The Rose Without a Thorn

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by Jean Plaidy


  But that was the way of men. I thought fleetingly of the King’s assertion that I was a good and modest girl and how he approved of such conduct at his Court; and I could not help remembering Elizabeth Blount and the Duke of Richmond and the King’s conduct with Jane Seymour, which had been seen by my cousin.

  And I was very sorry for the poor Queen.

  It appeared to be as Lady Margaret had said.

  Some of the ladies-in-waiting on the Queen and some of the gentlemen of the King’s bedchamber were called as witnesses to the fact that the royal couple did not spend their nights together. I wondered whether Thomas Culpepper was called and what he thought about the matter.

  It was clearly proved that the marriage was no ordinary one. The Queen was not present during the proceedings, as her English was not good enough for her to understand what was going on. But she had learned a little of the language and, when she was asked if she had informed Mistress Lowe or any of her ladies of the King’s neglect, she had replied that she had not done so as she received quite as much of His Majesty’s attention as she wished for.

  Then came the announcement that the marriage was null and void and that both parties were free to marry again. A bill was produced to prove this. The Archbishop of Canterbury announced the end of the marriage, and the Lords passed the Bill which afterward went to the Commons, where approval was readily given.

  The King had had his way.

  Several of us were in the Queen’s apartment when news came that the King was sending a deputation to the Queen that she might agree to the terms which were set out.

  I could not but be aware of the brooding sense of foreboding which hung over those apartments at Richmond.

  The Queen, outwardly calm, sought to hide the fear which beset her. She remained in her apartments and would see none but Mother Lowe.

  Lady Rochford said: “Poor lady! One can guess her feelings. Three have gone before her. One discarded as a wife after many years, another to the block, and the third no sooner married than she died in childbirth. You can understand her fears. It seems as though a curse has been laid on the King’s wives.”

  “All will be well,” I said. “The King can be very kind.”

  “When he gets his way,” said Jane, with a look over her shoulder.

  The deputation had arrived. I was surprised, because my Uncle Norfolk was not with it. Instead there were the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Southampton and Sir Thomas Wriothesley—all men to inspire fear.

  I was with Lady Margaret when she was told that the men were waiting. I followed her, keeping a discreet distance, so I heard what was said.

  Suffolk was the spokesman.

  “My lady,” he announced. “We come here on the King’s business, and would be taken without delay to the Queen.”

  “I will go to Her Majesty at once and tell her of your coming,” said Lady Margaret with the dignity and authority becoming to the sister of the King. “She may wish to receive you here.”

  Suffolk replied: “It matters not where, my Lady Margaret. But it is imperative that we are received by the Queen without delay.”

  Lady Margaret bowed her head and left them. I followed her to the Queen’s apartment and stood at the door waiting. I should disappear before they came out, but I felt an urgent desire to know what was happening.

  I heard Mother Lowe cry out sharply in those guttural tones which I could not understand. There was a brief silence and then Lady Margaret seemed to be giving orders.

  Lady Rutland came to the door and saw me standing there, but she was too shocked to ask me what I was doing. She said, in a voice of shock: “The Queen has fainted.”

  I said: “The King’s messengers are waiting to see her on the King’s business.”

  “I know. It is for that reason. Go to them. Tell them Her Majesty will see them as soon as it is possible for her to do so.”

  I went back to the hall and told Lord Suffolk and the others what Lady Rutland had told me.

  Suffolk looked impatient, but he thanked me courteously, and I was amazed that he could be so respectful toward me—more so than he had been toward Lady Margaret.

  I came back to the Queen’s apartments to tell them I had spoken with the Duke of Suffolk, who would be waiting with his friends until the Queen was ready.

  Nobody noticed me when I entered, for all attention was fixed on the Queen, who was lying back in a chair, and one of the ladies was fanning her.

  She had recovered from her faint, but she looked pale and was clearly disturbed.

  The Queen stood up suddenly. She said: “I will go now. There is no sense to wait.”

  Mother Lowe took her arm and they talked rapidly in their own tongue.

  “Ja, ja,” said the Queen, and then she turned to Lady Margaret. “Come,” she said.

  And they went down to the hall to face the King’s messengers.

  As I had expected, Lady Rochford would know what was taking place.

  “They have come to take the Queen away,” she said. “It was as one expects in these matters. She fainted, poor lady. That was how it was with your cousin. Depend on it, she will be in the Tower this night.”

  “But why? Why? What has she done to deserve such treatment?”

  “She has not been beautiful enough to suit the King’s taste.”

  “Oh, no … no.”

  “But yes. How did the others go? Remember? Well, you are thinking. It was not the Tower for Queen Catherine. She had the Emperor to support her, do not forget. Of course, the Queen has her brother, the Duke, but he is not the Emperor Charles, now is he? But mayhap the King will have to take a little care. And then that other Queen. We know now how it went with her. And this is the fourth. Yes, it will be the Tower for her.”

  “Do not say that. Lady Margaret thinks there will be a divorce. Why should they come here to talk to her in that way if there was not to be a divorce?”

  “Mayhap the King thinks a divorce is not binding enough. Mayhap he has something other in mind. There might be some to say his new marriage was no marriage at all … the one with this new Queen. I mean the one he will take next. These doubts can cause great trouble in the realm. Whereas when he married Jane Seymour, none could say that she was not really the Queen because of Anne Boleyn, because Anne was a dead woman.”

  “Jane, you should take care of what you say.”

  She took my arm and put her face close to mine, smiling at me in that sly way of hers.

  “I only speak this way to little Katherine,” she said. “She is my friend. She would never speak against me. She knows full well that if she did, they would say she had joined in the talk and was as guilty as I.”

  “Oh, Jane,” I said, “let us not speak of such matters.”

  The Queen faced those men in the hall. They talked to her and I heard afterward that, when she heard what they had to tell her, she could only think she was living in a dream. It was not as she had feared. And a great joy came over her, such as she had not known since coming to England.

  I soon learned why. It was Lady Margaret who told me.

  The messengers had brought word of the King’s intentions, and it was their task to obtain the Queen’s acceptance of his terms.

  “She was to cease to be his wife,” said Lady Margaret, “and if she would agree to this, he would adopt her as his sister. She must give up the title of Queen. But she would have precedence over every lady in the land, except the King’s two daughters and, if he married again, of course, his Queen.”

  “And she accepts that most willingly, I’ll vow,” I said.

  “You speak truth there. Moreover she will have estates to the value of three thousand pounds a year.”

  I gasped in astonishment.

  “I was with Her Majesty,” went on Lady Margaret. “At first, she thought she had not heard aright. But I assured her that she had. I thought she was going to faint again, she turned so pale … and then the color was flooding back into her cheeks. I think this day the happies
t lady in England is the Queen … who is Queen no longer—and well content not to be. She is to write to her brother and tell him how wholeheartedly she accepts the King’s conditions.”

  “Does she not want to return to her own country?”

  “Indeed not,” said Lady Margaret. “To have been rejected … unwanted. Imagine it! And the alternative? To stay here … as the King’s sister.”

  “But she is not that.”

  “Indeed not!” said Lady Margaret. “The King calls her sister and she has three thousand pounds a year and is one of the most important ladies in the land. Oh come, Katherine, can you not see why she wants to stay there?”

  “Poor lady. I am so happy that it has been settled in this way.”

  “I hope she did not betray her great desire to be rid of the King. I’ll swear it was as great as his to be rid of her.”

  “Then it is a most happy solution for them both,” I said.

  “And there you speak wisely, Katherine Howard.”

  I think it was the first time in my life that anyone had thought words of mine wise.

  My grandmother requested me to call on her, so I took a barge to Lambeth.

  I found the Duchess in an exultant mood. She seemed more spritely and much younger.

  “Katherine, my dear child!” she cried. “You look in excellent health and good spirits.”

  “There is no reason why I should not be,” I replied.

  She laughed. “Of a surety there is not. Indeed, you are going to be much honored. My little granddaughter, Katherine Howard, of all people! Who would have thought it? Your uncle says he finds it hard to believe, and that you will need much guidance. You must do exactly as he tells you.”

  “Have we not always done so? And why has he become so interested in me?”

  “Katherine, my child, can it be that you do not know?”

  “It is because the King has noticed me. I know that.”

  She laughed. “Noticed indeed! Well, you were always a pretty child.” She screwed up her eyes and studied me intently. “Many girls are pretty, but you have something more. Plump as a pouter pigeon and yet still the little girl. A pretty creature, who needs to be cherished and cared for, being somewhat unworldly. Yes, I can see it.”

  I smiled complacently. It was good to meet with this approval—something rare in the past.

  “The King will be here soon.”

  “Here?”

  “Here indeed. You must be prepared for him. Let me look at you. H’m. Shall I bring the ruby necklace for you to wear? No, I think not. You are better as you are. Simple. I believe that is the quality which attracts. Now, you must be prepared when the King speaks to you.”

  “How shall I know what answers I should make? I never know and he asks so many questions. Some of them do not need to be answered, but that is not always so … and I am never sure.”

  “You have pleased him as yet. It is true that he is in a mood to be pleased with you. He has fallen in love with you, Katherine. It must be because you are so different from the others.”

  “In love with me!”

  She nodded. “It is hard to believe that you … a simple girl … could win the affection of the King. But it appears to be so. It is for this reason that he is so eager to be rid of Queen Anne.”

  “Oh no, you are wrong! I have amused him with my simple ways. He is kind.”

  “You must not be so foolish, Katherine. We know the King likes an innocent and unworldly girl—such a contrast to those who have gone before. It is a novelty. But you must not take that too far. If you seem too stupid, he might turn from you.”

  “You cannot mean that I …”

  “Could be the next Queen of England.”

  I began to tremble at the thought. I married to the King—that old man with his bad leg, which had to be dressed by Thomas—and I was betrothed to Thomas.

  I said: “Your Grace, I could not. I am already betrothed.”

  She stared at me in amazed horror.

  “Betrothed! What mean you?”

  “You said I was to be. Do you not remember? To my cousin Thomas Culpepper.”

  “Thomas Culpepper? Are you crazy, girl?”

  “I am not,” I said defiantly. “We are going to marry, leave Court and live at Hollingbourne.”

  A sudden fury came over her. She brought up her hand and slapped my face.

  “Do not let me hear you say such a wicked thing again,” she gasped.

  “But…”

  “Silence! Your uncle would be furious. He would make you sorry you ever saw Thomas Culpepper, and him sorry he ever saw you.”

  “We love each other.”

  “Be silent, I said. You must be mad. Never a word of this must pass your lips again. Do you want to ruin us all?”

  “Ruin you? How?”

  “Ruin the whole family. You were always addle-pated. The King has a fancy for you. Your uncle says he has never seen him so determined since …” She faltered. “We do not want such as that to happen again. He was set against the family then … but it was only for a time and we did return to favor. Not a word of this so-called betrothal to Culpepper, or it will be the worse for you … and for him. Not a word, not a word. Is that understood?” “Do you mean … ?”

  “What I say. There must be no more talk of Culpepper. You must forget there was ever any mention of you and him. And …” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There was that other. Derham … Francis Derham. He is away. In Ireland, I believe. He must stay there and, Katherine Howard; you must forget you ever saw him.”

  “I cannot forget as I will. I could never forget Francis Derham.”

  “He came back …”

  “I told him it was over between us.”

  “It is not only over, it never happened. It must never be mentioned. You did not know Francis Derham. You did not make any arrangement with Thomas Culpepper. Holy Mother of God, Culpepper is still in the King’s service.”

  “But I cannot believe I did not know Francis Derham because I dare not speak of him. And I love Thomas Culpepper.”

  “Be silent. You love none but the King. This is what he will demand. You are his subject, remember. He has singled you out for great honors. You must be worthy of them.” She drew me to her, half-pleading, half-threatening. “Katherine, you have come too far. You cannot go back now. The King has chosen you. What greater honor could there be than that? You must accept what life offers you. Think of all those who, were they in your position, would be rejoicing in their good fortune.”

  I said slowly: “The Queen rejoiced to be free of him.”

  “He did not love her. If he had, she would have been the happiest woman in the country. Now … that is for someone else.”

  “I wish,” I began. “Oh, how I wish …”

  “You will have nothing to fear. Think of it. Queen of England. The King’s much loved Queen, who only has to be as she is, and is sure to please him. You need have no fear. I shall be at hand to help you, and there is your uncle. He will tell you exactly what you have to do. So … as I say, there is nothing to fear … unless, of course, you play the fool and throw away good fortune by prattling of love for this and that one. Listen to me, Katherine. That did not happen. You must put all thought of it from your mind and do as you are told by your uncle and me … and so please the King. You cannot be blamed for what happened in the past.”

  I kept thinking of Derham in the Maids’ Chamber, where we had rolled on the floor and made merry, until my grandmother had come in and found us.

  There was so much of the past which I wanted to forget, and now I was overwhelmed by the confirmation of that which had haunted me for some time, and while evidence had pointed to the fact that there must be some truth in it, I could not entirely believe it.

  The manner in which the King had noticed me should have made me realize the truth. I was not, as he believed, an inexperienced girl. I had seen the expression in his eyes, as I had in those of others. It was merely because he was the K
ing that I had not accepted what it really meant. I had thought of myself as insignificant Katherine Howard, accepted at Court because I was the niece of the Duke of Norfolk.

  The glittering prospect was now revealed to me. The King—the much-married King—had chosen me.

  I remembered all the excitement there had been when his desire had fallen on my cousin, and how it had brought our family into closer connection with royalty—which seemed to be the ambition of everyone at Court.

  I was flattered, and on the other hand alarmed. I kept thinking of the poor Queen, who had fainted with fear when the King’s commissioners came to talk to her and then had nearly fainted again, this time with joy, because she discovered he wanted her to be his sister instead of his wife.

  But he liked me. He liked my simple ways. He had never shown any anger toward me, not even that tetchiness which my uncle could sometimes arouse in him. He had smiled at my simplicity and liked me the better for it. He might frighten others, but he had always been very kind to me. And he was the King.

  My grandmother was smiling at me now. “Your cheek is a little red,” she said.

  “That is because you slapped it.”

  “Ah, you are not the Queen yet, child, and I did it for your good. Never … never speak to the King of Thomas Culpepper … nor … that other.”

  “I will not,” I said. “It is past and done with.”

  “You cannot be blamed for what was done so long ago,” she said, frowning deeply, and I had the idea that she was trying to convince herself.

  “Is this thing really true?” I said. “How can you be sure?”

  “The King has spoken to your uncle.”

  “But do you think he really means it?”

  “Of course he means it, child. It is a serious matter. Let me tell you this. Your uncle is very pleased with you.”

  “It will be the first time he ever has been.”

  “He is proud of you. You must always remember to do what he tells you. Now, we must compose ourselves. The King will be here at any moment. I hear sounds from below. It means the barge will be at the privy stairs.”

  There was brief pause while my grandmother studied me, patting my hair and looking anxiously at my cheek.

 

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