, Nan stayed where she was, mulling over what her sister had said. If the king had no objection to letting some prisoners go free, even some of those who had been exempted from the general pardon, then he might not object to freeing more of them.

An audacious idea occurred to her. At first she told herself it would never work. She’d end up in prison herself if she attempted it. But she could not stop thinking about it.

She did not want Ned Corbett to die. He had done nothing worse than befriend a deceitful priest. Ned, who had been her first lover, who was the father of her child, even if he did not know Jamie existed, deserved his freedom just as much as those men in the Fleet did.

For another week, the king would not be interested in anything but Catherine Howard. And while His Grace was occupied with his new bride, he would pay no attention to what Nan Bassett did. If she was very careful and very clever, she should have just time enough to save Ned’s life.


This year, the fourth day of August … Clement Philpott, gentleman, late of Calais, and servant to the Lord Lisle … with six persons more, were hanged, drawn, and quartered.

—Charles Wriothesley, Windsor Herald, Chronicle, 4 August 1540

13

My lord of Rutland,” Nan said, dipping her head, “a word with you?”

His frown told her she’d caught him in the middle of some important business. “Be brief, if you will, Mistress Nan.”

“The queen … the Lady Anna has little need of my services, my lord.”

“You wish to leave her household?”

“No, my lord. I beg leave to travel to London to visit my stepfather.”

“Ah. Hmmm.” He tugged at his beard as he considered her request. “I suppose there is no harm in it. Did you wish to take your sister with you?”

“I would not dream of depriving Lady Rutland of Cat’s company. My maid will accompany me. I will not be away long. A week at the most.”

One of Rutland’s secretaries approached carrying several letters. Rutland ignored him. “Will you make the journey by water or by road?”

Nan had brought the horse the king had given her to Richmond. “I will ride, with Constance on a pillion behind me.”

“My lord,” murmured the secretary, “it is a matter of some urgency.”

Even rushed, Rutland was conscientious. “You may leave in the morning, but I will send two of my own men with you. They will escort you to my house in Shoreditch. You will reside there during your visit.” It was less an invitation than a condition. “There is plague in London again this summer. The number of deaths there reached nearly three hundred last week. Once you pass through Bishopsgate, ride straight to the Tower. Keep your pomander ball to your nose at all times to avoid breathing in the contagion.”

Nan was not much concerned about the plague. There were outbreaks every summer, particularly in heavily populated areas like London. That was why the court usually spent the hottest months of the year in the countryside. She thanked the earl effusively and was at Rutland House by evening the following day.

The next morning, Nan explored the premises. It did not take her long to discover a way to leave without being seen by the small staff left behind by the earl and countess. A short time later, Nan’s old friend the megrim provided her with an excuse to retire to her bedchamber. She was out again within an hour.

They walked to the Tower of London, where Nan approached one of the warders, unmistakable in the king’s livery, and demanded to be taken to her stepfather. As she’d expected, she was escorted instead to the constable of the Tower. Or rather, to his lodgings, where Lady Kingston greeted her and offered her a choice of barley water or ale while they waited for a servant to fetch Sir William.

“Lord Lisle is in excellent health,” Lady Kingston said.

“I am relieved to hear it, but I wish to see for myself that he is well and has everything he needs.”

“I assure you, he lacks for nothing. High-born prisoners’ expenses are paid out of their confiscated estates. He has two servants, a comfortable apartment in the Bell Tower, and a goodly supply of coals, wood, and candles.”

Nan suppressed a smile at Lady Kingston’s defensive attitude. She kept her expression somber and lowered her voice. “That is all very well, but others who were once lodged here in similar comfort have since been executed.” She did not have to name them. Lady Kingston had known the Marquis of Exeter and Lord Montagu and their friends from her days at court, and Thomas Cromwell, too.

The two women politely exchanged news of mutual acquaintances until Sir William appeared. Already briefed, he offered to escort Nan to Lord Lisle’s rooms himself.

To reach the Bell Tower, which stood sixty feet high and housed a bell in the wooden turret at its summit, they had to pass through the lord lieutenant’s lodgings. These were in the process of being rebuilt. The noise and confusion of the construction project was so great that Nan was surprised her stepfather had not slipped away under its cover. She understood why he had not when she saw the two burly guards posted just outside the door to his rooms. Sir William left Nan there, promising to return for her in an hour.

Lord Lisle’s appearance filled Nan with dismay. He had lost weight and more than ever looked his age.

“My dear,” he said when he’d kissed her, “it is good to see you. But how does your mother fare? They will not let me write to her.”

“The same restriction must apply to her,” Nan said, “for I’ve heard nothing from her directly. But I am certain she is well treated. And neither of you has been put on trial. That has to be a good sign.”

Lord Lisle’s shoulders slumped. “Reason for optimism? Ah, Nan, I wish I could believe it.”