Edward, the kindly child who had comforted his friends when they lost at cards, was to play the role of executioner of a second uncle. But first, a spectacular Christmas season was planned at Greenwich, providing a distraction from the grim task ahead. The great public spaces of the royal palaces were like bare stages when the King was not in residence and for weeks carpenters and painters, masons and joiners had been put to work. Furniture and tapestries were added to the public rooms and silver plate brought, along with any other props necessary, ‘to glorify the house and feast’.13 When Christmas arrived there were plays, masques, tournaments, and a Lord of Misrule. This pagan survival was vested on a courtier who presided over a world turned upside down. Even an execution could be parodied - and was. Misrule attended the decapitation of a hogshead of wine on the scaffold at Cheapside in January, and the red juice flowed to cries of laughter instead of dismay.14 At Suffolk Place, however, the twelve-day festivities enjoyed by the young Grey sisters were more determinedly decorous.
The family chaplain, James Haddon, complained to Bullinger that the common people of England insisted on amusing themselves ‘in mummeries and wickedness of every kind’. But, he reported smugly, this was not the case with ‘the family in which I reside’.15 The austerity we associate with seventeenth-century Puritanism was already evident in the household. John Aylmer disapproved of music at home as well as at church, and the three Grey sisters were expected to limit the amount of time they spent playing or listening to it. Thus deprived, Katherine and Mary later showed no great interest in music that we know of. There was some friction, however, between the pious expectations of Aylmer and Haddon on the one side, and the great living expected of the nobility as a reflection of their status. The servants at Suffolk Place were banned from playing cards at Haddon’s insistence, but Frances and her husband continued to do so in their private apartments, and for money.
Haddon put his employers’ bad behaviour down to ‘force of habit’ and ‘a desire not to appear stupid, and not good fellows, as they call it’. He had hoped to shame them into change by addressing their failings in a sermon to the household on the wickedness of cards, but was given short shrift for it. Even the Godly King Edward liked to gamble and Haddon confessed that the duke and duchess had told him he was ‘too strict’. It was hard, Haddon moaned to Bullinger, to persuade courtiers to ‘conquer and crucify themselves’.16 The eleven-year-old Katherine, who showed no signs of wanting to mimic Elizabeth in anything, must have been a particular concern. But Haddon’s frustration was alleviated somewhat by Jane. She had responded enthusiastically to Aylmer’s suggestion that she imitate Elizabeth’s plain style of dress, and in the process made a point of snubbing the Princess Mary. Aylmer later recalled that Mary had sent one of her ladies to Jane with a set of fine clothes of ‘tinsel cloth of gold and velvet, laid over with parchment lace of gold’. New Year was the traditional time for such gifts. But Jane, looking at the magnificent gown, asked the gentlewoman brusquely: ‘What shall I do with it?’ ‘Marry,’ the woman replied, ‘wear it.’ ‘Nay,’ snapped Jane, ‘that would be a shame to follow my lady Mary against God’s word, and leave my Lady Elizabeth who followeth God’s word.’17 Aylmer felt no small satisfaction over this incident, which he recorded after Elizabeth became Queen.
With the Christmas season over, Londoners awoke early on the morning of 22nd January to find a curfew in place. The streets were full of soldiers. Somerset’s execution was about to take place on Tower Hill. As was so often the case with state killings, efforts to veneer the crude business of taking a man’s life were disrupted by moments of farce. Somerset was making a dignified final speech from the scaffold when it was interrupted by the arrival of two horsemen clattering on the cobbles. A cry went up: ‘A pardon, a pardon, God save the duke!’ and hats were cast into the air. But Somerset realised before most in the crowd that the horsemen had come to witness the execution. He begged them to be quiet so that he could prepare to die. It was not yet 8 a.m. when he tied his handkerchief around his eyes. He admitted he was afraid and as he laid his head on the block there was a sudden flush in his cheeks. But he was ready for the end. Unfortunately the executioner was not. The collar of Somerset’s shirt covered part of his neck. The headsman asked Somerset to stand up again and move it. He did so and when the axe fell at last it struck cleanly, cutting off his head with one blow. The duke’s corpse was then thrown into a cart and returned to the Tower for burial.18
Somerset’s ten children - some no more than infants - were left parentless. Their mother remained in the Tower; their father’s property was attainted and returned to the crown. The twelve-year-old Hertford, who had tried to save his father in 1549 by galloping to Wiltshire to beg for help in defence of the Protectorship, lost his title along with much of his inheritance. It was as plain Edward Seymour that he was placed as the ward of Northumberland’s elder son, the Earl of Warwick. The earl was married to Hertford’s sister, Anne, but she could not easily console him. She suffered a physical collapse after the execution. His younger sister, the nine-year-old Lady Jane Seymour, whom Somerset had wished to marry to the King, was left in a kind of limbo until May. She was then placed in the care of the widowed Lady Cromwell in Leicestershire, not far from Bradgate, from where Harry Suffolk could keep an eye on her. For Somerset’s royal nephew, meanwhile, the belief that his uncle’s fate was God’s work, and he was only God’s instrument, may have assuaged the agony and guilt of signing the death warrant. But some later remembered that he used to cry in his rooms, and another contemporary story survives that hints at emotional turmoil.
An Italian, visiting England shortly after Somerset’s execution in 1552, witnessed a grim incident that took place during a boating trip in the presence of the court. Edward asked to see a falcon, which he had been told was the best he had. He then demanded it be skinned alive. The falconer did as the King ordered. As Edward then looked on the bird’s gruesome remains, he commented: ‘This falcon, so much more excellent than the others, has been stripped, just as I, the first among all the others of the realm, am skinned.’19 Brutally deprived of his mother’s family, his loneliness must have felt raw indeed. Several of Somerset’s allies were also executed, although Somerset’s old friend, Sir William Paget, who had written desperately in the middle of Christmas night 1548, warning him of the folly of his arrogance, was more fortunate. He was merely accused of fraud and humiliated by having the Garter taken from him as one who had no gentle blood on his mother or his father’s side. All that now remained was for Northumberland’s ‘crew’ to turn on each other, as their children were pushed ever further into the already blood-soaked political arena.
* It is likely that, like the Queen of Navarre, Jane would have used her mentor’s letters in her spiritual meditations.
‘…you would not be a queen?’
‘No, not for all the riches under heaven.’
Henry VIII, Act II scene iii
William Shakespeare
In May 1552 Jane turned fifteen, the same age at which her mother had been betrothed, and she had no serious rivals left as Edward’s future bride. Lady Jane Seymour was now the daughter of an executed criminal. Plans for Edward to marry the daughter of the French King, Henri