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Innocent Traitor: A Novel of Lady Jane Grey Paperback – November 6, 2007

by Alison Weir (Author)

4.5 1,885 ratings

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I am now a condemned traitor . . . I am to die when I have hardly begun to live.

Historical expertise marries page-turning fiction in Alison Weir’s enthralling debut novel, breathing new life into one of the most significant and tumultuous periods of the English monarchy. It is the story of Lady Jane Grey–“the Nine Days’ Queen”–a fifteen-year-old girl who unwittingly finds herself at the center of the religious and civil unrest that nearly toppled the fabled House of Tudor during the sixteenth century.

The child of a scheming father and a ruthless mother, for whom she is merely a pawn in a dynastic game with the highest stakes, Jane Grey was born during the harrowingly turbulent period between Anne Boleyn’s beheading and the demise of Jane’s infamous great-uncle, King Henry VIII. With the premature passing of Jane’s adolescent cousin, and Henry’s successor, King Edward VI, comes a struggle for supremacy fueled by political machinations and lethal religious fervor.

Unabashedly honest and exceptionally intelligent, Jane possesses a sound strength of character beyond her years that equips her to weather the vicious storm. And though she has no ambitions to rule, preferring to immerse herself in books and religious studies, she is forced to accept the crown, and by so doing sets off a firestorm of intrigue, betrayal, and tragedy.

Alison Weir uses her unmatched skills as a historian to enliven the many dynamic characters of this majestic drama. Along with Lady Jane Grey, Weir vividly renders her devious parents; her much-loved nanny; the benevolent Queen Katherine Parr; Jane’s ambitious cousins; the Catholic “Bloody” Mary, who will stop at nothing to seize the throne; and the protestant and future queen Elizabeth. Readers venture inside royal drawing rooms and bedchambers to witness the power-grabbing that swirls around Lady Jane Grey from the day of her birth to her unbearably poignant death. Innocent Traitor paints a complete and compelling portrait of this captivating young woman, a faithful servant of God whose short reign and brief life would make her a legend.

“An impressive debut. Weir shows skill at plotting and maintaining tension, and she is clearly going to be a major player in the . . . historical fiction game.”
–The Independent

“Alison Weir is one of our greatest popular historians. In her first work of fiction . . . Weir manages her heroine’s voice brilliantly, respecting the past’s distance while conjuring a dignified and fiercely modern spirit.”
–London Daily Mail

Print length

407 pages
Language

English
Publisher

Ballantine Books
Publication date

November 6, 2007
Dimensions

5.2 x 0.93 x 8 inches
ISBN-10

0345495349
ISBN-13

978-0345495341
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From the Publisher

The astonishing story of one of history’s most important child heroines, Lady Jane Grey.

Editorial Reviews

Review

Praise for Alison Weir

Queen Isabella

“Compelling, gripping and believable . . . a highly readable tour de force that brings Queen Isabella vividly to life.”
–The Washington Post Book World

“Insightful . . . the acclaimed Weir offers well-researched surprise after surprise about the sensual, rather avaricious but eminently admirable Isabella.”
–USA Today

Mary, Queen of Scots, and the Murder of Lord Darnley

“The finest historian of English monarchical succession writing now is Alison Weir. . . . Her assiduousness and informed judgment are precisely what make her a writer to trust.”
–The Boston Globe

Eleanor of Aquitaine

“Extraordinary . . . exhilarating in its color, ambition, and human warmth. The author exhibits a breathtaking grasp of the physical and cultural context of Queen Eleanor’s life.”
–Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Evocative . . . a rich tapestry of a bygone age and a judicious assessment of her subject’s place within it.”
–Newsday

About the Author

Alison Weir is the New York Times bestselling author of Eleanor of Aquitaine; Mary, Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley; The Six Wives of Henry VIII; Queen Isabella; and several other historical biographies. She lives in Surrey with her husband and two children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Frances Brandon, Marchioness of Dorset

Bradgate Hall, Leicestershire, October 1537

My travail begins as I am enjoying a walk in the garden. There is a sudden flood of liquid from my womb, and then, as my maid runs for cloths and assistance, a dull pain that shifts from the small of my back to the pit of my stomach. Soon, they are all clustering around me, the midwives and the women, helping me through the great doorway of the manor house and up the oaken stairs, stripping me of my fine clothing and replacing it with a voluminous birthing smock of bleached linen, finely embroidered at the neck and wrists. Now I am made to lie upon my bed, and they are pressing a goblet of sweet wine to my lips. I don’t really want it, but I take a few sips to please them. My two chief ladies sit beside me, my gossips, whose job it is to while away the tedious hours of labor with distracting chatter. Their task is to keep me cheerful and to offer encouragement when the pains grow stronger.

And they do grow stronger. Less than an hour passes before the dull ache that accompanies each pang becomes a knifelike thrust, vicious and relentless. Yet I can bear it. I have the blood of kings in my veins, and that emboldens me to lie mute, resisting the mounting screams. Soon, God willing, I will hold my son in my arms. My son, who must not die early like the others, those tiny infants who lie beneath the flagstones of the parish church. Neither lived long enough even to sit or crawl. I do not account myself a sentimental person; indeed, I know that many think me too strong and hard-willed for a woman—a virago, my husband once said, during one of our many quarrels. But hidden within my heart there is a raw place reserved for those two lost babies.

Yet it is natural that this third pregnancy has often led me to revisit this secret place, to disturb and probe it gently, testing to see if past trage- dies still have the power to hurt. I know I should forbid myself such weakness. I am King Henry’s niece. My mother was a princess of England and Queen of France. I must face the pain of my loss as I do my labor—with royal dignity, refusing to indulge any further in morbid fancies, which, I am assured by the midwives, could well be harmful to the child I carry. One must try to be positive, and I am nothing if not an optimist. This time, I feel it in my bones, God will give us the son and heir we so desperately desire.

Another hour passes. There is little respite between each contraction, but the pain is still bearable.

“Cry out if you need to, my lady,” says the midwife comfortingly, as the women fuss round me with candles and basins of water. I wish they would all go away and leave me in peace. I wish they would let some fresh air into this fetid, stuffy chamber. Even though it is day, the room is dark, for the windows have been covered with tapestries and painted cloths.

“We must not risk the babe catching any chills from drafts, my lady,” the midwife warned me when she ordered this to be done. Then she personally inspected the tapestries to ensure that there was nothing depicted in them that could frighten the child.

“Make up the fire!” she instructs her acolytes, as I lie here grappling with my pains. I groan; it’s hot enough in here already, and I am sweating like a pig. But, of course, she is aware of that. At her nod, a damp cloth is laid on my brow. It does little to relieve my discomfort, though, for the sheets are wet with perspiration.

I stifle another groan.

“You can cry out, madam,” the midwife says again. But I don’t. I would not make such an exhibition of myself. Truly, it’s the indignity of it all that bothers me the most, conscious as I am of my birth and my rank. Lying here like an animal straining to drop its cub, I’m no different from any common jade who gives birth. There’s nothing exalted about it. I know it’s blasphemy to say this, but God was more than unfair when He created woman. Men get all the pleasure, while we poor ladies are left to bear the pain. And if Henry thinks that, after this, I’m going to . . .

Something’s happening. Dear God, what’s going on? Sweet Jesus, when is this going to end?

The midwife draws back the covers, then pulls up my shift to expose my swollen, straining body, as I lie on the bed, knees flexed, thighs parted, and thrusts expert fingers inside me. She nods her head in a satisfied way.

“If I’m not mistaken, this young lad is now in something of a hurry,” she tells my anxiously hovering ladies.

“Ready now!” she crows triumphantly. “Now push, my lady, push!”

I gather all my strength, breathe deeply, and exhale with a great effort, knowing that an end is in sight. I can feel the child coming! I ram my chin into my chest again and push as I am instructed, hard. And the miracle happens. In a rush of blood and mucus, I feel a small, wet form slithering from me. Another push, and it is delivered into the midwife’s waiting hands, to be quickly wrapped in a rich cloth of damask. I glimpse its face, which resembles a wrinkled peach. I hear the mewling cry that tells me it lives.

“A beautiful daughter, my lady,” announces the midwife uncertainly. “Healthy and vigorous.”

I should be joyful, thanking God for the safe arrival of a lusty child. Instead, my spirits plummet. All this—for nothing.

Queen Jane Seymour

Hampton Court Palace, Surrey, October 1537

It has begun, this labor that I, the King my husband, and all England have so eagerly awaited. It began with a show of blood, then the anxious midwives hurried me into bed, fearful in case anything should go wrong. Indeed, every precaution has been taken to guard against mishap. Since early summer, when the babe first fluttered in my womb and I appeared in public with my gown unlaced, prayers have been offered up throughout the land for my safe delivery. My husband engaged the best physicians and midwives and paid handsomely to have the soothsayers predict the infant’s sex: all promised confidently that it would be a boy, an heir to the throne of England. Henry insisted that I be spared all state appearances, and I have spent these past months resting in opulent idleness, my every whim and craving gratified. He even sent to Calais for the quails I so strongly fancied. I ate so many I sickened of them.

Most pregnant women, I am told, sink into a pleasant state of euphoria as their precious burden grows heavier, as if Nature is deliberately affording them a short respite before the ordeal that lies ahead and the responsibilities of motherhood that follow it. But I have enjoyed no such comforting sense of well-being or elation at the glorious prospect fac- ing me, God willing. My constant companion is fear. Fear of the pain of labor. Fear of what will happen to me if I bear a girl or a dead child, as my two unfortunate predecessors did. Fear of my husband, who, for all his devotion and care for me, is still a man before whom even strong men tremble. How he could ever have settled his affections on such a poor, plain thing as I is beyond my limited comprehension. My women, when they dare mention the subject, whisper that he loves me because I am the very antithesis of Anne Boleyn, that black-eyed witch who kept him at bay for seven years with promises of undreamed-of carnal adventures and lusty sons, yet failed him in both respects once he had moved Heaven and earth to put the crown on her head. I cannot think about what he did to Anne Boleyn. For even though she was found guilty of betraying him with five men, one her own brother, it is horrifying to know that a man is capable of cutting off the head of a woman he has held in his arms and once loved to distraction. And it is even more horrifying when that man is my husband.

So I live in fear. Just now I am terrified of the plague, which rages in London so virulently that the King has given orders that no one from the city may approach the court. Confined to my chamber for the past six weeks, as is the custom for English queens, with only women to wait on me and the imminent birthing to brood on, I am prey to all kinds of terrors, so in a way it is a relief now to have something real upon which to focus my anxieties.

Henry is not here. He has gone hunting, as is his wont and passion, although he has given me his word that he will not ride more than sixty miles from here. I would be touched by his concern had I not learned that it was his council that advised him not to stray farther from me at this time. But I am glad, all the same, that he has gone. He would be just one more thing to worry about. His obsessive and pathetic need for this child to be a boy is more than I can cope with.

It is now afternoon, and my pains are recurring with daunting intensity, even though the midwife tells me that it will be some hours yet before the child can be born. I pray God that this ordeal may soon be over, and that He will send me a happy hour, for I do not think I can stand much more of this.

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Ballantine Books; Reprint edition (November 6, 2007)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 407 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0345495349
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0345495341
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 12.4 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.2 x 0.93 x 8 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #831,572 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,564 in Biographical Historical Fiction
- #2,475 in Historical British & Irish Literature
- #2,712 in Biographical Fiction (Books)

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4.5 1,885 ratings

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Alison Weir

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Alison Weir lives and works in Surrey. Her books include Britain's Royal Families, The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Children of England, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry VIII: King and Court, Mary, Queen of Scots and Isabella: She-Wolf of France.

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Actingtheatrecat

Excellent Fiction/Non-Fiction

Reviewed in the United States on January 10, 2014

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I think there are a lot of us that find the story of Lady Jane Grey, the 16 year-old girl who was Queen of England for nine short days; only to be tried as a traitor and beheaded by Queen Mary so she (Mary) could marry Prince Philip of Spain - intriguing and incredibly sad.

I was of the generation that saw the movie about Lady Jane with Helena Bonham Carter and cried at the end of the movie, but relieved to know that at least she found true love with her arranged marriage to Guildford Dudley before she died. Nothing could have been further from the truth and is an excellent example of Hollywood altering historical facts to make a motion picture.

Lady Jane was an incredibly intelligent girl who liked nothing more than to read or focus on her studies. Her parents didn’t understand her and her mother, in particular, was more often than not, quick with a beating, whipping, or withholding meals until her “willful” child obeyed. Although it was historically appropriate for parents to treat their children with (what to our modern eyes) excessive and cruel punishments, even the contemporaries of Jane Grey felt her parents were unduly harsh with her.

Lady Jane grew up knowing she was the living proof that her mother failed in producing a son and heir for her husband. But she couldn’t understand why her cold and heartless mother could lavish attention on the second daughter, Katherine, and spare none for her. In a time when people born with birth defects were either left to die or secluded somewhere out of sight, the third daughter, Mary, a hunchback, was given the same education (very extraordinary in those times) as her sisters (educating women was still frowned upon). So Jane saw that her parents were even tolerant of her youngest sister where they had zero tolerance for her. Of her parents, she is recorded as saying, “when I am in the presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand or go, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing anything else, I must do it as it were in such weight, measure and number, even so perfectly as God made the world; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea presently sometimes with pinches, nips and bobs and other ways (which I will not name for the honour I bear them) ... that I think myself in hell.”

The only true happiness she knew was when she was sent to be one of Catherine Parr’s ladies. She found a kind and loving mother-figure in Catherine and relished her time with the fortunate last wife of King Henry the Eighth. This happiness was cut short when Catherine died and, although she was retained in the household by Thomas Seymour (who was working with Jane’s parents to be proposed as a bride for Edward; Henry the 8th’s son), but was eventually retrieved by her parents when it was secretly made known that Edward was dieing.

Jane was then embroiled in a fantastic scheme to put her on the throne and have Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary passed over after Edward’s impending death. Everything was done without her consent and she was a pawn in the hands of the people who should have protected her. She was married against her wishes (only capitulating after severe beatings) to the spoiled, childish Guildford Dudley; who threw tantrums and ran to his mother. Such was her disgust with this child-man, that when he begged to see her before his death, she refused.

This story is Alison Weir’s venture into Fiction. The story is told in the first-person narrative from different viewpoints; her mother, her teachers, herself, and gives us insight into what was possibly going on in the heads (and hearts) of those involved at the time. The historical material is all incredibly true and due to Ms. Weir’s incredible research, you are given probably what is the closest thing we have to the inner thoughts and feelings of the people involved.

This was a book that I had difficulty putting down once I started. It fed my love of historical non-fiction as well as historical fiction. I highly recommend this book!

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Lilly Flora

Not bad at all for a first novel-and you can count on the facts all being correct!

Reviewed in the United States on April 28, 2007

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I was both thrilled and slightly apprehensive when I heard that Alison Weir was publishing her first novel. I was thrilled because she has long been one of my favorite historical writers (especially when it comes to the Tudor era) and her books have always been extremely readable, leading me to think she might be a good fiction writer. I was also thrilled because of the subject matter, Lady Jane Grey, the Nine day Queen of England who is easily one of the most interesting and tragic figures of the Tudor age; yet very few fictional books have been written about her. I was apprehensive because I theorized (correctly it turned out) that as a writer who has previously only published non-fiction it seemed that Ms. Weir might have a tendency to be dry and not emotionally expressive in her fictional writing.

Nonetheless for a first novel this a very good book, packed with historical detail (you'd expect nothing less from this author) and various first person viewpoints (mostly female) including: Jane Grey, Frances Brandon (her mother) Mrs. Ellen (her nurse), Queen Catherine Parr, Mary Tudor and John Dudley the Duke of Northumberland. Each person has a very distinctive voice and so the story varies from being told from a cynical viewpoint to a religious one, from a loving nurse to a harsh ambitious parent.

You get a great feel in this book for Jane's life as the unwanted daughter of highly ambitious parent's desperate for a son who compromised by trying their whole lives to marry her off to the boy King Edward. It didn't matter that they made her miserable in their quest to make her a perfect royal bride. And then of course King Edward dies and John Dudley, desperate for power to stay in his hands as he enjoyed it as president of the King's council, changes the succession so Jane (who's maternal grandmother was Henry's little sister) is heir and marries Dudley's youngest son. You know of course, what happens next. Jane is queen for nine days, Mary escapes the planned capture and recaptures her throne without a battle, and eventually Jane is beheaded for her crime.

What's really interesting about this book isn't the history (well it wasn't for me, but I already knew it all) it's the underlying religious debate. In the book the country goes from being semi-catholic after Henry VIII cut off from Rome (but before they were Protestant) to Protestant, to having a Catholic queen and all the time religious fanatics are in charge. King Edward was one, for the Protestants, as was Jane. In fact if someone met Jane Grey today I suspect she would be intolerable because of her "I have the true religion and yours is false" belief system. There was no tolerance back then.

All in all this is a good book, the history is great, the background culture put in place to understand the history was great and the voices were all very distinct. But like I said earlier-there is a lack of emotion, certain dryness in this book. In spite of the highly charged emotional settings and happenings in this book I had a hard time connecting with the characters.

Four stars. And I do hope Ms. Weir writes more novels in the future-unlike other historical fiction authors you can count on the facts in her books being correct.

77 people found this helpful

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Lolo63

Offert à une personne qui adore cette époque

Reviewed in France on September 11, 2022

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Elle a beaucoup aime cette lecture. Elle est fan de la période et a trouvé l'écriture très bonne.

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Gurvinder Singh Sawhney

Not worth even eriting

Reviewed in India on September 12, 2020

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Miserable product

Carol Foley

Great

Reviewed in Australia on August 10, 2020

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The book was great reading, hard to put down.

lightdove

An Excellent Read

Reviewed in the United Kingdom on January 26, 2016

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I've only just finished this book. I got about a third of the way through it & then started reading it again this morning while lying on the bed... & that's where I stayed for the entire day as I couldn't put it down! I haven't even washed up today & my sole effort went into feeding my cats...! (I get my priorities right ,,,=^-.-^=,,, :) ) The earlier part of the book took a bit of getting into but it picked up a lot after this & I was pretty much rivetted by it. Prior to reading this I had watched the film LadyJane & I felt I wanted to know the story in more detail. The first part of the film was fine & quite entertaining as it focused mainly on Jane's relationship & marriage to Guildford Dudley, played by Helena Bonham Carter & Carey Elwes & they seemed to be having a lot fun in their marriage. He, in particular, was hilarious at one point in the film, (never mind his stunning good looks) but having read the book their relationship on flim bears no resemblance to what it was like in reality as they pretty much hated each other on sight. But it's a very sad story for both of them, because they were victims of political, family machinations, all pretty much self serving which resulted in disaster for them. They were only 16 years old, just kids really & they should never have been forced into such an alliance which was something neither of them really wanted & which they tried very hard to resist. But they were both pretty unlucky with their parents who cared nothing for their happiness & wellbeing & only wanted the power it would bring them. I found the last few pages really heartbreaking & I confess it reduced me to tears. Because, although it read like a really good novel, it was always painfully obvious that this was a life & death situation & something that really happened & it just beggars belief that people can be so selfish & self serving that they were willing to put their own children's life so much at risk that it could result in sending them to the block! What kind of parent does this to their own children. Oh, I forget, places like Iraq & Afghanistan as they are pretty much just as bad & not so very long ago a father helped other people stone his own daughter to death for the crime of wanting to be with the man she loved & wanted to marry. She was only 19 & that upset me a lot. Thank God we have moved on somewhat in the UK & I thank God pretty often really that I had the good fortune to be born in Wales, the Land of Song. The worse we do to our kids here is to cajole them into them into a singalong now & again...

3 people found this helpful

Foscarina CALETTI

Innocent Traitor

Reviewed in Italy on November 21, 2015

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Troppo pesante, storico ma non come i libri della Koen che intrecciano storia e romanc, non sono riuscita a leggere piu di 1/4 e poi l' ho messo in disparte! la figura della madre/ madrigna scontata e sembra la regina cattiva di Biancaneve!

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