The Fifth Queen (21 page)

Katharine said hotly:

‘If you go down into Lincolnshire, I will call upon every man there to fall upon you and hang you.’

‘Why,’ he said, ‘that is why I did come to you, since you are from where my lands are. If I serve you, I would have you to smooth my path there. I ask no more, for now I crave rest and a private life. It is very assured that I should never find that here or in few parts of the land—so well I have served my King. Therefore, if I serve you, you and yours shall cast above my retired farms and my honourable leisure the shadow of your protection. I ask no more.’ He chuckled almost inaudibly. ‘I am set to watch you,’ he said. ‘Viridus will go to Paris to catch another traitor called Brancetor, for the world is full of traitors. Therefore, in a way, it rests with me to hang you.’

He seemed to be seated upon a cask, for there was a creaking of old wood, and he spoke very leisurely.

Katharine said, ‘Good night, and God send you better thoughts.’

‘Why, stay, and I will be brief,’ he pleaded. ‘I dally because it is sweet talking to a fair woman in a black place.’

‘You are easily content, for all the sweet words you get from me,’ she scorned him.

‘See you,’ he said earnestly. ‘It is true that I am set to watch you. I love you because you are fair; I might bend you, since I hold you in the hollow of my hand. But I am a continent man, and there is here a greater stake to be had than any amorous satisfaction. I would save my country from a man who has been a friend, but is grown a villain. Listen.’

He appeared to pause to collect his words together.

‘Baumbach, the Saxish ambassador, is here seeking to tack us to the Schmalkaldner heresies. Yesterday he was with Privy Seal, who loveth the Lutheran alliance. So Privy Seal takes him to his house, and shows him his marvellous armoury, which is such that no prince nor emperor hath elsewhere. So
says Privy Seal to Baumbach: “
I love your alliance; but his Highness will naught of it.
” And he fetched a heavy sigh.’

Katharine said:

‘What is this hearsay to me?’

‘He fetched a heavy sigh,’ Throckmorton continued. ‘An your uncle or Gardiner knew how heavy a sigh it was their hearts would be very glad.’

‘This means that the King’s Highness is very far from Privy Seal?’ Katharine asked.

‘His Highness hateth to do business with small princelings.’ Throckmorton seemed to laugh at the King’s name. ‘His high and princely stomach loveth only to deal with his equals, who are great kings. I have seen the letters that have passed about this Cleves wedding. Not one of them is from his Highness’ hand. It is Privy Seal alone that shall bear the weight of the blow when rupture cometh.’

‘Well, she is a foul slut,’ Katharine said, and her heart was full of sympathy for the heavy King.

‘Nay, she is none such,’ Throckmorton answered. ‘If you look upon her with an unjaundiced eye, she will pass for a Christian to be kissed. It is not her body that his Highness hateth, but her fathering. This is a very old quarrel betwixt him and Privy Seal. His Highness hath been wont to see himself the arbiter of the Christian world. Now Privy Seal hath made of him an ally of German princelings. His Highness loveth the Old Faith and the old royal ways. Now Privy Seal doth seek to make him take up the faith of Schmalkaldners, who are a league of bakers and unfrocked monks. Madam Howard, I tell you that if there were but one man that could strike after the new Parliament is called together …’

Katharine cried:

‘The very stones that Cromwell hath soaked with blood will rise to fall upon him when the King’s feet no longer press them down.’

Throckmorton laughed almost inaudibly.

‘Norfolk feareth Gardiner for a spy; Gardiner feareth the ambition of Norfolk; Bonner would sell them both to Privy Seal for the price of an archbishopric. The King himself is loth to strike, since no man in the land could get him together such another truckling Parliament as can Privy Seal.’

He stopped speaking and let his words soak into her in the darkness, and after a long pause her voice came back to her.

‘It is true that I have heard no man speak as you do.… I can see that his dear Highness must be hatefully inclined to this filthy alliance.’

‘Why, you are minded to come into my hut with me,’ he chuckled. ‘There are few men so clear in the head as I am. So listen again to me. If you would strike at this man, it is of no avail to meddle with him at home. It shall in no way help you to clamour of good monks done to death, of honest men ruined, of virgins thrown on to dung-heaps. The King hath had the pence of these good monks, the lands of these honest men, and the golden neck-collars off these virgins.’

She called out, ‘Keep thy tongue off this sacred King’s name. I will listen to no more lewdness.’

A torch passing outside sent a moving square of light through the high grating across the floor of the cellar. The damp walls became dimly visible with shining snail-tracks on them, and his great form leaning negligently upon a cask, his hand arrested in the pulling of his long beard, his eyes gleaming upon her, sardonic and amused. The light twisted round abruptly and was gone.

‘You are monstrous fair,’ he said, and sighed. She shuddered.

‘No,’ his mocking voice came again, ‘speak not to the King—not to whomsoever you shall elect to speak to the King—of this man’s work at home. The King shall let him go very unwillingly, since no man can so pack a Parliament to do the King’s pleasure. And he hath a nose for treasons that his Highness would give his own nose to possess.’

‘Keep thy tongue off the King’s name,’ she said again.

He laughed, and continued pensively: ‘A very pretty treason might be made up of his speech before his armoury to Baumbach. Mark again how it went. Says he:
“Here are such weaponings as no king, nor prince, nor emperor hath in Christendom. And in this country of ours are twenty gentlemen, my friends, have armouries as great or greater.”
Then he sighs heavily, and saith: “
But our King will never join with your Schmalkaldners. Yet I would give my head that he should
.” … Your madamship marks that this was said to the ambassador from the Lutheran league?’

‘You cannot twist that into a treason,’ Katharine whispered.

‘No doubt,’ he said reasonably, ‘such words from a minister to an envoy are but a courtesy, as one would say,
“I fain would help you, but my master wills it not.”
’

The voice suddenly grew crafty. ‘But these words, spoken before an armoury and the matter of twenty gentlemen with armouries greater. Say that these twenty are creatures of my Lord Cromwell,
implicitur
, for the Lutheran cause. And again, the matter,
“No king hath such an armoury.”
 … 
No
king, I would have you observe.’

‘Why, this is monstrous foolish pettifogging,’ Katharine said. ‘No king would believe a treason in such words.’

‘I call to mind Gilmaw of Hurstleas, near our homes,’ the voice came, reflectively.

‘I did know him,’ said Katharine. ‘You had his head.’

‘You never heard how Privy Seal did that,’ the voice came back mockingly. ‘Goodman Gilmaw had many sheep died of the rot because it rained seven weeks on end. So, coming back from a market-day, with too much ale for prudence and too little for silence, he cried,
“Curse on this rain! The weather was never good since knaves ruled about the King.”
So that came to the ears of Privy Seal, who made a treason of it, and had his sheep, and his house, and his lands, and his head. He was but one in
ten thousand that have gone the same road home from market and made speeches as treasonable.’

‘Thus poor Gilmaw died?’ Katharine asked. ‘What a foul world this is!’

‘Time it was cleansed,’ he answered.

He let his words rankle for a time, then he said softly: ‘Privy Seal’s words before his armoury were as treasonable as Gilmaw’s on the market road.’

Again he paused.

‘Privy Seal may call thee to account for such a treason,’ he said afterwards. ‘He holdeth thee in a hollow of his hand.’ She did not speak.

He said softly: ‘It is a folly to be too proud to fight the world with the world’s weapons.’

The heavy darkness seemed to thrill with her silence. He could tell neither whether she were pondering his words nor whether she still scorned him. He could not even hear her breathing.

‘God help me!’ he said at last, in an angry high note, ‘I am not such a man as to be played with too long. People fear me.’

She kept silence still, and his voice grew high and shrill: ‘Madam Howard, I can bend you to my will. I have the power to make such a report of you as will hang you to-morrow.’

Her voice came to him expressionlessly—without any inflexion. In few words, what would he have of her? She played his own darkness off against him, so that he could tell nothing new of her mood.

He answered swiftly: ‘I will that you tell the men you know what I have told you. You are a very little thing; it were no more to me to cut you short than to drown a kitten. But my own neck I prize. What I have told you I would have come to the ears of my lord of Winchester. I may not be seen to speak with him myself. If you will not tell him, another will; but I would rather it were you.’

‘Evil dreams make thy nights hideous!’ she cried out so suddenly that his voice choked in his throat. ‘Thou art such dirt as I would avoid to tread upon; and shall I take thee into my hand?’ She was panting with disgust and scorn. ‘I have listened to thee; listen thou to me. Thou art so filthy that if thou couldst make me a queen by the touch of a finger, I had rather be a goose-girl and eat grass. If by thy forged tales I could cast down Mahound, I had rather be his slave than thy accomplice! Could I lift my head if I had joined myself to thee? thou Judas to the Fiend. Junius Brutus, when he did lay siege to a town, had a citizen come to him that would play the traitor. He accepted his proffered help, and when the town was taken he did flay the betrayer. But thou art so filthy that thou shouldst make me do better than that noble Roman, for I would flay thee, disdaining to be aided by thee; and upon thy skin I would write a message to thy master saying that thou wouldst have betrayed him!’

His laugh rang out discordant and full of black mirth; for a long time his shoulders seemed to shake. He spoke at last quite calmly.

‘You will have a very short course in this world,’ he said.

A hoarse and hollow shouting reverberated from the gully; the glow of a torch grew bright in the window-space. Katharine had been upon the point of opening the door, but she paused, fearing to meet some night villains in the gully. Throckmorton was now silent, as if he utterly disdained her, and a frightful blow upon the wood of the door—so certain were they that the torch would pass on—made them spring some yards further into the cellar. The splintering blows were repeated; the sound of them was deafening. Glaring light entered suddenly through a great crack, and the smell of smoke. Then the door fell in half, one board of it across the steps, the other smashing back to the wall upon its hinges. Sparks dripped from the torch, smoke eddied down, and upon the
cellar steps were the legs of a man who rested a great axe upon the ground and panted for breath.

‘Up the steps!’ he grunted. ‘If you ever ran, now run. The guard will not enter here.’

Katharine sped up the steps. It was old Rochford’s face that greeted hers beneath the torch. He grunted again, ‘Run you; I am spent!’ and suddenly dashed the torch to the ground.

At the entry of the tunnel some make of creature caught at her sleeve. She screamed and struck at a gleaming eye with the end of her crucifix. Then nothing held her, and she ran to where, at the mouth of the gully, there were a great many men with torches and swords peering into the darkness of the passage.

In the barge Margot made an outcry of joy and relief, and the other ladies uttered civil speeches. The old man, whose fur near the neck had been slashed by a knife-thrust as he came away, explained pleasantly that he was able to strike good blows still. But he shook his head nevertheless. It was evil, he said, to have such lovers as this new one. Her cousin was bad, but this rapscallion must be worse indeed to harbour her in such a place.… Margot, who knew her London, had caught him at the barge, to which he had hurried.

‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I thought you had played me a trick and gone off with some spark. But when I heard to what place, I fetched the guard along with me.… Well for you that it was I, for they had not come for any other man, and then you had been stuck in the street. For, see you, whether you would have had me fetch you away or no it is ten to one that a gallant who would take you there would mean that you should never come away alive—and God help you whilst you lived in that place.’

Katharine said:

‘Why, I pray God that you may die on the green grass yet, with time for a priest to shrive you. I was taken there against my will.’ She told him no more of the truth, for it was not every man’s matter, and already she had made up her mind that there was but one man to whom to speak.… She went into the dark end of the barge and prayed until she came to Greenwich, for the fear of the things she had escaped still made her shudder, and in the company of Mary and the saints of Lincolnshire alone could she feel any calmness. She thought they whispered round her in the night amid the lapping of the water.