A canon boomed above her head—a crack like thunder that belied the sunlit day. Cranmer raised his head, and then bowed it again in prayer.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“What does it mean? It means the same for you as it does for me. Death has come for someone we love.”
She began to cry.
He looked at her with eyes of a man who hates himself. “Say it, Kate.”
“Say what, my Lord?”
“Say I am traitor, a traitor in my compliance; a traitor in my silence; nay, worse, a Judas—nay, far worse, a Judas sheep.”
“I do not understand.” Kate twisted towards the garden path, wanting to run away, wanting to wake up. But the dream kept her in its grip.
“You will understand soon. Pray, do not hate me.” He fell to his knees, his hands coming together in prayer. “I could not help but give her hope. I hoped, too. Oh why, God, oh why? Is my inaction that of the devil? I am only a man, an imperfect man. I must stay on to continue our work. That is what she wants, and for that, I must live.”
In the dream garden, Kate smelled her aunt’s perfume, and Cranmer looked around in confusion, blinking at the bright sun. A breeze stirred the roses into a gentle dance.
What does he see? What is it? There, near the roses. A shadow? An apparition? Kate hears the laughter of one she knows so well—and the gaiety of one going home.
Kate woke, her pillow soaked with her own tears. Yet—while she could make no sense of it—comfort stirred in her heart.
Confusing fragments of the dream remained with Kate all morning: red and white roses, petals that turned into blood, a weeping Cranmer. She wanted to talk about it to someone, but Aunt Nan and Lady Meg were the only two people close enough for conversation. Strain and worry marked both women. So she kept silent while her thoughts continued to circle around what could have caused her dream. Was it because the Archbishop had stayed away from her aunt? He had even been absent during the trial. Remembering all the times Cranmer and her aunt spent together, heads close, utterly engrossed over a new book recently brought to the Queen by Latimer or discussing church reform, day by day Kate had expected him to come, out of friendship, or in his role as her priest. But later that day, her dream seemed a herald of his visit.
Kate was with her aunt when Cranmer entered the apartment at the Tower as if a cowering, whipped dog, searching the chamber until he located the Queen. Even after he bowed, he still seemed unable to stand to his full height. He blinked, straightened and then quickened his pace as he came closer.
Aunt Nan put aside her book and rose from her chair. She smiled and offered her hand. Cranmer clasped it and bowed, keeping his forehand on her hand before he stood. His shoulders shook. He seemed to Kate like a man holding himself up by just a thread.
Releasing his hand, Aunt Nan gestured to a nearby empty seat. “Sit down, Tom.” She returned to hers, cocked her head and considered him with a laugh. “What to do—another long face. What is it, Tom? Have you more bad news for me.” She laughed again. “Besides the old news of yesterday?”
Easing his aged body into the chair, he lifted bleak, red-rimmed eyes. “Pray, could I be alone with you, Your Grace? The King has sent me to hear your confession.”
Kate rose on her knees, preparing to go, but her aunt waved her down.
“Confession, Tom?” Aunt Nan laughed with a note of hysteria. She covered her mouth and turned towards the lattice window. Its shadow cast a criss-cross pattern on her face and form. She gripped the armrests of her chair. “I have nothing to hide from my niece. I have asked her to be by my side until the end, so she can tell my daughter how I died.”
Kate sat straighter, ready to do as her aunt desired. Duty and responsibility seemed so heavy for a heartbeat, but she thanked God she could do this for Aunt Nan. There was much she would one day tell Bess.
Aunt Nan spoke again. “Thomas, do you wish to hear again the sins I spoke of last time we met? I swear on my soul, what I confessed to you last time remains exactly the same to what I would confess to you now. Nay—there is one thing I must add. I have committed the sin of despair since coming to this place, and it has broken me—” She paused for a moment, her fingers at her mouth. “Despair that my husband, the King, desires to have me dead and branded a whore.”
Cranmer shifted towards her. “My Queen, you must believe as I do that the King is convinced of your guilt. He is full of deep sorrow—inflicted in adversity like Job in his grief.”
Aunt Nan’s eyes widened. “Do you really believe that, Tom? That the King in his heart believes I was ever unfaithful to him? More importantly, do you believe it—you who has listened to my heart and soul? What say you? Am I wanton in thought, word or deed, a woman who would bed with her own brother in her lust?”
He shook and bent his head. He raised such a dismayed, tragic face that Kate started. “Madam, I wrote to the King what I believe. I have never had a better opinion of a woman than of you. I know the love you bear to God and His Gospel. My Queen, I believe in your innocence and come here bound to you, as I have been for always.”
She smiled. “I thank you for your faithfulness. It takes great courage to speak the truth to my husband. So how did he reply? What did he say when you told him you believe I am innocent of the charges that have brought me here?”
“Your Grace—” Cranmer squirmed in his seat and lowered his head again. “I spoke only briefly to the King. Cromwell was close by. Forgive me, I did not dare ask the King to speak to him alone. I do not think it would have mattered in any case. I have never seen the King like this. He brooks no argument, no discussion and no attempt to gainsay his determination to see this matter ended. Forgive me, Your Grace, but I need to tread carefully if I am to be of any help to you.” His Adam’s apple going up and down in his long neck, Cranmer licked his lips. “Madam, the case they built against you none dare knock down.”
Aunt Nan sighed. “Aye, 'tis the case Cromwell built. He knows his work well and has had long to conspire against me.”
Her aunt’s hand rested on her shoulder. “He used so many of my friends against me, but at least he left you alone, Kate.”
Putting her hand over her aunt’s, she remembered that night—it seemed so long ago—when Cromwell had tested her loyalty, threatening to tell her aunt what Kate wanted him to believe—that she had met with a man. As if that, or anything, would make her disloyal to Aunt Nan.
Taking her hand away from Kate’s shoulder, Aunt Nan sat back in her chair. “I find it hard to forgive how they used a death bed confession that none now can refute, or twisted the words of Lady Elizabeth. She could not have said what they claimed—that she heard a man’s voice in my bedchamber.”
Kate started. “Aunt Nan, it must have been that day when Lady Margaret and Lord Howard were in your chamber! Lady Elizabeth heard them laughing together.”
Aunt Nan’s eyes glowed with sudden tears. “So she told them that, did she, without even asking me for an explanation? I would have vouched for my friend’s loyalty.”
Cranmer leaned forward. “You must not doubt my loyalty, my Queen! I swear to you I am your servant.”
Aunt Nan considered him. “Thomas, I do not doubt if matters were different, that would be the case. But this time, my friend, we must face how the world must be. If you are loyal to me, you commit treason against the King. I am a dead woman; I know this. My only hope is to be soon with Jesus.” She looked away. “Five innocent men, one my own brother, die soon because of me. 'Tis my heart’s great desire that you are not one of them. We have long worked together in God’s service. Now you must work alone and continue what we began.”
Cranmer swallowed again. “When I spoke to the King, he promised to consider another solution. Madam, if you agree to an annulment of your marriage, the King said he would think of allowing you to live out your life in a nunnery.”
Aunt Nan stared. “Annul my marriage?” Now it was she who swallowed hard. “But what of my child? What of Elizabeth
?”
“You must remember, my Queen—you who will always be my Queen—of the arguments used to persuade the Princess of Wales to take this road. Your marriage was made in good faith. I promise you I will ensure your daughter’s rights are protected.”
Aunt Nan sucked in her bottom lip. She turned her face away before she spoke slowly. “If my marriage is annulled, would this not mean that my brother and friends are saved from the executioner? I cannot be an adulterous wife if I am not a wife at all.”
Cranmer lowered his head; he plucked anxiously at his robes.
Aunt Nan rounded on him. “Why are you silent, Thomas? You are not only my chaplain, but also the King’s. Surely you must know the answer.”
He stirred, leaning closer. “Dear Madam, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. Alas, I cannot. All I can say is the King has given me some hope that by annulling your marriage you may yet live.”
Aunt Nan lifted her fine eyebrows. “In a nunnery, did you say?” She laughed. “No doubt Cromwell is busy ensuring that there is no nunnery left in England for the King to put me in.”
“My Queen, the King would not have said this unless it was in his mind to act on it.”
Aunt Nan nodded and toyed with her marriage ring. “Aye, you’re right. If he spoke of it, there is hope he spoke true.” She lifted her face. “And what are the grounds for this annulment?”
He reddened. “The King’s relationship with your sister.”
All colour fled from her aunt’s cheeks. “My sister?”
“Madam, as the head of the English church, the King disregards the dispensation given to him by the Pope to marry you. His prior relationship with your sister makes your relationship with the King a sin and against the teachings of the Bible.”
Aunt Nan laughed and laughed until she held her stomach. “So my husband uses Leviticus again. And you, Tom, what did you say to this?”
Cranmer bowed head and slumped his shoulders. “Madam, without a dispensation, the King’s marriage to you must be deemed invalid.” He raised a white face, his eyes blinking. “But it was made in good faith, thus your daughter is legitimate.”
“Around and around we go, and life twirls us in its dance.” Aunt Nan sighed. “As long as my daughter’s rights are protected, I care not if my marriage to the King is annulled. But pray, Thomas, make him realise he cannot bring men to face the executioner’s axe without just cause. If the marriage is annulled, there is no adultery.”
“I vow I will talk to the King. And you, madam, would you want life for yourself if offered, even if it meant you were never free again?”
She smiled. “You said I’d live out my days in a nunnery? After the last months, I would be content to take the veil. God has never forsaken me. What does it matter where I dedicate my life to Him, as long as I can have a chance to be a mother to my daughter? The King may one day regain his kind, generous heart and allow me to write her letters.” She turned her head, her eyes filling with dreams. “Perchance when she is grown, she will come and see her old mother—and bring her own children, too.”
Cranmer smiled. “That is what I pray for also. I know you may find a life of prayer and contemplation difficult, but I know you well enough to think such a life would only deepen your already deep commitment with God.” He leaned forward, his hand on his knee. “I vow to you that the nunnery will never be short of books for you to read, and I, as your shepherd, will not leave you to languish alone.”
Outside, a church bell tolled. Cranmer turned, listening, his mouth drooping down again. Gingerly, he stood and bowed low. “Madam, I’m afraid my time has run its course. I must depart before they come for me and anger the King with news of his disobedient priest. One thing we do not need now is an angry King who refuses to listen to me.”
Aunt Nan arose, too. Walking over to him, she took his arm and stood on tiptoes to kiss his winkled cheek. Cranmer blushed and smiled shyly at her.
“Let me walk you to the door, my friend.” She threaded her arm through his.
Arm in arm, they walked together slowly. It seemed to Kate that they wanted to hold on to this moment forever. At the door, Aunt Nan embraced and kissed Cranmer again. “Farewell, Thomas. Farewell.”
His mouth moved, then he swallowed. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and left the chamber without another word.
Cranmer wasn’t the only the man of God who came to support the Queen. Kate grew to love Mathew Parker in these days. He not only comforted her aunt, but always made time to speak to her, too. He also brought them news of what happened outside the Tower. Often, it was news that left Kate sick at heart and utterly defeated.
Parker told them how the family of Francis Weston, one of the five men accused of adultery with the Queen, offered the King a ransom of 100,000 marks that would likely beggar the family if only he would be merciful and allow Weston to live and go free. When Parker told them about the loud mutterings of high to low, and that few believed in the Queen’s guilt, only that the King wished to rid himself of one wife to get himself another, Kate wanted to find somewhere to curl up and close her eyes and ears. Pretend that none of this was happening. This man, her father, seemed determined to murder her beloved aunt. Her stomach just ached and ached.
After hearing Parker out, Aunt Nan raised a hand as if protecting herself, and Kate leaned closer to her. Her aunt said quietly, “My husband has always been good at believing in what he wishes to believe.”
Parker scowled. “How can he believe when only Mark Smeaton has admitted any guilt? The rumour is rife that Cromwell had him tortured, and even now I hear he is in chains. None can see him, even I, a man of God. He is a broken man without comfort.”
Aunt Nan clasped her hands, her knuckles becoming white. “I pity him. No doubt Cromwell has promised him an easy death for his grave falsehood.” She laughed a little. “Always Smeaton’s great desire was to find his place amongst his betters. Now he has his wish—in death.” She sighed, her hand at her throat. “What news of my father and mother?”
Parker pulled at his upper lip. “Your mother has spoken to me. She has no doubt about your innocence and prays every day for your release.”
Kate brushed tears away. An image of her grandmother flashed in her mind—so aged, so worn with worry—and she heard her grandmother’s voice, her desperate, hopeless prayer.
With a deep breath, Aunt Nan rubbed her eyes, too. “Oh my poor mother. How will she cope? She will die for sorrow, her loving heart broken over George and I. Tell her I pray to God to keep her safe, and I am honoured to call myself her daughter.” She raised her head. “You say nothing of my lord father.”
Parker brought his hands together as if in prayer. “His loyalty is with the King.”
Aunt Nan sat unmoving, silent. Then she shrugged. “I knew that when you told me he offered himself as one of my jurors. I could expect none other from him.” Her gaze alighted on Kate and she seemed to speak only to her. “What else can he do? All is lost for George and me. If he aligned himself with me, he, too, would be in this place. I do not blame my father for choosing survival.”
Parker nodded. “No doubt, but knowing that is one thing, living it is another. It must hurt you to see your father care so for his own skin when it betrays his own children. I, for one, am shocked at his heartlessness.”
Aunt Nan reached for his hand. “Your tender heart is one turned to God, Matthew. My husband would likely not agree, but serving God is different to serving the crown.” She rubbed her temple, her fingers slipping for a moment under her headdress. “That calls for ambition and to be pragmatic. Even at the cost of your closest kin.” She blinked away tears. “Since my arrest I have had time to think and pray for forgiveness of all my sins.” Aunt Nan smiled slightly. “I have sinned much in my life. But I cannot blame my father when I also shared his sins of arrogance and ambition. He is in the world, while I will soon be out of it.”
22
A MAN STOOD as if straddling the world, legs apart like rooted
tree trunks, his broad hand planted on padded, tilted hip. Rubies, diamonds, polished gold glinted on his thick, long fingers and flexed thumb. Impassive slanted eyes—too small for such a wide, heavy face—stared out from a puffy, unsmiling, bearded mask, the mask of a tyrant king.
The wind blew a trumpet call and thunder boomed a cannon roar. Lightning blazed bright across the night sky. In the pulsating light, shadows fluttered about like windblown autumn leaves. In a purple haze, one by one, the fragments gathered shape and substance. A movement. A breath. A sigh.
Uncovered, two bowed heads brushed against each other, mingling together hair of raven black and fiery red. The lovers kissed, then drew away—the man beardless, handsome, in his prime. The woman, much younger, looked at him with love, and in surrender. A surrender surmounting fear. No matter what happened now, she was committed to the end.
A small white terrier whined and jumped, trying to get onto the woman’s lap. Defeated, the dog whimpered again, pawing at her black velvet gown. The woman laughed suddenly. “You forget yourself, young sir,” she said. “Show your respect for the King.”
The man guffawed. Seizing her, he kissed her again, releasing her lips with a groan. Cheek against cheek, he murmured into her hair, “Nan, Nan, Nan. I could ask the same of you.” He kissed her again, tightening his hold.
Pushing him away in play, Nan whispered, “Harry, not now. Not yet.” She touched his cheek and smiled. “Soon we shall be wed. Soon we will always be together, and I’ll be your wife, your helpmeet till death. I vow this to you.”
Leaning against him, she picked up her lute, plucked its string, and sang. An exquisite, haunting voice—pitched to touch the heart. He watched her, silent and proud. She smiled, her hand resting on the lute, stilling its strings. “Sing with me.”
He laughed at her command and inhaled a breath. Two melodic voices dipped and soared, dipped and soared again, blending in harmony, perfection. Eden before the fall.
The Light in the Labyrinth_BooksGoSocial Historical Fiction Page 23