Lady Jane Grey was the queen, however briefly, between Edward and Mary. She was brought up by an abusive mother and an inattentive father, who forced her into a marriage she didn't want to align the Grey family with more powerful allies.
The Protestants in power at the time used her as a scapegoat to keep a Protestant on the throne, and crowned her queen after the death of Edward. Technically, Edwards sister Mary was next in line, but as she was Catholic her rule could turn the Protestants world upside down. So they made a loophole, and had Edward write Mary out of the succession on his death bed in favor of Jane.
It was easy to see that she was not the rightful queen so a little over a week after Jane was crowned, Mary rode into London with numerous supporters and locked up Lady Jane and her husband, charging them with high treason. She did not plan to execute them, until a Protestant rebellion broke out trying to crown Lady Jane queen again.
In the end, the only way that Mary could solidify her rule was to eliminate the competition, to execute Jane. And so Jane was executed at the age of 17 for the actions of other and to prevent uprisings she was not involved with.
Her story is so tragic and particularly troubling to me, that it inspired me to write a short short story about her.
Hope you enjoy.
They watched as the mesmerizing girl glided into the small courtyard, her fair hair and white gown dancing gently in the breeze. It was unfathomable that the girl of only 17 was able to walk with the elegance and bravery of a woman twice her age.
They knew she was no traitor, just a pawn in the schemes of parents and in-laws alike. She was forced into marriage by a mother who didn’t care, and given to in-laws who viewed her only as an accelerator for their own political plans. If she had had her way, she might had waited a few more years to marry, happier to spend her time with her books and studies. But alas, it seemed this life was not her own.
Now she was to be killed for a cause she never supported, for rebels who stole her name to use for their own gain. She was merely a symbol. A symbol of hope and revolt for protestants who feared the new catholic queen. Yet how would a new queen crush such rebellions? Take away the symbol, the rallying point, and the rebellions would be forced cease.
So there she stood at the grimy block, the blindfold in her gloved hands. It was the executioners low, shaky voice that broke the silence.
“I beg your forgiveness m’lady.”
“It is already done. I pray you dispatch me quickly.”
He nodded as she slipped off her white gloves, handed them to her weeping maid, then tied the blindfold over her young face. She kneeled slowly, groping the air for the block she couldn’t find. She let out a small sob as her groping turned to panic and her resolve shattered.
"What shall I do? Where is it?" she cried.
Unable to see her lady in such despair, the maid reached out to help her find the gruesome block and retain her dignity to the end. As the girl slowly placed head down, she called out “Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit!” With one swift motion she was no more.
Her story is so tragic and particularly troubling to me, that it inspired me to write a short short story about her.
Hope you enjoy.
They watched as the mesmerizing girl glided into the small courtyard, her fair hair and white gown dancing gently in the breeze. It was unfathomable that the girl of only 17 was able to walk with the elegance and bravery of a woman twice her age.
They knew she was no traitor, just a pawn in the schemes of parents and in-laws alike. She was forced into marriage by a mother who didn’t care, and given to in-laws who viewed her only as an accelerator for their own political plans. If she had had her way, she might had waited a few more years to marry, happier to spend her time with her books and studies. But alas, it seemed this life was not her own.
Now she was to be killed for a cause she never supported, for rebels who stole her name to use for their own gain. She was merely a symbol. A symbol of hope and revolt for protestants who feared the new catholic queen. Yet how would a new queen crush such rebellions? Take away the symbol, the rallying point, and the rebellions would be forced cease.
So there she stood at the grimy block, the blindfold in her gloved hands. It was the executioners low, shaky voice that broke the silence.
“I beg your forgiveness m’lady.”
“It is already done. I pray you dispatch me quickly.”
He nodded as she slipped off her white gloves, handed them to her weeping maid, then tied the blindfold over her young face. She kneeled slowly, groping the air for the block she couldn’t find. She let out a small sob as her groping turned to panic and her resolve shattered.
"What shall I do? Where is it?" she cried.
Unable to see her lady in such despair, the maid reached out to help her find the gruesome block and retain her dignity to the end. As the girl slowly placed head down, she called out “Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit!” With one swift motion she was no more.
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