Poor Queen Anne, Katherine thought, to be made to lay down with such a king. They say that his leg festers and that the stench is nigh on unbearable…
Katherine shuddered at the thought. She bit her lip thinking of all the horrid things that a woman might be made to do, to rouse the passions of such an old and sickly man. It should be a sin to shackle sprightly young girls to old, fat men. What woman wouldn’t want a strapping youth, lithe in form and firm in body over such an obese creature, king though he might be?
There were plenty of whispers amongst them, the queen’s ladies, and it was universally acknowledged that the king was too old to engage in the activities required for the begetting of children.
He is unable, they said, his passions are long spent. Still the king came to the queen’s rooms every night. Katherine quirked a brow, mayhap the king liked to touch. He might not be able to perform his husbandly duties but Katherine knew that there were a great many things a man and a woman might do without engaging in the final act.
Deep in contemplation, Katherine looked away from the king. Unbidden, her eyes landed on the young men of the court. There were a few handsome ones, and if she worked at it, she thought she might very well catch one. Mayhap one of them could be persuaded to take her to wife before the year was out.
Though young, Katherine was not without a woman’s arsenal. As a matter of fact, Katherine was well schooled in the art of lovemaking. She was a desirable woman. She was young and she was pleasing in form and in appearance. She could do very well here at court. She would have no more of music teachers and secretaries. She was ready for better things.
But Katherine understood her limits too. The story of her cousin Anne filled her mind. She told herself to heed the lesson well.
Anne Boleyn, she thought, had aimed too high and at the wrong man.
Katherine would be more than happy with a lord, a baronet, or maybe if she was in luck, an earl or a duke. She had no desire to take after her cousin Anne. She had every intention of keeping her head just where it was.
Suddenly, little Katherine Howard’s heart seized. For a moment, her eyes flashed, catching on the person she had been striving to avoid. She shrank deeper into the shadows, seeking sanctuary. Suddenly, the mirth in her chest was gone, the fearlessness in her bursting like a bubble. She caught her plump bottom lip between her sharp pearly teeth.
She needed to tread carefully, most carefully, until she could resolve this matter: this matter with Master Thomas Culpepper.
He was hounding her, haunting and dogging her steps. He was as handsome as they come. Verily, he was as handsome as the devil and just as deadly too. He slithered up to stand before her, his teeth flashing in a brilliant smile. He was her senior by many years. He was six and twenty to her fifteen.
Mistress Howard, he greeted her, sly.
Master Culpepper, she returned, dismayed.
She had singled out Culpepper when she first came to court, marking him for his rugged good looks. There was something roguish about the man, roguish and charming.
She flirted with him and though some of the other ladies winked and smiled at him as well, they all gave the handsome Culpepper a wide berth. Katherine had found it curious, but she enjoyed their banter and decided to keep his company, far more than it was wise…
She was quick to learn who and what his place was at court. He was a great favorite with the king, and as an attendant to their sovereign in his privy chambers, Thomas, as she came to understand, wielded certain powers. As one of the king’s body squires, it was Thomas’ duty to dress and undress the king. It was also his task to amuse Henry, and Thomas does so by finding the king all manner of trinkets. He was a procurer of hawks, hounds and horses and he was well rewarded for his services.
He was no great lord but Katherine had liked him well then, in the beginning.
But now she feared him. He had power and he held it over her, lording it over her.
She turned her eyes upward to meet his.
How fare you this eve, fair Katherine? His smile was mocking and his hand bold as it clasped hers. Katherine noticed then that music was being struck. The court was being instructed to dance for the king and queen’s amusement. A dance? He asked.
Asked? Demanded more like, thought Katherine angrily, but she kept her face sweet, allowing him to lead her out. She couldn’t refuse him. She didn’t dare. Not when he knew her secrets. He had made it his business to learn them.
She had thought those secrets dead and buried. They were not. Culpepper had discovered them. He had dredged them up.
It all began on the night she refused him. That night, in a dark corner, he had tried to make her yield him her favors. Outraged, Katherine had fought him, refusing his advances. She was the queen’s lady-in-waiting now and she was no longer in the business of giving away her favors and affections.
She had vowed, before coming to court, that no man would ever make free with her body again. She was a respectable lady and she would play the part of the whore for no man. Thomas Culpepper was handsome and pleasing to the eye. But Katherine knew what his sort wanted. He wanted a tumble and she was no longer the kind of girl to offer her gifts freely. She was a lady of importance now and she won’t be disrespected. She was not to be trifled with.
To teach him a lesson, she slapped him, leaving the angry print of her small hand over his cheeks. She had kneed him in his groin too for good measure.
Don’t you ever speak to me again! She screamed before running away.
She had congratulated herself and sailed through the days that followed with perfect poise and newfound triumph. Look here, she would tell herself, I have changed and for the better too. How lady-like I was! How haughty! It is all very good practice, she decided, for one day I will be a grand lady.
But Culpepper came to her several days later, his eyes sparkling in triumph.
I know your secrets, he whispered to her, making her seize with fear.
What secrets? She managed to return boldly, I have none.
You know well of what I speak, he winked. Such licentiousness, Katherine, in so young a girl, he shook his head in mock sorrow while he slid his hand boldly into her bodice. Whatever shall I do with you?
She tried batting his hand away but he caged her, imprisoning her with his large form, giving her no escape. She slapped him, her face red and angry, do not think to make free with me! You shall answer to my uncle Howard for the affront you have displayed this day! After much struggling, she managed to slip past him.
He laughed, undaunted, shouting after her as she made a mad dash to distance herself from him. Nay, little Katherine, you are mistaken! You answer to me now! He called out after her.
Afterwards, he came to her, his smile sly. He told her what he knew making Katherine tremble.
She knew what would happen. If her family became privy to her secrets she would be disgraced and she would be deemed useless. What use was a Howard girl without her virtue? She would be punished and consigned to oblivion, buried in the countryside. She would be cast off and abandoned. Her life would be as good as over.
What was more, she had neither parents nor friends to stand and advocate her case. She was very much alone.
Culpepper understood her weaknesses and in his arrogance, he grew bolder and bolder still.
In the days that followed, he threatened her, demanding favors and information too. He wanted to know about the queen, what she was doing, what she was saying and what the other ladies in the queen’s service were discussing. And before the month was out, he made free with her body too, requiring her to service his lusts and Katherine much to her shame had obeyed. She was too scared to deny him.
With her hand clasped in his, he led her out and to the beat of the music they danced. He brushed his hands over her boldly, his thighs touching hers, suggestive, lewd.
Where her music teacher and Francis Dereham had been careful of her woman’s needs and pleasures, Thomas Culpepper was not. Oftentimes he would
force her, using her roughly. More than once he made free with her mouth, making her service his manhood after the French fashion. She tried to deny him but he brooked no opposition, fisting his hands in her hair painfully, forcing her down and bending her to his will.
Remember what I know, he would say through clenched teeth, using his superior strength to bring her to heel, you would do as I say and just as I please.
She was afraid of him and she always gave in. She was afraid of her uncle Howard too and what he might do if he learns of her past. She also fears for her chances in this life of finding a worthy husband if anyone should ever discover her secrets.
Her only hope was to find someone to protect her and she needed to find that person fast. Thomas Culpepper was using her and he would continue to do so for as long as she was without a protector.
I need to find myself a powerful husband, preferably a lord, and I need to find him with all haste, she determined. If she became a great lady, she would have the power to make him silent. If she were ranked higher than him, and wife to a powerful husband, she could have him punished. In fact, she would make certain of it. She would make her husband love her so well that he would take her side and her side only in all things. When she was raised high and free of him, no one would ever believe Culpepper and his serpent’s tongue. Her husband would see to that.
Careful sweetheart, lest anyone watching you should decipher your love for me, he bent to whisper hotly into her ear. She tried to push him away. He was a fiend. He laughed, stepping behind her to execute the steps in their dance with precision and practiced ease.
There were times when he was deliberately sweet to her, presenting her with trinkets and tokens. He would proffer them to her with great flourish, treating her with charming gallantry but it was all a ruse, a scheme and an act. They played at the enamored couple for the sake of appearances. The truth was that he was forever after her, pestering her for more and more news.
He wanted it all, more and more. News of the queen, news of her and her native Cleves, of the ladies at court, of her uncle Howard and whatever else she could gather and glean that could be of benefit to him.
You have the favor of the king, Katherine asked him once, is that not enough?
The king’s favor is as changeable as the wind, he had laughed as he bit at her breasts, making her gasp with pain. I have his favor now but for how long? He shook his head, nay, it is never enough, he sneered, I mean to fly high, little Katherine, he tugged at her ear, and I mean for you to help me.
He made her write to him too. Disguised as love letters, she was to write him whenever she had news for him. And write him she did. She wrote him letter after letter, desperate to preserve her secret.
Katherine could read and put pen to paper but it was an arduous task for her. She hated writing to him but she had to. Each and every word she wrote was disgusting to her. She was being forced to write of love and endless longing when the sentiments in her heart couldn’t be further from the same.
Yet, oftentimes, Katherine would find herself writing to him, eager to arrange a meeting betwixt them, simply because she wanted to hear from his lips that her terrible secrets were still safe.
To her despair however, she always had little to report.
The queen remarked today that she had a fancy for some new gowns, she muttered to him once when she had nothing to offer Culpepper and his insatiable desire for news.
She was berated soundly for it.
He cornered her, his face dark. Such uselessness Katherine, he shook his head, his teeth bared in a snarl, do not think to trifle with me. What of your uncle Howard? Does he not have plots and secrets aplenty? What of him and that son of his?
She looked at him, helpless in her anger, what do I know of such things?
Learn, my little white dove, he would scoff, you must learn if you wish to survive this court.
Indeed, Culpepper fancies himself a veritable master of survival.
He was a two-faced coward of the first order. He makes Katherine sick to her stomach. He couldn’t bully any of the lords, befriend them or make them bend to his will. He could only bully her, a young girl with no power at her disposal. She hated him, but she was powerless to stop him. In front of the others and before all the court, he plays the part of the perfect courtier, charming and gallant, but Katherine knew how cruel he could be.
The dance broke them apart and for a moment she had the blessed relief of holding someone else’s hands. But the moment was not to last, always, the steps brought her back to Culpepper and when they were next united he gave her his orders.
Meet me later, it was a command, issued in smug tones.
I cannot, she said sweetly, I must attend the Queen.
You will not be serving this queen for long, he directed, his voice low, the king likes her not.
Her eyes flashed, all the same, I would attend her, as is my duty.
You are mistaken, Katherine, his words were light but there was force behind them, I should be your first care. You will attend me. Make no mistake.
They bowed. Their dance was at an end. His bow was low, brimming with flourish and gallantry. Belatedly, Katherine remembered to smile so that those watching would not assume anything to be amiss.
As he led her back into the crowd, Katherine fought the urge to shrug of his arm. She was in danger but she didn’t know where and who to turn to for aid. What she did know for certain was that if she didn’t find a way out and soon, one day, Culpepper was going to be her downfall.
1540
MARY AGED TWENTY-FOUR
Yuletide
I have no desire to be here, thought Mary as she stood before the queen, executing the barest imitation of a curtsey to the woman who she had to now, by rights, call mother.
She would never recognize the girl as anything other than what she was. Katherine Howard was nothing but her father’s toy, a plaything for him to amuse himself with. She was bedecked in jewels and draped in brocade and ermine. Verily, she looks like a child making free with her superiors’ fineries.
Mary wanted to hang her head in shame. To install such a girl on the throne of England was to make a mockery of everything her mother ever stood for. But the king was happy with his new Katherine. Indeed, he could not suffer for her to be out of his sight.
Mary wanted to scoff. Such is the way of old men with young wives. She stood, watching, her eyes taking in the sight before her, the sight of her aging father and the young Katherine Howard.
If only they would dismiss me, she thought. I have no desire to witness such an atrocious abuse of England’s Queenship.
If her father had any sense left in his head, he would have kept Anne of Cleves as his wife. But the young, supple flesh of Katherine Howard had proved too much of an enticement. Desperate to pluck such a delicate English bloom, he acted fast, consigning sense to oblivion.
His divorce from Anne of Cleves had been expedient and executed with expert precision.
He cited all the usual considerations, political ones, with which he sought to bolster his decision. He declared that the Duchy of Cleves and its recent leanings towards war with the Holy Roman Empire to be a dangerous route. He invented a hundred reasons why the Duchy of Cleves was a bad ally.
Back and forth and round and round went the king’s rhetoric. Pretty words, weighty considerations, diplomatic deliberations and countless meetings, all brought the king to the same conclusion. England’s fortunes were no longer at one with Cleves.
The alliance he once deemed valuable and indispensable was now of use to him. He no longer had a taste for anything from the Duchy of Cleves. His treaties, pledges and vows of matrimony were all to be done away. He wanted to free himself and with all haste.
Once his decision was made, her father, displaying all the skill and speed he had done when he had rid himself of Anne Boleyn, pushed forward, removing Anne of Cleves from his household.
At her father’s edict, Anne was escorted from court in June und
er armed guard.
They said the lady feared for her life. She remained under guard until the sixth of July when her husband’s decision to dissolve their marriage was made known to her.
Henry the king had been certain to make his wishes clear. He offered her a clear path toward a dignified exit. He asked her to submit and cede to his will. He was willing, in return, to offer her due recompense for her compliance.
He had the contract drawn and readied for her to sign. Comply and she would be rewarded, handsomely. He left the consequences, should she refuse to oblige him, undisclosed.
They said the lady took up the pen and signed without ado, tracing her name across the patent with trembling flourish.
She had no wish to test the wrath of Henry the King. She was no Katherine of Aragon and she refused to be Anne Boleyn. She was herself: Anne of Cleves, and she would be most obliging. Thusly, on the grounds of non-consummation and some long forgotten pre-contract between the lady and the Duke of Lorraine, Mary’s father secured what he wanted.
The lady’s brother protested loudly at the English king’s treatment of his sister, but Henry ignored it, knowing it to be all empty air. Cleves would never go to war with England; they had neither the soldiers nor the money to spare. Successfully and with very little inconvenience then, Henry managed to rid himself of Anne of Cleves.
Before the month was out, he forged ahead, replacing Anne with little Katherine Howard, installing the girl beside him as his wife.
Mary pitied Anne. She had been welcomed to England as queen in January and dismissed by July. She had scarcely settled herself on the throne as England’s Queen before she was bid to quit it. Her marriage to her father had not even lasted the year.
Her obedience had been well rewarded. Henry had given her lands, estates and palaces. Richmond Palace was hers. Hever Castle, the former home of the Boleyns was hers too. She also had a large yearly allowance, granted her directly from the king’s privy purse.
Henceforth, Anne of Cleves was to be known as the King’s Most Beloved Sister.
Tudor Queen, Tudor Crown Page 8