Faithful Traitor: The Story of Margaret Pole (Plantagenet Embers Book 2)

by Samantha Wilcoxson

Margaret ignored Jan’s quizzical gaze. She would have her answers soon enough. Henry was rejoining them as they reached the vast entrance to the narthex. Margaret allowed herself to momentarily forget her mission to take in the view of the high ceiling, intricately carved by men who had already gone on to receive their reward in heaven. She hoped that God saw some part of her life as a worthy sacrifice to him as well.

  “Mother, are you ready?” Henry asked.

  His arm was offered and taken firmly by his mother as Jan followed behind. Her head was already bowed in defeat, though she knew not yet what she had lost.

  The abbess enjoyed opulent luxuries that the nuns in residence were told kept them from depending fully upon God. Clearly, their leader had learned how to resist the temptations of warm fires, fine food, and glittering jewels, for she was often surrounded by them. As the trio entered her chamber, they felt as much at home as they would visiting a fellow member of the nobility.

  Greetings exchanged, Margaret was quick to get down to business.

  “I would like to speak to you, mother abbess, regarding my beloved daughter-in-law.”

  She felt slightly guilty about the misleading statement, especially when she saw Jan’s eyes widen in realization of what was happening.

  “Of course, Lady Salisbury,” the abbess responded in a smooth voice. Turning to Jan, she offered condolences that seemed barely heard.

  “It is the loss of my dear son, Arthur, that brings us here,” Margaret continued, grasping Henry’s arm for support though she sat on a firm chair.

  Henry took up the conversation to spare her. “I believe that it would be beneficial to the entire family, and especially my dear sister-in-law, if she were to serve God here at Syon. Were you to take her as a novice, Jan could gain great comfort that comes only from our God who knows her grief.”

  “I have seen many widows find overwhelming comfort from prayer and the sisterhood,” the abbess agreed without looking at Jan.

  However, Margaret did look at her and saw surprise, but more than that, hurt. Margaret knew that she would be rending the woman from her children when she only just lost her husband, but this was the best way to protect their inheritance. If Jan were to remarry, which her position and beauty made rather likely, Arthur’s children would be forced to split all that he had left to them with half siblings who had never known him. It simply would not do. Jan must see the sense of it.

  “Jan has spoken to me about the joy that prayer brings her, and I am confident that this is the course that God has prepared for her,” Margaret stated more confidently than she felt.

  The abbess nodded and opened her mouth to speak when Jan’s voice filled the room.

  “Will no one ask me what I think? Does anyone wonder how I feel about spending the rest of my life cloistered with chaste women?”

  Tears sprung to her eyes, and she swatted angrily at them for giving evidence of her weakness of character.

  “I have not been a part of these discussions, though it is clear I have been the topic of them,” Jan finished with a sneer that marred her perfect features.

  Henry frowned at her before addressing the abbess as if she had not spoken.

  “You can see that my sister-in-law is quite upset by her loss and the decisions that are required of her at this time. With her children taken into my household and that of Lady Salisbury, we wish to free her of these demands and enable her to find peace at Syon.”

  The abbess shifted her eyes slowly between them. Margaret lowered her own when the abbess looked her way, not realizing that this was far from the first time the nun had sat in discussions just like this one. She knew the secrets of many aristocratic families and kept them well.

  Finally settling her gaze upon Jan, she spoke, “You understand that a vow of chastity would be required?”

  Jan opened her mouth to speak, but not a sound escaped. Red blotches began at her eyes and spread slowly across her face as she attempted to control her feelings or at least stop crying. She closed her mouth and stared at a tapestry featuring Hannah giving Samuel over to the priest Eli rather than respond to the question posed to her. It seemed that in reverse of Hannah’s decision to devote her long awaited child to God, she would be expected to give up her own life while her children went on to have theirs.

  Margaret watched as Jan studied the tapestry and did not rush her. She silently prayed for God to guide them, though she hoped that he would guide them along the path she had already determined. He seemed to be listening, for as she finished the thought Jan turned back to them.

  “I will do as my wise mother and brother prescribe, for I know that my eternal salvation and spiritual peace is the motivation for their actions,” she said, leaving no doubt within the mind of any in the room that she did not believe this for a moment.

  “We welcome you with open arms,” the abbess said without moving to embrace her at all. “May God bless you through your service here.”

  Margaret winced at the coldness of the blessing. Should not service to God be heartfelt and sincere? And willingly entered? She looked again to Jan, afraid that she would see an accusing glare. However, the girl was staring at the table as though memorizing the swirls in the wood grain.

  Good. Margaret could live with that.

  October 1529

  In the two years since Arthur’s death, Margaret had found comfort in her responsibilities to Princess Mary. A bright thirteen year old, Mary provided Margaret with a welcome distraction from her grief. Margaret was also blessed to have her granddaughter, Katherine, as part of Mary’s household, along with Geoffrey’s wife, Constance. With Kathryn still Mary’s chief lady-in-waiting who had tirelessly filled in for Margaret while she cared for Arthur, Margaret had a cozy household at Thornbury.

  Katherine was Margaret’s oldest grandchild, and she was close in age to the princess. When the two tipped their auburn heads together in some girlish conspiracy, Margaret could not help but smile and pray for God’s blessings upon them as they grew up together as leading ladies in the country. Henry may not have the Bergavenny inheritance she had hoped to secure for him, but his large family gave him great joy and his favor with the king did not leave him wanting.

  Margaret looked on as Kathryn oversaw the girls at their embroidery. Both had the talent to create beautiful work, but neither seemed willing to apply herself at the moment. Kathryn was attempting to be harsh, however her students knew her too well. In moments, the older woman was giggling alongside the girls, work forgotten.

  Leaving her private alcove to approach the party, Margaret noticed the girls quickly take up their fabric and aspire to appear busy. Kathryn felt no need to join in this attempt. She brushed loose hairs from her face and smiled up at Margaret as if to say these are the moments that make it all worth it.

  Margaret agreed, but felt that she was the one who must always remain stern, keeping the entire household on task at the sacrifice of her own joy at times.

  “Let’s see how you are progressing,” Margaret said, holding her hand out to Katherine.

  “Oh, do look at mine first, Lady Salisbury,” Mary exclaimed. She jumped up and stood between Katherine and Margaret’s outstretched hand, but bowed her head to keep from becoming entirely disrespectful.

  Margaret took the elaborately stitched fabric from Mary’s hand, while raising her eyebrow at Kathryn. Should she praise the girl’s work and appreciate her willingness to shield her friend or remonstrate the insubordination? The question was forgotten as she peered at Mary’s fine, tiny stitches.

  “It is beautiful, Mary. Your mother will be quite pleased to see this.”

  “Thank you,” Mary said submissively with her chin almost touching her chest. “I wish to make it a cover for the prayer book I am writing for her grace.”

  Now Margaret did smile. She could not be angry with the daughter who brought one of her closest friends such joy with her love and thoughtfulness. As she reached out to touch Mary’s face and force her to look up, Margaret noted
the difference between her lined and wrinkled hand when set next to the smooth skin of the princess. Her smile faded slightly, and she wondered at the passing of time. She brightened once again as Mary’s inquisitive grey eyes sought hers.

  “It will be one of your mother’s most prized possessions,” Margaret assured her, forcing her thoughts to remain in the present.

  “Will you assist me when it comes to the binding?” Mary asked, turning her body slightly to block Margaret’s view of Katherine as she attempted to salvage her poorly stitched project.

  The lopsided smile on Kathryn’s face as she immediately saw the ruse finally broke through Margaret’s impressive self-control. Mary went wide-eyed as her elderly governess threw her head back and laughed. She had thought she was being quite clever, but the knowing look on Lady Craddock’s face indicated that she had not been as discreet as she hoped.

  A flush crept up Mary’s neck, and she breathed slowly and deeply to fight it. She hated to appear embarrassed or for her emotions to be too clearly written upon her face. Poor Katherine was practically in tears as she tore at sloppy stitches and became confused by the behavior of her grandmother.

  “Dear girl,” Margaret said in a breathless voice. She stepped around Mary with an appreciative grin and covered Katherine’s hands with her own to stop their destructive work. “You must be patient. Not every woman naturally excels at needlework.”

  Katherine’s eyes were bright blue with unshed tears when she raised her face to her grandmother. “I cannot do it! My stitches look nothing like Mary’s.”

  “Princess Mary,” Margaret corrected, as she did every time any member of the household did not address her properly.

  Katherine closed her eyes, and Margaret had the feeling that she was rolling them behind her closed lids.

  “It will serve you well to remember that, while Princess Mary is a dear friend, she will also be your queen,” Margaret instructed the teary eyed girl.

  “Yes, grandmother,” Katherine whispered. She looked utterly defeated, a failure at needlework and too low to address her best friend by her Christian name.

  Kathryn injected herself into the scene at that moment, nodding at Margaret to say that she would handle it from here. Margaret stepped back, allowing Kathryn to comfort where she had been forced to discipline. A pain grew in her chest as she walked away, and her arms ached to hold her own crying granddaughter.

  ~~~~

  Later on, Kathryn bustled into Margaret’s room. An excited flush made her face look radiant and much younger than Margaret knew her to be. She could not stop her mouth from turning up at the corners, catching Kathryn’s contagious happiness.

  “What is it?” Margaret asked, her brow lined in bemusement.

  “You have a visitor,” Kathryn announced in a sing-song voice. She took Margaret’s hands and pulled her from her seat as though she would lead her in a dance.

  Margaret pulled her hands back and searched her memory for news that a guest was expected. She did not like forgetting things or the fact that Kathryn seemed to carry their shared age so much more lightly. Kathryn just giggled and grabbed Margaret by her upper arms instead.

  “It is a surprise,” she explained, answering Margaret’s unasked question. “One that will bring you great joy.” The smile broadened on her face causing a sunburst of lines to stretch out from the corners of her eyes.

  “Well, who is it?” Margaret demanded, not enjoying this nearly as much as her friend.

  “Very well,” Kathryn gave in, shrugging off Margaret’s poor spirits. They would be lifted soon enough. “It is Reginald!”

  Finally, Margaret’s countenance lit up, and Kathryn’s smile somehow broadened.

  “Reginald? Now what is he doing here?” Margaret asked, patting her hair and skirts into place as though meeting a suitor. Suddenly her hands stopped. “You do not think something has happened.”

  “No,” Kathryn insisted quickly, cutting Margaret off before she could put her imaginings into words. “I have no reason to believe that he is a bearer of bad news. He is simply here to see his beautiful mother.”

  Margaret scoffed and looked up to the ceiling as she shook her head at Kathryn’s theatrics, but a smile also crossed her face again.

  “I will have him sent up,” Kathryn practically sang as she pranced from the room.

  Only moments had passed when Margaret heard Kathryn gaily conversing with a deep voice which held tones of sophistication and intellect. It was a voice that spoke with authority and a pace that indicated each word was carefully considered before it was released. Her son’s voice. Her arms tightened around herself and her lips pressed tightly together, as she realized the learned man about to enter the room was her boy.

  Her nervousness was eliminated in one swift motion when Reginald knelt before her in greeting. “May you bless me, dearest mother?”

  She felt a weight lifted from her shoulders as she sketched the sign of the cross upon his forehead as she had done since he was a newborn babe. He stood and embraced her, tucking her head comfortably beneath his beard.

  “It is you who should be giving me God’s blessing,” Margaret said when he had released her. She saw that Kathryn had already left the room, enabling them to share a few private moments.

  Reginald grinned and did so. Margaret closed her eyes to focus on the feel of his soft hands, scholar’s hands, tracing Christ’s cross on her head. “Amen,” she whispered.

  Pleasantries exchanged, they sat and selected morsels from the plate of sweetmeats that Kathryn had sent up.

  “This unexpected visit gives me great joy, my son, but I must ask if there is a higher purpose than a mother’s happiness.”

  Reginald took a sip of wine as he considered his words. She was proud of the way he was unafraid to pause and think before he spoke. He was not one to misspeak in anger or a desire to be heard before others.

  “I will be leaving soon for Paris,” he said, placing his cup on the table and averting his eyes from hers.

  Margaret cocked her head to the side. “Is this your plan or the king’s? Are you not content with Exeter?”

  Reginald nodded, slowly answering once again. “I feel that you are the only person with whom I can be completely candid. Is that a fair assessment?”

  “I am your mother.” What more could she say?

  He nodded again, indicating it was enough.

  “The king wishes his marriage annulled.”

  A deep breath was captured and released by Margaret before her son continued.

  “He also wishes for me to write a defense of his annulment, utilizing the education he has provided to establish a solid case for him to set the queen aside and marry Anne Boleyn.”

  Now Margaret gasped. “Marry her?” When Reginald simply nodded again, she shook her head in disbelief. “God preserve us. He wishes to set Catherine aside?”

  “Just so,” Reginald agreed. “He likely will, but I cannot in good conscience support him or give him the ammunition he needs to kill his marriage.”

  “Leviticus,” Margaret whispered.

  Reginald was not expecting this. He raised his eyebrows and almost smiled. “You are better informed than I gave you credit for, mother. I will not do as the king requires, and so I am leaving England until this situation is resolved without my participation.”

  Margaret lay her head in her hands. Conflicting arguments swirled in her mind. Should she tell Reginald to stay and follow the king’s orders? The tombs of those she had so recently buried Arthur near called out to her and insisted that nothing was worth defying the king over. Then she felt the outline of the cross where her son had just blessed her, and she understood that he had a higher calling than following King Henry.

  “I understand you are concerned for me,” Reginald said, taking her shaking hand. “Do not be. Henry’s temper always cools with time, and I have duties to attend to. It will not be widely known that I leave in order to avoid his wishes.”

  “Are you sure?” Ma
rgaret asked in a whisper. She thought of her father, her brother. Executed for treason. “Maybe you should write…” The look on his face halted her words.

  “If faced with the choice between serving my king and serving the king of kings, I do not feel that there is need for time to consider my options.”

  Margaret screwed her eyes shut and nodded once. He was correct, but she had to press her lips together and bite her tongue until a metallic taste filled her mouth to keep herself from contradicting him. She should be proud of her son, but instead she was terrified for him.

  ~~~~

  Some of Reginald’s news had been more optimistic. Henry and Geoffrey both had places in Parliament. The king’s sister, Mary, was unashamedly standing up to him, insisting that he put away any thoughts he had about marrying Boleyn. That eased Margaret’s fears somewhat. Mary had been queen of France and was currently married to Charles Brandon, the king’s best friend. She was a solid asset in any debate and would provide some protection for Reginald if necessary.

  “Just remember that to most people I am returning to Paris on the king’s orders to further my studies,” Reginald had tried to reassure her.

  What most people believed did not concern her. What the king thought of him did.

  Margaret was seated in the gardens at Thornbury, allowing the fresh autumn scents and vibrant colors to sooth her when Princess Mary appeared at her side.

  The princess curtseyed and asked if she could join her.

  “I welcome your company,” Margaret said, indicating the spot next to her.

  “I hope that you will not think me impertinent,” Mary began with downcast eyes. “But I must ask you about my mother and my father’s intentions toward her.”

  A blush flamed across Mary’s cheeks, and Margaret averted her eyes knowing that it would upset the girl further to know that Margaret had noticed.

  Margaret breathed deeply, deciding where to begin. “This is a conversation that is overdue between us,” she began. “You are no longer a girl and have a right to understand the situation, as it has the power to affect your future.”