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She ran through the hallways like a hurricane. Her red hair like a blazing fire, her fair, pale skin like a snow storm.
"Elizabeth!" Mary chastised. The child had bolted as soon as she reached the large doors in the courtyard of Pembroke Castle, disregarding any word from her aunt. Mary tutted and resisting the urge to stamp her foot, pressed forward and followed the girl.
She followed the tinklings of childish laughter to the solar, where both her sister and her niece were soaking up the sun streaming through the large windows. Anne had knelt in order to catch Elizabeth as she ran into her arms, and the embrace had yet to end.
"My darling daughter!!" Anne exclaimed, pulling back to study Elizabeth's face. "You have grown."
"It is what children do tend to do." Mary remarked sarcastically from the corner of the room. Anne paid no heed, refusing to even glance in Mary's direction.
"How is Hever?" Anne asked excitedly. If she bore any resentment to Anne of Cleves for inhabiting her childhood home and seeing her daughter, she did not show it, though Mary was sure Anne must have felt it at least a little. "Have you been playing in the gardens? By the stream?"
Mary could tell Anne was thinking of her own childhood, when she used to play in the lush, green gardens, and sitting by the bubbling stream with a book was her favourite way to pass an hour or two. Her mother would shake her head (reading? What should she need to be able to read for?!) but her father allowed it. He never minded his girls being educated. As cold a man as he could be, he was generous when it came to teaching his children, and he always made sure they had the best tutors in the realm.
Elizabeth shook her head.
"There is nobody to play with!" She said with a huff. "The Lady Anne and I spend most of the day indoors playing cards."
Anne nodded slowly.777Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEAfElcutLR
"I see."
Mary took the opportunity to slip silently from the room, and found solace in the gardens. The air was fresher outside, and colder. Anne had always caught a chill easily, so she had every room heated to the perfect temperature for her. Unfortunately, the perfect temperature for her was simply sweltering for everybody else.777Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7lLA1iwpxQ
Everybody except Elizabeth, thought Mary. She seems to have inherited her mother's temperature as well as her temperament. She was a stubborn child, and though she did not yet fully understand what had happened between her mother and her father the king, she carried herself like one of royal birth and had a way of jutting her chin out just so that reminded Mary so much of Henry.
A crow flew overhead, and Mary was reminded suddenly of the Tower. Crows and blackbirds seemed to feed on the grounds there - especially near the Bloody Tower - and as her mind wandered, it wandered to Thomas. She had never had a particularly strong liking for Thomas Wyatt - he was always more friendly with Anne and George than her, and Mary was a jealous soul - but she had no desire to see his head off for a crime he didn't commit.
Lord, she prayed silently, be with him, guide him.
Whether she wished God to be with Thomas or King Henry, she wasn't entirely sure.
"They call that one the Bloody Tower. D'ya know why?"
"No." Thomas replied bluntly to the guard at his door. His large, round face was peeping in through the bars, and whilst guards usually refrained from speaking to the captives, this one was exceptionally vocal. Thomas thought he liked the sound of his own voice too much.
"'Cause the last King Richard murdered his two nephews there." The guard said, priding himself on his knowledge of the Tower. His chest was puffed up like a pigeon and Thomas could almost feel his ego expanding. The common man had learned the history of the place, and he was dying to show it off.
"Really?" Thomas said flatly. Although a question was implied, his tone betrayed his absolute disinterest and disdain.
"Aye," The guard continued, regardless of Thomas' disengagement. "Murdered 'em and took the throne off his little nephew. And he had his brother drowned in a vat of wine. And he poisoned his wife."
Thomas raised his eyebrows.
"It's a good thing King Henry's father killed him battle, ain't it? Wouldn't want him ruling the roost... or any of 'is brood for that matter. I reckon it's in the blood, evil like that." He said with a sniff. Thomas suppressed a laugh.
"Well it's lucky good 'ole Henry VII didn't marry Richard's niece then, isn't it? And it's a bloody lucky job that even if they did marry, they didn't have any children to become the future kings and queens of Europe." He paused. "Oh, wait..." He added scathingly.
The guard glowered through the bars.
"Thought you didn't know yer history?" He said darkly. Thomas shrugged.
"What can I say? It's all coming back to me now." He replied bitterly, leaning back against the stone walls of his cell.
"Yer words sound like treason."
"Aye. But I'm already in here for charges of treason... what more can the king do to me that he isn't already planning to do?"
The guard shrugged.
Footsteps were heard down the hall, a slight scuffling, as though the wearer of the heavy boots was dragging his feet, not willing to lift them off the ground properly. Or perhaps he was old, mused Thomas. Or had gout... or the boots were too heavy...
The guard at the door turned from the cell, and glanced at whoever the man was coming down the hallway. He was handed a letter by the man, who then without saying another word scuffled away as quickly and as loudly as he had came. The guard considered the letter, studying it between his fingers before opening it.
"What is it?" Thomas asked, his interest piqued. In his days in the tower - both now and before, back when he was accused of sleeping with Anne in '36 - he had never seen a guard presented with a letter whilst they were on duty.
"It's from the Constable. He's coming down. You're to go free."
Thomas barked in laugher.
"Ha!" He faltered. "Say that again, my man?"
"You 'eard." The guard said in his thick Southern accent. "The king's granted you clemency." He said, shaking his head. "You must be a lucky son uva bitch." He said incredulously. Thomas laughed.
He quickly jumped to his feet and straightened out his dirty, creased shirt as best he could. He ran his fingers through his hair, cringing as his greasy locks hugged his fingers. Running his palms over his face to remove as much of the grime as he could, he tried desperately to look more presentable for the Constable of the Tower.777Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI9iRlOpAQp
He was unshaven and tired, with dark bags under his eyes. He took a deep breath, and forced a smile onto his face.
The Constable arrived, bearing heavy iron keys and slipping one easily into the lock of the cell door. He held it open for Thomas. Thomas waited until he was outside of the cell to ask:777Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWmhomw8EL6
"Why?"
The Constable shrugged.
"King had a change of heart. The queen had something to do with it, apparently." He replied. Thomas nodded slowly in response, allowing his freedom to sink in.
He could have pushed the issue further, insisting to know the exact terms of his release. But it had been so dark inside, and cold, with a constant dripping noise that was starting to drive him insane. He simply wanted out, and he didn't care how or why.
When he was outside the Tower walls, he looked back up at the great White Tower. Already it had been there for just shy of five hundred years. Built by William the Conquerer, it was the most imposing figure on the entire skyline of London, and Thomas felt overwhelmingly lucky. Not many men were imprisoned by the King only to be freed after a change of heart. And even fewer men were imprisoned twice and still made it out with their heads intact.
Inhaling deeply in the (questionably) fresh London air, Thomas revelled in his freedom. He hated London at the best of times - it was too busy, too smelly and too cramped for his taste, but now... he had never been happier to be inside the capital city, and he sincerely hoped he would never see the inside of a prison cell ever again.
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