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THE
TOWER
My
blood ran cold but it was not because of the
coldness of the misty river. No the imposing
sight of the severed heads perched upon the
railings of London Bridge was the cause. The
oars cutting through the murky river of the
Thames was the only sound that morning, the
sombre looking oarsmen fitting for such an
occasion.
Westminster the location for my so-called trial
was now far behind us and Traitor’s Gate
beckoned. And what was my crime you may ask? I
spoke up in a moment of intoxication, protesting
the innocence of Lady Jane Grey. An innocent
sixteen years old girl who for no fault of her
own is imprisoned in the tower.
Edward V11’s older sister, Mary a staunch
Catholic was proclaimed as the rightful Queen,
an event Lord Protector John Dudley the Duke of
Northumberland had dared to challenge. To alter
the succession by marrying one of his five sons
to Lady Jane Grey, the Protestant Granddaughter
of Henry V111’s younger sister had drastically
backfired. Her father the Duke of Suffolk had
tried in vain to proclaim to the public that
Mary was indeed the rightful Queen of England
but alas, his words were futile and he is now
imprisoned in Beachamp Tower along with Jane’s
husband Guilford Dudley.
I cannot pretend not to be afraid as I glance
over my shoulder at the gory sight. I too am but
a child, merely a few months older than Jane,
born two days after the death of Thomas More.
I am but a poor man, who inherited my father’s
tailoring trade after both he and my mother were
victims of the plague. My months of philandering
with the local wenches and my love of mead
ordained my woeful predicament. Sarah a mere
serving wench stole my heart and I saw a
thriving future for us but what a fool I was. It
transpires that her tongue is looser than mine
and word travelled swiftly of my drunken
objections.
The shout of one of the oarsmen interrupted my
numbed thoughts as the portcullis was raised
noisily disturbing the nearby wildlife. Two
guards seized me and I was dragged from the boat
and led through the courtyard amid the sneers
and insults of the onlookers dressed in their
finery.
The musty stench as I was marched up the spiral
steps was unpleasant but that was nothing to
what lay ahead. The damp cell was furnished with
a bed, a table and a stool, and a festering
chamber pot reeking of urine made me realise
this was to be my home. My jailors left me alone
and I stood on my stool peering through the
rusty bars of my cell and eyed Tower Hill
through the mist.
Surely I would only be here a short time and
this mistake would be rectified when they
realised I was but a poor tailor. I lay on my
decaying bed and closed my eyes welcoming sleep,
hoping this nightmare would end.
I was woken abruptly by the filthy hands of a
toothless man shaking me.
“Wake up you treasonous bastard. Dinner is
served.”
I sat up and took in the nauseating body odour
of the jailor, realising the chamber pot was not
as bad as I initially thought. I gazed at the
brown liquid and the mouldy bread and suddenly
my appetite had disappeared.
The jailor with his long greasy hair and thick
lips dribbling sneered at me. His attire was
certainly not of a nobleman, in fact I had seen
better-dressed paupers.
“So pray who are you that our Queen finds
worthy enough to lock you up in the tower? It is
beneath the dignity of the tower to be used as a
lock up for a commoner. Newgate Prison not good
enough for you sire?” He mocked.
“This is a mistake. My trial was a farce and
all will be cleared up in time. I’ll not be in
here for much longer, you’ll see.”
“Ah! You imbecile! Tonight will be your last
sighting of the moon. You are to be beheaded at
first light.”
“You mock me you scoundrel. Away with you
cruel jailor.”
“You don’t know do you? You really don’t
know. Were you sleeping at your trial?”
It was then I realised this oaf was not lying.
True I was in a stupor throughout the trial and
I was in a state of awe as I took in the
grandeur of the occasion, not taking in the
jumbled words of the noblemen.
“A word of advise friend. The executioner is
to visit you in the morning. Cross his palm with
silver and your death will be swift,
otherwise...”
“But I have no money. I was not allowed to
bring any with me.”
“Then your death will be slow. I have known
the executioner take up to five blows with the
axe before severing the head.”
I grimaced as I listened to the gory details.
“Please leave me jailor; I wish to be
alone.”
“I’m curious; what was your crime?”
“Mead was the reason for me being here. Mead
and the love of a woman. I proclaimed that Lady
Jane Grey was the rightful Queen and that is my
crime. That girl should be released.”
“You haven’t heard friend?”
“Heard what?”
“Lady Jane was beheaded yesterday. I must
admit to feeling sympathy for the girl.
She fumbled around as she was blindfolded
enquiring how the execution was to be carried
out. I have seen many beheadings and every one
apart from this one were met with hearty cheers.
Yesterday the crowd was silent. I think for you
the cheers will return.”
Understandably I could not sleep that night and
stood perched on my stool watching the beautiful
night pass. I was grateful for the clear night,
as the stars and the moon were a great comfort.
My soup lay untouched alongside the human waste
inside the chamber pot.
Night turned to day and I glimpsed the sun
appearing on the horizon illuminating the
daunting sight of Tower Hill, the object of so
many horror stories I had heard. I smiled, as I
recalled all the great people who had taken the
walk I was about to, some of them unjustly so.
The rattling of keys disturbed me and I turned
to face a large man dressed in a leather
waistcoat, his bulging arms bare. I examined his
weather-beaten face and expected to see evil but
was surprised by his friendly face. His
jet-black hair was unruly and his stare was not
intimidating. His yellow teeth appeared with his
smile and his rancid breath added to the
pollution of my cell.
“A good morrow to you friend. I gather you
know who I am?”
I nodded, my eyes filling with water as I
realised the time was approaching.
“Don’t worry lad, I’m good at what I do.
Have you something you want to give me?”
“I have nothing; they took away all my
money.”
“That I’m afraid is not the answer I was
looking for.”
“Please! Have you not an ounce of compassion
in you? I am innocent of a crime and if given
another chance would still stand by what I said.
Lady Jane did not deserve to die.”
“Lady Jane did you say?”
“Yes, I spoke up for her and that is why I am
here.”
“I have lost count the number of heads I have
held aloft but Lady Jane’s I regretted. That
young girl was so brave and did not squeal as
others did. I made a clean cut, as she
requested; it’s the least I could do for her.
Now I must go. The sun is coming up and I have
an audience to entertain.”
“Wait! Will my death be swift?”
He regarded me for a moment and nodded. “Aye
lad, your death will be swift.”
I was determined to go bravely, as I was led
through the jeering crowd. There were so many
all struggling to get a better view of my death,
most of them probably unaware who I was or what
my crime was. I walked in time to the drumbeat,
my numbed legs carried along by the momentum.
My clothes were saturated with sweat even though
it was a chilly morning and I felt my bowels
loosen, as I fought for my dignity. I ascended
the rickety steps and approached the hooded
executioner grasping his enormous axe.
“I hope your axe is sharp executioner.”
“My name is John and my axe is I‘m afraid
blunt. You see I’ve been informed of who you
are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sarah is my daughter!”
A blindfold was put over me and I fought for
breath trying to recite a prayer as I was helped
to my knees. Above my heavy breathing I heard my
name mentioned as the charges were read out to
the eager audience. My dignity was lost as my
bowels emptied and I fought to control my
weeping.
“Die like a man lad. Put your head on the
block,“ whispered the executioner.
I groped with my trembling hands for the block
and rested my head on it before stretching out
my hands.
“Our father, who art in...” |
