The Tudor Triangle

Chapter 1: Murder at Cumnor Place

 Sunday September 8th, 1560

Cumnor Place, Oxford, England

Then I am falling and it is how I had imagined it would be.  I am free from my torment...

 Katherine’s quickened footsteps echoed across the deserted courtyard. She stopped dead in her tracks. All was too still. Not a soul could be seen, in a household that was usually teeming with activity.  The eerie silence was unnerving, sending shivers down her spine despite the late afternoon sun, and the brilliant blue sky seemed at odds with her darkening sense of foreboding.

“Amy?” she called out, her breathing becoming laboured.  But all she could hear was the pained cry of a sparrowhawk as it circled above the tower of St Michaels. She started to run.

“Amy!”

She neared the doorway to Amy’s apartment and pure dread slowed her pace. As if she could somehow delay the horror that was to come.  Stepping into the darkness of the stairwell and away from the autumnal sun, the chill matched her fear.  The light streamed in from a high window, partially lighting up the corridor. She could see something, and with a pounding heart hurried nearer.

“Amy?”

Katherine looked down at the twisted body lying at the bottom of the stone staircase and knew in an instant he had killed her.    Amy’s head was grotesquely positioned away from her body, attached but unnaturally so. Those beautiful brown eyes were wide open in a terrifyingly blank stare.  Katherine sank to her knees and with bile rising in her throat she screamed.  She reached out taking Amy’s cold hand in hers and pressed it to her cheek as if she could warm it alive. Feeling tears spring from her eyes and trickle down her face, just reminded her that she was alive while Amy was dead. Not Amy, she thought, rooted to the spot. How can I go on living the rest of my life without her? Without her friendship, and her guidance?  This was not how her life was supposed to end. She should have lived to grow old and grey, looking back upon a full life lived.

Gathering her thoughts,  Katherine shouted for help, her strangulated voice echoing down the dark hallway.  She rose unsteadily, hands shaking and leaned over to stroke the face that was so dear to her.  Tears dripped onto Amy’s face leaving wet, silver trails that glistened. Her natural warm flush was already fading from her cheeks, leaving her white, like the Dover chalk cliffs. 

Katherine bent down and whispered to her, “I will not rest…I will not rest until he is destroyed. This I promise you.”

She kissed her softly, then looked up as the stocky frame of Mrs Oddingsell appeared at the stairwell. Her eyes widened when she saw the body.

 “It is done.” Katherine clenched her hands with pure fury. “The Devil has granted him his wish. She is dead.”

She left Mrs Oddingswell standing over the body, her mouth opening and shutting like the pike in the fishponds.

Katherine then made her way wearily up to Amy’s chamber, walking on the very stairs that saw her mistress's last steps.   Although some of the servants were still away at Our Ladys Fair at Abingdon, already the motions of the household started to react to the death of its forlorn visitor.  She could hear loud voices and footsteps, then there was some high pitched wailing probably by Amy's loyal maid, Pinto. The house had been tense for so long, as abandoned Amy patiently waited for a husband that never came. It had been an unhappy house, where Amy had seen her husband slip away from her, forsaken for his greed. It was almost as if Amy's death had released this tension like a  blue sky after an electric storm. The atmosphere felt lighter.

As she swung open the door, Katherine couldn't believe she had been so stupid; that she had left Amy at the very moment she had needed her. Bowes had already been swiftly dispatched to Windsor to tell Robert Dudley that his wife of ten years was dead.  Did he already know, Katherine asked herself cynically?

Her eyes swept over the place they had spent so many hours together, some very difficult and sad hours. Amy had the grandest apartments in Cumnor Place and her room was lit by an impressive gothic window but there had been little solace in such luxury. She closed her tired eyes and yet could still see Amy vividly at her dressing table, combing her hair. Only this morning she had sat and pinned up her hair loosely, before she had turned and smiled at Katherine asking her to fetch her best hood. She could hear her voice, smell her perfume and see her move.  She was surrounded by evidence of Amy's life, her possessions and treasures.

Katherine walked to the dressing table and sat down helplessly. She stared at her reflection in the expensive Venetian glass mirror, bought by Robert to placate his neglected wife. Her face looked different, it was as though she had aged ten years.  Her puffy blue eyes burned brighter than usual and her face was flushed pink. With her autumnal coloured hair, a riot of light reds and yellow highlights, she was striking. Her high cheekbones framed her shocked features. A lovely face stared back but she had never been vain about her developing good looks. She had been taught that vanity was a sin and intended to rely on her wits and intelligence. Her education had been like that of a noblewoman's, with all the expensive tutors that it entailed, so she was unusually rich in knowledge. Looking down at her woollen dress, she noticed it was a blue black colour, like the wing of a magpie. It suddenly occurred to her that it would serve as a mourning dress, as if she had deliberately dressed for the occasion.

She felt something new in herself, something that made her feel powerful.  It was pure hatred and anger. She was young but vowed to be a formidable enemy to the Queen's favourite, Robert Dudley.  Katherine was suddenly reminded of Dudley's motto 'Droit en loyal' meaning ‘just and loyal.' Amy had ensured it was woven into the exquisite tapestries that decorated the room, to remind Robert she was part of his family. They had been ordered from Brussels soon after Elizabeth had ascended the throne, and Dudley had been very proud of them.  There were various Biblical themes, and one of an idyllic countryside scene that Amy had asked for; it was no doubt to alleviate her homesickness for Norfolk and Stanfield Hall. Katherine now stared at one hanging, depicting David against Goliath, reminding her that she was now up against the impossible. She felt like tearing it down and setting fire to it. Dudley was neither loyal nor just. She walked across to the intricately carved bed and climbed up on it, drawing the heavy velvet curtains around her to shut out the weak autumnal light. Shutting out the world. Never had time seemed so much an enemy. The future did not exist any more, all that was here was this pain and this moment. She picked up Amy’s white chemise, lay down with it and held it close as she sobbed herself to sleep.