The Fifth Queen

by Ford Madox Ford

  ‘Well, I am a broken man,’ Sir Leonard muttered.

  ‘Why, God help you,’ Cromwell said. ‘Get you gone. The law takes no account of whether a man be broken, but seeketh to do honour to the King’s Highness and to render justice.’

  Viridus and Sadler, who was another of Cromwell’s secretaries, had come in whilst Privy Seal had been speaking, and Cromwell turned upon them laughing as the knight went out, his head hanging.

  ‘Here is another broken man,’ he said, and they all laughed together.

  ‘Well, he is another very notable swordsman,’ Viridus said. ‘We might well post him at Milan, lest Pole flee back to Rome that way.’

  Cromwell turned upon the Chancellor with a bitter contempt.

  ‘Find thou for this knight some monk’s lands in Kent. He shall to Milan with them for a price.’

  Viridus laughed.

  ‘Now we shall soon have these broken swordsmen in every town of Italy between France and Rome. Such a net Pole shall not easily break through.’

  ‘It were well he were done with soon,’ Cromwell said.

  ‘The King shall love us much the more; and it is time.’

  ‘Why, there will in two days be such a clamour of assassins in Paris that he shall soon bolt from there towards Rome,’ Viridus answered. ‘It will go hard if he escape all our Italy men. I hold it for certain that Winchester shall have reported to him in Paris that this Culpepper is on the road. Will you speak with this Howard wench?’

  Cromwell knitted his brows in uncertainty.

  ‘It was her cousin that should clamour about this murder in Paris,’ Viridus reminded him.

  ‘Is she without?’ Cromwell asked. ‘Have you it for certain that she hath reported to my lord of Winchester?’

  ‘Winchester’s priest of the bedchamber hath shewn me a copy of the letter she wrote. I would have your lordship send some reward to that Father Michael. He hath served us in many other matters.’

  Cromwell motioned with his hand that Sadler should note down this Father Michael’s name.

  ‘Are there many men in my antechambers?’ he asked Viridus, and hearing that there were more than one hundred and fifty: ‘Why, let this wench stay there a half-hour. It humbles a woman to be alone among so many men, and she shall come here without a sound clout to her back for the crush of them.’

  He began talking with Sadler about two globes of the world that he had ordered his agent to buy in Antwerp, one for himself and the other for a present to the King. Sadler answered that the price was very high; a thousand crowns or so, he had forgotten just how many. They had been twelve years in the making, but the agent had been afraid of the greatness of the expense.

  Cromwell said:

  ‘Tush; I must have the best of these Flemish furnishings.’

  He signed to Viridus to send for Katharine Howard, and went on talking with Sadler about the furnishing of his house in the Austin Friars. He had his agents all over Flanders watching the noted masters of the crafts to see what notable pieces they might turn out; for he loved fine carvings, noble hangings, great worked chests and other signs of wealth, and the money was never thrown away, for the wood and the stuffs and the gold thread remained so long as you kept the moth and the woodlouse from them. To the King too he gave presents every day.

  Katharine entered by a door from a corridor at which he had not expected her. She wore a great head-dress of net like the Queen’s and her dress was in no disarray, neither were her cheeks flushed by anything more than apprehension. She said that she had been shown that way by a large gentleman with a great beard. She would not bring herself to mention the name of Throckmorton, so much she detested him.

  Cromwell answered with a benevolent smile, ‘Aye, Throckmorton had ever an eye for beauty. Otherwise you had come scurvily out of that wash.’

  He twisted his mouth up as if he were mocking her, and asked her suddenly how the Lady Mary corresponded with her cousin the Emperor, for it was certain she had a means of writing to him?

  Katharine flushed all over her face with relief and her heart stilled itself a little. Here at least there was no talk of the Tower at once for her, because she had written a letter to Bishop Gardiner. She answered that that day for the first time she had been in the Lady Mary’s service.

  He smiled benevolently still, and holding out a hand in a little warning gesture and with an air of pleasant reasonableness, said that she must earn her bread like other folks in his Highness’ service.

  ‘Why,’ she answered, ‘I have been marvellous ill, but I shall be more diligent in serving my mistress.’

  He marked a distinction, pointing a fat finger at her heart-place. In the serving of her mistress she should do not enough work to pay for bodkins nor for sewing silk, since the Lady Mary asked nothing of her maids, neither their attendance, their converse, nor yet their needlework. Such a place asked nothing of one so fortunate as to fill it. To atone for it the service of the King demanded her labours.

  ‘Why,’ she said again, ‘if I must spy in those parts it is a great pity that I ever came there as your woman; for who there shall open their hearts to me?’

  He laughed at her comfortably still.

  ‘You may put it about that you hate me,’ he said. ‘You may mix with them that love me not. In the end you may worm yourself into their secrets.’

  Again a heavy flush covered Katharine’s face from the chin to the brow. It was so difficult for her to keep from speaking her mind with her lips that she felt as if her whole face must be telling the truth to him. But he continued to shake his plump sides as if he were uttering inaudible, ‘Ho—ho—ho’s.’

  ‘That is so easy,’ he said. ‘A child, I think, could compass it.’ He put his hands behind his back and stretched his legs apart. She was very pleasant to look at with her flushings, and it amused him to toy with frightened women. ‘It is in this way that you shall earn his Highness’ bread.’ It was known that Mary had this treasonable correspondence with the Emperor; in the devilish malignancy of her heart she desired that her sacred father should be cast down and slain, and continually she implored her cousin to invade her father’s dominions, she sending him maps, plans of the new castles in building and the names of such as were malevolent within the realm. ‘Therefore,’ he finished, ‘if you could discover her channels and those channels could then be stopped up, you would indeed both earn your bread and enter into high favour.’

  He began again good-humouredly to give her careful directions as to how she should act; as for instance by offering to make for the printers a fair copy of the Lady Mary’s Commentary upon Plautus. By pretending that certain words were obscure to her, she should find opportunities for coming suddenly into the room, and she should afford herself excuses for searching among his mistress’s papers without awakening suspicions.

  ‘Why, my face is too ingenuous,’ Katharine said. ‘I am not made for playing the spy.’

  He laughed at her.

  ‘That is so much the better,’ he said. ‘The best spies are those that have open countenances. It needs but a little schooling.’

  ‘I should get me a hang-dog look very soon,’ she answered. She paused for a minute and then spoke earnestly, holding out her hands. ‘I would you would set me a nobler task. Very surely it is shameful that a daughter should so hate the father that begat her; and I know the angels weep to see her desire that the great and noble prince should be cast down and slain by his enemies. But, sir, it were the better task to seek to soften her mind. Such knowledge as I have of goodly writers should aid me rather to persuade her heart towards her father; for I know no texts that should make me skilful as a spy, but I can give you a dozen from Plautus alone that do inculcate a sweet and dutiful love from daughter to sire.’

  He leered at her pleasantly.

  ‘Why, you speak sweetly, by the book. If the Lady Mary were a man now.…’

  The hitherto silent men laid back their heads to laugh, and the Chancellor of the Augmentations suddenly
rubbed his palms together, hissing like an ostler. But, seeing her look became angry and abashed, Cromwell stopped his sentence and once more held out a finger.

  ‘Why, indeed,’ he said, gravely, ‘if you could do that you might be the first lady in the land, for neither the King nor I, nor yet all nor many have availed there.’

  Katharine said:

  ‘Surely there is a way to touch the heart of this noble lady, and by long seeking I may find.’

  ‘Well, you have spoken many words,’ Cromwell said. ‘This is a great matter. If you shall achieve it, it shall be accounted to you both here and in heaven. But the other task I enjoin upon you.’

  She was making sorrowfully to the door, and he called to her:

  ‘I have found your cousin employment.’

  The sudden mention made her stop as if she had been struck in the face, and she held her hand to her side. Her face was distorted with fear as she turned to answer:

  ‘Aye. I knew. He hath told me. But I cannot thank you. I would not that my cousin should murder a prince of the Church.’ She knew, from the feeling in her heart and the cruel sound of his voice that he had that knowledge already. If he wished to imprison her it could serve no turn to fence about that matter, and she steadied herself by catching hold of the tapestry with one hand behind her back. The faces of Cromwell’s three assistants were upon her, hard, sardonic and grinning.

  Viridus said, with an air of parade:

  ‘I had told your lordship this lady had flaws in her loyalty.’ And the Chancellor was raising his hands in horror, after the fashion of a Greek Chorus. Cromwell, however, grinned still at her.

  ‘When the Queen Katharine died,’ he said slowly, ‘it was a great relief to this realm. When the late Arch Devil, Pope Clement, died, the King and I were mad with joy. But if all popes and all hostile queens and princes could be stricken with devils and dead to-morrow, his Highness would rather it were Reginald Pole.’

  Katharine understood very well that he was setting before her the enormity of her offence: she stood still with her lips parted. He went on rehearsing the crimes of the cardinal: how he had been educated by the King’s high bounty: how the King had offered him the Archbishopric of York: how he had the rather fled to the Bishop of Rome: how he had written a book, accusing the King of such crimes and heresies that all Christendom had cried out upon his Highness. Even then this Pole was in Paris with a bull from the Bishop of Rome calling upon the Emperor and the King of France to fall together upon their lord.

  Katharine gasped:

  ‘I would well he were dead. But not by my cousin. They should take my cousin and slay him.’

  Cromwell had arranged this scene very carefully: for his power over the King fell away daily, and that day he had had to tell Baumbach, the Saxish ambassador, that there was no longer any hope of the King’s allying himself with the Schmalkaldner league. Therefore he was the more hot to discover a new Papist treason. The suggestion of Viridus that Katharine might be made either to discover or to invent one had filled him with satisfaction. There was no one who could be more believed if she could be ground down into swearing away the life of her uncle or any other man of high station. And to grind her down thus needed only many threats. He infused gradually more terror into his narrow eyes, and spoke more gravely:

  ‘Neither do I desire the death of this traitor so hotly as doth his Highness. For there be these foul lies—and have you not heard the ancient fool’s prophecy that was made over thirty years ago: “That one with a Red Cap brought up from low degree should rule all the land under the King. (I trow ye know who that was.) And that after much mixing the land should by another Red Cap be reconciled or else brought to utter ruin”?’

  ‘I am new to this place,’ Katharine said; ‘I never heard that saying. God help me, I wish this man were dead.’

  His voice grew the more deep as he saw that she was the more daunted:

  ‘Aye: and whether the land be reconciled to the Bishop of Rome, or be brought to utter ruin, the one and the other signify the downfall of his Highness.’

  The Chancellor interrupted piously:

  ‘God save us. Whither should we all flee then!’

  ‘It is not,’ Viridus commented dryly, ‘that his Highness or my lord here do fear a fool prophecy made by a drunken man. But there being such a prophecy running up and down the land, and such a malignant and devilish Red Cap ranting up and down the world, the hearts of foolish subjects are made to turn.’

  ‘Idiot wench,’ the Chancellor suddenly yelped at her, ‘ignorant, naughty harlot! You had better have died than have uttered those your pretty words.’

  ‘Why,’ Cromwell said gently, ‘I am very sure that now you desire that your cousin should slay this traitor.’ He paused, licked his lips and held out a hand. ‘Upon your life,’ he barked, ‘tell no soul this secret.’

  The faces of all the four men were again upon her, sardonic, leering and amused, and suddenly she felt that this was not the end of the matter: there was something untrue in this parade of threats. Cromwell was acting: they were all acting parts. Their speeches were all too long, too dryly spoken: they had been rehearsed! This was not the end of the matter—and neither her cousin nor Cardinal Pole was here the main point. She wondered for a wild moment if Cromwell, too, like Gardiner, thought that she had a voice with the King. But Cromwell knew as well as she that the King had seen her but once for a minute, and he was not a fool like Gardiner to run his nose into a mare’s nest.

  ‘There is no power upon earth could save you from your doom if through you this matter miscarried,’ he said, softly: ‘therefore, be you very careful: act as I would have you act: seek out that secret that I would know.’

  It came irresistibly into Katharine’s head:

  ‘These men know already very well that I have written to Bishop Gardiner! This is to hold a halter continuously above my head!’ Then, at least, they did not mean to do away with her instantly. She dropped her eyes upon the ground and stood submissively whilst Privy Seal’s voice came cruel and level:

  ‘You are a very fair wench, made for love and such stuff. You are an indifferent good Latinist who might offer good counsel. But be you very careful that you come not against me. You should not escape, but may burrow underground sooner than that. Your Aristotle should not help you, nor Lucretius, nor Lucan, nor Silius Italicus. Diodorus Siculus hath no maxim that should help you against me; but, like Diodorus the Dialectician, you should die of shame. Seneca shall help you if you but dally with that fool thought who sayeth: “Quaeris quo jaceas post obitum loco? Quo non nata jacent.” Aye, thou shalt die and lie in an unknown grave as thou hadst never been born.’

  She went, her knees trembling half with fear and half with rage, for it was impossible to imagine anything more threatening or more arrogant than his soft, cruel voice, that seemed to sound for long after in her ears, saying, ‘I have you at my mercy; see you do as I have bidden you.’

  Watching the door that closed upon her, Viridus said, with a negligent amusement:

  ‘That fool Udal hath set it all about that your lordship designed her for the recreation of his Highness.’

  ‘Why,’ Cromwell answered, with his motionless smile of contempt for his fellow men, ‘it is well to offer bribes to fools and threats to knaves.’

  The Chancellor bleated, with amazed adulation, ‘Marvel that your lordship should give so much care to such a worthless rag!’

  ‘An I had never put my heart into trifles, I had never stood here,’ Cromwell snarled at him. ‘Would that my knaves would ever come to learn that!’ He spoke again to Viridus: ‘See that this wench come never near his Highness. I like not her complexion.’

  ‘Well, we may clap her up at any moment,’ his man answered.

  VII

  THE KING CAME TO THE REVELS at the Bishop of Winchester’s, for these too were given in honour of the Queen, and he had altered in his mind to let the Emperor and Francis know that he was inclined to weaken in his new allianc
es. Besides, there was the newest suitor for the hand of the Lady Mary, the young Duke Philip of Wittelsbach, who must be shown how great were the resources of the land. Young, gay, dark, a famous warrior and a good Catholic, he sat behind the Queen and speaking German of a sort he made her smile at times. The play was the Menechmi of Plautus, and Duke Philip interpreted it to her. She seemed at times so nearly human that the King, glancing back over his shoulder to note whether she disgraced him, could settle down into his chair and rest both his back and his misgivings. Seeing the frown leave his brow all the courtiers grew glad behind him; Cromwell talked with animation to Baumbach, the ambassador from the Schmalkaldner league, since he had not seen the King so gay for many days, and Gardiner in his bishop’s robes smiled with a black pleasure because his feast was so much more prosperous than Privy Seal’s had been. There was no one there of the Lady Mary’s household, because it was not seemly that she should be where her suitor was before he had been presented to her.

  The large hall was lit with tapers at dusk and hung with ivy and with holly; dried woodruff, watermint and other sweet herbs were scattered about the floors to give an agreeable odour; the antlers of deer from the bishop’s chase in Winchester were like a forest of dead boughs, branching from the walls, some gilded, some silvered, some supporting shields emblazoned with the arms of the See, of the bishop, of the King or of Cleves; an army of wood-pigeons and stock-doves with silver collars about their necks was at one time let fly into the hall, and the swish of their wings and afterwards their cooing among the golden rafters of the high ceiling made pleasing sound and mingled with the voices of sweet singing from the galleries at each end of the hall, near the roof. The players spoke their parts bravely, and, because this play was beloved among all others at the Court, there was a great and general contentment.