Very soon after, the Rome verdict was announced. My father's marriage to my mother was legal, and the Pope advised the King to put Anne Boleyn from him immediately.

My father retaliated by announcing that the children of Queen Anne were the true heirs to the throne and that all those in high places must swear on oath to accept them as such. All over the country preachers were instructed to applaud the King's action and revile the Pope.

It could not be expected that this would be received quietly by everyone, and there were naturally those who were ready to risk their lives and stand in opposition to the King's command. Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More were two of those who were sent to the Tower.

There were murmurings of revolt throughout the country. People continued to blame Anne Boleyn.

I was more frustrated than ever. It was maddening to receive only news which was brought to me through Margaret Bryan and my maid. I often wondered how true it was. Could it really be that the country was in revolt, that they were calling for the restoration of Queen Katharine and the religion they—and their ancestors before them—had known throughout their lives?

How could the King suddenly sever his country from Rome? And just because the Pope would not grant him the right to put his good wife from him and set up his concubine in her place?

I think he must have been very disturbed. He had always courted popularity so assiduously; he had revelled in it, sought it on every occasion; and now when he rode out he was met by sullen looks, and when that woman was with him there were some bold spirits who dared give voice to their disapproval. He must fear that we were trembling on the edge of disaster… perhaps even civil war.

There were rumors that the Emperor was going to invade England, to rescue the Queen, depose the King and set me up as Queen. It was frightening to be in the midst of such a storm.

Attention was turned on Elizabeth Barton, the Nun of Kent. Cromwell had made much of her confession—and those of her adherents. He wanted the whole country to know of the deception. I supposed that was why she had not been executed at the time of her arrest. I think they were trying to incriminate others… all of those who were making things difficult for the King. Sir Thomas More had once listened to this woman's prophecies with interest, and he was incriminated, but, clever lawyer that he was, he was able to extricate himself from the charge, although he was still in the Tower because he refused to agree that my father's marriage to my mother was invalid and he would not accept that Anne Boleyn's children were the true heirs to the throne. Panic was spreading all over the country; people were discovering that their bluff and hearty King could be cruel and ruthless. They did not yet know how cruel, how ruthless—but they were beginning to suspect.

All those who had professed interest in the Nun—and there were some in high places—now wished to dissociate themselves from her.

However, the King was determined to show the people what became of those who opposed him; but in spite of all the trouble she had caused him, the Nun's confession was gratifying to him. She said, before the crowds who had come to witness her last hours at Tyburn, that she was a poor wretch without learning who had been made to believe she had special powers by men who encouraged her to fabricate inventions which brought profit to themselves.

Poor creature, she was hanged with those who had been her close associates.

Each day we waited to hear what would happen next. Lady Bryan was very fearful on my account. She tried to hide it but she asked my chambermaid to take special care with my food.

If I was in this dangerous situation, I asked myself, what of my mother? How was she faring? If only I could have seen her, if only we could have been together, I could have borne this. I was growing thinner and very pale; I suffered from headaches and internal periodic pains and difficulties. I would find myself babbling prayers and asking Heaven to come to my aid.

My little maid came in one day and said, “Madam…Princess… there are two cartloads of friars being taken to the Tower. People watch them. They stand in the cart, their hands together in prayer. People are asking, is that going to happen to us all?”

Later Margaret told me that the Franciscan Order had been suppressed. Then I knew that the King's attention had turned on me, for his commissioners came to Hatfield. They searched the rooms of all those about me; and to my horror they took Lady Hussey away with them.

I was appalled. She had not been a great friend to me in the way that Margaret Bryan had but she had shown a certain sympathy for me. She had always treated me with respect and had on occasion called me Princess. I trembled lest they should take Margaret. She had been very careful, but I could not think of any misdemeanor Lady Hussey had committed.

Later I learned that she had been imprisoned because she had been heard to address me as Princess and on one occasion had said, “The Princess has gone out walking,” and on another asked someone to take the Princess a drink.

What a pass we had come to when a woman could be in fear of losing her life because she had made such a remark!

I worried a great deal about her; I prayed for her; and I was delighted when I heard later that, after a humble confession and a plea to the King for mercy, she was released.

There was a change in my household. Everyone was terrified. It says a great deal for Lady Bryan's courage that she continued to visit me and bring messages, taking mine in return. It would have been certain death for her if she had been discovered.

My mother might hear of Lady Hussey's arrest. What anguish that would cause her, for her fears would not be for herself but for me.

I was fortified by messages from Chapuys, the Spanish ambassador. My maid, being in a humble position, was not watched as some like Margaret would be; she had sources outside the palace, and through her I kept in touch with the ambassador.

I had his assurance that the Emperor was watching events with the utmost care. If it had been possible, he would have come to rescue my mother and me. He could not do this. François was now an ally of my father and the Emperor had to be watchful and could not leave his own dominions. I understood this, and it was comforting to know he was aware of what was going on.

Chapuys wrote that he had information of a plot to execute my mother and me because we refused to accept Anne as the true Queen. That was what others were suffering for, and the King could never be at peace while we lived.

There were times when I thought death would be a way out of my miseries; but when one comes close to it, one changes one's mind.

Now, I hesitated every night before lying down; I searched my little room for an assassin; I paused before taking a mouthful of food. I found I would tremble at a sudden footfall. I was eating scarcely anything. I prayed for guidance. And then suddenly, the idea came to me that I might escape.

Could I do that? I had friends to help me. Would they be prepared to risk their lives for me? Perhaps my father would be glad to see me go and rejoice…even reward those who helped me get away. Oh no, wherever I was, I should be a menace to him, and particularly so in the care of the Emperor, my cousin. It was dangerous but I needed some stimulation at that time.

So I planned my escape. I had a letter smuggled out to Chapuys. He must help me. I could no longer endure this way of life.

Chapuys was considering what could be done and, I supposed, how my escape would affect the imperial cause. That was always a first consideration. But I imagined the Emperor would not find me an encumbrance, and if I were in his care I should be a continual anxiety to my father, which would please my cousin. So … there seemed a possibility that the escape might be arranged.