Текст книги "Queen of This Realm"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
Соавторы: Jean Plaidy
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That February day stands out clearly in my memory. I had been thinking of her constantly since I knew that the King had given the royal assent to her attainder. Only two days later she was taken to the scaffold.
The poor child faced death meekly, they said, almost as though she did not understand what it was all about.
They buried her close to my mother in the Church of St Peter ad Vincula.
I felt ill for several days after. I dreamed of her mangled corpse and I shivered with a terrible fear for the fate of women in the hands of cruel men.
THE FOLLOWING YEAR my father the King took yet another wife and the result of this was that I was brought right into the family circle and began to feel more important than I had since the death of my mother. It was the first time in my life that I felt I belonged to a family.
Katharine Parr had been married twice before and of course Kat knew a great deal about her.
“Not much of a life,” she said. “First married to Lord Borough…old enough to be her grandfather some say. Well, at least he had the decency to die when she was seventeen, but what did they do but marry the poor girl to Lord Latimer who had already had two wives before. He only died this year, and there she is thirty years old and at last free…or so she thinks. I'll tell you something… she had hopes of Thomas Seymour… yes, our Prince's own bold uncle … a fine upstanding gentleman, they say, and poor Katharine Parr head over heels in love with him, which is easy enough to understand.”
“It must have been his brother who carried me at Edward's christening,” I said.
“Thomas is quite different from my lord Earl, they say. Stern… that's Hertford… seeking high office, never forgetting for a moment that he is the uncle of the heir to the throne. Perhaps Thomas doesn't either…What a handsome man he is! I saw him once…”
“And is Katharine Parr going to marry him?”
“Well, they say the King himself has his eye on her.”
“It can't be. He's… old.”
“Who says the King can't do as he pleases? Will it be a crown for the widow Parr? I'll warrant she'd rather have a plain gold ring from Thomas Seymour. There is a certain risk to a woman who becomes the wife of your royal father. There! Forget I said that.”
“But it's true, Kat,” I said soberly.
My father married Katharine Parr in July just over a year after that February day when Katharine Howard laid her pretty head on the block.
Katharine Parr proved to be different from my father's other wives. I think the most noticeable of her qualities was her motherliness. She was meant to be a mother and she deeply regretted that none of her marriages with old men had brought her children. She mothered the King, which was perhaps what he needed at his time of life. He was fifty-two years old now, his indulgences had been many and he was showing his age. I suppose the death of Katharine Howard had a particular effect on him. He had been happy with her for that short time; she might not have been so exciting as my mother, but her docility and overflowing affection had pleased him; he had not really wanted to be rid of her, but he could be ruthless when he believed himself to have been deceived. His rude health was failing him now; his bulk was turning to fat and he had an ulcer on his leg which caused him great pain and made him very irritable. Katharine Parr knew how to dress it and he used to sit with his foot in her lap, which gave it some ease. She had had a great deal of practice in looking after ailing husbands, and she was very capable at it. The King was fond of her in a mild way, but that seemed to suit him nowadays.
It was that motherliness in her which brought her to beg a favor from the King. He had a family, she reminded him, and it was sad that they were not all together under one roof. Mary Tudor was a woman now; but the two younger ones, Elizabeth and Edward, should be together. She would be a mother to them and he should be a good father.
He gave way, and for the first time I found myself within a family. I was delighted. For one thing it brought me closer to Edward, who was not only my brother but the future King. I was at the time ten years old and every day growing more and more aware of what intrigues went on about me. I realized now that because of my position as the King's daughter the smallest event might be of the utmost importance to me.
The peaceful existence of those days was due to my stepmother's influence. Yet being young I quickly chose to forget how suddenly storms could blow up and it did not occur to me that anything could happen to disturb this newly found contentment. One of my chief pleasures was the company of my brother. He was somewhat pale and thin and not overfond of outdoor sports and pastimes, a fact which did not please my father; but he loved his books, and so did I. We used to run into the schoolroom even before lesson times and could not wait to get to work. We were different in some ways although we looked alike—both had the same white skin and reddish gold hair and bright eyes with a tawny look in them—alert eyes that darted everywhere and took in everything. Edward was perhaps more of a scholar than I was. He absorbed facts, stored them in his mind and never forgot them. He accepted what his books told him and never questioned anything whereas I hesitated over every problem. I was constantly asking the question why.
During this time, when Edward was about six or seven and I was four years older, we would converse together and I would express my doubts, which I was amused to see shocked him a little. Kat used to listen to us and say we were a pair of old wiseacres; and although we did not always agree we never quarreled. The love between us was great and growing. I think he was disturbed by so much responsibility weighing on his frail shoulders; he felt more insecure than I did and looked to me for companionship and even some protection.
Because of his importance he could not be taught by someone like Kat. To tell the truth I was getting a little beyond her myself. “You know more than I do,” she said ruefully on several occasions. The Queen realized this and consulted my father with the result that the most learned tutors in the land were found for my brother, and because I shared his apartments I was fortunate enough to share his tutors as well. There was Dr Richard Cox, the Provost of Eton, who was a very erudite gentleman, and later on Sir John Cheke himself came from Cambridge. He brought with him Roger Ascham, who was very interested in my work and wrote letters of encouragement to me.
There were many at Court who marveled at this intense desire for knowledge which my brother and I possessed; they thought it unchildlike, but Kat said it had come about because my brother grew so tired out of doors, but he never did with his books; and as for me, it was the manner in which she had taught me which had encouraged my love of learning. “I never forced you,” she said. “Roger Ascham once said to me, ‘If you pour much drink at once into a goblet the most part will dash out and run over; if you pour it softly you may fill it even to the top and so Her Grace (meaning you, my Lady) I doubt not by little and little may be increased in learning that at greater length cannot be required.' I remembered that, and I always made learning fun, didn't I? You and I could make of it a game which we could play together… until now when you have become so wise as to outgrow me.”
I said to her then: “And who is this wise man? Roger Ascham, did you say?”
That was before Sir John Cheke brought him to us and the first time I heard his name.
Kat said a little coyly that he was a friend of Mr Ashley, who was a gentleman friend of hers. “He is a connection of the Boleyns,” she added proudly.
I did not think much about Mr Ashley then because I was so absorbed in what was going on. A new tutor had joined us. This was William Grindal, a scholar from Cambridge—so we continued to have the best tutors in the land.
Our stepmother managed to spend quite a lot of time with us. She was deeply religious and believed firmly that the new Reformed Faith was the only true one; she talked of this so eloquently to Edward and me that he was completely carried away. I was less inclined to accept theories than Edward, though I respected the deep and genuine faith of my stepmother and recognized the validity of many of her arguments.
There had been a great upheaval in religion since my father had broken with Rome in order to rid himself of Katharine of Aragon to marry my mother. It was a time when it was considered unwise to discuss these matters too frankly because it was so easy to say something which was not acceptable to one group or the other. However I could never resist an argument and I stated that I believed there was only one God and one Church, and all this argument over different doctrines was a waste of time.
“I believe in Christianity,” I said, “and it does not seem important to me in what method one worships God as long as one does.”
This aroused storms of disagreement from my brother and stepmother, and we continued to bring forward our points and tried to convince each other. It was the sort of discussion which I enjoyed.
Unfortunately my brother must have repeated something I had said to someone who in turn reported it to the King; my views clearly annoyed him and the result was that I was sent away from Court.
Kat and William Grindal came with my little retinue and we went back to Hunsdon. I was desolate. The days seemed dreary and I missed my brother. Lessons without him were not the same for that friendly rivalry was lacking. How foolish I had been to state freely what I thought! That was a very important lesson learned. Never say anything that might offend those who have power over you. I blamed myself, and my only consolation was in my books and gossip with Kat.
Happily the banishment did not last very long. My stepmother, who was still in high favor with the King—such a comforting nurse she was, no one could dress his leg quite as she could—begged that I should be allowed to return, pleading my youth and my lively mind, which she was sure I had inherited from my father. Edward joined his pleas to hers and complained that his studies were not nearly so interesting without me there. And the King at last gave his permission for me to return.
What a joyful reunion that was! Dear Edward! Dear Katharine Parr! I often thought of that in the years to come and I felt very sad about Katharine. However I was back.
My stepmother said: “Your tutors give such fine accounts of you that I think your father is somewhat proud of his daughter.”
The thought of his being proud of me gave me the greatest pleasure– even more than the welcome I received from Katharine and my brother. That was strange, for my father showed little kindness to me. I used to dream sometimes that I was in the Church of St Peter ad Vincula and I saw the ghostly figures of my mother and Katharine Howard there. I thought often of his cold indifference all those years ago when I was in the courtyard. He was cruel and ruthless, yet he was the great King and his good opinion was more important to me than that of anyone else.
There were some changes in the household. Lady Jane Grey had joined it. She was related to us, her mother being the daughter of my father's sister, Mary, and Charles Brandon. She had two sisters, Katharine and Mary, but Jane was the clever one and no pains had been spared to give her a good education. Her tutor had been another Cambridge man, John Aylmer, and he had coached her thoroughly in Greek and Latin. She was about the same age as Edward and as clever as he was. He took to her from the start. She was too pallid for me … I mean in temperament … too good. She never showed any temper or malice—all very laudable, of course, but insipid, and I told Kat so.
“Do I detect a little jealousy?” asked Kat, and I felt quite angry with her.
“Why should I be jealous of such a mouse?” I demanded.
“Our little Prince likes her very much.”
“Let him!” I retorted. “They are but children.”
However it was impossible to dislike Jane for long. She was such a good girl and I did respect her cleverness.
But while we were at peace in our nursery danger was brewing round us. That it could involve our gentle stepmother seemed incredible. It was not that the King was passionately enamored of her as I had seen him with his previous Katharine, but that she was such a comfort to him. He looked so pleased with her when his leg was laid on her lap and she was so gentle and always eager to please him. And then suddenly disaster threatened just as it must have done in the case of my mother and Katharine Howard.
Her life was in danger.
It was then that I first became aware of Stephen Gardiner who was to be my enemy in the years to come. He was the Bishop of Winchester and a fanatical Roman Catholic. It was now becoming generally known that my stepmother was a firm believer in the Reformed Faith. Perhaps she was not as watchful as she should have been. Because she was on such good terms with the King and he seemed delighted with her, she must have been lulled into a sense of security. She was nurse, wife and good companion. He suffered a good deal from the pain of his ulcerated leg and it could not be expected that a man such as he was should make great efforts to control his temper. He would curse his attendants and threaten them with all sorts of dire punishments for no reason at all than that they had not been quick enough to answer a summons or were guilty of some minor carelessness. They all tried to avoid him when he was in such moods.
On this occasion he was in his bedchamber and Katharine was binding up his leg which was particularly painful. She had often beguiled him with her arguments about the Reformed Faith and he usually liked to listen and lead her into discussion. He was amused and used to say to her—so she told us—“Come, Kate, what of the Reformed Faith today? What shall we talk of?” So on this occasion she had plunged into argument hoping that he would forget the pain until the unguents did their work. But he was irritable and contradicted her. Thinking he wanted her to put the other side of the question she proceeded to do so, at which he cried out in a rage: “A good hearing it is when women become such clerks; and much to my comfort in mine old age to be taught by my wife!”
It was enough, and by ill fortune the scheming Gardiner was present. According to Katharine he hurried to commiserate with the King, and the others in the chamber fell silent for a terrible dread had fallen on them. When a man has disposed of two of his wives by decapitating them, uneasy thoughts must quickly enter the heads of others. They would wonder how long that necessary part of the body would be with them.
Poor Katharine! She was most dismayed. I could see that she wished more heartily than ever that she had married the man of her choice and was Thomas Seymour's wife instead of the King's.
She retired to her apartments overcome with dread, which made her ill, and I realized that it was not only her own fate which was causing her concern. Anne Askew, a friend of hers who was a firm believer in the Reformed Faith, had been recently arrested. All this beautiful and noble lady had done was to profess her belief that the Reformed Faith was the true one; she had been accused of corrupting others and introducing books into the royal household. Katharine had been overcome with grief contemplating what was happening to Anne in the Tower and had sent her comforts by way of her ladies of the bedchamber. She was prostrate with sorrow when she heard that Anne had been put to torture and that when Sir Anthony Knevet had ordered the jailer to modify his use of the rack, Chancellor Wriothesley and his accomplice Rich had thrown off their gowns and worked the terrible instrument themselves with the utmost vigor.
And the King had given his assent to all this.
The noble lady had been condemned to be burned alive, and when this terrible sentence had been carried out the Queen had taken to her bed. It was given out that she was sick; and if the King knew that it was because of what had happened to her noble friend, he had not said so then.
Thus when Katharine heard the King speak to her in such a way and was aware of the malicious intent of Stephen Gardiner, she was so terrified that she collapsed and had to be taken to her bed.
Kat knew what was going on and could not keep it from me. She dared not tell Edward for fear he spoke to the King, and poor Kat trembled for her own head if ever it was thought that she had interfered. But she trusted me so I knew what was going on and I prayed for my good sweet stepmother and I marveled that I could still find it in me to admire my father who with his words and frowns could inspire such terror in those who had given him nothing but love. So it had been with Katharine Howard. I did not know whether my mother had loved him but I had seen for myself that these two Katharines had done everything in their power to please him. Such devotion had not saved Katharine Howard's head. Would it save that of Katharine Parr?
How relieved and happy I was when my father and stepmother were friends again. I think he must have missed her nursing, for she was so ill that she could not leave her bed. Her physician Dr Wendy was sent for and he reported that her sickness was due to uneasiness of mind. She wept piteously and could not control the trembling of her limbs. My father must have regretted giving such a ready ear to the complaints of her enemies for they had gone so far as to plan her death and were already looking out for a new queen who would be favorable to the cause of Rome. They had forgotten that the King was old, and a good nurse was more appealing to him than the sensuous charms of women like my beautiful mother and sweet Katharine Howard.
Dr Wendy, the Queen's good friend, had told her that the King missed her and he believed that if she spoke humbly to him and expressed deep sorrow for any fault she might have committed, he would be ready to turn to her because he was certainly not happy with the estrangement.
I saw my stepmother after the King's visit to her bedchamber. The change in her was miraculous. She no longer wept and that fearful trembling had ceased. She told me that after the King had said a few kind words to her he had tried to lure her into an argument. But Katharine was clever and having been primed by Dr Wendy she made an acceptable reply. She was but a woman, she said, with the imperfections of her sex. Therefore in all serious matters she must refer herself to His Majesty's better judgment. “God has appointed you to be the supreme head of us all,” she added piously, “and of you next to God shall I ever learn.”
“It seems not so,” said the King. “You have become a doctor, Kate, to instruct us and not to be instructed of us as oftentimes we have seen.”
“Indeed,” replied my stepmother, “if Your Majesty has so conceived, my meaning has been mistaken, for I have always held it preposterous for a woman to instruct her lord; and if I have ever presumed to differ with Your Highness on religion, it is partly to obtain information for my own comfort regarding certain nice points on which I stood in doubt, and sometimes because I perceived that in talking you were able to pass away the pain and weariness of your present infirmity, which encouraged me in this boldness in the hope of profiting withal by Your Majesty's learned discourse.”
How clever she was, my kind stepmother! Those words were well worth remembering. What a clear estimation of his character she had, for he replied: “And is that so, sweetheart? Then we are perfect friends.”
If only Katharine Howard had been able to reach him when she had made that frantic dash along the gallery to the chapel! Could she have changed him with her loveliness as wise Katharine Parr had with words? I asked myself then, great as my father was, so powerful that the fate of us all rested in his hands, was he not a little childlike? But was he seduced by Katharine's words or was he seeking a way out of a difficult situation which would placate his conscience? The fact was that he did not want to lose Katharine Parr. If he had wished so, nothing she could have said or done would have saved her.
The reconciliation was timely. The next day was that which had been arranged for her arrest, but now that the matter had been smoothed out between them, the King asked her to sit with him in the gardens. So she went, with her sister, Jane Grey and Lady Tyrwhit in attendance—so they were witnesses of the scene which followed.
While they were seated there, Wriothesley, the Lord Chancellor, came into the gardens with a body of guards to carry out the arrest to which before his visit to her bedchamber the King had previously agreed.
My father was furious when he saw them. Presumably he had not informed them of the change in his feelings or they would not have come.
He shouted at them in fury and told them they were beasts, fools and knaves and they had better get out of his sight or he would want to know how they dared invade the privacy he enjoyed with his Queen.
Much as I disliked Wriothesley, I felt a twinge of pity for him and so it seemed did the Queen who murmured that there must be some mistake.
My father became very sentimental, as he could on occasions when he was cruel. “Ah, poor soul,” he said. “You do not know, Kate, how little he deserves grace at your hands. He has been a knave to you…as have others.”
Ah my dear father, I thought. And what sort of a knave have you been to this good woman who has never been anything else but the most faithful and devoted wife to you? I would never marry, I assured myself. I would never give any man power over me.
The incident appeared to be over, but my father never felt kindly toward Wriothesley again, and as for Gardiner, he showed his acute displeasure toward him. Looking for excuses for his own part in the near betrayal of the Queen, he must have his scapegoats.
It had been a terribly anxious time and often when I sat with my stepmother and we did our needlework together I would look at her serene face and contemplate how near she had come to the fate which had overtaken my mother, Anne Boleyn, and Katharine Howard.
DURING THE NEXT YEAR or so I never felt quite the same again. I could not look at my stepmother without thinking how near she had come to losing her head. My father was getting old; he was often unable to stand; his body had become unwieldy and the ulcer in his leg had grown worse. There was an uneasiness everywhere. Edward was a boy and the country had a dread of kings who were minors. It always meant that power-seeking factions were formed. That was what was happening now, and the rival families were the Seymours and the Howards. Religion was the dominating factor in all our troubles and I supposed this was inevitable since my father had broken with Rome and the Reformed Religion had come into being. I watched it all intently and I thought how foolish they were to make such an issue of religion. My sister Mary was a devout Catholic still and my stepmother and Lady Jane were turning just as devoutly to the new faith. But what did it matter how one worshipped God? Wasn't it the same God? Young as I was I vowed no such folly should ever determine my actions for I had seen fanaticism wreak naught but harm. But then we had these two families—the Seymours upholding the new Reformed Faith and the Catholic Howards who continued to support Rome. The Seymours were more powerful because of their relationship to Prince Edward and it seemed likely that he would be King before long. The Howards had seen the daughters of their family, Anne and Katharine, wear the crown—now both headless in their graves—but Jane Seymour had been triumphant, at least her family had. She, poor thing that she was, had produced the heir of England for their benefit and died in her bed before she was able to savor glory…I could never forget that she had supplanted my mother, whose brilliance some still whispered about.
My thoughts were turned from these matters by complications in my own household. I had noticed a change in Kat. She had become prettier and a little absent-minded, and I knew that something, of which she had not told me, was happening.
I demanded to know the reason for the change in her, for I am afraid I was beginning to be a little imperious since I had been allowed to come to Court and share a schoolroom with my brother. Edward was so fond of me and made it clear that he wanted my company and people were becoming more and more anxious to please him. We were all thinking of him not so much as a prince but as a future king and the fact that I had a very special place in his affections had made me feel quite important.
So I said to Kat: “I insist on your telling me what makes you go about as though you are somewhere else.”
“Well,” said Kat, “I will tell you. You know Mr Ashley?”
“Know Mr Ashley!” I cried. “That gentleman comes up again and again in your conversation. It is not possible to be much in the company of Mistress Katharine Champernowne without knowing something of Mr Ashley.”
“Then you will readily understand,” retorted Kat. “He has asked me to marry him and I see no reason why I should not.”
“Marry! You!” I must confess the first thought which came to me was, But what of me?
She knew my nature well and she immediately fell to her knees and buried her head in my skirts. “My lady, my dearest Princess, never will I leave you.”
“Not for Mr Ashley?”
“I think Mr Ashley could become a member of your household. I am sure no objection would be raised against that.”
I was dubious. Kat! Married! No longer entirely mine!
People did marry, of course, and Kat was young and comely. But I felt shaken. There was so much change in the air, and I did not want change though I knew it must come. There was too much tension in the air… throughout the Court, throughout the country. I felt it in the streets on those occasions I rode out for I was very sensitive to the mood of the people.
And now Kat was to be married.
Lovingly she assured me that nothing could ever make any difference in her devotion to me. I was her special charge, her Princess, close to her heart, never to be dislodged. She made me feel that she would even abandon Mr Ashley if marrying him meant losing me.
Fortunately she did not have to make such a choice. My good stepmother said that there was a simple solution. Let Mr Ashley join my household. “I feel Thomas Parry is not as efficient as he might be,” she said, “and John Ashley is a very clever young man.”
So our problem was solved and Kat became Kat Ashley. Parry stayed of course but John Ashley became a member of the household; I was very pleased because not only was he Kat's husband but there was a family connection between him and the Boleyns.
We were at Hatfield and I was delighted to be there because Edward was with me. We used to converse in Latin—a language we both loved. I had a secret with which I intended to surprise him. There was a woman in my household, Blanche Parry, a Welshwoman, who was very proud of the fact that she had rocked me in my cradle. She was very fluent in her native language and I suggested she should teach it to me. With my aptitude I was soon able to speak in Welsh with Blanche and I thought it would be rather amusing to let Edward know that I had acquired the Welsh language of which he and the erudite little Jane Grey were ignorant. After all we Tudors had Welsh blood in our veins and royal as we were, we had inherited through our ancestor Owen Tudor.
But before I did this there was disturbing news that my relatives Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, and Henry Howard, his son, Earl of Surrey, had been thrown into the Tower.
Kat, as usual, knew all about it.
“How could Surrey be so stupid?” she demanded. “Do you know what he has done? He has assumed the right to wear the arms of Edward the Confessor. He says the concession was granted to his family by Richard II. Of course the College of Arms forbade this, but what does my Lord Surrey do but ignore them.”
“And do you mean to say that for such an offense Surrey and his father are in the Tower?”
Kat came closer to me and whispered: “It's the Seymours. You wouldn't expect them to miss a chance like this, would you? He has played right into the Seymours' hands. Silly Surrey!”
“Kat,” I said severely, “you forget yourself.”
“So I do,” she replied.
“You should not speak so flippantly of the Earl of Surrey. He is a very great gentleman.”
“He must be if he can sport the royal arms.”
“That was foolish of him.”
“He might have known the Seymours were ready to pounce.”
I was upset. I had felt quite a fondness for Henry Howard. He was a very handsome man but what made him more attractive in my eyes was that he wrote beautiful verses and people said he had me in mind when he wrote them. I always read them avidly and they gave me great pleasure so it was distressing to think of him in that cold dank prison. And his father with him—for the Duke of Norfolk could not be very young. He had once been my mother's chief adviser and although he had presided at her trial and arranged for her execution, he was still a blood relation—my own uncle.
“It is all Seymour now,” said Kat. “My word, how they have come up in the world since their sister married the King. Edward the elder is a sharp one and he has the King's ear. As for Thomas …” Kat smiled knowingly. “Now there is a man. Do you know, I don't think there is another at Court to match him.”
“Match him for what?” I asked.
“For grace… for charm…He is so good-looking…so tall, so commanding. He's much more of a man than his brother. They say there is a little rivalry between Thomas and Edward Seymour. Thomas has no wife—as yet.”
“Kat,” I cried, “since you have discovered the glories of marriage you think of nothing else. Have a care or Mr Ashley will be taking you to task.”
