The Rose Without a Thorn

by Виктория Холт

  “You are flushed,” she said. “That is quite becoming. It hides the mark on your cheek. Now … remember. Be yourself. Ask for nothing. Be natural. Be surprised.”

  “How can I, when you have already told me?”

  “Heed that not. Show yourself overwhelmed by the honor.”

  “I am overwhelmed,” I said.

  The Duchess nodded, smiling.

  My uncle came into the room. He looked at me with more affection than he had ever shown me before—or anyone for that matter I thought rather frivolously, which was strange at such a moment, except perhaps the laundress, Bess Holland. I supposed he was already seeing the crown on the head of another Howard.

  “Well,” he said, “you have heard of the honor which is about to come to you.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “That is well. Indeed, you have pleased us all. I know you have little knowledge of worldly matters. That is in your favor. His Majesty will not want to be plagued with women’s arguments. All you have to do is to be as you are. It is this which has won his regard. Now he is impatient. I will conduct you to his presence.”

  I followed him into one of the smaller rooms where the King was waiting. He was standing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked larger than ever in his padded surcoat; and there was a large ruby at his throat.

  “My niece, Mistress Katherine Howard, Your Majesty,” said my uncle, pushing me ahead of him.

  The King was smiling, his little eyes brilliant. He regarded me with fondness. I would have knelt, but he laid his hand on my shoulders and drew me toward him.

  “You may leave us, Norfolk,” he said to my uncle, who immediately bowed and obeyed.

  “You are not shy of the King, Katherine,” he said. “I think you care not as some would for the honors I am about to give you. I think perhaps you have more regard for my person than for those. Tell me, is that so?”

  “Oh yes, Your Majesty.”

  “You please me very much, Katherine. In fact, so much that I want you to be my Queen.”

  I believed he was waiting for me to go down on my knees in an ecstasy of joy and thank him. That would be difficult for me to do, and I remembered the injunctions to be myself, so I murmured: “Your Majesty cannot…”

  “Katherine, there is little the King cannot do if he sets his heart on it. And this I tell you. The matter I am here to speak of is my will, and I will allow none to gainsay me. Katherine, you have pleased me greatly, and I am going to make you my Queen.”

  “But Your Majesty …” In spite of my grandmother’s warning, I was on the point of telling him of my betrothal to Thomas, but he had silenced me.

  “No buts,” he said. “I will have none … not even from you, sweet Katherine. You are overwhelmed, I know. You did not think this could be so. Now tell me, did you?”

  “No, Your Majesty. I …”

  He laughed and said tenderly: “You are over-modest… as a maiden should be. You cannot believe this good fortune which has come to you. I like that. But let me tell you this: it shall be so.”

  There was something in his demeanor which told me he would be very angry if I confessed my feelings and my proposed betrothal to Thomas, and that the anger might be directed not only against me but Thomas too.

  “My dearest little Katherine,” he was saying, “think only on this. I shall raise you up to be my Queen.”

  I did not know what to say. My feelings were so mixed. I … to be the Queen! Honored throughout the Court! It was such a dazzling prospect that it was as though it blinded me. All those who had been faintly contemptuous of me would now bow the knee and call me Majesty. It made me want to laugh. That was hysteria, I imagined. And Thomas? Oh, Thomas, I thought, we should have been so happy at Hollingbourne. I could see clearly that there was no choice for me. This glittering and powerful King had decided my fate. And so had my uncle. They had done it between them. I could see that I should never marry Thomas.

  The King was smiling at me very kindly. There must be great kindness in him, for he had never shown anything else to me. I was aware of that immense power in him. For some extraordinary reason, after dignified Catherine, dazzling Anne, pretty Jane, and unwanted Anne of Cleves, he had chosen me to be his fifth Queen.

  I was not the sort of person who could make things happen the way I wanted them to—although those like my uncle could. I must just let events carry me along.

  For a moment I felt trapped. It was not my will, but theirs. I had no recourse but to obey. They had decided my fate, and I was trapped—a golden cage it might be, surrounded by treasure, but I had no means of escaping from it.

  Mine was a serene nature. I was not clever enough to devise plans for escape, and I was not sure, when I realized what all this would mean, whether I wanted to.

  I was at least wise enough to know that if I did escape from this fate, I should bring the wrath of my family down upon me and would never be allowed to marry Thomas Culpepper.

  “You do not speak,” said the King. “I will tell you why. You do not know what to say. Is that so?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.

  He took my hand and drew me near to him. He looked closely at me and put out a hand to touch my cheek.

  “You are beautiful,” he said. “I never saw one that pleased me more than you do. And that pleases you, does it not?”

  I nodded.

  He drew me even closer. I could feel the warmth of his flesh against mine. He kissed me gently on the forehead.

  “Always remain as you are at this moment and you will please me,” he said.

  “I … I will try, Your Majesty.”

  He gave that rather loud laugh of his.

  “You will always please me, I know,” he said. “At last I have found you. I have looked so long. You are like a rose. My favorite flower, Katherine. The flower of England … most beautiful of all flowers. But roses have thorns.” His face darkened, and there was a certain petulant droop to his lips. For a moment he looked angry, then he was smiling again. “And you are my rose without a thorn. That is how I see you, Katherine. Do you wonder that I want to keep you at my side forever?”

  I was sitting on his knee now, his arm round me, holding me tightly against him. The ruby on his coat touched my skin, it was so close to me. I wondered about his leg and thought of what Thomas had told me of it. I was about to ask him if it were better but, innocent as I might be about matters of importance, some natural instinct told me that this was not a time to remind him of his infirmities.

  “I am blessed in you, sweet Katherine,” he said. “I believe that, through you, the curse which Heaven has put upon me is about to be lifted.”

  I wondered how even Heaven would have dared put a curse on such a powerful person, but again I said nothing.

  “I am a simple man,” he went on, and I almost showed my amazement at such a statement. “I ask but little. Just to live in peace with a wife who will care for me as I care for her. Katherine, my sweet child, that joy has, till now, been denied me. What have I done that God should punish me, eh?”

  Another of those unanswerable questions—and one I had heard before. Fortunately, he supplied the answer, and as I cast down my eyes he continued: “I will tell you. Through no fault of mine, I went through a form of marriage with my brother’s widow. That was no true marriage, and for years I lived in a state of sin with a woman who was not my wife in the eyes of Heaven.”

  “Oh no, Your Majesty,” I murmured.

  His arm tightened about me: and then his face hardened.

  “And then … I married a witch …”

  Visions of my beautiful cousin came to me. He had broken with Rome for her sake, and now he said she was a witch.

  “Then Jane … she was a gentle creature, but she died and, though she gave me a son, he is not strong. And now … this woman from Flanders. You see what I tell you is truth. But you have come to me and you are going to give me all that I ask. The curse is lifted and so, Katheri
ne, I shall make you my Queen.”

  His expression had undergone many changes as he was speaking. He had looked both forlorn and angry. At times he reminded me of a little boy, and then seconds later his face was so twisted in anger that he was like a cruel tyrant.

  I felt suddenly sorry for him, and I realized at once what a pretentious attitude that was. On impulse, I put my arms round his neck and kissed his cheek.

  The effect of my action was immediate. His eyes filled with tears; his expression was soft and sentimental.

  “Sweet Katherine,” he murmured and held me close against him.

  And in that moment I was reconciled to whatever lay before me.

  The Queen

  THE WHOLE COUNTRY was now aware that Anne of Cleves was no longer the Queen and that the King and she had come to an amicable agreement. The King had made her his sister and Parliament had obsequiously begged him graciously to consider marrying again for the sake of the nation.

  The marriage was secretly arranged. There was to be no grand ceremony and coronation, as there had been for my predecessors. Whether the King considered these would follow too closely after those of his fourth marriage, or whether they would prove too costly, I was not sure.

  I felt as though I were being hurried along in a fantastic dream. I could not say that I was unhappy. I had always loved excitement and I certainly had my share of it at that time.

  There was a quiet ceremony with only a few people present, including my uncle, the Duke, who was clearly pleased that we had progressed so far, and I had the rare sight of recognizing the approval in his face for me. I had to admit I enjoyed that.

  My grandmother was present, her eyes full of pride as they rested on me, and perhaps I did detect the faintest apprehension.

  I realized afresh the immense power of this man who had chosen to be my husband. Yet I was not afraid of him. How could I be? Nothing but the warmest affection had he ever bestowed on me. His hand constantly reached out to touch mine; there was a caress in his very smile. I knew, of course, what lay before me. I was indeed no innocent child.

  The King had given me several jewels on our wedding-day when he told me that the happiest man in the country was the King.

  I know now that I am one of those women who must have physical love. It was something I had greatly missed when Francis Derham went away. Now I could indulge legitimately, and I need have no qualms of conscience. Thomas and I had always been afraid to give way to our desires, lest we might jeopardize our future. Derham and I had deceived ourselves into insisting that we were in truth married. But this was different. This was duty. This was my husband, and there was no need for guilt. Did it add to the excitement? Perhaps that was due to the fact that this was the King. I believe that power is a strong element in the attraction of the male to the female. The man is all-conquering; the woman submissive. Henry was the most powerful man in the country. I had been of no consequence until he had singled me out for his approval.

  I had an uneasy moment or two when he seemed to show surprise at my ready responses. He had been expecting an entirely innocent girl. That was something I could not feign, and I was never good at pretending. My grandmother had insisted that I must be natural, and I found it difficult to act otherwise than my impulses directed. If he had expected a reluctant child, who must be carefully initiated into the mysteries of the senses, he was mistaken. This was one sphere in which I was not ignorant, as I seemed to be in all others. But I think Henry attributed my reaction to a delight in the great honor which was being bestowed on me, and it seemed to add to his pleasure.

  He said I was the perfect wife—the Rose without a Thorn.

  * * *

  We were at Hampton Court—one of the King’s favorite palaces, presented to him by Cardinal Wolsey in an attempt to regain his favor. It held many memories for me—later less pleasant ones—but at that time I shared the King’s pleasure in it.

  Cardinal Wolsey had made it one of the most desirable residences in the country. I had heard that there were 1,500 rooms, and so lavish had been the Cardinal’s hospitality that at times all these rooms were in use; and the fireplaces in the kitchen were each large enough to roast the whole of an ox. I had not seen proof of this, but I believed it to be true.

  It was a pity that the palace for me was haunted by Wolsey—only now and then, of course. I used to think of him there at the height of his glory, no doubt imagining it would always be thus for him. But he loved power too much for his own safety: he loved pomp and splendor and surrounded himself with it, so that people used to sing: “Why come ye not to Court?” “To which Court? To the King’s Court or to Hampton Court?” That was his downfall. A subject should not seek to rival his King. It was small wonder that the King asked if it were meet and proper for a subject to outdo the King in his manner of living. There was nothing Wolsey could do then but offer Hampton Court to the King, yet even that did not save him. So I was a little saddened thinking of him during those days.

  The King was very happy at that time. He continually kissed and caressed me; he gave me valuable jewels. He sensed that I did not care for them a great deal and, as he liked everything I did, that seemed to please him. He was proving to be the most uxorious of husbands. I think he really did love me dearly.

  I said to him one day: “There is to be a grand banquet in the great hall here. You are proposing to present me to them as your Queen.”

  “That is so, sweetheart,” he said. “You are going to have the honor which you deserve.”

  “There is something I would ask Your Majesty,” I said, a little hesitantly.

  “Ask me, and I doubt not that it shall be yours.”

  “It concerns your daughter, the little Elizabeth. She is but young. She has done no wrong. I would ask that she may be present at the banquet and seated in a place of honor … near me where I can see her.”

  He hesitated for a few moments. Then he said: “Why do you wish this?”

  “Because she is young. She is your daughter, yet she is shut away. I think she may be sad and wish to see her father now and then. And as she is your daughter—I would know her too.”

  I saw that look of sentiment in his face. It was so often there for me.

  “As you ask, sweetheart,” he said, “it shall be. The child has done no wrong. She could not be held responsible for her mother’s ill deeds.”

  So Elizabeth was to come to the banquet.

  In due course I was brought to the great hall where all the greatest in the land were assembled: and they came to kneel before me and pay homage to me as their Queen, while the King looked on benignly; and I could not help but be proud to have won so effortlessly that favor for which they were all striving.

  Afterward we went to the royal chapel and I sat beside the King throughout the service.

  In the banqueting hall, Elizabeth was seated opposite me. She was a striking-looking child; her reddish hair must have been very like the King’s, when he was her age, of course. She would be about seven years of age, but she looked more. There was a wariness, an alertness, about her. Poor child, she had been but three years old when her mother had gone to the block. How much did she know of that? I wondered.

  I smiled at her to show her that I would be her friend, and she responded cautiously. I was very pleased though that I had arranged for her to be brought to Court.

  It was a successful occasion.

  When we retired, the King looked at me with that indulgent expression to which I had become accustomed.

  “Well,” he said. “Did your presentation please Your Majesty?”

  “It was wonderful. You are so good to me.”

  I enjoyed bringing that soft, sentimental look to his face.

  “You shall see, sweetheart, what I shall do for you.”

  “You do too much.”

  He laughed aloud. “The feeling of most around me is that not enough is done for them.” He added: “Were you disappointed not to have a coronation?”

  I sh
ook my head. “What do I care for a coronation when I have the King?”

  He was so happy that, although I did think of Thomas now and then, I could be happy too.

  “And I have something to show you,” he went on. “I was not going to let our marriage pass unnoticed.”

  “Unnoticed? Oh come, my lord, that was not possibly what you wished. It is not every day the King marries.” I stopped myself in time. That seemed a rather tactless remark and might have provoked some merriment if any had been there to hear it—and dared show the flicker of a smile. Every day might be an exaggeration, but five in a lifetime was a goodly tally.

  In his uxorious mood, he had not noticed. He drew a coin out of his pocket.

  “What do you think of this?” he asked.

  “It looks like a gold coin.”

  “It is a gold coin. Look. Here are the royal arms of England.”

  “With the initials H.R. I have a notion that might mean Your Majesty.”

  “My Katherine is a saucy wench,” he said. “Turn it over.”

  I did so. Then I saw what it meant. It was done to honor me.

  “K.R.,” I read. “‘Henricus VIII Rutilans rosa sine spina.’” He had named me his rose without a thorn. I felt a faint shiver of uneasiness.

  I hoped he would not ask too much of me.

  * * *

  I did not lose much time in visiting the nurseries, which at that time were situated at Hampton Court. I missed my own brothers and sisters and had always wished to be in the heart of a family. Now I had three stepchildren—one of them older than myself; but I did not think the Lady Mary would wish to see me. She was a sad creature; she had never recovered from the suffering her mother’s ill treatment and death had caused her. I had heard it said that when Catherine of Aragon’s heart was broken, Mary’s was too. I had seen her only once or twice, and she had seemed to be a very tragic figure.

  It was the children I wanted to see—Henry’s daughter Elizabeth and his frail little boy, heir to the throne.

  Lady Bryan, who had brought up Mary and was in the process of doing the same for Elizabeth, now held the office of Lady