The Devil's Slave. Tracy Borman
inside the Tower, the prince led the way, surrounded on all sides by yeomen, and walked briskly in the direction of the western entrance. As they drew near the huge, squat tower in front of the drawbridge, a loud roar rang out along the passageway. The princess grasped Frances’s arm in fright, but quickly released it when her brother laughed at her. Despite her own fear, Frances could not help but feel gratified that it was to her, not Blanche, that Elizabeth had turned for reassurance.
‘King James heralds our arrival!’ Henry called over his shoulder. Sir John let out a peal of laughter, but William Cecil continued to stare straight ahead, grave-faced.
As they passed under the gatehouse, they were plunged into darkness – or so it seemed after the dazzling sunlight that their eyes had grown accustomed to. Frances stumbled on one of the cobbles and almost fell, but a strong hand pulled her backwards and she regained her balance. ‘Thank you, Lord Cranborne.’
He did not reply, but stayed close to her side as they made their way into a semi-circular courtyard. Five large archways were cut into the thick stone, each one closed off by a portcullis. The yeomen led them over to the one in the centre, and Prince Henry pressed his face against the heavy iron bars. The rest of the party gathered around him, trying to make out any shapes in the darkness.
All of a sudden, an enormous beast leaped from the shadows, its huge paws clawing at the bars and its razor-sharp teeth glinting white as they caught the sun. The prince gave a terrified yelp and jumped backwards. His sister screamed, and a commotion ensued as the yeomen rushed to their assistance. A deafening roar rang out across the courtyard, bringing everything to a standstill. Frances watched as the lion flung its weight against the bars again, causing them to rattle loudly in their stone casing. She feared that it would give way at any moment and made to grab the princess’s arm so that she could lead her to safety.
‘All is well, Your Highness,’ a calm voice called.
They turned to see a man of middling years strolling towards them. A leather apron was strung about his waist and he carried a large stick in his right hand. He gave a stiff bow as he drew level with the prince. ‘Jim is a bit fretful just now, Your Grace. He wants his breakfast, that’s all. I like to keep him hungry before a fight.’
Henry straightened and gave an unconvincing bark of laughter. ‘Do not concern yourself, Master Keeper. I merely wanted to surprise my companions. I knew we were in no danger.’
He almost shouted the words, but Frances caught the tremor in his voice and his forehead glistened with sweat.
‘Now, if you will kindly show us to the gallery, we will not keep the king from his breakfast any longer.’
The keeper bowed again, then led them back into the gatehouse and up a flight of spiral stairs to a small chamber on the first floor. A row of seats had been arranged in front of the window overlooking the courtyard. Frances sat down with the others. The prince leaned forward eagerly in his seat. His sister did the same, though Frances noticed the fear in her eyes.
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