 |
| A Painting of Catherine Willoughby |
Okay, so it's time to start a new story! I hope y'all enjoyed the last one! This next story is called Every Step of The Way, and I wrote it for Reformation Day in 2011. Here's a bit of Historical info you'll want to know before you read the first part:
Catherine Willoughby, the Duchess of
Suffolk, was a wealthy and prominent Protestant in Tudor England. She
was the patron of John Day, a Protestant publisher. She hired Hugh
Latimer, later a martyr, as her chaplain, and she helped to establish
“stranger churches” for Protestants who had fled persecution in
other countries. Willoughby and her second husband, Richard Bertie,
escaped Queen Mary's persecution in 1555. The story below is a fictionalized account of Catherine's escape.
Got it? Alrighty then! Here we go!
London, England,
January 1st, 1555
A strange, cold
wind rustled the treetops. Clouds dimmed the soft glow of the
moonlight. All was quiet, but all was not well. Inside a large stone
house, a woman quietly slipped down a long hallway. Her blue eyes
glanced from side to side, and the candle she held sent eerie shadows
across her face. She came upon my bedroom door, and tapped it ever so
quietly. I opened my eyes, and sat up. Who was at my door in the
middle of the night? I slipped out of the warm bed and over to the
door. I lifted the bar. The woman squeezed her way through the small
opening, and quickly shut it. She turned to me and in the dim of the
candlelight whispered, “Helen, we must leave. Gather your things,
for we are going very soon.”
I gasped. “Leave,
Mistress Catherine?”
She placed her
finger on my lips. “No one must know,” she whispered, “except
the servants who are to go with us.” And with that, she left,
clicking the door shut behind her. My heart beat fast. Leaving the
country by night? Sneaking out without Queen Mary’s approval? What
if we were caught?
Queen Mary was a
devout Catholic. She had been persecuting and killing the
Protestants. Recently, Queen Mary had threatened the Duchess of
Suffolk. Richard Bertie, the Duchess's husband, left the country
immediately, and from what I was now finding out, had made plans for
his wife and precious daughter to escape in the middle of the night.
Another soft rap on the door
interrupted my thoughts. I hurried and opened it. Edith, the young,
quiet kitchen maid stood there, a bundle of clothes in her arms.
“Mistress Catherine says to hurry
and meet her by the back entrance,” she whispered, hurrying away. I
quickly got dressed in my long brown dress, typical attire of a
lady-in-waiting. I pulled my long, light brown hair into a bun and
grabbed my clothes. I stuffed them into a valise and headed out the
door. The house was very quiet. I hastened down a long corridor and
down some steps. I turned the corner and almost ran into Agnes, the
laundress. She scrambled with the load of clothes she carried. Her
dark brown hair fell in her face.
“We must hurry!” she cried. We ran
down a hallway, lined with columns. Giant portraits of people hung on
the dark walls. Their eyes stared blankly ahead, sending terrifying
chills down my spine. Why did houses have to be so creepy at night?
We reached a small
foyer with a door, where Mistress Catherine waited. She held little
Susan, who was fast asleep.
“Hugh and Samuel are waiting by the
stables,” she whispered, referring to the joiner and stable keeper.
Edith stood by Catherine, holding a bottle of milk for little Susan.
Catherine slowly opened the door. The cold night air filled my lungs.
She looked both ways and then motioned us to follow her. We tiptoed
across the lawn and then dashed behind a little shed. Heavy footsteps
echoed through the night - the night guards! They paced outside the
tall, black, iron fence, watching and waiting. We crouched down low.
Agnes knelt beside me, and I could feel her hands trembling. I eyed
Catherine. She looked this way and that, seeing if the path was
clear. She waved her hand, telling us to stay behind the shed. She
raced across the yard, and behind a huge tree. Waiting until the
guard had gone the other way, she dashed to the side gate and
unlatched it. It creaked open, breaking the silenced night. I
nervously watched the guards. They had heard the noise and were
looking frantically around.
“What was that?” one guard asked.
“I’m sure it was nothing,” a
bigger guard replied. I looked across the pitch-black yard. I could
see Catherine’s faint outline as she entered the stable. I turned
to the other girls.
“Come on,” I whispered. We hurried
across, through the gate, and safely into the stable.
Catherine was kneeling behind a hay
barrel with Hugh and Samuel.
“Samuel, carry my valise,” she
ordered. The small stable keeper took her bag and laid it beside him.
“Agnes, up in the loft I’ve hidden
an oil lamp. Would you hurry and get it?” Catherine asked. Agnes
nodded her head and climbed the ladder.
“Listen carefully,” she whispered,
looking at each of us. “I plan to-“ her quiet voice was
interrupted by a loud crash. Glass showered down on us. Edith’s
hand flew to her mouth to prevent a scream. Catherine looked up. Up
in the loft, Agnes gasped. She had dropped the oil lamp. She opened
her mouth to say something, when two voices rang out.
***
“Sounded like it came from the
stable,” a guard said. Catherine scrambled behind a large hay
barrel, rocking little Susan to keep her quiet. Edith and I bounded
up the ladder and into the loft with Agnes. I saw Hugh and Samuel get
into a horse stall just as the door burst open. Two guards entered.
The bigger one held a bright torch.
“I don’t think anybody’s in
here, Atkinson,” the smaller one complained. Atkinson squinted his
dark, hazel eyes.
“I heard a noise,” he grunted.
They looked around, tossing hay barrels out of their way. I hoped
they wouldn’t find Catherine.
“Come on, let’s get back to our
post,” the small one said. Atkinson finally agreed and they strode
out the door. None of us came out until we were sure they wouldn’t
come back. Edith, Agnes, and I came down the ladder and found
Catherine. Her face was ashen with fear. Her hands trembled. She
stood up and went over to the boys.
