Jean Plaidy - The Sixth Wife: The Story of Katherine Parr
“I do no such thing, Your Majesty,” said Katharine quickly, “since it would be unseemly on my part. I would only beg Your Grace that you might cease to forbid the use of that translation which you previously licensed.”
The King let loose his anger. He flagellated it to greater vehemence. He wanted to find fault with his wife; he was tired of her. Through the haze of his fury he saw the alluring body of the Duchess of Suffolk.
“By my faith!” he cried. “I’ll have obedience from my subjects; and hark ye! a wife is not less a subject because she is a wife. Madam, when we say it is forbidden to use a translation, it is forbidden.”
“My lord,” said Katharine, trembling before the storm which she had raised, “your word is law indeed, but this translation did so clearly set forth the truth…”
“We would hear no more,” roared the King. “Therefore you have our leave to retire from our presence.”
She knelt before him, but he waved her away.
“Come,” he said, turning to Gardiner, “let us attend to matters of state.”
When Katharine had gone, the purple color flamed anew into his face.
“A good hearing it is,” he snarled, “when women become such clerks; and much to my comfort to be taught in my old age by my wife!”
Gardiner’s eyes were glistening; he wetted his dry lips. “Your Majesty, have I your leave to speak to you on a very serious matter?”
The King’s shrewd eyes appraised his Bishop. He knew the nature of this serious matter; it was a matter, above all others, that he wished to discuss.
“You have my leave,” he said.
“Your Majesty said that if any offended against your laws, no matter what rank that person should hold … it was the bounden duty…”
“Yes…yes…” said the King testily. “I remember my words. There is no need to repeat them.”
“There are secret matters, Your Majesty, which I have long sought an opportunity of bringing to your ears…but since they concern the opinions of the Queen…”
“Well?” cried the King. “Get on, man. Get on.”
“Your Majesty excels the princes of this and any other age as well as all the professed doctors of divinity. It is unseemly for any of Your Majesty’s subjects to argue and discuss with you as malapertly as the Queen hath done. It is grievous for any of your counselors to hear this done.”
“You’re right, Bishop. You’re right there.”
Gardiner lowered his voice. “Your Grace, I could make great discoveries, were I not held back by the Queen’s faction.”
The King looked fiercely at his Bishop, but his pleasure was obvious; and Gardiner knew that the moment for which he had longed was at hand. He would not have been in his eminent position if he had not been a man to seize his opportunities.
NAN WANDERED LISTLESSLY about the gardens of Hampton Court. It was no use pretending that she was unafraid. Every time a messenger came to the apartment she would find herself shivering.
She had heard of the terrible things which had happened to Anne Askew in the Tower. She had been there, at Smithfield Square, and had seen the poor broken creature they had carried out in her chair. She could not look on that gruesome end to Anne’s tragedy; she had knelt on the stones praying while the horrible smoke rose to the sky.
And those wicked men who had destroyed Anne now sought to destroy the Queen.
Nan watched a bee fly past, on the way from the flower garden, laden with pollen. She envied the bee who knew nothing of court intrigues, of fear, and the terrible things which could be done to a good and virtuous woman who had asked nothing but to be allowed to think for herself.
And what next? wondered Nan.
She was in constant dread that she herself would be taken to the Tower. What if they questioned her under torture? It was not the pain that she dreaded so much as the fear that she would not be strong enough to keep silent, and that she might betray the Queen.
What tragedies these gardens must have seen! It seemed to Nan that tension and horror were in the very air of this place. So many had suffered here. So many had walked these gardens waiting for disaster to overtake them.
And now, in the court, people were saying that the days of Katharine Parr were numbered.
The King had turned his eyes elsewhere; and here was the same pattern that had been worked before, with Katharine Parr in place of Anne Boleyn.
I would die for her! thought Nan; for dying would be easy. And oh, how I pray that it may never be my evil lot to betray her.
She must not delay. It was time to attend, with the other ladies, in the Queen’s apartment. The Queen’s apartment…. How long before there would be a new Queen in place of Queen Katharine?
She was about to cross the great courtyard when she saw, hurrying across it, that man who had taken off his mantle that he himself might ferociously work the rack and so inflict greater torture on the suffering body of Anne Askew. Nan drew back and hid herself in an archway.
Sir Thomas Wriothesley, the Lord Chancellor, was smiling, and it occurred to Nan that she had never seen him look so smug.
What could this mean? What fresh evil was he planning?
And as he crossed the courtyard, obviously in great haste, by some chance which could only be called miraculous, a scroll fell from his sleeve and came to rest on the cobbles.
Nan waited for him to pick it up, but he was unaware that it had fallen.
He passed on into the palace.
Quickly, and with madly beating heart, Nan ran out of her hiding place and picked up the documents.
She felt them to be of great importance, but she did not stop to read them; she thrust them into her bodice and ran, as fast as she could, to the Queen’s apartment. Intuitively she knew that the self-satisfied smile on the face of the Chancellor had something to do with these documents.
When she was in a small antechamber she took them from her bodice and examined one of them. She saw the seal and the King’s signature, and with horror, realized what it was.
Benumbed, she stood looking at it, and never in all her life had she felt such misery.
“What shall I do?” she whispered. “What can I do?”
She closed her eyes and said a short prayer asking for help and guidance that she might do the right thing. Then she thrust the documents back into her bodice and went to find the Queen.
IN THE PRIVY CHAMBER the Queen sat alone with her sister. She could not bring herself to work on the embroidery which lay on the windowseat.
She had been aware of the atmosphere of brooding disaster which pervaded the court. She was conscious of the quick glances which the King gave her now and then. All the ladies and gentlemen of the court were aware of it. They waited, with a certain fatalism, for past events to be repeated.
Lady Herbert felt the tension as much as any. Not only did she fear for her sister but for her husband, Lord Herbert, who was involved in the new learning as deeply as she was. It was true that the powerful Seymours were with them, but one felt sure, knowing the mental agility of the Seymours, that if there was trouble they would, with a few twists and turns, extricate themselves and leave their friends to take the blame.
The tragedy of Anne Askew could not be forgotten or misunderstood. It was a grim warning, the shadow cast before approaching disaster.
Katharine spoke of it, for to whom could she speak her thoughts if not to this beloved sister?
“I cannot bear to refer to it,” she said. “And yet I cannot bear not to.”
“Oh, my sister, when the mind is disturbed, it is well to speak of the worry, since it is not dismissed by silence.”
“How brave she was! Oh, Anne, could any of us be as brave?”
“I doubt it. It seems she was born to be a martyr. She longed for martyrdom. She was different from the rest of us. She embraced death eagerly; but dearest Kate… you and I… there is much on Earth that we long for.”
“You speak truth there, sister.”
Anne said: “You think of Seymour still, do you not?”
“I do.”
“Dearest Kate, it is not wise.”
“Love is beyond wisdom.”
“Sometimes I wonder…”
“You wonder whether I am a foolish woman to love him? You see him about the court, seeming not to care for me, casting his eyes on others. But, Anne, what could he do? How could he show his love for me, the King’s wife?”
Anne Herbert sighed and turned away. The tragedy of Anne Askew was a safer subject than the love of Thomas Seymour.
“I have scarcely slept since they took Anne Askew to the Tower,” she said.
“Nor I. I have dreams, Anne…horrible dreams. I dream of her on the rack…so frail…so delicate. And her bearing it so bravely, refusing to name us. I am glad we made her days in prison as comfortable as we could.”
“We acted foolishly in sending Nan with comforts,” said Anne. “But I am glad we did so. I, like you, dream dreams…of discovery. I dream that Nan… little Nan…is caught and tortured.”
The Queen shuddered. “If she had betrayed us they would have sent me to the Tower.”
“Dearest Kate, I think that was what Gardiner wished to do. Face the truth, my sister. It was you whom they wanted…not poor Anne Askew.”
“How I hate that man… and Wriothesley…Wriothesley the brute who tortured Anne with his own hands. How I hate them both!”
“Do not let your hatred grow too hot. You must be cool and calm … as they are.”
“Anne…my dearest sister… what can I do?”
Anne Herbert rose and, going to the Queen, put her hands on her shoulders and, drawing her toward her, held her close.
“Kate, face the truth. When the King’s nuptial ring was put on your finger, your head was placed directly under the ax.”
“I know it, Anne. I would be brave, but I am so frightened. When I think of what happiness might have been mine…”
“Hush! You must not speak of Seymour. You must not think of him.” Anne Herbert’s mouth hardened. “You must play his game. When he looks at you it would seem he has forgotten that he ever thought to make you his wife.”
“He is clever. He thinks of me, but he knows that one careless word would be enough to send us both to the scaffold. Oh, Anne, often I think of those others… Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard.”
“But you must not! You must not!”
“How can I help it? What happened to them will happen to me.”
“Nay!” Anne was frightened by the signs of hysteria in her sister. “We have the advantage of knowing what happened to them.”
Katharine laughed wildly, and it was laughter which aroused fresh fears in her sister. Was this calm Kate, the practical one? They had made fun of Kate in the old days at home. Dear, sensible little Kate! they had called her. How placidly she had received the news that she was to marry Lord Borough; and how quickly she had adjusted herself to life with her husbands. There had never been any sign of hysteria in Kate during those years. But she had been living at the whim of a royal murderer for the last three years, and the strain was too much. It would break through the deep composure.
“Death is a dreary subject,” said Anne. “And how do any of us know when it will catch up with us? Come. I want you to see this embroidery of mine.”
“It is beautiful,” said the Queen. After a short silence she went on: “I often think of life in Yorkshire. Long summer days and the buzz of the bees in the lavender. I would sit in the garden with my husband and we would talk of… little things; the weeding that would have to be done; the little affairs of those who labored for us. How different life was! I was a Catholic then.”
“Catholic or Protestant, none is safe, Kate.”
“You are right. From the fury of the King none is safe.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Who is there?” cried Katharine, and the color left her face.
Every knock, every sound, is to her like the death knell! thought Anne.
“Please come in,” said the Queen in a breathless voice.
The door was opened and both ladies felt an immense relief, because it was only Nan who stood there.
But what had happened to Nan? Her face was parchment color and her eyes were wild; she held her hands across her bodice as though she feared someone might force from her what was hidden there.
“Your Majesty …” she stammered; and she did not fall on her knees, but stood still, looking wildly from the Queen to the Queen’s sister.
“You are distressed, Nan,” said the Queen. “What ails you?”
“Your Majesty, I know not what I have done. I thought it for the best….”
“Come here, Nan. Tell us what troubles you.”
Nan came forward and, as she did so, took the documents from her bodice.
“It was in the courtyard, Your Majesty. I saw the Chancellor. He was smiling, and he looked…so evil, that I greatly feared what was in his mind. And then … this dropped from his gown. I picked it up, and instead of running after him, something held me back. And…I saw Your Majesty’s name…so I brought it to you. If I have done aught wrong, it was for love of Your Majesty.”
The Queen took the documents. She said: “Nan, you did well to bring this to me. If … if it is aught that should be passed on to a member of the court, I will see to its despatch.”
“I thank Your Majesty.”
Nan had recovered her selfpossession. She had done all that she could.
Katharine said: “You may go, Nan.” And her sister, watching her, was aware of the great effort she was making to keep her control.
“I…I trust I did right, Your Majesty,” said Nan dropping to her knees.
“Yes, Nan. Yes.”
Nan went out, and Lady Herbert said quickly: “What are these papers?”
“They concern me, Anne. They concern me deeply. Read this! You see…”
Anne took the paper, and as she gazed at it, realized that what she had feared above all things had come to pass.
“It is a mandate for my arrest,” said Katharine slowly, and the hysterical laughter was in her voice.
“Oh God!” cried Anne. “It has come. It has come then.” She kept staring at the paper; she longed to tell herself that her eyes had deceived her, that fear and anger had made her see what was not there. But she knew that her eyes were not deceived. She cried out angrily: “Wriothesley has done this. He… and Gardiner. I would it were in my power to kill them!”
“But it is not in your power,” said Katharine wildly. “It is they who have the power. It is they who plan to kill me.”
“Nan saw this mandate for your arrest. She has endangered her life by bringing it to you. There are many who love you, Kate. Remember that. Remember it, dearest sister. Wriothesley was on his way to the King. He would have done his best to persuade His Majesty to sign.”
Katharine’s laughter seemed to fill the apartment. “Did you not see then? Did you not see it, Anne?”
Anne stared at her sister.
“The King!” cried Katharine wildly. “The King has signed. See. Here! The King has signed the mandate for the Queen’s arrest.”
Katharine walked to the window and looked out over the gardens where the red and white roses were lifting their faces to the hot sunshine.
