by Alison Weir
“No!” Jane protested. “No! He loves you deeply, never doubt it. He would have married you before, remember? God knows, you had nothing to offer him then in the way of riches and power. He was heartbroken when you wed the King, preferring glory and fame to him.”
It was true. And Tom would have had to have been a good actor indeed to have kept up the pretense of loving her during the past weeks.
“It was the King’s illness that made him realize what might happen if…Well, I dare not say it. Mr. Culpeper has a powerful position in the Privy Chamber and knows the ways of the court well. He could protect and advise you. He wants to marry you more than anything in this life, and he is willing to wait. Together, you would enjoy great influence and wealth and be very happy. We could all benefit. Truly, Katheryn, we are not using you. I have ever been your friend.”
We again. Katheryn did not like that. She wished they had confided to her their aims from the outset. It still seemed to her that Jane, in particular, was using her. As for Tom…
“I need to see him,” she said. “Send for him now.”
* * *
—
When Tom crept into Jane’s chamber, his face lit up to see Katheryn waiting alone there.
“Is Lady Rochford on watch?” she asked.
“Yes. She is sitting in the gallery. Oh, Katheryn…” He went to embrace her, but she drew back.
“I was used by those who wanted to marry me to the King for their own ends,” she said. “Now it seems I am being used again, by one who should love me. Do you think to gain power through me?”
Tom looked aghast. “I seek only to love you—and to marry you. It can only be a matter of time.”
“Keep your voice down! The walls have ears in this place. Jane says you hope for influence in the event of a regency, and she hopes to profit from it, too—from me!”
Tom clasped her tightly and would not let go, even though she struggled to free herself. “Katheryn, I would marry you if you were a kitchen maid. The fact that you are Queen makes no difference to me. You cannot doubt that I love you. But you are Queen, and if we marry, we can all prosper. Even if Jane is helping us for mercenary reasons, we have cause to thank her. And remember, she helped us long before the King decided to marry you.”
Katheryn allowed herself to relax in his arms. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve wondered all along what her motive was.”
“Between ourselves, she’s a frustrated woman who takes a vicarious pleasure in the love lives of others. I’ve often had the impression that she is in love with me herself, but if so, why does she encourage me to love you?”
“I’ve thought the same thing,” Katheryn said. “It’s a bit strange.”
“Never doubt me!” he urged, and she let him kiss her.
“Forgive me for thinking ill of you,” she murmured. “It’s been a terrible day and I was upset anyway. You’ve heard about Lady Salisbury?”
“Yes,” he said, holding her against him. “I was horrified. Everyone is.”
“The King is angry with me because I criticized him for it. I had pleaded for her life, but he would not listen.”
“That was brave of you. He has been in an uncertain temper of late.”
“It was the least I could do.” She shrank from the memory of how Henry had spoken to her.
They sat on the bed and talked for a long while, then fell to kissing until the first light of dawn broke.
* * *
—
For much of June, Henry did not visit her table or her bed. In chapel or when she sat enthroned beside him in the presence chamber, he was courteous and smiling, and no one would have known that he was displeased with her. But she was aware that he was avoiding her company. For all she knew, he was seeking his pleasures elsewhere. It was a fine way to get a son, she fumed.
She kept to her lodgings. Tom visited her almost every night, and Jane kept watch. Once, when there were servants coming and going along the gallery—someone must have been ill—she sat in the room with them with her back turned. It was inhibiting, and Katheryn felt awkward when Tom tried to embrace her. “For God’s sake, Jane is too near us!” she cried. She had not been so modest at Lambeth, she remembered with some shame. But Tom was special. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone, and she did not want anything sullying that love.
* * *
—
“Edward tells me that his Majesty is taking with him to the north his richest clothing and the most sumptuous tapestries and plate from Whitehall,” Isabel revealed one morning, as she served Katheryn’s breakfast. “He believes you will be crowned at York.”
Katheryn was startled to hear that. But she began to believe it when she encountered Henry in the gardens that morning, as she was out walking with her ladies, and he welcomed her with a resounding kiss. She was bewildered by the change in his manner, unable to account for his sudden warmth toward her. Maybe he had not been angry with her, but ill? He was limping quite badly today.
“What a fair sight on such a beautiful day!” he exclaimed. “Well met, Katheryn!”
She curtseyed as the gentlemen in attendance on him grinned, doffing their caps and bowing. Only Tom was unsmiling.
“Come, darling, we will walk together,” Henry said, leading her ahead of the rest. “Are you all prepared for the progress?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir. My new gowns arrived yesterday.”
“I know. I received the bill. You will be the ruin of me yet!” He gave her a sideways glance.
“I am very sorry if I have displeased you,” she said.
He took her meaning. “I could never be angry with you for long, darling,” he assured her, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow. “This journey north is to be an important one. I usually go away for the hunting, and there’ll be plenty of that, but I intend this progress to be especially magnificent, to overawe and impress my northern subjects and teach them that I am not to be flouted. Regrettably, there are still a lot of Papists in those regions who dislike my reforms. I mean to reinforce my authority in the north and collect the fines levied on those cities that supported the Pilgrimage of Grace.”
“Have you visited the north before, Sir?” she asked.
“No; there, I am just a name to the people. Well, they will know me better soon! And I look forward to meeting my nephew King James and establishing a better friendship between us. It will serve to protect my northern border from a Scottish invasion.” He turned around to his gentlemen. “Aye, we’ll make such a display of England’s might that they’ll all cower in terror!” The courtiers cheered, clapping each other on the back.
“Oh, Sir, I do hope you will not be placing yourself in danger,” Katheryn fretted. “You are making me fearful to go on this journey.”
“Nonsense!” Henry roared, as the men laughed. “I’m taking such a force of men-at-arms that my train will be more like a military camp than a court. And you, my Queen, can expect to be well received, for your family is well known in the north. The people there have not forgotten how your grandfather vanquished the Scots at Flodden.”
That was true, but Katheryn was aware that their most recent memory of the Howards would be Uncle Norfolk’s bloody suppression of the Pilgrimage of Grace. She made herself stifle that thought. With an army in attendance, she would surely be safe.
* * *
—
Katheryn was in a good mood as she and her ladies selected the clothes she would take on the progress. It dissipated when an usher brought her a sealed package. She was astonished and dismayed to see that it was from Francis Dereham. What could he possibly have to say to her now?
Going into her closet, she broke the seal and found ten pounds in gold enclosed in a letter. He had addressed her with all the proper courtesies and was craving a favor. Could she see her way clear to offering him a post in he
r household?
The money was a bribe, no less. It made her feel much as she had felt a year ago when Joan Bulmer sent her that threatening letter; mercifully, she had heard no more from Joan and she prayed that happy state of affairs would continue. There was no implied threat here, no reminder of their shared past, but sending her such a large sum carried its own message.
She did not want Francis anywhere near her. He was the living embodiment of everything she was keen to forget. She did not think she could trust him to keep silent about what they had shared; she had not forgotten how loose-tongued he could be when he was in his cups. The further away from Henry she could keep him, the better. She did not want him watching her, wanting her, going on about her being his wife…And what if he got wind that there was something between her and Tom? That did not bear thinking about.
She had to refuse his request. What could she say? Then she remembered that she was the Queen and need say nothing. All she had to do was ignore the letter and hope that he would get the message.
1541
She had never seen so many people and horses assembled together. They were saying that it was the greatest royal retinue the country had witnessed since Henry had met the French King at the Field of Cloth of Gold twenty-one years earlier, before she was born.
“There are five thousand horses here and one thousand soldiers,” Henry told her, as they stood on the palace steps surveying the scene before them. He was dressed for riding and eager to be on his way. The entire court was to accompany him—an astonishing number of people. Those who could not be accommodated in the houses where he, Katheryn, and the Lady Mary were to stay would sleep in tents. Prince Edward, of course, was to stay behind—Henry was obsessively anxious about his health and safety—and Archbishop Cranmer, Lord Chancellor Audley, the Earl of Hertford, and Sir Ralph Sadler were remaining in London to attend to matters of state.
“A more dangerous bunch of heretics you could not hope to meet,” Norfolk growled in Katheryn’s ear, watching them conferring with the King. “We’ll be lucky if England hasn’t turned Protestant by the time we get back.”
“Uncle, you worry too much,” Katheryn chided him. “The King would not have appointed them if he didn’t trust them.”
“He trusted Cromwell,” the Duke reminded her.
“Yes, and he lived to regret it,” she replied.
“God send that he does not live to regret putting that lot in charge,” Norfolk humphed.
It looked as if the King was ready to depart. Seeing him walking toward his horse, Katheryn hastened to join him. Around them, everyone was mounting, saying farewells or shouting out last-minute orders. Seated in the saddle, Henry gave the signal, trumpets sounded, and he and Katheryn rode forth side by side at the head of their great train—five thousand persons in all, he told her.
He was looking up anxiously at the gray sky. “It’s unseasonably cold for late June. I hope it won’t rain. We’ve some miles to go before we can seek shelter.”
Katheryn hoped so, too. She did not want her green velvet riding habit ruined.
* * *
—
The rain held off for the first few days. They rode northward, lodging at Hatfield, Dunstable, and Ampthill on the route to Grafton, hunting and hawking on the way. At every town and city, people flocked to see them. Henry would ride ahead, mounted on his great horse, with his chief lords in front, two by two, and sixty or eighty archers with drawn bows following. Katheryn, the Lady Mary, and the other ladies followed behind. Streets were gaily bedecked and there were speeches, lavish receptions, and banquets. Henry won hearts by exerting his compelling charm and making himself accessible to all who sought his justice.
Katheryn marveled at the efficient arrangements that had been made for transporting such large numbers of people. The various departments of the royal household provided mountains of food for all, supplemented by game, fish, and fowl caught by the hunting parties and prepared in field kitchens.
After a good start, their progress was slow. As Henry had feared, rain and storms hampered it. The roads leading north were all flooded and the baggage carts proceeded only with great difficulty. Everyone was drenched daily, and soon Katheryn gave up worrying about the state of her clothes. There was nothing she could do about it. Every night, she was so cold that they had to light fires in her rooms—and this was July!
“I had reckoned to be in Lincoln by this time,” Henry grumbled, when they had been on the road for three weeks. “This rain has been incessant. It grieves me to see the crops so damaged.” He waved a hand in the direction of the fields stretching into the distance.
That day, Katheryn went down with a streaming cold and they had to stay an extra night at the royal manor house at Grafton to allow her time to recover. Her maids were wondering if the King would give the order to turn back, but she knew he wouldn’t. The progress meant too much to him. Yet, at this rate, they wouldn’t reach Lincoln until the middle of August.
After Grafton the weather cleared, and the royal procession was able to press on to Northampton at a faster pace. Katheryn was feeling better and Henry was in a buoyant mood. So far, there had been no opportunity to arrange a tryst with Tom and, by the time they reached Loddington Hall in late July, Katheryn was going out of her mind with frustration. It had been weeks since they had been alone together, and she had caught only glimpses of him in the procession or hurrying in or out of their lodgings. They had barely had time to exchange glances. At Loddington, fearing he would think she had cooled, she took pains to compose a letter to him, telling him that she would arrange a meeting as soon as she could. She sealed it and left the outside blank, then called Meg Morton to carry it to Lady Rochford.
“Tell her I am sorry that I can write no better,” she said.
Back came Meg, saying that Lady Rochford had promised an answer the next morning. Katheryn was in a fever of impatience and dispatched Meg to Jane, even before breakfast. Meg returned with a sealed note.
“My lady prays your Grace to keep this secret,” she said, clearly agog to know what was in it.
“Thank you.” Katheryn smiled, determined to throw her off the scent. “The King will be pleased with this!”
When Meg had gone, she tore off the seal and read that Tom had said he would wait forever, if need be, so long as he could see her in the end. That was all. Smiling to herself, she burned the letter.
She traveled to Collyweston on wings, hardly hearing Henry telling her that it had been a favorite residence of his grandmother the Lady Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond. He added, rather wistfully, that his bastard son, the late Duke of Richmond, had owned it, too. She was glad to see that all trace of the Duke had been cleared away, for she did not want to see Henry grieved by reminders of him. Nothing must be allowed to upset the holiday mood.
At Grimsthorpe Castle, the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk entertained them lavishly. The Duchess was one of the great ladies of Katheryn’s household, and proudly showed her the improvements they had made to the ancient stronghold.
Henry was tired that night and sent a message to say that he would not be joining Katheryn in her bedchamber in one of the old towers. Immediately, she sent Kat Tilney to ask Jane Rochford when she would have the thing Jane had promised her. The answer was that Jane was sitting up waiting for it, and tomorrow she would bring the Queen word herself, rather than trouble Kat again.
When all was dark, Katheryn got up, put on a night robe of black damask, and made her way down the spiral stair to Jane’s chamber on the lower landing. Tom was there, waiting for her. He drew in his breath at the sight of her, for her hair was loose and her feet bare. There was no time for words. He gathered her into his arms and they kissed as if they would have devoured each other. His hand strayed to her breast, but she moved it away. Denial only fed their passion, and it was two in the morning before she was back in bed.
The next night, their plans were frustrated because Henry came to her with bedsport firmly in his mind. “Let’s see if we can’t make another prince for England!” he challenged her, flushed with wine. That was his resolve on most of the nights that followed, but, at every stop, Katheryn tried to meet Tom in secret, even if only for a few snatched moments.
Jane contrived these meetings. She was still encouraging them, acting as a messenger between them and sometimes conveying gifts, only now it was Katheryn who bade her send for Tom. In every house, instead of getting Jane to do it, Katheryn would seek for the back doors and back stairs herself, and tell Jane how convenient they were for an assignation. Sometimes she got her maids to help her, saying they might need to make an exit in case of fire; if they suspected anything amiss, they said nothing. When Tom visited at night, Katheryn always ordered Jane to stay nearby, because Jane had got into the habit of wandering off. It occurred to Katheryn that she might be trying to distance herself from a situation about which she had become uneasy.
One night, when she and Tom were lying on the bed, fully dressed, whispering to each other, he produced from his pocket a cramp ring, one of several the King had blessed on Good Friday.
“I stole this from Jane,” he announced. “She said it was yours.”
“It isn’t,” she said. “What is she trying to do?”
“I have no idea!”
“I will send her to you with one of mine. You should have two, as it is a bad omen to wear but one cramp ring.” She sent it by Jane the next day.
* * *
—
Nine days into August, they came to Temple Bruer, seven miles from Lincoln, where a great dinner had been prepared for them. Henry wore Lincoln green, as a compliment to the people of Lincolnshire, and Katheryn appeared in crimson velvet. Their silken tent had been set up at the furthest point of the city liberties and they went in procession to it, preceded by trumpeters, drummers, archers marching with drawn bows, and the Yeomen of the Guard with their pikes and axes.