The Rose Without a Thorn

A Royal Wooing

THERE WERE RUMORS about the Queen. The King wanted to be rid of her and was more determined on this than he had been even before.

“Poor lady!” said Jane Rochford. “She is very uneasy. Who would not be in her position? She remembers what happened to those who went before her.”

As usual, Jane made it her task to find out all that was going on. She sparkled with excitement, for nothing delighted her more than intrigue and I believe that when it concerned the relationship between the sexes it was of special delight to her.

“They say there is only one way by which he can rid himself of her, and that is to send her to the block, as he did on another occasion with another Queen. But she is too important for that. True, the Duke of Cleves is not a great emperor, but His Majesty cannot afford to offend even a minor power when it could mean sending that power into the camp of one of his enemies. Depend upon it, there will be a divorce.”

“How can he divorce the Queen? She is a good and virtuous lady.”

Jane looked wise.

She said: “Kings have their ways. It is not a matter of turning against her. He disliked her from the moment he saw her. He even said he liked her ill and that she was different from what she had been made out to be by men who had deceived him, and it was woe that she ever came to England. Those were his very words.”

“I think she is a very pleasant lady.”

“It is not for you to judge, Katherine Howard. It is for the King who had to marry her. Let me tell you this. I have heard that his friends are trying to find a way out for him.”

“But how can they? The King is married to her.”

“Oh, marriage can be proved to be no marriage. Did we not see that, with the King’s first wife? His Majesty would forgive a Queen a great deal if she gave him a son. It is his great desire to have a son … in his own image … one whose education and upbringing he himself can watch over. He wants another King Henry to follow when he has gone.”

“To have a son just like himself… that would be the ambition of most men, I believe.”

“Ah, but with the King it goes more deep. He has a throne, and the House of Tudor must stand for ever.” She lowered her voice and came closer to me. “It is not very firm on the ground, is it? There are many who think that the Tudors’ claim to the throne is not very strong. Who was Owen Tudor? True, he was said to have married Queen Catherine, the widow of King Henry V, but was there actually even a ceremony? Who can be sure?”

“Jane!” I cried in dismay.

She laughed, and I noticed that her color had deepened. “Don’t you dare repeat a word of what I have said.”

“You cannot believe I would betray you. But, Jane, be careful. People have lost their heads for voicing such opinions.”

“I go too far, but I trust you, Katherine. You see, I trust you with my life. And are they not interesting … these times we live in? But I go too far. I know I must have a care, eh? You would never betray me. If you did, I would come back after death and haunt you. You would have no peace from me, Katherine Howard.”

“I swear I will say nothing.”

“I know. You are my very good friend, as I am yours. And, in any case, how would you stand? You listened. You joined in.”

“Have no fear. I shall not whisper a word.”

“And I will remember not to be so indiscreet,” said Jane, and went on to be more so.

“The King needs a son. As I said, it is more important to him than anything. It is odd, but the meanest scullion can get a woman with child, yet kings cannot.”

“There are the Lady Mary, Lady Elizabeth and Prince Edward.”

“Poor little boy. A puff of wind would blow him over. Do you know that in his nursery they live in perpetual fear lest some ill befall him and they be blamed? Holy Mother, it would go ill with them if they allowed the boy to get as much as a rheum. You know His Majesty’s wrath when things go wrong! The King blames his wives for his lack of a strong and healthy male heir. He himself is as virile as he has always been. And time is running short for him.” She clapped her hands over her mouth and laughed.

I could not help laughing with her.

“Jane,” I said, “you are the most reckless woman I know.”

“You can go somewhat far in that direction yourself,” she retorted.

“Not as far as you.”

“We will not quarrel about that. What was I saying? He does not think the fault lies with him. He believes that, if he could find a woman who would bear him sons, all would be well.”

“The Queen might do that.”

“She would have no chance when he cannot bring himself to do that which would produce them. What he wants is someone whom he can love, and he believes that one will give him the boy he so much desires. All those years with his first Queen frustrated him. Still-born, weakling … one after another, and only the Lady Mary after all those years; and she is always ailing. Then, of course, our cousin gave him only the Lady Elizabeth, when he had so fervently believed she would give him a son, and she would have done so had she not miscarried.”

“I heard it was because she found the King with Jane Seymour.”

“That may be, but she lost the child. Then there was Queen Jane who had the boy, but no one believes he will survive long. So the King dreams that somewhere is that woman who will give him not only the pleasures he craves, but the son he so desperately wants. He is sure the inability to get a son does not lie with him … because of the Duke of Richmond.”

“But the Duke of Richmond is dead. He died years ago.”

“Not so many. Four years, to be true … just after the King’s second Queen. He was a healthy young man, and how the King doted on him! He was the living proof that the King could get a healthy son, and the perpetual miscarriages of Queen Catherine were not due to him.”

“The Duke of Richmond married one of my uncle’s daughters … my cousin.”

“Oh, there were always strong ties between the Tudors and the Howards. My Lord Duke, your uncle, sees to that. He seeks to unite the families on every occasion. I remember the young Duke of Richmond well—such a handsome young man, with a look of his father—strutting about the Court. It was a pity he was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“But even so, he did not live. What of his mother?”

“She was Elizabeth Blount—lady-in-waiting to the Queen Catherine. It was long ago, before you were born.”

“Did the King wish to marry her?”

“No. He had not thought of divorce at that time. The Queen was not so very old then and he had not begun to despair of having a child by her. So young Richmond was born and proved to be a healthy boy. The King was overjoyed, and at the same time frustrated. If only the child had been Prince Henry instead of Henry Fitzroy.”

“What happened to Elizabeth Blount?”

“She received honors and was in due course married to Sir Gilbert Talboys. Manors were bestowed on her for life. As for the boy, he was only six years old when he was made Knight of the Garter and Duke of Richmond. He was married when he was about fourteen to His Grace the Duke’s daughter, your cousin Mary. The King loved him dearly, not only, they say, as a son, but because the boy was a living proof of his own virility.”

“But he died …”

“Yes, very soon after Anne Boleyn. Young Richmond was only seventeen.”

“Did that not show the King that he could not, after all, get healthy sons who lived the normal span?”

“No, they said Richmond had been poisoned.”

“Was it really so?”

“Who can say? Rumor had it that the late Queen and her brother … your cousin and my husband … had poisoned him before they had died. And the result was poor Richmond’s eventual death.”

“Did they really believe that?”

“People believe what they want to believe—the King more than any.” Again she gave that half laugh and looked over her shoulder. “If he were poisoned, then it seems that the King can get healthy children. If he died of some natural cause, the question arises, can he? So it is best to say that the Duke was poisoned. Do you not know that, Katherine Howard? So now the King is looking for a new wife. He needs to give the nation a boy who will grow up in the shadow of himself. He is also not averse to a young and pretty woman who will keep him warm and comforted at night. Therefore, I say to you that however pleasing Queen Anne is to Katherine Howard, you should be very wary, for the King is seeking the road to divorce; and Her Majesty, bearing in mind what had gone before, must be growing very uneasy.”

Tension was growing throughout the Court. The King and Queen were never seen together now and we heard that the Queen was to go to Richmond, where she would take up temporary residence. As one of her ladies, I should, of course, go with her.

It was a few days before we left and we were still at Greenwich when my uncle came and said he would like to talk with me. He would prefer our conversation took place in the gardens, that we might be more private.

Such a pronouncement aroused inevitable apprehension in me and I immediately feared that I had been guilty of some misdemeanor.

We walked under the trees in silence for a moment while I waited for the storm to break.

Instead he said: “It seems that you have been conducting yourself well while you have been at Court, Katherine.” His voice was friendly. “Your grandmother is most pleased with your progress.”

I was aware of that, because of the dresses she had provided, and I was very pleased, for life had become much more pleasant now that I could appear as well dressed as the others.

I was still waiting for what he was to say when the King appeared, surprisingly unaccompanied. I immediately curtsied, and when I raised my eyes I saw that the King was regarding me with the benign smile which I had come to expect from him.

“Well met, Katherine,” he said, and he looked from me to my uncle, still smiling.

“It was a happy choice when my niece and I decided to walk in the gardens,” said my uncle.

“It was indeed,” agreed the King. “I doubt not you have much to engage you, Norfolk?”

“Your Majesty speaks truth. May I have your permission to retire?”

“’Tis granted,” said the King benevolently.

I was preparing to follow my uncle when a plump bejeweled hand was laid on my arm.

“You would stay awhile and talk to your King, Mistress Howard?” he said.

I was overcome with embarrassment, which I believe pleased him, for, as he had said, he liked me to be natural.

There was a seat nearby on which about four people could have sat in comfort.

The King said: “We shall sit there and talk awhile.”

He took my hand and with the other held the stick on which he leaned as we walked.

He sat down and indicated that I should sit beside him. His large person and padded garments took up a good deal of the seat, but there was room for me close to him.

I had rather expected I must kneel at his feet.

He noticed my surprise and that pleased him too. He laid his hand on my thigh and kept it there, patting me now and then.

“You must not be afraid of me, Katherine,” he said.

“Oh no, Your Majesty.”

“You must think it strange that I, your King, should so honor you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Katherine, shall I tell you something?”

I was completely disarmed by this playful mood.

“Oh, yes please, Your Majesty.”

“I feel honored to be with you,” he said with a meekness which, even in my inexperienced eyes, seemed too ostentatiously assumed.

I stared at him in astonishment, but I knew again that he was delighted by my response.

“You are such a little girl, are you not?”

“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon, but I was born small.”

He laughed out loud and shook with merriment. I felt uplifted, as though I had said something very clever. I was wondering why they were all so much afraid of him, when he could be so kind, so affable.

“Well, so you were.” He squeezed my thigh again, “And I will tell you something else, shall I, sweet Katherine?”

“If it please Your Majesty.”

“I like it well. You are little, Katherine Howard. Women should not be like great mares.” His face darkened. “I never liked that sort. Katherine, I will tell you this. You are the exact size that pleases me.”

I laughed. He was watching me closely, his lips slightly parted so that they no longer looked cruel; his eyes gleamed, and there was an even deeper color than usual in his plump cheeks.

“You continue happy with Court life?” he asked.

“Oh yes, Your Majesty.”

“And you sing and dance and pass the days merrily? Oh, Katherine, you are a happy young lady. I see it in your face. You bring happiness to those about you. Do you know that?”

“I … I did not know.”

“And you think that your King is the happiest because he is the master of them all … this brilliant Court, these men and women—they are here to serve him. You think there must be naught he lacks. Is that so?”

What could I say but “Yes, Your Majesty,” for he was looking at me, expecting an answer.

“Then you are wrong,” he said in a voice of thunder. His face was distorted in anger which alarmed me. My simple “Yes, Your Majesty” appeared to be the wrong answer. Thomas had said that in the service of the King one must take great care. A careless word could result in one’s being sent to the Tower.

He saw my startled face and reached for my hand. He lifted it and, to my astonishment, raised it to his lips, kissing it.

“My dear, dear child,” he said. “My dear Katherine, your King is not a happy man. There are times when I wonder why it is that Heaven persecutes me so. Have I done aught wrong? Is there some fault in me of which I know nothing, but which has displeased my Maker? Do you think so, Katherine?”

I was abashed. I looked up at the sky, as though hoping to find the answer there. How easy it would be to make the wrong answer to such a question.

But apparently no answer was needed, for his expression changed again to one of abject self-pity.

“It is a cross I have to bear,” he said. “Through the years I have borne it. All I asked was a wife who would be good to me … and the nation. I was a good and faithful husband.”

I looked sharply at him. I could not stop thinking of Elizabeth Blount—lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine—who had been the mother of his son, the Duke of Richmond. I thought of my cousin’s miscarriage, which might have been the means of giving him—and the nation—the desired son, and which had been brought on because my cousin had come upon him, fondling Jane Seymour.

Yet he looked so sad, and quite unaware that he could be speaking anything but the truth, that I found myself almost believing him.

“Why … why?” he went on.

How I dreaded these questions. Why did I have to be so inadequate? Why had I not been like my cousin? Oh no, I must not think of her.

But apparently again he did not need an answer. Though I did wish he would not keep putting his words in the form of a question.

He was saying: “There is nothing I ask more than to be a good and faithful husband to a wife who will love me in return. Yet I am plagued. It would seem there is a curse on me.”

There was silence while I tried to think of what I ought to say. He was still holding my hand.

He said: “I believe you to be a good, sweet girl. You know nothing of the evils of the world, sweet child. You are untouched by the wickedness of the world. I find great pleasure in the company of one such as you.”

Again silence. What could I say? Was I good? I had never wanted to harm anyone. But to most people goodness meant virtue. An image of Manox rose before me. I thought of the slighting manner in which he had spoken of me to Dorothy Barwike.

But I was going to forget all that. Perhaps soon they would agree to my marriage with Thomas. I should go to Hollingbourne and in the years to come tell my children about the time I was at Court and how the King had liked my music, how I had met him in the garden and he had talked to me.

I could hear myself saying: “There was something very kind about him.”

“Yes,” went on the King, drawing me back to reality, and almost as though he were talking to himself. “Ill luck has dogged me. There are times when I ask myself, what have I done? There was my first marriage … only a form of marriage, that was. I was not married all those years when I thought I was. Then I married a witch. A spell was put upon me then. And after that there was Jane … good Jane … but she died and left me the boy Edward. There are times when I think I shall outlast him. And then … and then …” His face was dark again.

“But, Katherine, the Lord has shown me the way out.” He leaned toward me and put his face close to mine. “What think you of that?”

I realized that this question had to be answered, and desperately I sought for the right words.

“I … I rejoice for Your Majesty.”

“And not only for him, Katherine. You should rejoice for another.”

I did not know to whom he was referring, so I remained silent.

“You are a good, modest girl. It pleases me that there are still such as you in my realm. You have a good heart, Katherine. I would not be deceived in you, would I?”

“Oh no, Your Majesty.”

“Of course not. It is clear in your sweet face. You will be a good and honest wife, will you not? You will love your husband as he will love you?”

I was on the point of telling him that I was all but betrothed to Thomas Culpepper and that we planned to settle at Hollingbourne, but something restrained me. Moreover, he went on immediately: “After my tribulation, it may be God’s will that I come to happiness.”

“Oh yes, Your Majesty. I pray so.”

“We will pray together, Katherine,” he said. “You and I, eh?”

I smiled happily.

“You please me greatly, Katherine,” he said. “Have they told you how pretty you are?”

I blushed and he squeezed my thigh again. I thought, it will be bruised, I doubt not, and I giggled inwardly, asking myself if it were an honor to be bruised by the King.

His face was creased again in tender sentimentality.

“My dear little flower,” he said. “I like you, Katherine.”

“Oh, Your Majesty is very kind to me,” I murmured.

“And will be kinder. There is much we shall talk of when the time is ripe. Ere long it will be so for, as I have told you, you please me. You please me greatly. What say you to that?”

I did not know what to say, and he went on: “Eh? Eh? What say you?”

“Your … Your Majesty pleases me.” I stopped short.

That was a terrible mistake. I was glad that my uncle could not hear. But it seemed I could do no wrong in the eyes of the King. He slapped his thigh this time. He was laughing.

“I like that, Katherine,” he said. “The King has found favor with little Mistress Howard. What better news? What better?”

I laughed with him—which was easy enough—while I marveled that my uncle could offend him so easily and that an untutored girl such as I was could so easily say what he wanted to hear.

There was an apprehensive air of expectancy in the Queen’s household at Richmond. On the rare occasions when I saw the Queen, I was aware of tension, as though outwardly she were serene but she was aware of our watchfulness. The only attendant left to her from her own country was known as Mother Lowe; and she was constantly at the Queen’s side.

I gathered that the Queen had always been gracious to her English attendants, but I supposed it was only to Mother Lowe that she would reveal her true feelings.

There was something else. Attitudes toward me had changed considerably. Those who had previously ignored me seemed eager to show friendship. They watched me closely. It was, of course, because the King had spoken to me.

I did not see Thomas. I wondered why, because usually he had sought some way of meeting me.

Lady Margaret Douglas, who was chief of the Queen’s ladies, had, among others, noticed me. She talked to me now and then and we had become quite friendly. She was very handsome and I judged her to be about six years older than I. I had always been interested in her because at one time she had wanted to marry Lord Thomas Howard, one of my cousins.

Lady Margaret was, of course, a very important lady, being the daughter of the King’s sister Margaret by her second husband, the Earl of Angus. She had had a very adventurous life and must have passed through many dangers. I think she felt drawn toward me because she had loved a member of my family.

She was closer to the Queen than any of the ladies—except Mother Lowe—and one day I mentioned to her that I had seen the Queen in the gardens; she had looked sad and Mother Lowe seemed anxious.

“Well,” said Lady Margaret. “Who would not be … in her position?”

“Do you think she misses her home?”

“It would seem so. But I think she fears most what is going to happen to her.”

“Because she does not please the King, you mean?”

Lady Margaret looked at me quizzically, and she said, with a lift of her lips: “The King looks elsewhere.”

“What will become of the Queen, think you?”

“Ah, that is what we are all wondering. Oh, Katherine, it is not all pleasure and honor to be royal.”

“No,” I said.

“How old are you, Katherine?”

I told her.

“You seem younger,” she said. “I know how you lived in your early days, and then you were with the Dowager Duchess. It is only recently that you have come into royal circles, is it not?”

I nodded.

“Think of me, the daughter of a Queen. It sets one apart. People are inclined to think it is a glorious position to hold, but it does not always work out that way, Katherine. Terrible things can happen to some of us.”

I knew that she had spent a time in the Tower and I wondered whether I should refer to it.

She went on: “One is moved this way and that. It all depends on how one is being used. I often think how much happier some of us might have been if we had not had royal connections. One should consider a great deal, Katherine, before one moves close to the throne.”

“But if one is born there, one can do nothing about it.”

“No, they are caught in it from the moment they are born. The fortunate ones are those who have a choice. You have seen ambitious men … and women … move too near the throne and what can happen to them. There was your own cousin.”

The vision of Anne came to me then. I saw her beautiful head bent over the block, awaiting the fall of the axe. But it was not an axe, of course; it was a sword sent specially from France for the purpose. How like her to die in elegant style.

“She might have married Northumberland,” Lady Margaret was saying. “He adored her, and she loved him. But fate had a different destiny for her.” She looked at me steadily. “I would be very wary before I sought favors of the King. For me there has been no choice. When the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth were declared illegitimate—that was when Jane Seymour became Queen—I was in line to the throne. There were no male heirs for the King, and I was the daughter of his eldest sister, you see. My mother was a very forceful lady; my father was a very ambitious man. They quarreled and there was much ill-will between them. My mother fled from Scotland, bringing me with her, and I was brought up in the palace of Greenwich.”

“Greenwich is beautiful,” I said. “I love Greenwich.”

“I, too,” she said. “The Lady Mary was there. She is close to my age. In truth I am a few months older. We spent our early years together and friendship grew between us. But in time I was taken away. Oh, the wars and the troubles and the effect they have on our lives! I have told you once, Katherine Howard, and I will tell you again. It is not good to be too close to royalty.”

“I have often wondered about the Lady Mary,” I said. “How strange life must be for her. She was once adored as the King’s daughter and then she became of no importance at all.”

“Yes, yes. Again and again I tell you. It is not good to be too close to royalty.” She was looking at me very intently. “It is dazzling, but it is dangerous, to get too close. Many have found that. Remember the Cardinal? Who will forget him? He was my godfather. He went too far … you will learn that I speak truth.”

I believed that to be true for some; but there were others. I was thinking of my own family, which had survived its disgrace at Bosworth Field. But on the other hand I was aware now that my uncle, the Duke, was always on the alert lest he should make a false move.

“Do not deceive yourself,” went on Lady Margaret. She was studying me intently. “Do you know, you remind me of your uncle, Thomas … my Thomas. Not that your looks resemble his … except perhaps your expression at times. Well, you are a Howard, as he was.”

I saw tears in her eyes and she put an arm round me.

“Oh, I am foolish,” she added. “It was just that memories came back. They put us in the Tower … just because we became betrothed … secretly.”

“I am sorry,” I told her. “How you must have suffered.”

She withdrew herself, perhaps remembering that she was the King’s niece and I the humblest member of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. But her lover had been my kinsman, and that brought us close.

“I loved him,” she said. “But I was royal, you see. I could be Queen of England, and so a match would be made for me. I was not allowed to choose. Your cousin, Queen Anne, had been my friend—even though the Lady Mary and I had been as sisters, and you can guess there had been enmity between Mary and Anne Boleyn. It was natural enough. Mary was devoted to her mother, and to see her replaced and so cruelly set aside was too much to be lightly borne. I am saying too much. Thomas Howard and I were sent to the Tower, just because we loved each other and had betrothed ourselves … and he was not the match they wanted for me.”

“How sad for you. I can never pass the Tower without shuddering.”

“As well you might. You should bear that in mind.”

“You feel badly because you were there once. Was it a long duration?”

She shook her head. “I fell ill of a fever and they thought I might die, so they took me away and I was sent, still a prisoner, to Syon House. I remember at length being released. It was an October day, just over two years after they had beheaded the Queen. Two days before my release, Thomas died.”

“What a sad story!”

“I tell you because … oh, Katherine, do you know why I tell you?”

“You are telling me because you think I ought to know how easily one can make a mistake at Court.”

I thought: I, too, am betrothed, as she was … or almost. Does she know? But I shall marry Thomas and we shall go to Hollingbourne. Did not my grandmother say that this would be?

She was watching me closely. Then she said suddenly: “And now I am restored to favor—lady-in-waiting to the Queen … the King’s niece … accepted at Court.”

“But you still remember my Uncle Thomas.”

She nodded. “But ’tis over, is it not?”

“The Queen appears to be a very gentle lady.”

“I believe her to be.”

“Lady Margaret, she is very much afraid now, is she not?”

“She has not found favor with the King. I suppose it is not easy to choose a wife … or a husband … on the account one receives from other people. They praised her too much, and, alas, she is not the King’s idea of a beauty.”

“I thought she had a very kind face.”

“The King looks for more than kindness. She is not graceful, and he looks for grace, it seems. She is too learned. Some men do not like learned women.”

“That seems strange. Would they not wish to talk of interesting matters with their wives?”

“You do not know men, Katherine Howard.”

Did I not? There was Derham. I had regarded myself as married to him once. Thomas Culpepper, to whom I was almost betrothed. I knew there were such men as Manox, too.

“If you did,” she went on, “you would understand that they like to be the masters. Superior in matters of the mind. Clever women disturb them. There are those who say that Queen Anne Boleyn was too clever for her own safety.”

“None would find me too clever, I’ll warrant.”

She laughed with me, which I realized meant she agreed.

“And the Queen,” I said. “She is too clever?”

“Chiefly she lacks the kind of beauty which is to the King’s taste.”

“Lady Margaret, what will happen to her?”

“I believe there will be a divorce.”

“Can that be?”

“Assuredly it can. The King does not have to get a dispensation from the Pope now, does he? He is now Head of the Church, and can command archbishops and bishops to obey him when he needs them to.”

“But there would have to be reasons.”

“I will tell you this, Katherine, but it is not generally known as yet. There has been a convocation, and the matter has been referred to the two archbishops with four bishops and eight other members of the clergy; and there are reasons why a divorce is possible. The first and most important is that the Queen was precontracted to the Prince of Lorraine; the second is that the King was married against his will and has never completed the marriage; and the third is that the nation wishes the King to have more children, and in view of his feelings for the Queen, he could never have them through her.”

“But he did actually marry her.”

Lady Margaret lifted her shoulders.

“Depend upon it, the King will have an annulment if he wishes it enough. And there is no doubt in my mind, and those of many at Court, that the King will have his way.”

I thought a good deal about that talk with Lady Margaret. I had vaguely heard about the death of my uncle in the Tower and that he had been foolish enough to act unwisely with a lady.

My uncle, the Duke, was contemptuous of such conduct, although he continued to act scandalously in his own marital concerns, and was still involved in his liaison with the washerwoman, Elizabeth Holland.

But that was the way of men. I thought fleetingly of the King’s assertion that I was a good and modest girl and how he approved of such conduct at his Court; and I could not help remembering Elizabeth Blount and the Duke of Richmond and the King’s conduct with Jane Seymour, which had been seen by my cousin.

And I was very sorry for the poor Queen.

It appeared to be as Lady Margaret had said.

Some of the ladies-in-waiting on the Queen and some of the gentlemen of the King’s bedchamber were called as witnesses to the fact that the royal couple did not spend their nights together. I wondered whether Thomas Culpepper was called and what he thought about the matter.

It was clearly proved that the marriage was no ordinary one. The Queen was not present during the proceedings, as her English was not good enough for her to understand what was going on. But she had learned a little of the language and, when she was asked if she had informed Mistress Lowe or any of her ladies of the King’s neglect, she had replied that she had not done so as she received quite as much of His Majesty’s attention as she wished for.

Then came the announcement that the marriage was null and void and that both parties were free to marry again. A bill was produced to prove this. The Archbishop of Canterbury announced the end of the marriage, and the Lords passed the Bill which afterward went to the Commons, where approval was readily given.

The King had had his way.

Several of us were in the Queen’s apartment when news came that the King was sending a deputation to the Queen that she might agree to the terms which were set out.

I could not but be aware of the brooding sense of foreboding which hung over those apartments at Richmond.

The Queen, outwardly calm, sought to hide the fear which beset her. She remained in her apartments and would see none but Mother Lowe.

Lady Rochford said: “Poor lady! One can guess her feelings. Three have gone before her. One discarded as a wife after many years, another to the block, and the third no sooner married than she died in childbirth. You can understand her fears. It seems as though a curse has been laid on the King’s wives.”

“All will be well,” I said. “The King can be very kind.”

“When he gets his way,” said Jane, with a look over her shoulder.

The deputation had arrived. I was surprised, because my Uncle Norfolk was not with it. Instead there were the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Southampton and Sir Thomas Wriothesley—all men to inspire fear.

I was with Lady Margaret when she was told that the men were waiting. I followed her, keeping a discreet distance, so I heard what was said.

Suffolk was the spokesman.

“My lady,” he announced. “We come here on the King’s business, and would be taken without delay to the Queen.”

“I will go to Her Majesty at once and tell her of your coming,” said Lady Margaret with the dignity and authority becoming to the sister of the King. “She may wish to receive you here.”

Suffolk replied: “It matters not where, my Lady Margaret. But it is imperative that we are received by the Queen without delay.”

Lady Margaret bowed her head and left them. I followed her to the Queen’s apartment and stood at the door waiting. I should disappear before they came out, but I felt an urgent desire to know what was happening.

I heard Mother Lowe cry out sharply in those guttural tones which I could not understand. There was a brief silence and then Lady Margaret seemed to be giving orders.

Lady Rutland came to the door and saw me standing there, but she was too shocked to ask me what I was doing. She said, in a voice of shock: “The Queen has fainted.”

I said: “The King’s messengers are waiting to see her on the King’s business.”

“I know. It is for that reason. Go to them. Tell them Her Majesty will see them as soon as it is possible for her to do so.”

I went back to the hall and told Lord Suffolk and the others what Lady Rutland had told me.

Suffolk looked impatient, but he thanked me courteously, and I was amazed that he could be so respectful toward me—more so than he had been toward Lady Margaret.

I came back to the Queen’s apartments to tell them I had spoken with the Duke of Suffolk, who would be waiting with his friends until the Queen was ready.

Nobody noticed me when I entered, for all attention was fixed on the Queen, who was lying back in a chair, and one of the ladies was fanning her.

She had recovered from her faint, but she looked pale and was clearly disturbed.

The Queen stood up suddenly. She said: “I will go now. There is no sense to wait.”

Mother Lowe took her arm and they talked rapidly in their own tongue.

“Ja, ja,” said the Queen, and then she turned to Lady Margaret. “Come,” she said.

And they went down to the hall to face the King’s messengers.

As I had expected, Lady Rochford would know what was taking place.

“They have come to take the Queen away,” she said. “It was as one expects in these matters. She fainted, poor lady. That was how it was with your cousin. Depend on it, she will be in the Tower this night.”

“But why? Why? What has she done to deserve such treatment?”

“She has not been beautiful enough to suit the King’s taste.”

“Oh, no … no.”

“But yes. How did the others go? Remember? Well, you are thinking. It was not the Tower for Queen Catherine. She had the Emperor to support her, do not forget. Of course, the Queen has her brother, the Duke, but he is not the Emperor Charles, now is he? But mayhap the King will have to take a little care. And then that other Queen. We know now how it went with her. And this is the fourth. Yes, it will be the Tower for her.”

“Do not say that. Lady Margaret thinks there will be a divorce. Why should they come here to talk to her in that way if there was not to be a divorce?”

“Mayhap the King thinks a divorce is not binding enough. Mayhap he has something other in mind. There might be some to say his new marriage was no marriage at all … the one with this new Queen. I mean the one he will take next. These doubts can cause great trouble in the realm. Whereas when he married Jane Seymour, none could say that she was not really the Queen because of Anne Boleyn, because Anne was a dead woman.”

“Jane, you should take care of what you say.”

She took my arm and put her face close to mine, smiling at me in that sly way of hers.

“I only speak this way to little Katherine,” she said. “She is my friend. She would never speak against me. She knows full well that if she did, they would say she had joined in the talk and was as guilty as I.”

“Oh, Jane,” I said, “let us not speak of such matters.”

The Queen faced those men in the hall. They talked to her and I heard afterward that, when she heard what they had to tell her, she could only think she was living in a dream. It was not as she had feared. And a great joy came over her, such as she had not known since coming to England.

I soon learned why. It was Lady Margaret who told me.

The messengers had brought word of the King’s intentions, and it was their task to obtain the Queen’s acceptance of his terms.

“She was to cease to be his wife,” said Lady Margaret, “and if she would agree to this, he would adopt her as his sister. She must give up the title of Queen. But she would have precedence over every lady in the land, except the King’s two daughters and, if he married again, of course, his Queen.”

“And she accepts that most willingly, I’ll vow,” I said.

“You speak truth there. Moreover she will have estates to the value of three thousand pounds a year.”

I gasped in astonishment.

“I was with Her Majesty,” went on Lady Margaret. “At first, she thought she had not heard aright. But I assured her that she had. I thought she was going to faint again, she turned so pale … and then the color was flooding back into her cheeks. I think this day the happiest lady in England is the Queen … who is Queen no longer—and well content not to be. She is to write to her brother and tell him how wholeheartedly she accepts the King’s conditions.”

“Does she not want to return to her own country?”

“Indeed not,” said Lady Margaret. “To have been rejected … unwanted. Imagine it! And the alternative? To stay here … as the King’s sister.”

“But she is not that.”

“Indeed not!” said Lady Margaret. “The King calls her sister and she has three thousand pounds a year and is one of the most important ladies in the land. Oh come, Katherine, can you not see why she wants to stay there?”

“Poor lady. I am so happy that it has been settled in this way.”

“I hope she did not betray her great desire to be rid of the King. I’ll swear it was as great as his to be rid of her.”

“Then it is a most happy solution for them both,” I said.

“And there you speak wisely, Katherine Howard.”

I think it was the first time in my life that anyone had thought words of mine wise.

My grandmother requested me to call on her, so I took a barge to Lambeth.

I found the Duchess in an exultant mood. She seemed more spritely and much younger.

“Katherine, my dear child!” she cried. “You look in excellent health and good spirits.”

“There is no reason why I should not be,” I replied.

She laughed. “Of a surety there is not. Indeed, you are going to be much honored. My little granddaughter, Katherine Howard, of all people! Who would have thought it? Your uncle says he finds it hard to believe, and that you will need much guidance. You must do exactly as he tells you.”

“Have we not always done so? And why has he become so interested in me?”

“Katherine, my child, can it be that you do not know?”

“It is because the King has noticed me. I know that.”

She laughed. “Noticed indeed! Well, you were always a pretty child.” She screwed up her eyes and studied me intently. “Many girls are pretty, but you have something more. Plump as a pouter pigeon and yet still the little girl. A pretty creature, who needs to be cherished and cared for, being somewhat unworldly. Yes, I can see it.”

I smiled complacently. It was good to meet with this approval—something rare in the past.

“The King will be here soon.”

“Here?”

“Here indeed. You must be prepared for him. Let me look at you. H’m. Shall I bring the ruby necklace for you to wear? No, I think not. You are better as you are. Simple. I believe that is the quality which attracts. Now, you must be prepared when the King speaks to you.”

“How shall I know what answers I should make? I never know and he asks so many questions. Some of them do not need to be answered, but that is not always so … and I am never sure.”

“You have pleased him as yet. It is true that he is in a mood to be pleased with you. He has fallen in love with you, Katherine. It must be because you are so different from the others.”

“In love with me!”

She nodded. “It is hard to believe that you … a simple girl … could win the affection of the King. But it appears to be so. It is for this reason that he is so eager to be rid of Queen Anne.”

“Oh no, you are wrong! I have amused him with my simple ways. He is kind.”

“You must not be so foolish, Katherine. We know the King likes an innocent and unworldly girl—such a contrast to those who have gone before. It is a novelty. But you must not take that too far. If you seem too stupid, he might turn from you.”

“You cannot mean that I …”

“Could be the next Queen of England.”

I began to tremble at the thought. I married to the King—that old man with his bad leg, which had to be dressed by Thomas—and I was betrothed to Thomas.

I said: “Your Grace, I could not. I am already betrothed.”

She stared at me in amazed horror.

“Betrothed! What mean you?”

“You said I was to be. Do you not remember? To my cousin Thomas Culpepper.”

“Thomas Culpepper? Are you crazy, girl?”

“I am not,” I said defiantly. “We are going to marry, leave Court and live at Hollingbourne.”

A sudden fury came over her. She brought up her hand and slapped my face.

“Do not let me hear you say such a wicked thing again,” she gasped.

“But…”

“Silence! Your uncle would be furious. He would make you sorry you ever saw Thomas Culpepper, and him sorry he ever saw you.”

“We love each other.”

“Be silent, I said. You must be mad. Never a word of this must pass your lips again. Do you want to ruin us all?”

“Ruin you? How?”

“Ruin the whole family. You were always addle-pated. The King has a fancy for you. Your uncle says he has never seen him so determined since …” She faltered. “We do not want such as that to happen again. He was set against the family then … but it was only for a time and we did return to favor. Not a word of this so-called betrothal to Culpepper, or it will be the worse for you … and for him. Not a word, not a word. Is that understood?” “Do you mean … ?”

“What I say. There must be no more talk of Culpepper. You must forget there was ever any mention of you and him. And …” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There was that other. Derham … Francis Derham. He is away. In Ireland, I believe. He must stay there and, Katherine Howard; you must forget you ever saw him.”

“I cannot forget as I will. I could never forget Francis Derham.”

“He came back …”

“I told him it was over between us.”

“It is not only over, it never happened. It must never be mentioned. You did not know Francis Derham. You did not make any arrangement with Thomas Culpepper. Holy Mother of God, Culpepper is still in the King’s service.”

“But I cannot believe I did not know Francis Derham because I dare not speak of him. And I love Thomas Culpepper.”

“Be silent. You love none but the King. This is what he will demand. You are his subject, remember. He has singled you out for great honors. You must be worthy of them.” She drew me to her, half-pleading, half-threatening. “Katherine, you have come too far. You cannot go back now. The King has chosen you. What greater honor could there be than that? You must accept what life offers you. Think of all those who, were they in your position, would be rejoicing in their good fortune.”

I said slowly: “The Queen rejoiced to be free of him.”

“He did not love her. If he had, she would have been the happiest woman in the country. Now … that is for someone else.”

“I wish,” I began. “Oh, how I wish …”

“You will have nothing to fear. Think of it. Queen of England. The King’s much loved Queen, who only has to be as she is, and is sure to please him. You need have no fear. I shall be at hand to help you, and there is your uncle. He will tell you exactly what you have to do. So … as I say, there is nothing to fear … unless, of course, you play the fool and throw away good fortune by prattling of love for this and that one. Listen to me, Katherine. That did not happen. You must put all thought of it from your mind and do as you are told by your uncle and me … and so please the King. You cannot be blamed for what happened in the past.”

I kept thinking of Derham in the Maids’ Chamber, where we had rolled on the floor and made merry, until my grandmother had come in and found us.

There was so much of the past which I wanted to forget, and now I was overwhelmed by the confirmation of that which had haunted me for some time, and while evidence had pointed to the fact that there must be some truth in it, I could not entirely believe it.

The manner in which the King had noticed me should have made me realize the truth. I was not, as he believed, an inexperienced girl. I had seen the expression in his eyes, as I had in those of others. It was merely because he was the King that I had not accepted what it really meant. I had thought of myself as insignificant Katherine Howard, accepted at Court because I was the niece of the Duke of Norfolk.

The glittering prospect was now revealed to me. The King—the much-married King—had chosen me.

I remembered all the excitement there had been when his desire had fallen on my cousin, and how it had brought our family into closer connection with royalty—which seemed to be the ambition of everyone at Court.

I was flattered, and on the other hand alarmed. I kept thinking of the poor Queen, who had fainted with fear when the King’s commissioners came to talk to her and then had nearly fainted again, this time with joy, because she discovered he wanted her to be his sister instead of his wife.

But he liked me. He liked my simple ways. He had never shown any anger toward me, not even that tetchiness which my uncle could sometimes arouse in him. He had smiled at my simplicity and liked me the better for it. He might frighten others, but he had always been very kind to me. And he was the King.

My grandmother was smiling at me now. “Your cheek is a little red,” she said.

“That is because you slapped it.”

“Ah, you are not the Queen yet, child, and I did it for your good. Never … never speak to the King of Thomas Culpepper … nor … that other.”

“I will not,” I said. “It is past and done with.”

“You cannot be blamed for what was done so long ago,” she said, frowning deeply, and I had the idea that she was trying to convince herself.

“Is this thing really true?” I said. “How can you be sure?”

“The King has spoken to your uncle.”

“But do you think he really means it?”

“Of course he means it, child. It is a serious matter. Let me tell you this. Your uncle is very pleased with you.”

“It will be the first time he ever has been.”

“He is proud of you. You must always remember to do what he tells you. Now, we must compose ourselves. The King will be here at any moment. I hear sounds from below. It means the barge will be at the privy stairs.”

There was brief pause while my grandmother studied me, patting my hair and looking anxiously at my cheek.

“You are flushed,” she said. “That is quite becoming. It hides the mark on your cheek. Now … remember. Be yourself. Ask for nothing. Be natural. Be surprised.”

“How can I, when you have already told me?”

“Heed that not. Show yourself overwhelmed by the honor.”

“I am overwhelmed,” I said.

The Duchess nodded, smiling.

My uncle came into the room. He looked at me with more affection than he had ever shown me before—or anyone for that matter I thought rather frivolously, which was strange at such a moment, except perhaps the laundress, Bess Holland. I supposed he was already seeing the crown on the head of another Howard.

“Well,” he said, “you have heard of the honor which is about to come to you.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“That is well. Indeed, you have pleased us all. I know you have little knowledge of worldly matters. That is in your favor. His Majesty will not want to be plagued with women’s arguments. All you have to do is to be as you are. It is this which has won his regard. Now he is impatient. I will conduct you to his presence.”

I followed him into one of the smaller rooms where the King was waiting. He was standing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked larger than ever in his padded surcoat; and there was a large ruby at his throat.

“My niece, Mistress Katherine Howard, Your Majesty,” said my uncle, pushing me ahead of him.

The King was smiling, his little eyes brilliant. He regarded me with fondness. I would have knelt, but he laid his hand on my shoulders and drew me toward him.

“You may leave us, Norfolk,” he said to my uncle, who immediately bowed and obeyed.

“You are not shy of the King, Katherine,” he said. “I think you care not as some would for the honors I am about to give you. I think perhaps you have more regard for my person than for those. Tell me, is that so?”

“Oh yes, Your Majesty.”

“You please me very much, Katherine. In fact, so much that I want you to be my Queen.”

I believed he was waiting for me to go down on my knees in an ecstasy of joy and thank him. That would be difficult for me to do, and I remembered the injunctions to be myself, so I murmured: “Your Majesty cannot…”

“Katherine, there is little the King cannot do if he sets his heart on it. And this I tell you. The matter I am here to speak of is my will, and I will allow none to gainsay me. Katherine, you have pleased me greatly, and I am going to make you my Queen.”

“But Your Majesty …” In spite of my grandmother’s warning, I was on the point of telling him of my betrothal to Thomas, but he had silenced me.

“No buts,” he said. “I will have none … not even from you, sweet Katherine. You are overwhelmed, I know. You did not think this could be so. Now tell me, did you?”

“No, Your Majesty. I …”

He laughed and said tenderly: “You are over-modest… as a maiden should be. You cannot believe this good fortune which has come to you. I like that. But let me tell you this: it shall be so.”

There was something in his demeanor which told me he would be very angry if I confessed my feelings and my proposed betrothal to Thomas, and that the anger might be directed not only against me but Thomas too.

“My dearest little Katherine,” he was saying, “think only on this. I shall raise you up to be my Queen.”

I did not know what to say. My feelings were so mixed. I … to be the Queen! Honored throughout the Court! It was such a dazzling prospect that it was as though it blinded me. All those who had been faintly contemptuous of me would now bow the knee and call me Majesty. It made me want to laugh. That was hysteria, I imagined. And Thomas? Oh, Thomas, I thought, we should have been so happy at Hollingbourne. I could see clearly that there was no choice for me. This glittering and powerful King had decided my fate. And so had my uncle. They had done it between them. I could see that I should never marry Thomas.

The King was smiling at me very kindly. There must be great kindness in him, for he had never shown anything else to me. I was aware of that immense power in him. For some extraordinary reason, after dignified Catherine, dazzling Anne, pretty Jane, and unwanted Anne of Cleves, he had chosen me to be his fifth Queen.

I was not the sort of person who could make things happen the way I wanted them to—although those like my uncle could. I must just let events carry me along.

For a moment I felt trapped. It was not my will, but theirs. I had no recourse but to obey. They had decided my fate, and I was trapped—a golden cage it might be, surrounded by treasure, but I had no means of escaping from it.

Mine was a serene nature. I was not clever enough to devise plans for escape, and I was not sure, when I realized what all this would mean, whether I wanted to.

I was at least wise enough to know that if I did escape from this fate, I should bring the wrath of my family down upon me and would never be allowed to marry Thomas Culpepper.

“You do not speak,” said the King. “I will tell you why. You do not know what to say. Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.

He took my hand and drew me near to him. He looked closely at me and put out a hand to touch my cheek.

“You are beautiful,” he said. “I never saw one that pleased me more than you do. And that pleases you, does it not?”

I nodded.

He drew me even closer. I could feel the warmth of his flesh against mine. He kissed me gently on the forehead.

“Always remain as you are at this moment and you will please me,” he said.

“I … I will try, Your Majesty.”

He gave that rather loud laugh of his.

“You will always please me, I know,” he said. “At last I have found you. I have looked so long. You are like a rose. My favorite flower, Katherine. The flower of England … most beautiful of all flowers. But roses have thorns.” His face darkened, and there was a certain petulant droop to his lips. For a moment he looked angry, then he was smiling again. “And you are my rose without a thorn. That is how I see you, Katherine. Do you wonder that I want to keep you at my side forever?”

I was sitting on his knee now, his arm round me, holding me tightly against him. The ruby on his coat touched my skin, it was so close to me. I wondered about his leg and thought of what Thomas had told me of it. I was about to ask him if it were better but, innocent as I might be about matters of importance, some natural instinct told me that this was not a time to remind him of his infirmities.

“I am blessed in you, sweet Katherine,” he said. “I believe that, through you, the curse which Heaven has put upon me is about to be lifted.”

I wondered how even Heaven would have dared put a curse on such a powerful person, but again I said nothing.

“I am a simple man,” he went on, and I almost showed my amazement at such a statement. “I ask but little. Just to live in peace with a wife who will care for me as I care for her. Katherine, my sweet child, that joy has, till now, been denied me. What have I done that God should punish me, eh?”

Another of those unanswerable questions—and one I had heard before. Fortunately, he supplied the answer, and as I cast down my eyes he continued: “I will tell you. Through no fault of mine, I went through a form of marriage with my brother’s widow. That was no true marriage, and for years I lived in a state of sin with a woman who was not my wife in the eyes of Heaven.”

“Oh no, Your Majesty,” I murmured.

His arm tightened about me: and then his face hardened.

“And then … I married a witch …”

Visions of my beautiful cousin came to me. He had broken with Rome for her sake, and now he said she was a witch.

“Then Jane … she was a gentle creature, but she died and, though she gave me a son, he is not strong. And now … this woman from Flanders. You see what I tell you is truth. But you have come to me and you are going to give me all that I ask. The curse is lifted and so, Katherine, I shall make you my Queen.”

His expression had undergone many changes as he was speaking. He had looked both forlorn and angry. At times he reminded me of a little boy, and then seconds later his face was so twisted in anger that he was like a cruel tyrant.

I felt suddenly sorry for him, and I realized at once what a pretentious attitude that was. On impulse, I put my arms round his neck and kissed his cheek.

The effect of my action was immediate. His eyes filled with tears; his expression was soft and sentimental.

“Sweet Katherine,” he murmured and held me close against him.

And in that moment I was reconciled to whatever lay before me.