“You remember the tree hollow where we first played, Rose?”

He gasped as his voice grew weaker, but he struggled to continue. “And when you and Elizabeth and I went riding? I insisted that you go. And my goodness, Elizabeth and I were surprised at your skill when you dared to jump that high hedge.”

All these faded memories began to tumble through Rose’s head. Like a tapestry, these scenes began to kindle in her mind.

“And when we played quoits, you taught us the eeny meeny miney moe . . . out goes one . . . out goes two . . . out goes another one, and that leaves . . .” Then his eyes rolled back into his head. Rose looked up at Princess Mary. A smirk had begun to crawl across her face, and Rose could have sworn that the princess said, “And that leaves me!”

Princess Mary narrowed her eyes and shot darting glances around the chamber. Glances of expectation. There was a terrible stillness, and then Sir John Mason dropped to his knees.

“The king is dead,” he said. “God save the queen.”

A message arrived for Rose early the next morning.

Following Mass, at which your attendance is required, the queen requests you in the presence room.

At precisely half past eight, following the morning Mass, Rose entered the presence room of the new Queen Mary. Her back was turned as she gazed out a window. She was a stumpy woman but had the regal bearing of a queen. When she turned round, Rose gasped as her eyes fell on the rose pendant. Her rose pendant! Mary must have demanded it from Elizabeth. What else would she demand?

“Rose Ashley, we hear you are excellent in the wardrobe, have a way with a needle, and can do fine and delicate work. You shall from here on be our mistress of the wardrobe.”

“I . . . I . . .”

“Out with it, girl.”

“I shall no longer serve the Royal Princess Elizabeth?”

“No, you shall serve me, queen of this realm, and swear loyalty to me above all others save God. Do you swear? Down on your knees and swear.”

Rose must have hesitated for a moment.

“DOWN!” barked the queen.

Rose fell to her knees.

“I swear, Your Majesty.”

But Rose crossed her fingers in the deep pocket of her dress.

Never, never, never!

About the Author

Author photo by Jean Fogelberg & Fran Forman