Tom Culpeper, it seemed to Nyssa, was growing more arrogant with every passing day. The queen’s secretary, Francis Dereham, a man with a very black, nasty temper, had twice gotten into a match of fisticuffs with the handsome courtier. Fortunately the king had not been about, for fighting before the king was a serious offense. The higher in the queen’s favor that Culpeper’s star rose, however, the more openly jealous Dereham became. Several of the queen’s ladies were heard to remark on it, for Dereham treated Catherine Howard with more familiarity than he should have treated his queen.
It was obvious to Nyssa that Cat was still seriously involved with Tom Culpeper. She was beginning to wonder if anyone else suspected the queen’s wicked little secret. Her eye wandered to the barge just ahead. It was the royal barge, and the king and queen had entered it this morning smiling and cooing at each other like newlyweds.
They were close enough that Nyssa could see them through the glass windows of the barge cabin. They had not bothered to draw the curtains to ensure their privacy. She could see the queen seated upon the king’s lap, laughing into his face, and Nyssa flushed, wondering if they were doing what she thought they were doing. Remembering what the queen had told her, and seeing the lustful look on Henry Tudor’s face, she knew she was correct. Catherine Howard was shameless. She truly believed that as long as she did not get caught with her lover, and pleased her husband, it was all right. Nyssa turned away. She sighed deeply. It would be another two months before they could leave court. She prayed the winter would not be severe, and that the roads to Winterhaven would be open to them.
Along the riverbanks people stood waving to the court as they passed by. How glamorous and how exciting it must look to those good souls, Nyssa thought. How excited she had once been to come to London and be a part of it all. Familiarity with the dark side of the court certainly had dimmed her enthusiasm.
Chapter 14
Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was known to be a gentle man. He had not, to his immense relief, been required to go upon the king’s summer progress. The archbishop stood more with the Reformation than with orthodox Catholicism. The young queen and her family espoused orthodoxy. The archbishop had looked forward to a quiet summer of prayer, meditation, and visits to little Prince Edward, who had also been left behind. The king’s heir was considered too tender to be exposed to so long a trip.
And the summer had gone exactly as the archbishop had anticipated. There were no crises. There was no king suffering from a troubled conscience, which usually meant he wanted to rid himself of a wife. It had been absolute bliss until his secretary announced one day that a John Lascelles sought an audience with the archbishop to discuss a most important matter.
Thomas Cranmer knew all about John Lascelles. He was a fanatic. A reformer. A man who had absolutely no fear of the heretic’s fire because he believed his view of God and the Church was the correct one. The archbishop sensed that Lascelles’s visit portended trouble, but God only knew what he would do or to whom he would go next if Thomas Cranmer did not see him. The king and the court would be back within a few weeks’ time. Better to get this over with and send Lascelles back to obscurity.
The archbishop sighed deeply and said to his secretary, “Is he waiting outside, Robert?” Of course he was.
“Aye, Your Grace, he is,” the young priest replied.
Another sigh. “Very well, then, I will see him now.”
The archbishop’s secretary smiled sympathetically at his master, saying, “I will bring him in, my lord.”
Lascelles bustled in, filled with great self-importance. “My lord archbishop, I thank you for seeing me so quickly,” he said, bowing.
The archbishop’s secretary discreetly withdrew.
“Sit down, sir,” Thomas Cranmer said, “and speak your peace.”
Lascelles seated himself and began. “I have information of a most delicate and possibly dangerous nature, my lord. It concerns the queen.” Lascelles paused to take a breath, for his words had come out in a great rush with is eagerness.
I do not want to hear this, the archbishop thought to himself. The king is happy. Whatever this man says will make the king unhappy. Have we not had enough difficulties with wives, dear Lord? Must Henry Tudor and England suffer further? He looked directly at Lascelles. “Say on, sir, but be advised if this is merely tittle-tattle, or idle gossip, I shall have you beaten from my palace. I know the direction in which you go. I have not time for foolishness.”
“I regret, my lord,” Lascelles said, “that what I have to say is truth.” Master Lascelles went on to tell the archbishop a tale told him by his sister, Mistress Mary Hall, a chamberer in the household of the old dowager duchess of Norfolk. Mistress Hall had known Catherine Howard since she came into the care of the duke. She had been very involved in raising the girl, and was deeply fond of her. The picture Lascelles painted of the young queen’s youth was not, however, a pretty one.
“Is your sister a woman given to gossip, Master Lascelles?” Thomas Cranmer asked sternly when his visitor had concluded his tale. The charges made by this man were very serious indeed.
“My sister is a good Christian woman, Your Grace. It is not in her nature to lie. Besides, there were others in the dowager’s household, now members of the queen’s household, who were also privy to the lady Catherine’s bad behavior. If asked under oath, they would testify to my sister’s veracity and the queen’s youthful misbehavior.”
“I will hear no more from you today, Master Lascelles. I wish to speak with your sister, Mistress Hall. You but repeat that which you say she has told you. She is the witness to the facts of this matter. Bring her to me tomorrow, and I will examine her,” Thomas Cranmer said.
John Lascelles arose from his seat and bowed to the churchman. “I will bring Mary to you in the morning, my lord,” he promised.
When his disturbing visitor had departed, the archbishop sat back and contemplated what he had been told. It was a shocking story. Was it true? Though aware that the queen’s Howard relations were not reform-minded, Thomas Cranmer never considered Catherine Howard or her family a threat to the Reformation in England. Duke Thomas had no violently deep religious convictions. He simply liked things done in the manner in which they had always been done. He did not like change, and resisted it where he could, but he also knew how to bend in a strong wind in order to survive.
John Lascelles, on the other hand, was fanatical, and determined in his desire to see Catholicism in its most orthodox form eradicated from England, from its Church, from the minds of its people. He was the sort of man who would dare, or do, anything to gain his way in the matter. Was he to be believed? Why had his sister suddenly come to him now and told him the secrets of the dowager duchess’s household when the king had been married for over a year to the young queen? Did Lascelles believe that by slandering the queen he could engineer her removal and bring about the king’s remarriage to a reformist? He was a fool if he thought he could manipulate Henry Tudor, or the see of Canterbury.
On the following morning Mistress Mary Hall arrived with her brother for her audience with the archbishop. She was a pretty woman, and had obviously dressed in her very best gown to meet him. It was dark silk with a more modest neckline than he was used to seeing. Her head was covered with a pretty French hood, and she curtsied to him most politely, dipping her head in respect.
“You will wait outside, Master Lascelles,” he told the woman’s brother. “Mistress Hall will be quite safe with me. Come, my daughter, and we will talk.” He led her into his privy chamber and closed the door behind them firmly. “It is a wet and dank day, Mistress Hall,” the archbishop said. “We will sit by the fire while we talk.” He was doing his best to put her at her ease, for he wanted every detail that he could convince her to recall about this matter. With luck, it would go no further than this room, and he would not have to act on it at all. Lascelles, he had decided in the night, was naught but a troublesome fanatic who would eventually hav
e to be dealt with.
Thomas Cranmer waited politely while Mistress Hall settled her skirts about her. He pressed a small cup of sweet watered wine upon her, then sitting back in his own chair, he said, “Tell me why you spoke to your brother regarding the queen’s former life.”
“I did not want to, Your Grace,” Mary Hall said, “and I should never have said a word, for as naughty as Mistress Cat was, I hoped her marriage had changed her for the better. John, and my husband Robert, however, were constantly at me for not seeking a place in the queen’s household. I said I did not want a place with the queen, but they would not let it rest. They persisted and they persisted. Each day I was told of another of my former friends in the dowager duchess’s household who had sought and been granted a place with the queen. I can manage my husband, but John is a different kettle of fish. Finally I went to him, and I told my brother to leave me be, for I did not want a place with the queen. Indeed I felt sorry for her.
“ ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Because,’ I said to him, ‘all those women are demanding service with her. She dares not to refuse them lest they gossip of her former life at Horsham, and Lambeth.’ I did not feel it was Christian of them to do so, Your Grace. If the queen had called upon me to serve her, I should have gone gladly, but I did not want to be like the others, implying a threat, demanding service.
“My explanation was not enough for John. He is worse than a rat terrier when he gets his teeth into something. He wanted to know exactly what the queen had done as a girl that would give others the opportunity to press her. Mind you, I think much of what went on was not really her fault. She was a young girl, an innocent. She was always being pressured by one or another of the gentlemen. I tried to warn her, but she is so headstrong, and I was but a chamberer.
“The dowager never saw what was going on. She did not want to see it. When there was a problem with her charges, she would act, but she rarely saw a problem unless it was pointed out to her. In this case the others did not want to bring to her attention what was going on beneath her roof, for they were as involved themselves in the wickedness, and having much too much of a good time.”
“Tell me everything you remember,” the archbishop said quietly. He had such a kind and gentle manner about him that Mary Hall felt completely at ease, which was just what the archbishop intended.
“I have known the queen since she was a wee bit of a thing, sir. I looked after her when she and her sisters first came to Horsham. Oh, she was such a naughty little thing, but her heart was good. You could not help but love her, and I did. The year before she went up to Lambeth Palace from Horsham, I told the dowager how much she loved music. My mistress sent a musician from her household, a handsome, feckless young man called Henry Manox, down to teach my lady Catherine how to play upon the lute, and how to sing pleasingly.
“Young Manox sought far above his station. My poor little mistress thought he meant to wed with her when indeed all he really intended was to have her virtue. Oh, he was a bad one, was Master Manox! I warned him away from her, but they met secretly, I later learned. Then one day when the old dowager was visiting, she caught my mistress and Manox fondling each other’s parts. She beat them both for their impudence, and sent Manox back up to London.”
“Did your lady regret his departure?” the archbishop asked.
“Nay, not really,” Mary Hall said matter-of-factly. “She had told anyone who would listen that she meant to wed with him, and that they were plight-trothed. It was not so, however. ’Twas but the dream of a maid with her first love. He could have been the love of her life, and she would have not been allowed to marry him. She is a Howard after all. He, a common musician.”
“Of course,” Thomas Cranmer agreed, nodding. “When did the lady Catherine come up to London, Mistress Hall?”
“Oh, ’twas a good year later, sir, and there was Manox waiting for her, eager to take up where he had left off, but she would have none of him then. She told him so in no uncertain terms. He was not happy about it, I can assure you, for I’m certain he had been bragging about his earlier adventure with her, and how she would come back to him.”
The archbishop leaned over and refilled Mistress Hall’s little goblet, smiling as he did so. “Go on, madame. Tell me about Francis Dereham. When did he meet the lady Catherine, and how involved with one another did they become?” He leaned back in his chair to listen.
“Francis Dereham was one of the duke’s gentlemen pensioners. Like Manox, he was not her equal, but he did not let it bother him. Manox, of course, was pea-green with jealousy when he saw Master Dereham beginning to pay court to my mistress. She was totally entranced when the two men began fighting bitterly over her. She was the envy of every girl at Lambeth.
“Dereham gained the upper hand with Lady Catherine almost immediately. He was a great deal more dashing than poor Henry Manox, and had a better position. He could play the gentleman while the lutanist could not. Manox faded away, embittered, even as Francis Dereham rose in my young lady’s favor. Still, he was not a true gentleman. He made far too bold with my mistress, but when I scolded her about it she told me, ‘Francis has said we will wed one day.’ ‘What?’ I replied. ‘Is this the same silliness as ’twas with Master Manox? You do not have the right to pledge yourself to anyone, my girl! Your uncle, the duke, will choose a husband for you when the time comes, and that will be that.’ ‘I will have none but Francis Dereham,’ she insisted.
“At that point, my lord archbishop, our long friendship began to wither away. I could not condone my lady’s naughty behavior. Then Dereham threatened me. ‘If you tell the dowager duchess,’ he said to me, ‘I will claim you are a liar and seek to harm me, for you are in love with me and I will not return your love. You will lose your position, and who will have you then?’ What could I do but remain silent?”
“Do you know of any improprieties Master Dereham may have taken with the lady Catherine?” Thomas Cranmer asked her.
“Indeed, sir, I do, although my mistress excused them on the grounds that they were to marry one day. All the young people in the house believed that, for both of them constantly talked of it. At least Dereham’s intentions were honorable, though Manox’s were not. Many nights Dereham would creep into the dormitory where the young women slept and climb into Mistress Catherine’s bed. I had been used to sleeping with her, but I would not do so any longer. I was a married woman. I well knew what all that puffing and blowing in the night was about. Several of the more chaste girls refused to sleep near her for such noises shamed them.”
The archbishop was horrified. “Are you saying, Mistress Hall, that the lady Catherine was not a virgin when she married the king? That she gave herself willingly in carnal copulation to Master Dereham?”
“I cannot say for certain under God’s oath, my lord, for the bed curtains were closed; but I believe that she was not a virgin when she left Lambeth for court,” Mistress Hall told him.
“What else?” he asked her.
“They called each other husband and wife,” she said. “Everyone heard them, and knew of it. Once he kissed her publicly, and so passionately that we remonstrated with him for fear the dowager would see them. Master Dereham replied, ‘What? Shall a man not be permitted to kiss his wife?’ The lady Catherine was somewhat embarrassed by him then. She was growing more aware of who she was, and considered his behavior a trifle coarse. I believe she would have been happy to be rid of him then, yet she continued to entertain him in her bed. Manox, angry that Dereham had succeeded where he had failed, began bragging to all who would listen that he knew of a secret mark on my lady Catherine’s body. I warned him to silence, disgusted by then by what was happening, but unable to stop it.
“Finally the lady Catherine convinced Dereham that if he was indeed to marry her one day he would have to make his fortune, or the duke, her uncle and her guardian, would not even consider his suit. I know that she knew then that she was to go to court as a maid of honor to the new queen, the Princess of Cleves. The do
wager duchess had just told her of her appointment, and had impressed upon her the honor involved. The lady Catherine was very eager to be rid of Dereham. He left her with his life savings, one hundred pounds, and went off to Ireland. The money, he said, was to be hers if he did not come back. He truly believed he was to be her husband, my lord. I heard the rumor that in Ireland he turned to piracy, but I cannot know for certain.” She quaffed her wine.
The Archbishop of Canterbury felt as if a huge weight had been lain across his narrow shoulders. “Who in the queen’s household was with her at Horsham and Lambeth?” he asked Mary Hall.
Mistress Hall considered a moment, and then she said, “There is Katherine Tylney, Margaret Morton, Joan Bulmer, and Alice Restwold, Your Grace. I do not think there are any others.”
“Will they confirm your words, Mistress Hall?” he said seriously.
“If they are honest they will, my lord,” she told him.
He nodded. “You are not to speak of this to anyone, madame. Not even to your brother. What you have told me indicates that the queen led an unchaste life before her marriage to the king. That in itself is not treason, but it might indicate that she has led an unchaste life since her marriage. Bad habits are often difficult to change. I must speak with these chamberers now serving the queen, however, before I make any decision in this matter, Mistress Hall. That is why I must request your silence. I may want to speak with you again.” He arose. “Let me take you back to your brother, and I will instruct him as well in his behavior. Master Lascelles is sometimes overly enthusiastic in the pursuit of his cause. He is known for it.”
The archbishop escorted Mary Hall from his privy chamber. Seeing them, John Lascelles leapt to his feet and hurried toward them. The archbishop held up his hand for silence before the man might speak.
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