The Rose Without a Thorn (20 page)

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.”