Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1 (198 page)

Well, I must say that it is all well and good to be married but I have not had half the wedding that she had. There was no great reception for me at Greenwich, and no riding out on a beautiful horse and being greeted by him with all the nobles of England behind him. There was no sailing in barges down the river while the City of London went mad with joy either, so those who think that to marry the king is a very merry thing should note my wedding, which was – to be blunt – a hole-in-the corner business. There! I've said it, and anyone who thinks different can't have been here. And actually, that would be most people in the world – for next to no-one was here.

I said to Lady Rochford, the day before: ‘Please find out from the groom of the chamber or the Lord Chamberlain or somebody what it is we are to do. Where I am to stand, and what I am to say and what to do.' I wanted to practise. I like to practise if I am going to appear before people and everyone will watch me. I should have been warned by her response.

‘Nothing much to practise,' she said dourly. ‘Your bridegroom is well-rehearsed at least. You will just have to repeat the vows. And there will be hardly any audience for you at all.'

And how right she was! There was the Bishop of London officiating (thank you so much, not even a real archbishop for me), there
was the king, not even wearing a special waistcoat, in an old coat – isn't that next to insulting? – there was me in the finest gown that I could order; but what could I do in little more than a fortnight? And not even a crown on my head!

He gave me some very good jewels, I sent for the goldsmith to value them at once and they are indeed very fine, though some of them I know for a fact were brought by Katherine of Aragon from Spain, and who wants jewels that belonged to a friend of your grandmother? I have no doubt that there will be sables as good as Queen Anne's to follow, and already I have commanded the dressmakers to make me new gowns and there will be gifts from everyone in the world, as soon as everyone knows, as soon as everyone is told.

But there is no denying that it was not as great a wedding as I had expected, and it was not a patch on hers. I thought we would have planned it for months, and there would be processions and my important entry to London, and I should have spent my first night in the Tower and then processed to Westminster Abbey through streets which were swathed in cloth of gold, with people singing songs about me. ‘Fair Katherine', I thought they would sing. ‘Rose of England.'

But no, instead there is a mere bishop, there is the king, there am I in a bewitching gown of grey-green silk which shifts colours as I move, and a new hood, and his pearls at least, and there is my uncle and grandmother as witnesses, and a couple of men from his court, and then we go to dine; and then … And then! … It is unbelievable! Nobody talks of anything but the beheading of Thomas Cromwell.

At a wedding breakfast! Is that what a bride wants to hear on her wedding day? There are no healths drunk and no speeches made to me, and scarcely any celebration. Nobody pays me any compliments at all, there is no dancing and no flirtation and no flattery. They can talk of nothing else but Thomas Cromwell because he has been beheaded today. On my wedding day! Is this how the king celebrates
his wedding? With the death of his chief advisor and best friend? It's not a very nice gift for a girl on her wedding day, is it? It's not as if I am whoever she is in the Bible who wanted someone's head for a wedding gift. All I really wanted for a wedding gift were sables, not the news that the king's advisor has been beheaded, calling for mercy.

But it is all the old people talk about, no-one consults my feelings at all, they are utterly delighted with it, of course, and so they talk over the top of me, as if I were a child instead of the new Queen of England, and they talk about the alliance with France and say that King Francis will help us with the Pope. And nobody asks me for my opinion at all.

The king grips my hand beneath the shield of the table and leans towards me and whispers, ‘I cannot wait for tonight, my rose, my finest jewel,' which is hardly very inspiring when I think that Thomas Culpepper had to help him to his seat, and will no doubt have to heave him into my bed.

In short, I am the happiest woman in the world, praise God. But just a little discontented tonight.

And I am out of my usual ways. At this time of night when I was in the queen's chamber we would all be getting ready to dine in the hall and we would be looking one another over and teasing each other if anyone had done their hair very well, or was dressed very fine. Someone would always accuse me of trying to attract one boy or another and I would always blush and say, ‘No! Not at all!' as if I were shocked at the thought of it. And the queen would come out of her bedroom and laugh at us all and then she would lead us into the hall and it would all be very merry. Half the time there would be a young man with an eye to me, in the last few weeks there has been Thomas Culpepper always smiling at me, and all the girls around me would nudge me and tell me to look for my honour. Of course he does not even look at me now, obviously there is no amusement for a queen, you would think I was as old as my husband.

It was more than merry; it was busy and gay and young. There was always a crowd of us, all together, all happy and sharing a jest. And if the jest wore a little sour from time to time, with jealousy or malice, then there was always another person to complain to, and a little group to form, and a little quarrel to run. I like being in a gang of girls, I like the maidens' chamber, I like being one of the queen's ladies and all of us being together.

It is all very well being Queen of England but I have no friends. It just seems to be me, and these old people: Grandmother, my uncle, the king and his old men of the Privy Council. The young men in the king's service don't even smile at me now, you would think they didn't even like me. Thomas Culpepper bows his head when I come near him and doesn't meet my eyes. And the old people talk among themselves about the things that interest old people: the weather, the bad end of Thomas Cromwell, his estates and money, the state of the church and the danger of Papists and heretics, the danger of the men of the North who still long for their monasteries. And I sit here like a well-behaved daughter, like a well-behaved granddaughter actually, and it is all I can do not to yawn.

I turn my head one way to appear as if I am listening to my uncle, and then I turn the other to the king. I don't hear any of them, to tell truth. It is all buzz, buzz above me, and there are no musicians and no dancing and nothing to amuse me but the conversation of my husband, and what bride ever wanted that?

Then Henry says, very soft and sweet, that it is time for us to retire, and thank God Lady Rochford comes in and takes me away from the rest of them, and she has a new and beautiful nightshift for me with a matching cape to go over the top, and I change my gown in the queen's own dressing room because I am queen now.

‘God save you, Your Grace,' she says. ‘But you have risen very high indeed.'

‘I have, Lady Rochford,' I say, most solemnly. ‘And I shall keep
you by me if you advise me and help me in the future as you have done in the past.'

‘Your uncle has commanded me to do just that,' she says. ‘I am to be head of your privy chamber.'

‘I shall appoint my own ladies,' I say, very haughty.

‘No, you won't,' she says pleasantly. ‘Your uncle has already made the chief appointments.'

I check that the door is closed behind her. ‘How is the queen?' I ask her. ‘You have just come from Richmond, haven't you?'

‘Don't call her queen.' She stops me at once. ‘You're the queen now.'

I tut at my own stupidity. ‘I forgot. How is she, anyway?'

‘She was very sad when I left,' she says. ‘Not for the loss of him, I don't think. But for the loss of all of us. She liked the life as Queen of England, she liked the rooms and being with us, and everything about it.'

‘I liked it too,' I say wistfully. ‘I miss it too. Lady Rochford, does she blame me very much, d'you think? Did she say anything against me?'

Lady Rochford ties my nightgown at the neck. There are little seed pearls embroidered on the ties, it is a most heartwarming gown, it will comfort me on my wedding night to know that I am wearing a gown that costs a small fortune in pearls. ‘She doesn't blame you,' she says kindly. ‘Silly girl. Everyone knows that this was not of your doing – except that you are young and pretty and no-one can blame you for that. Not even her. She knows that you did not plan her fall and her unhappiness, any more than you are responsible for the death of Thomas Cromwell. Everyone knows that you don't matter at all in this.'

‘I am queen,' I say, rather nettled. ‘I should think I matter more than anyone.'

‘You are the fifth queen,' she points out, quite unmoved by my irritation. ‘And to be honest, there has been none worth the name of queen since the first one.'

‘Well, I am the queen now,' I say stoutly. ‘And that is all that matters.'

‘Queen of the day,' she says, going behind me to spread out the little train of my nightshift. It too is heavy with seed pearls, it is the most gorgeous of gowns. ‘A mayfly queen, God save your little majesty.'

The king, having won his rose without a thorn, is determined to keep her close. Half the court don't even know that the wedding has taken place, left behind at Westminster, out of touch with everything that is happening here. This is the king's private circle, his new wife, her family, and only his most trusted friends and advisors; I am among them.

Once again I have proved my loyalty, once again I am the confidante who will tell everything. Once again I can be put into the queen's chamber, into her most secret heart, I can be put there and trusted to betray. I have been trusted friend to Queen Katherine, Queen Anne, Queen Jane and then Queen Anne; and I have seen all of them fall from favour or die during my service. If I were a superstitious woman I would think of myself as a plague wind that blows death warmly, with affection, like the breath of a whisper.

So I am not superstitious, and I don't trouble myself to think of the part I have played in these deaths and shames and disgraces. I have done my duty by the king and by my family. I have done my duty even when it cost me everything: my own true love and my honour. Why, my own husband … but there is no point in thinking of George tonight. He would be pleased anyway: another Howard girl on the throne of England, a Boleyn in the most favoured place. He was the most ambitious of us all. He would be the first to say
that it was worth any lie to get a place at court, to join the king's most favoured circle. He would be the first to understand that there are times when the truth is a luxury that a courtier cannot afford.

I think he would be surprised how far the king has gone, how easily he steps from power, to great power, into absolute power. George was not a fool; I think if he were here now he would be warning that the king without any bridle on his will is not a great king (as we assure him) but a monster. I think when George died he knew that the king had stretched to the limits of tyranny and would go further.

As seems to be the pattern for the king's weddings, this one is followed by a round of executions. The king settles his scores with old enemies, and those who favoured the previous wife. The death of the Earl of Hungerford and his foolish soothsayer seems to put away the whisper of witchcraft. He was accused of all sorts of necromancy and wild sexual misdoings. A couple of Papists are to die for their part in the Lisle plot, the Princess Mary's tutor among them. That will sadden her, and serve as a warning for her too. The friendship of Anne of Cleves has given her no protection; she is friendless again, she is in danger again. All Papists and Papist sympathisers are in danger. She had better be warned. The Howards are back in power and they support the king, who is making a clean sweep of his old enemies to mark his happiness with the new Howard girl. He also kills a handful of Lutherans: a warning to Anne of Cleves and those who thought that she would lead him to reform. When she kneels to pray at her bedside at Richmond Palace tonight she will know that she has been spared by a hair's breadth. He will want her to live the rest of her life in fear.

Katherine, I notice, kneels to pray but does not close her eyes, I would swear she does not say so much as a Hail Mary. She clasps her long white fingers together and she kneels and draws breath but there is no thought of God in her mind. No thought of anything at
all, would be my bet. There is never much in that pretty head. If she is praying for anything it is for sables like Queen Anne had for her betrothal.

Of course she is too young to be a good queen. She is too young to be anything but a silly girl. She knows nothing of charity to the poor, nothing of the duties of her great position, nothing about running a great household, let alone running a country. When I think that Queen Katherine was named regent and commanded England I could laugh out loud. This child could not command a pet dove. But she is pleasant and agreeable to the king. The duke her uncle has coached her pretty well in obedience and politeness, and it is my task to watch for the rest. She dances very prettily for the king, and she sits quietly beside him while he talks to men old enough to be her grandfather. She smiles when he addresses a remark to her, and she lets him pinch her cheek or hug her waist without grimace. At dinner the other night he could not keep his hands off her breasts and she blushed but did not pull away when he pawed at her before all the company. She has been raised in a hard school, the duchess is known for a heavy hand with her girls. The duke will have threatened her with the axe if she does not obey the king in thought and word and deed. And, to do her justice, she is a sweet thing anyway, she is glad of the king's presents, and glad to be queen. It is easy for her to be pretty and pleasing to him. He does not ask for much now. He does not want a wife of high intelligence and moral purpose like Queen Katherine. Nor one with a wit of fire like Anne. He just wants to enjoy her slim young body and get a baby on her.

It is as well the court is not here, in these early days of their marriage. Her family and those who profit from the marriage can look away from him pulling her about, her little hand lost in his grip, her determined smile when he stumbles on his bad leg, her rosy blush of embarrassment when his hand wanders to her crotch under the dinner table. Anyone who was not profiting from this
mismatch wedding would find it disturbing to see such a pretty child dished up for such an old man. Anyone speaking honestly would call it a sort of rape.

Fortunate then, that there is no-one here who would ever speak honestly.