The Boleyn Prince

Chapter 18

Hatfield House

"I am walking to my death," Lady Mary Tudor thought to herself grimly as she left the cramped little room at Hatfield that had served as her bedchamber for the last three years.
She certainly felt like a dead woman walking. Yet she was no less afraid of what was to come. She feared death as much as the next God-fearing  Catholic did.

Her time at Hatfield had been arduous and excruciatingly painful. Only her dreams had sustained her. Dreams that one day she would leave Hatfield and return to her father's court to be acknowledged as his trueborn daughter once more. Those dreams now lay in tatters, a memory of a life left behind. She was returning to her fathers' court, yes. But not in triumph or even any semblance of honour. The unthinkable had happened. God had blessed that wicked upstart of a woman with a son.
Mary had struggled to reconcile herself with the news since that dreadful day it was delivered. The sneer of triumph from that woman's father, Thomas Boleyn was a fresh in her mind as it was the day he had stood before her and destroyed her hopes for the future.

"Her Majesty, Queen Anne has been safely delivered of a healthy Prince," he had declared with more pride than was befitting for a man whos daughter was known as the Scandal of Christendom.

Her demeanour did not give away the anxiety that was bound up in her belly. Her natural grace conveyed a sense of poise and composure.
She walked down the stairs of Hatfield ignoring the pain of her feet squeezed into the old riding boots she had worn when she had first arrived at Hatfield but had been too neglected to have replaced.
Her dress was old also, having been made over from material given to her two years ago. Though the material did not stretch against her body, for Mary's frame was thinner than she had ever been. The stress of the last few years had not just withered away her spirit but also the youthful beauty for which she had been famous.
Only the blue velvet cloak swamping her small frame was new. A gift from Lady  Clere  that very morning to keep out the cold. She had accepted it gratefully. The ride to London would take at least half the morning and spring was proving to be unusually cold this year. Though her dark thoughts wondered if it was worth trying to prevent a chill from claiming her life as she was certainly bound for death anyway.
For a brief, wild second,  she fancied that she might save herself and ride her horse away from the guards and take ship for Spain. She would be welcomed in her mother's homeland, she was certain. The Emperor had always thought kindly of her. He would protect her for her mother's sake. However, she had no money to pay for a ship, and no loyal servants to protect her on what would certainly be a dangerous journey. Her proficiency in the Spanish language had diminished since her mother's exile since her father had forbidden her to learn the language. Spanish customs and education had been banished from the court along with the Queen who had championed it.
No horse was waiting for her at the steps of Hatfield, just a litter. Devoid of any arms or crest. She would depart Hatfield as inconspicuously as she had arrived it would seem.

 "The King has ordered you are not to be seen," Lady Shelton explained coldly.

 She would have argued but Mary knew she needed all the goodwill in the world right now. The witch's spies were probably noting everything she said and did ready to use against her.

 "If that be his Majesty's wish then I  will obey, as any true daughter would." Her voice lacked the spirited defence that the household at Hatfield had come to expect of her.

 "If you were truly an obedient daughter you would never have been sent here in the first place," Lady Shelton retorted tartly, gesturing towards the litter, concluding the argument.

There  were  no fond farewells for Mary from the rest of the household. No good wishes or little trinket gifts as had so often been the case with the other attendants who had left for pastures new. That was a gesture of friendship. Something Mary had never enjoyed from the rest of Elizabeth's attendants.