She felt herself grow weak at his touch but then she jerked her head away. “Francis… please, I dare not stay for I shall be missed. Oh, Francis, please! If you still have any affection for me, I beg of you do not let it be known that we...”
He looked down into her pleading eyes, “Trust me, Kate. I would not harm you but could you not find some employment for someone who once entertained the hope of having you as his wife?”
She twisted her hands helplessly, “I will try, I promise, but you will have to leave now. Would the post of Secretary suit…?”
“I write a fair hand and my finances are, shall we say, a little straightened.”
“Then ’tis settled. I dare not tarry longer.”
She rushed to the door and opened it carefully. Having first made sure that she was unobserved, she ran out into the passageway and went straight to find her grandmother.
Fortunately Agnes was alone, taking her customary afternoon nap. “What ails thee, child?” she questioned sharply, forgetting Catherine's new status.
Catherine was too upset to notice the lapse. “Grandmother, what am I to do? Francis Dereham is here!”
Agnes sat up quickly, scrutinising Catherine’s frightened face. “What does he want?”
“He begged to see me and I could not refuse, I have just come from him.”
“Holy Mother of God! Did anyone see you with him?”
“No, no, I was very careful. Oh, what am I to do? I am afraid, perhaps we should tell everything to Uncle Norfolk, he will know what to do.”
“NO! You must not breathe one word to your uncle!” Agnes cried, “Promise me, Catherine.”
Catherine nodded, “But what am I to do?”
“What did he want? What did he say?”
“He wants a post at court, he is short of money, but he assured me that he means no harm!”
“If he meant you no harm then why has he come? What answer did you give him?”
“I offered him the post of Secretary which is vacant.”
“God preserve us! You know what that means – you will be often in his company. Catherine have you no sense, tongues will wag!”
“I could think of nothing else to offer him.”
Agnes thought for a moment, she trembled as she thought of Norfolk’s reaction should Catherine tell him of her past. Perhaps Dereham meant what he said, perhaps he really did care for Catherine. “As you have offered the post there is nothing that can be done – to turn him away could bring disaster upon us both.” She patted Catherine’s hand comfortingly, “Try to forget the past,” she advised “you must try to strengthen the King’s love for you and a child would do that.”
Catherine nodded. Her grandmother was right, Francis would have to be given the post to keep him quiet but she wondered how long it would be before another shadow from the past would emerge, demanding the substance to keep the knowledge of her past from coming to the ears of the King.
Despite her fears, Catherine was a slave to her weakness and desire and amongst the King’s gentlemen was a kinsman of hers – Thomas Culpepper – a handsome youth whom she had known from childhood. Their friendship was renewed and soon Catherine was infatuated. Her sensuality which she had restrained since her marriage now completely dominated her and she lived only for the moments she spent with Culpepper. These were stolen, dangerous hours when Jane Rochford or one of her other ladies would stand watch outside the door of her chamber. Henry’s initial new lease of life had waned and he was frequently ill and seldom came to her at night, which was fortunate for she could not deny herself Culpepper’s charms and upon their arrival at each manor or castle she found ways and means of keeping her clandestine appointments with her lover.
Henry had cordially invited his nephew, James V of Scotland, to meet him at York in an effort to settle their differences, but James was a cautious young man and Henry waited in vain. At York Catherine’s love affair continued but at last Henry decided that he would wait no longer for his reticent nephew and the journey home was commenced. With each stop Catherine became more and more desperate, knowing that once they reached London the opportunities to continue her liaison would virtually disappear. She grew more reckless and one night was nearly caught. Desperately, Jane Rochford begged her to take more care, but Catherine was heedless of the danger.
Finally they reached Hampton Court and life returned to normal, although she made the most of every opportunity, however small, that presented itself for being alone with Tom. Henry, unaware of her behaviour, requested the Bishop of Lincoln to prepare a public thanksgiving for his marriage which was to take place on All Saints Day.
The day before the proposed thanksgiving, Norfolk was startled to note that Cranmer passed to the King a folded slip of paper whilst they were at Mass in the chapel. Henry seemed to be upset and the Duke was soon to find out the reason why for after the service he was summoned to the King’s chamber.
He was shocked to see how ill and drawn Henry looked and how distressed. “Sire, is aught wrong?” he questioned.
Henry silently passed him the piece of paper.
He read the contents with horror! The note stated that Catherine had been guilty of unchaste conduct with a certain Henry Mannox, a person of low birth and also Francis Dereham who had been in the employ of her grandmother. His mind was in a turmoil! “Dereham,” he thought, “That is the person she has made her secretary!” She had recently given many posts to former servants of the Dowager Duchess and now he understood why. He could only stare at the King in horror.
“Sire, I had no knowledge of this… I do earnestly assure you that had I known of her wanton conduct I should never have…” he stammered.
Henry glared at him and he felt fear oozing from every pore in his body.
“You will go at once to Norfolk House and search for any of the papers or effects of this... Dereham!”
“At once, Your Grace!”
He left hastily. The initial shock was wearing off, giving place to anger. “Did Agnes know of these affairs?” he wondered. He had been duped, he had been led to believe that the girl was innocent, modest! Bah! She was no different to the next, a slut, a trollop! Angrily he called for his horse and rode hard for Lambeth.
He did not wait to be announced but strode into his step-mother’s solar, after first giving instructions to his servants to search the house.
“Tom!” Agnes cried.
“Did you know?” he shouted at her.
She gazed at him, petrified.
“Did you know that your granddaughter was a harlot?” he shouted.
The colour drained from her cheeks and her eyes filled with fear.
He grasped her roughly by the shoulders and shook her. “You lied to me! You told me she was innocent!”
Agnes started to cry. “Tom, Tom, what are we to do? Does the King know?”
He pushed her back into the chair, “Yes, the King knows! The godly Cranmer saw to that! By God! It will be the end of me – the end of us all! I should never have trusted you!”
Agnes was crying noisily but he ignored her, pacing the room with long strides.
“Years of waiting, watching and scheming – all come to naught because of a wanton bitch who could not control her lust! And you knew!”
“What what will you do?” Agnes sobbed.
“I have orders to search this house for any papers of Dereham’s, after that I shall look to myself. You, Madam, can fend for yourself as best you can!” he cried and stormed from the room.
He found a trunk full of letters and papers which unfortunately for Agnes proved that she was involved in Catherine’s disgrace, although she had burnt more incriminating evidence immediately after Dereham had come to court. He immediately returned to court and denied any knowledge of Catherine’s immoral conduct or his step-mother’s duplicity.
Poor Catherine had been confined to her apartments and was frantic with fear. Mannox and Dereham had been put to the torture and although Dereham had stoutly defended Cat
herine by his silence, the craven Mannox blurted forth everything.
Archbishop Cranmer was sent to her to try to obtain a confession. He was a kindly man, in his ineffectual way, and was distressed when he saw her plight. Her eyes were swollen and red with weeping, her hood had been discarded and her hair was in a wild tangle, as though she had been dementedly tearing at it.
She shrank from him in terror when he approached her.
“Your Grace, pray do not be afraid, for I am come not to harm you,” he tried to soothe her.
Catherine stared at him in terror.
“Come, pray be seated and calm yourself for the King only wishes me to find out if these evil tales be true.”
Hesitantly, Catherine came forward and sat down upon the chair that he placed for her. He seated himself opposite her.
“You know of what you have been accused, Your Grace?”
“I know,” she whispered in a shaking voice.
“And is it true?”
She fell to her knees before him and taking his hands she began to cry wildly, “What will they do to me? Oh, God? What will happen to me?”
“If you have not committed these crimes, then nothing will happen to you.”
She began to cry louder, “I was no more than a child. I did not know and when the King wished to marry me… I could not tell him!” she cried. “Oh! My Lord, help me I beg of you. They will kill me! They will cut off my head like my cousin Anne!”
She started to scream hysterically and Cranmer hastily summoned her maid servant, “Your mistress is overwrought, try to calm her,” he instructed the girl as he left.
Henry was cut to the quick by her conduct and withdrew to his own chambers, refusing to see anyone. His rose without a thorn had proved to be a briar!
Next day he attended Mass in the chapel and that day Catherine made her last bid for freedom. She had spent the night in terror, unable to sleep, trying to push from her mind the thoughts of her cousin that tormented her. By morning she was half crazed with fear. She heard the sound of the organ in the chapel and realised that Henry would be at Mass. If she could reach him, explain to him, beg him to forgive her, she was certain that he could not refuse if he saw the state she was reduced to.
In an instant she had the door open, surprising her guards, and on silent, flying feet she sped down the gallery, her disordered gown and tangled hair streaming behind her. She had reached the end of the gallery before the guards reacted. They caught her just as she came within two steps of her objective. She struggled frantically to free herself, kicking and biting as over and over she screamed, “Henry! Henry! For the Love of God! Help me! Help me!”
They dragged her still screaming and kicking back towards her chamber. Her head hit the floor several times but still she screamed like a demented animal. They flung her bodily inside the room and slammed the door shut and she lay sobbing upon the floor until darkness fell.
The King moved to Oatlands after this distressing episode and it was here that he was informed of his wife’s adultery with Culpepper. For Henry it was the final blow, he broke down and wept for he had loved her and she had shown to the world that she rejected that love, she had preferred a young and healthy man to an ageing, diseased King. Any hopes of a divorce had gone – Catherine had committed treason.
When the Duke heard of his niece’s further misconduct he was appalled! His judgement had indeed been at fault, obviously she could not keep her hands off any handsome man. He was also livid for everything that he had worked for would now be lost because of a chit of a girl whose carnal appetites ruled her.
Agnes had been arrested and sent to the Tower but that was no more than she deserved, in his opinion. Anne Howard, Lord William Howard and Anne, Countess of Bridgewater, had also been imprisoned as had Jane Rochford the widow of George Boleyn, who had aided and abetted Catherine in her adultery. The Duke watched the rounding up and imprisoning of his family and decided that the time had come for him to retire to Framlingham, lest the King’s wrath be directed against him also. From Framlingham he wrote to Henry, “Most noble and gracious Sovereign Lord; yesterday came to my knowledge that mine ungracious mother-in-law, mine unhappy brother and his wife with my lewd sister of Bridgewater, were committed to the Tower, which I (by long experience knowing your accustomed equity and justice used to all your subjects) am sure is not done but for some of their false and traitorous proceedings against your Royal Majesty; which revolving in my mind, with also the most abominable deeds done by two of my nieces against your highness, hath brought me into the greatest perplexity that ever poor wretch was in, fearing your Majesty, having so often and by so many of my kin been thus falsely and traitorously handled, might not only conceive a displeasure in your heart against me and all other of my kin, but also abhor in manner to hear speak of any of the same,” he paused, re-reading the missive and praying fervently that his disownment of his relatives and the contrite tone of the letter would suffice to ward off the King’s wrath.
“Which my true proceedings towards Your Majesty being considered and also the small love to my false, traitorous nieces and my mother-in-law have borne unto me, doth put me in some hope that Your Highness will not conceive any displeasure in your most gentle heart against me, that God knoweth did never think thought which might be to your discontentment.” He finished.
The letter was crawling in its servility, but desperation drove him. If he could save himself by this means then he would not hesitate to stoop to do so.
Catherine was taken to Sion House on the 13th November and kept in close confinement. Christmas of 1541 was dismal and utterly without cheer for a cloud of gloom and depression hung over the whole court as Henry shut himself away with his grief and bitterness.
On the 21st January, 1542, the Bills of Attainder were passed for Catherine Howard, Jane Rochford, Agnes Howard, William Howard, Anne Howard and the Countess of Bridgewater, they were duly executed with the exception of Agnes who waited in terror in her cell in the Beauchamp Tower for the knock which never came.
Catherine’s lovers, Mannox, Dereham and Culpepper had been executed before Christmas and their grizzly remains were still to be seen upon London Bridge. Darkness spared Catherine the sight of grinning skulls as she was rowed down river to the Tower on the 10th February.
At eight o’clock on the 13th February, a cold, grey morning with the damp mist rising from the river, Catherine Howard, Queen of England, followed the steps of her cousin to the scaffold on the green outside the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula. Her hysterical fear had gone, she had resigned herself to her fate. She had even begged that the block be brought to her so that she could practice laying her head upon it so that she should die with dignity. Her heavy, black velvet gown, cut low at the neck, was covered by a heavy cape of the same cloth lined with marten so that she should not shiver in the cold air. Her hair was tied up in a linen cap beneath her hood.
The executioner knelt to receive her forgiveness for the deed he was about to perform and she pardoned him freely. Her calm manner was greatly at variance with the demented Jane Rochford who cried and wept distractedly. Catherine removed her cloak and handed it to the headsman as part of his fee and then reached up and removed her hood which she passed to one of her maids.
She stood for a moment surveying those who had come to see her die. She asked God’s forgiveness for her sins and the King’s forgiveness for her treatment of him, then in a voice barely audible she whispered, “I die the wife of a King, but I would sooner have died the wife of Thomas Culpepper.”
She knelt and with her own hands tied the blindfold about her eyes. She felt for the block and laid down her head upon the rough, wooden pillow.
The pale, wintery sunlight flashed for an instant upon the cold steel as the axe swung in its downward arc and Catherine Howard’s head rolled upon the straw, she was nineteen years old.
Fortunately for the Duke his complete disownment of his family and his craven letter convinced the King that he had not known of
Catherine’s infidelity and he was allowed to remain at Framlingham unmolested, although he was distinctly out of favour.
Life at Framlingham was not particularly peaceful for to his intense disgust his daughter, Mary, had developed strong leanings towards the Reformed Religion and his eldest son, Henry, greatly irritated and annoyed him at times.
Henry Howard had been educated from the age of ten at Windsor with the Duke of Richmond, and at fourteen had become cup-bearer to the King. At fifteen, Norfolk had obtained for him a bride – Francis Vere, daughter of the Earl of Oxford. Henry was a handsome, talented young man but with a quick temper. In vain his father tried to instil caution and patience into him but to his consternation, Henry was loud in his denunciation of the new nobility and although the Duke agreed entirely with his son’s sentiments, he wished he would not be so loud in voicing them. Henry Howard particularly hated the Seymour brothers “These saucy fellows that have crept into court beneath their sister’s petticoats!” the Earl of Surrey contemptuously called them.
In the Spring of 1542 the Earl of Surrey had words with John Leigh – a distant relation – whom he felt had insulted his father. The Earl challenged him to a duel but Norfolk persuaded his son to write and apologise to the Privy Council for disturbing the peace, a task which was not easily accomplished. The penalty for this crime was the cutting off of the right arm of the offender and Norfolk stressed this fact in his arguments. Despite his letter of apology Surrey was arrested and sent to the Fleet prison.
The Duke was still worried about his own position and he could not risk the King’s displeasure, therefore Surrey would have to be made to understand that at times it was necessary to pocket one’s pride and bide your time and plot carefully.
During his exile in Suffolk, external forces were working in his favour. France and Spain were once again at war and Scotland had refused to abandon their old allegiance to France. A great many of the insurgents of the ill-fated Pilgrimage of Grace had taken refuge across the border and the King was infuriated by the defeat of an English raiding party at Halidon Rig. To revenge this defeat the Duke was returned to favour and ordered to march north. The Earl of Surrey had been released from prison and to keep him out of further trouble his father insisted that he also should make the journey north. Surrey was no mean soldier, having been instructed from boyhood in the arts of war by his uncle, Lord Charles Howard, later to become Lord Howard of Effingham.
The White Lion of Norfolk Page 11