Fatal Throne

by Fatal Throne- The Wives of Henry VIII Tell All (retail) (epub)

  Annoyance had shadowed the King’s face. “Surely your uncle will not object! He fought loyally with me twenty years ago in France. Yet you hesitate, Lady Latimer?”

  “It is a courtesy only, Your Majesty,” I said, mustering my sweetest smile. “He has long been like a father to me.”

  Henry relaxed and pulled me towards him, planting a wet kiss on my lips. As he did, I caught a whiff of his vile wound. God help me! I thought, trying not to gag.

  “Imagine the jewels you’ll have,” my sister consoled me later, when I shared the news. “Though I must warn you, Kate, it’s quite likely that most of the gifts you receive will have once belonged to another of Henry’s Queens.”

  I shrugged. “Well, at least I’ll be able to order new clothes. I’ll dress my minstrels in scarlet and provide my footmen with velvet cloaks of crimson. I shall keep brightly coloured parrots, too. You know how much I love paintings. I think I’ll have my portrait painted wearing a red gown!” I smiled at the prospect. “Most of all, I’m excited about being able to buy books. I’ll have them bound in leather and velvet and encrusted with sparkling stones.”

  “As Queen, you will be able to make your library as dazzling as the courtiers who surround you. But, Kate…”

  “I can guess what you’re about to say—that I must look beyond the rich exterior to read what is contained within.” I reached over and took my sister’s hands. “Nan, I know how to be a wife. But I don’t know court as you do. I can make the King’s eyes sparkle as he watches me dance a galliard with ease, but can I also make elegant conversation with diplomats? How can I suddenly learn to be Queen?”

  Nan squeezed my hands to reassure me. “Do not fret, dear Kate. I promise to help you. And, remember, as Queen you can do much good for causes you care about—like education. You can be useful.”

  “Useful?” I repeated. “You’ve given me an idea! I’ll propose this to Henry as my motto: ‘To be useful in all I do.’ ”

  TO FOLLOW HIS WILL

  Summer and Fall 1543

  God…made me renounce entirely mine own will, and to follow His will most willingly…

  —Kateryn Parr to Thomas Seymour, 1547

  I knew the King would want me in his bed, or he would come to mine when the mood struck him. So one of my first acts as Queen was to order fine perfumes, as well as three pounds of sweet herb packets and flower sachets to place around my bed at Hampton Court.

  “That’s rather a lot,” remarked Lady Jane Wriothesley. “Might there be a particular reason, Your Highness?”

  I’d had to invite Lady Wriothesley to serve in my household because her husband was one of Henry’s top advisors. But if this lady thought she could trick me into an indiscretion, she would be disappointed.

  “Why, Lady Wriothesley, just this morning I heard you complain about the odour of roasting game from the kitchens below,” I replied with a honeyed smile. “Surely no woman wants to greet her beloved husband smelling like a goose.”

  I was determined to perform my duty as a wife. If I did my best, I hoped I might yet conceive a child.

  However, I soon discovered that Henry often had difficulty performing his duty as a husband, despite my most energetic and determined attempts to arouse him. Still, he never guessed that I feigned my pleasure or that my stomach roiled at the sight and smell of acrid, yellow pus on fine linen sheets. He never suspected that his grease-stained face and fingers robbed me of my appetite, or that his sour breath destroyed any desire to kiss his lips.

  Henry never knew that when his heavy breathing turned to snores, I sometimes lay awake in the darkness and dreamt of Thomas Seymour.

  * * *

  —

  Soon after we were married, plague broke out in London. The contagion consumed neighbourhoods like a rampaging fire. In one household after another, people broke out in tumours that soon turned into deadly black spots. Henry feared the Black Death and insisted on fleeing the city. And so we spent the rest of the summer and fall at his hunting manors in the countryside.

  Away from the intrigues of court, we got a chance to know each other. And, rather to my surprise, a sweet affection began to grow between us. Often we spent evenings reading, enjoying the late-summer light. “Kate, there is a passage that intrigues me in this book,” Henry would say. “Come sit on my lap and let me hear you read a little.”

  Though Henry could no longer hunt on horseback, he’d had stands built in the deer parks from which we could shoot, peering out into a dappled puzzle of green. We’d stroll through sweet-smelling meadows and spend long hours in the woods, speaking in whispers so as not to disturb any game. Henry seemed especially delighted with my talent as an archer.

  “Good shot, sweetheart!” he exclaimed one day. “Your uncle William taught you well.”

  Henry turned to Bishop Gardiner, who’d come out from London with Thomas Wriothesley to consult him on royal business, especially England’s disputes with Scotland and France. “You see, Bishop, I have found a wife who is intelligent and wise, and has the skill of Diana.”

  “Then you must be careful, Your Majesty, not to displease her lest she train her bow on you,” Gardiner said.

  I smiled, though his words sent a chill through me. “My bow will always be in service to my master, Bishop Gardiner, as I am sure yours is, too.”

  * * *

  —

  On our return to the manor, Wriothesley hung back to talk to Henry, while Gardiner fell into step beside me. “The King tells me you are quite a scholar, and interested in religious studies.”

  “I had a good education, Bishop, and am always seeking to improve my mind. I have just undertaken the study of Latin, to add to my knowledge of Greek.”

  I saw Gardiner frown; I doubted he would approve of any woman, even a queen, learning another language.

  He was still frowning when I decided to shoot my own arrow. “And of course, I shall take a special interest in the education of my stepchildren,” I said coolly. “I am sure Henry will welcome my advice, especially to ensure that Prince Edward receives a liberal education. Why, the Prince and I may even exchange letters in Latin as we learn together.”

  Bishop Gardiner shot me a dark glance under his lidded eyes. He had caught my hidden meaning. I would choose forward-thinking scholars who favoured reform.

  Gardiner would, I knew, prefer to select conservative tutors for Prince Edward—teachers he could control. Though Gardiner had been instrumental in securing Henry’s divorce and break with Rome, he was suspicious of taking reforms too far.

  “Are you sure that is wise, Your Grace?”

  Before I could respond, the King and Wriothesley joined us. Gardiner took his leave with a slight bow. “I look forward to hearing more of your ideas, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, yes, you will both be quite impressed. My Kate is brilliant!” Henry beamed. I leaned under my husband’s protective arm and smiled at them serenely.

  So long as I stood close to Henry, I knew Wriothesley and Gardiner could not touch me.

  As we strolled to the manor in the glow of the late-afternoon sun, Henry reached for my hand to kiss it. “What an enjoyable day, Kate.”

  “Have I truly pleased you, sire? If so, I wonder if I may ask two favours.”

  “What? You don’t have enough jewels, sweetheart?” Henry’s blue eyes narrowed.

  “It’s nothing like that, husband!” I laughed and squeezed his arm. “No, it’s simply that I hope you’ll allow me to help guide the education of Edward, and Elizabeth, too. Perhaps we could discuss suitable tutors together.”

  “Why, yes, of course. And the second matter, Kate?”

  I took a breath. “I…I wonder, Henry if we might have all three with us for the holidays for a family Christmas.” I knew that while Mary had rooms at court, Edward and Elizabeth lived in separate households, under the care of othe
rs entrusted with their upbringing.

  “A family Christmas,” Henry repeated. “So you sincerely desire to be their stepmother, Kate?”

  I nodded. “My fondest wish is to bear you a son someday. But I also pledge myself to being a loving mother to all three of the royal children.”

  “And so you shall be!” Henry squeezed my hand and teased, “And perhaps, wife, we can turn our attention tonight to the prospect of your becoming a mother.”

  I laughed—and, to my surprise, it was a genuine laugh.

  * * *

  —

  By the time we returned to court in late fall, I’d lost my early fears of Henry—and of being Queen. I felt freer to share my opinions with my husband, and to speak my mind on the role of universities, foreign affairs, the education of his children—and, of course, religion.

  I also began to make my own mark on Hampton Court. For the public reception room, I designed an elaborate mantel and six gorgeously painted panels incorporating my initials. And, rather than gossip, I established debate, learning, and discussion as the norm in my household.

  “You look lovely tonight, Kate. Those milk baths you take certainly do seem to make your skin glow,” said Nan, about six months after my marriage. Henry wasn’t well and had left me in charge of entertaining a Spanish duke.

  Nan arranged the folds of cloth behind me. “This gown of crimson satin and brocade becomes you. But be careful not to trip on the long train.”

  I looked at my sister and grinned. “I would have stumbled long before this without you, dearest Nan. How can I thank you?”

  Nan reached over my elaborate costume to whisper in my ear. “Just keep the King happy, Kate. And stay alive.”

  A WELL-MANAGED BOLDNESS

  Summer 1544

  A well-managed boldness is the virtue of monarchical courts…

  —William Parr, Lord Horton, Kateryn Parr’s uncle

  “Kate, I have something to ask you,” said Henry one evening as we sat on a bench in the gardens of Hampton Court. “And I think it is something that will please you.”

  “You know my motto, sire: ‘To be useful in all I do.’ ” I smiled and put my book in my lap. The scent of roses drifted on a light breeze. The daffodils were long past, but I realized we were not far from where Nan and I had been the previous spring. How much had changed!

  My husband and I were alone, a rare occurrence of late. Whenever we were together, Wriothesley and Gardiner seemed to be underfoot. Plotting, I thought. Those two are always plotting.

  In addition, Henry had been consumed by an escalation in conflicts between England and our neighbours. He was determined to control Scotland, and when France gave aid to the Scots, he had decided to retaliate and capture the French city of Boulogne. The prospect of riding off to battle again had energized him.

  “Kate, I’d like you to be in charge—to serve as regent—while I am away in France this summer,” Henry announced. His blue eyes twinkled: He knew this request would delight me.

  I gasped and Henry grinned, showing me a glimpse of the young, vibrant leader he must once have been. “Now, sweetheart, don’t get too excited. The campaign shouldn’t take more than the summer, and I will want my throne back when I return,” he teased. “But you have a sound head on your shoulders, and good men here to advise you. I won’t worry at all.”

  “Husband, it is the highest honour you could have bestowed on me,” I said. “And I promise to be worthy.”

  I admit I was excited by the prospect of being in charge of all England. Though it was also a serious responsibility, since part of my duties would be to keep the country free of invaders.

  But my first act as regent had nothing to do with politics. While the younger children usually lived with their guardians and households away from court, I brought Elizabeth and Edward to Hampton Court Palace for the summer. I had a particular reason for doing so.

  “Prince Edward has been trained to rule since birth,” I told Nan and Cat one evening as we strolled through the gardens, with Gardiner sniffing at our heels. “But now that Parliament has passed a new Act of Succession, it’s possible that Mary and Elizabeth could sit on the throne someday.”

  “Does Henry know you are bringing all three children here?” asked Nan.

  “Yes, I told him I would watch over them while he is gone.”

  “But I expect you didn’t tell him exactly why you’re so keen to have the girls with you,” said Cat. “And then there is Gardiner.”

  Her spaniel paused in his exploration of a hedge and barked at hearing his name.

  “What about Gardiner?” I whispered.

  “I heard that when the King proposed making you regent, Gardiner spoke against it. He does not like your growing influence with Henry. And I am sure he is troubled by the prospect that you might ‘infect’ the royal children with your reform-minded religious views.”

  “Let him stew.” I shrugged. “Clearly, my husband trusts me in all things. And the fact is, Henry’s daughters have never seen a woman at the helm before. I want them to see one now.”

  And so they would.

  Mary and Elizabeth watched as I read dispatches, listened to advisors, and then made my own decisions. They saw me give orders—orders that sometimes seemed to anger the men around me—especially Thomas Wriothesley and Bishop Gardiner.

  When Henry wrote asking for two thousand spades, shovels, and mattocks for use in digging trenches for the assault, I announced to my advisors that I would arrange for a man in my household, Sir Robert Tyrwhitt, to get the tools made and loaded onto vessels.

  “Are you sure Your Majesty wishes to be troubled by this matter?” Gardiner asked, casting a glance at Wriothesley from his deeply hooded eyes.

  “I would be happy to handle this for you,” added Wriothesley.

  “Gentlemen, the King entrusted me with this task, and I am quite capable of seeing that it is done to his satisfaction,” I told them firmly.

  “But—” began Gardiner.

  “That is the end of the matter, Bishop,” I reprimanded him. “Let us now take up the next piece of business.”

  Bishop Gardiner flushed with embarrassment.

  Later, I mentioned the incident to Nan. “Perhaps you should have tried to flatter him,” she said with a frown.

  * * *

  —

  Just as I predicted, in September the King returned to England victorious. After he landed, I set out for Kent without the children. I wanted to meet him on his journey to London to assure him the realm was at peace.

  As we parted, Elizabeth gave me a rare hug. She was just eleven, bright as an autumn day, with lively brown eyes and burnished red-gold hair. “Someday, I want to be a Queen like you, Mother,” she whispered.

  “We can’t know the future, Elizabeth,” I replied softly. “But if it’s God will that you sit on the throne, it won’t be merely for a short time as regent. It will be your life’s work.”

  After that, I signed no more letters as Kateryn the Queen Regent. But I didn’t forget the thrill of action, the self-confidence I’d gained in my own abilities—and my conviction that in Henry’s eyes, I could do no wrong.

  It would prove to be a dangerous mistake.

  SO FAR TO FALL

  1545–1546

  When we were girls, Nan and I often stayed with Uncle William’s family. Our four girl cousins kept dogs, horses, pet birds, and cats. I especially recall a kitten named Ginger that loved climbing trees. Claws outstretched, she’d venture higher and higher, until suddenly she’d look down and wail piteously.

  In the year after I served as regent, I became a bit like Ginger. I forgot how far I was from solid ground—and just how far I could fall. Instead, I climbed higher.

  I convinced Henry to increase his support for universities, and continued to make my household a cen
tre for learning and religious studies. My ladies and I read Scriptures aloud, debating their meaning and their role in our lives.

  And, like the headstrong, overconfident Ginger, I sometimes forgot myself, chasing after ideas and enjoying the thrill of debate when I was with Henry and his advisors. I was full of my own power, secure in the knowledge that my husband loved me not just for my body, but also for my mind.

  And then I climbed even higher still: I began to write.

  Nan came upon me in my privy chamber on the very afternoon I’d ordered more parchment. Like a cat presented with a bowl of cream, I was almost purring with contentment.

  She cocked her head and looked at me quizzically. “Whatever are you doing, Kate, with that foolish smile on your face?”

  “I’ve begun a great project, Nan,” I began, unable to contain my excitement. “Now that I am better at both Latin and Greek, I shall publish a book: my own translations of psalms and prayers into English. All of Henry’s people should be able to read the Word of God in their own language.

  “And if this goes well, I just may write a book containing my own prayers and reflections on how to follow the Word of God.”

  “Translating Scripture may be acceptable, but publishing your own prayers?” Nan’s face grew pale. “Does Henry know?”

  I brushed her qualms aside. “No, but we often discuss Scriptures when we are together. I’m sure he will be proud to have such an accomplished and educated Queen.”

  I was trying not to think about a remark Bishop Gardiner had recently made. He and Wriothesley had been in Henry’s rooms with me when the discussion turned to the importance of having the Bible available in English.

  “I allowed it so that citizens might read the Word of God directly,” Henry said. “But now I hear they are arguing about the meaning of Scriptures on the streets, and even in taverns.”