by Deryn Lake
‘Can we play Catch?’ called one of the children present, and shrieked with delight as Elizabeth announced that she would be Catcher and everyone was to watch out. She fled the length of the hall, her arms outstretched while the others screamed and ran from her. But the Admiral did not run quite fast enough and ended by being caught by the elbow and held firmly, looking down into the upturned face of the laughing girl and smiling so much that eventually her eyes fluttered away and would not meet his. Edward saw colour rush into Elizabeth’s pale cheeks, then wondered why she suddenly looked back at his uncle and tilted her eyes.
Uncle Thomas was not a very good Catcher for, predictably Edward thought, he seized hold of his wife and gave her a smacking kiss. After that Katherine came in pursuit of the King and he in his turn caught one of the children. Everyone was very breathless and glad to rest and have more to drink before the next game.
All the time they had danced and played, the beautiful smells from the kitchens had wafted ever more strongly until at last, with the light outside dimming but all the candles in their holders making a wonderful glow within, the great table was brought in and set and the assembled company took their places, the King at the head with his stepmother on one hand and his elder sister at the other, all watching as the banquet was carried in.
It was a culinary triumph for Katherine, or so Edward believed, feasting his eyes on two grinning boars’ heads and a great assortment of poultry, all beautifully presented, many sewn back into their plumage; a particularly effective sight with the swans who appeared to be swimming on their trenchers, tricked out with blue decoration to look like water.
The wine flowed and the Queen Dowager gazed down her table with satisfaction, the first Christmas since childhood when she had been truly happy, married to a man she adored, honoured and respected by her stepchildren. All that she wanted now, both to seal her marriage and crown her joy, was to conceive and bear a child of her own, though sometimes Katherine feared she might be barren stock. She had never been pregnant, but comforted herself with the fact that her husbands had been old and past their best, though when she had married Lord Seymour she had been accused of marrying again so quickly that if there had been a child no one would have known if it had been fathered by Henry or Thomas. But the charge was ridiculous and Katherine knew it, though she had held her peace.
Now she looked the length of her board to where Thomas, a little drunk but all the more attractive and rakish for it, sat at the other end between Elizabeth and the young and widowed Duchess of Suffolk. He was showing off, capturing the attention of the two girls as he described some exploit, some act of daring.
They are entranced by him, thought Katherine, and smiled to herself, loving him all the more for his attractive ways.
The meal proceeded, Elizabeth eating sparsely as was her custom.
Will she ever fatten up? her stepmother wondered and also thought it was high time the girl was visited by the monthly flux. The King, however, despite his small physique, was eating well, tucking into mince pies and sweetmeats, enjoying himself thoroughly.
‘If Your Grace would care to spend the night at Chelsea?’ Katherine asked tentatively, turning towards him with a smile.
‘We should like that very much,’ he answered enthusiastically and she could have hugged him to her heart, poor vulnerable thing, weighted down with responsibilities and only allowed to be a child on rare occasions like these.
‘Then let the Christmas songs be sung,’ she called, ‘His Grace will favour us with his presence tonight.’
‘Hooray,’ shouted Elizabeth wildly and Edward raised his glass to her.
They danced again when the table was cleared, and watched the Mummers and played Forfeits, but eventually all grew weary. The children nodded in the firelight and the King fell asleep with his head in Katherine’s lap. His servants carried him gently to bed and he hardly woke as they tucked him in. Even the mercurial Elizabeth at last began to yawn, and it was then that Mary and the Duchess of Suffolk both stood and said they begged leave to retire. With the three girls gone and the other adults away to see to their children, only the Queen and the Admiral were left to sit by the flames, their arms around each other, comfortably seeing the day come to an end.
‘A wonderful Christmas,’ said Thomas softly, ‘thank you, pretty Kate.’ He kissed her ear. ‘As soon as the flames burn lower I shall take you to bed. I long to stretch out beside you, to fall asleep gently, looking at your face.’
She smiled at him serenely. ‘Thank you for all you do for me.’
‘I do nothing,’ answered Tom. ‘It is you who makes life so sweet.’
They climbed the staircase slowly, making for their chamber, and then got into bed, cuddled one another, and slept straight away. But not far away from them, in the silence of her own room, Elizabeth stared at the ceiling by the light of a wintry moon.
From the top of her head to the soles of her feet she ached with wanting Thomas Seymour, convinced of her power over him, sure that he wanted her too. He had hardly left her alone since the marriage. Almost every morning while Elizabeth still lay in bed, he would come into her bedroom, dressed in his own nightclothes, and tickle and tease her, smacking his hand familiarly across her buttocks and sometimes letting it linger a moment too long.
Poor Kate, thought Elizabeth, she thinks it all horse play but she hasn’t seen the look in his eye, felt the touch of his hands. He desires me desperately, as I desire him.
He disguised it cleverly though, romping with the maidens of the household, pulling Katherine into the games whenever he could. But there could be no doubt about his motives. The Lord Admiral longed for Elizabeth, wanted to lie with her in naked bed.
Elizabeth sat up straight, her eyes wide. Her wretched body still hung on to girlhood and recently when she had run her hands over her privy parts it had seemed to her all was not as it should be. But how could she be sure? She did not undress before others, did not know exactly what she ought to be like. Elizabeth longed to confide in her stepmother but drew back from such a step. If there were anything anatomically incorrect the last person she dare mention it to would be Katherine, who just might tell her husband. The girl felt that if Thomas were to think her imperfect she would die of shame.
Unable to sleep, Elizabeth got out of bed and crossed to her window, pulling back the hangings and looking out on a frosty night. Eaten by guilt, she felt flushed and over-warm, and thought she would like to race round the gardens in the moonlight until she grew cold. But of course she could do no such wild thing, instead getting respectably back into bed and cuddling her bolster, pretending it was Thomas Seymour and that she was surrendering her virginity to him. And on that point Elizabeth wondered if she dared ask Kat Ashley about herself and what she feared, but, even as it went through her mind, decided against such a course. For the best way to keep a secret without doubt, was to tell nobody. It was a life’s plan that Elizabeth intended to follow strictly.
*
‘I really think,’ said Anne Somerset furiously, ‘that something serious will have to be done about those two.’
‘Umm?’ answered her husband, not listening.
‘That conceited bitch Parr and your reprobate brother. It seems to me they win every hand. Here we are, with no adequate home, living in cramped conditions with another babe on the way, while they have sent an army of workmen to Sudeley Castle which is now, or so I am reliably informed, completely restored to its former glory and newly furnished into the bargain. So Madam is content at last and moves down there next week with her whole retinue; the Princess, Jane Grey, ladies, maids-of-honour, a household over one hundred and twenty strong, to say nothing of yeomen of the guard. You would think it is she who is married to the Lord Protector, not I. And to crown it all, she’s pregnant. I think that woman casts spells. She can’t put a foot wrong. In future I shall refuse point blank to carry her beastly train.’
The Protector nodded sympathetically. ‘It is true that Somerset House
is taking an inordinate amount of time to build, but you did want a palace, sweetheart.’
‘Yes, and while I wait for it, Katherine goes to live in a castle.’
‘It is indeed very galling.’
‘Galling!’ shrieked Anne, jumping to her feet. ‘It is sickening.’
The Protector and his wife looked at one another unhappily. While Katherine got on her nerves, so did Thomas get on his. It was becoming generally known that his brother, in his role as Lord Admiral, associated with pirates. Last spring, when Thomas had gone to sea with a fleet to capture Thompson, a blackguard who operated around Calais, the whole thing had ended with the Admiral and the pirate striking a bargain. Thompson’s base was the Scilly Isles and Lord Seymour had not only allowed him to continue to harbour there but had bought the Scillies from the Blanchminster family, with Lundy Island to boot. Now the Isles were a haven for Thompson and for any other pirate who cared to use them, provided they shared their plunder with the Lord High Admiral!
If a charge of piracy is brought against him, Edward thought wretchedly, Thomas will have to answer for his actions himself. I will be powerless to help.
He sighed loudly and turned his attention back to Anne who had now worked herself into a full-blown rage and was weeping loudly.
‘It simply isn’t fair,’ she was sobbing. ‘We all know what he is like, an unprincipled rogue and a womaniser. It is you, Ned, who do all the hard work, who try to bring about reforms, and what do you get out of it? Trouble and grief, while Thomas sails through life as if it were all a great joke.’
‘Yes,’ answered the Protector grimly, and for a moment knew what it was to envy someone. On his shoulders lay the terrible burden of a troubled kingdom, torn with religious strife and economic disorder. Henry VII’s legacy to his country had been a full treasury, a state of peace abroad and domestic unity. His son, Henry VIII, left behind him empty coffers, a nation with no friends and civil unrest. This had been the task that Edward Seymour had so bravely undertaken on behalf of his nephew.
But it was true, Thomas had a fine life. Handsome, carefree, married to a woman who worshipped him, who was rich as well as pretty, everything about the Protector’s brother seemed to speak of charm and gaiety. And now he was taking up residence in a splendid Gloucestershire castle, refurbished and modernised, its stately grounds restocked with trees and flowers and rare birds. It was no small wonder that, just for a moment, the Protector wished they could change places.
He briskly lost his temper with his wife, the only way to overcome such negative emotions. ‘Do stop whimpering,’ Ned said crossly. ‘When Somerset House is built it will be as fine as Sudeley, if not finer. And as for Thomas, he runs too many risks. One day, if he does not watch his step, he will get the wrong side of somebody important. So meanwhile, Anne, be quiet. You are making me annoyed.’
It was so unusual for him to criticise her that the Duchess stared at him in astonishment. ‘How dare you speak to me like that when I am pregnant?’
‘I doubt my words will affect you, my dear. I would think you could do far more harm by straining yourself to fever pitch.’
‘You are obviously on their side,’ hissed the Duchess furiously. ‘It is perfectly clear that in some terrible way they have won you over. I see that I may no longer trust you with my confidences.’
‘Christ’s holy passion,’ roared the Protector, ‘you are heating my blood. I’ll say good day to you, Madam, before you push me too far.’
And with that he slammed from the room, called Jasper and Sylvanus from the boys’ quarters, and made for the Palace of Whitehall armed with bows and arrows, board games and cards, to give the King a cheerful and day-long surprise.
*
The very first glimpse of Sudeley Castle was one to take the breath away, or so thought Elizabeth, who had remained in Chelsea while Tom and Katherine had been wrangling with builders and decorators, and not seen the place till this moment of arrival. Set in its own rolling parkland, just beyond the Gloucestershire village of Winchcombe, the walls looked mellow, almost amber, in the late winter sunshine, reflecting all the beauty of very old brick. There had been a house on the site long before the Norman Conquest, all trace of which original had long since vanished. But another Admiral of the Fleet, Ralph le Boteler, who had fought in the French wars under Henry V and VI, had rebuilt Sudeley with his spoils. Unfortunately, this Admiral had been on the side of the Lancastrians during the Wars of the Roses, and had been forced to sell his castle to King Edward IV when the Yorkists had triumphed, so that Sudeley had then reverted to the Crown.
It had been Boteler’s castle, with its glorious banqueting hall, its towers and barbican, which the Seymours had set about restoring but, to add greater size to the original, new quarters had been built beside the castle in the shape of a square, joined on to it by the old hall, which had been badly ruined. It was here, in the east wing, that Tom and Katherine were to have their bedroom, and it was here that a nursery for the new baby had been lovingly prepared. The rest of Katherine’s retinue, with the exception of her principal ladies, some three hundred people in all, were to dwell in the other wings.
As the vast cavalcade drew nearer the restored building, everyone stared in wonderment. What had once been a fortified castle had been most cleverly transformed into a gracious dwelling, gentle and mature, lulled by the song of birds, shaded by illustrious trees which had withstood the passage of centuries. Over the sweeping lawns peacocks, both white and standard, strutted and called, while on the moat, now partially blocked off, swans stretched their feathers in the pale gold sunshine.
‘What a graceful place,’ said Elizabeth spontaneously and Tom, who was riding beside her — Katherine being in a litter because of her condition — gave her an unreadable glance. Beneath those spectacular eyes, the girl felt herself growing warm and looked away, but too late! He had already put out his hand and tugged a long wisp of red-gold hair which had fallen out of her hat and trailed down over her shoulders.
‘Fox hair,’ he whispered, ‘fox hair for a little vixen.’
Elizabeth felt she could weep with longing and with anxiety; anxiety that she might not be quite as other women and thus unable to satisfy the desire that burned in her so uncontrollably.
She slanted her eyes at him. ‘Vixens have teeth, my Lord.’
‘Aye, and so do dog foxes. Teeth that sink into unsuspecting little girls.’
‘Unsuspecting?’ repeated Elizabeth, then nudged her horse on to move to the front of the procession, tantalisingly giving him one last glance over her shoulder as she went.
She drew abreast with the gentlemen-at-arms who were clattering into the quadrangle created by building new wings on to the restored but original hall, part of a castle practically rebuilt to help make room for a household of such magnificence.
‘How very grand it all is,’ said Elizabeth to Katherine’s steward, who was rapidly riding to the front of the cavalcade to ensure the staff already in residence were ready to receive the Queen and the Admiral.
He gave her a cool look, or so she thought, and Elizabeth found herself wondering how much he knew about the romps that she and Thomas had indulged in at the Dower House. Had Kat Ashley, who had taken the Admiral to task over his behaviour, been speaking out of turn? Did he know that Tom had tried to kiss her while she was still in bed or, if she was asleep, had put back the curtains to wake her, so that Elizabeth had been forced to retreat up the bed away from him?
Thinking of it like that it sounded sordid. And so it is, thought Elizabeth in a horrible moment of truth. But I want him. My body may be a child’s but I still want him.
Feeling that the steward was looking at her even more strangely, Elizabeth dismounted and flung angrily through the great oaken door on her immediate right, finding herself in the restored hall, one of the most ancient parts of the original castle. Her stepmother stood waiting for her and Elizabeth gaped astonished, wondering by what means Katherine could have come from the middle
of the cavalcade and was now within doors.
‘Your Grace,’ she said and curtsied.
Katherine ignored the intruder, staring straight in front of her like a sleepwalker. Elizabeth’s blood felt like ice within her veins and every hackle on her body rose. She stood petrified, drenched in freezing sweat, as Katherine glided right past her, the Queen’s eyes never moving, still fixed in that strange motionless stare.
‘Christ have mercy!’ whispered Elizabeth and plunged towards the door, only to see the Queen turn and give her one terrible, fearful glance before she, too, stepped into the courtyard. Gasping for air, the girl rushed out to find that the quadrangle was filling with lively noisy people who, quite spontaneously, took off their hats as the litter bearing Katherine Seymour came into view. And though it was not possible, there was the Queen, beaming with happiness, smiling at her husband as he lifted her down to stand beside him.
The steward stepped forward saying, ‘On behalf of us all, Your Grace, we bid you welcome to Sudeley Castle and wish you and the Lord Admiral many happy years here,’ while everybody cheered again.
Katherine raised her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I know that we are all going to be happy in this lovely place.’ She already had Jane Grey beside her but now she searched the crowd for Elizabeth. ‘My dear,’ she called gaily, ‘come and be with me. I want the family together as we make our first entrance into Sudeley. Come.’
Katherine extended her hand but Elizabeth could already feel every drop of blood draining from her head as everything around her became a black void and she dropped limply onto the flagstones beneath her feet.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
To Katherine, so contented that sometimes she sang to herself from the moment she rose until the moment she wearily, but very pleasantly, got into bed, the year 1548 was the happiest she had ever known. In February she had moved permanently, though she still visited her manors of Chelsea and Hanworth, into Sudeley Castle. And though Thomas was absent a good deal, about his affairs as Admiral, the Queen Dowager was never lonely.