The Sixth Wife: The Story of Katherine Parr

by Jean Plaidy

  The man, deeply conscious of the honor done him, knelt in a reverence which was far from displeasing to Henry. He had always been eager to win the approbation of his humble subjects.

  “Your name?” said Henry.

  “John Marbeck, Your Most Gracious Majesty.”

  “We liked your singing. You shall sing to us again. I said to the Queen that rarely have I heard my song sung so well.”

  “I shall treasure the memory of those words for the rest of my life, Your Grace.”

  The Queen gave Marbeck one of her smiles, and the man looked at her with a devotion which equaled that he gave to the King, for in those circles in which he moved he had heard of the Queen’s sympathies with that religion which he, Marbeck, was convinced was the true one.

  The King gave orders that Marbeck should be given good food and wine, and the banquet began.

  “I liked that fellow,” said the King to Katharine. “Methinks I know an honest face when I see it.”

  “Your Majesty must have him to sing more of your songs,” said Katharine.

  “That I will. And it shall be while we are here at Windsor. I hear he works with Priest Pearson and is a good churchman.”

  When the King was heavy with much food and wine, Gardiner craved private audience, saying that he had matters of great importance which he wished to set before His Majesty.

  Henry nodded, and before retiring to his bedchamber received the Bishop in his private closet.

  “What now, Bishop?” he asked.

  “It has come to my ears, Your Grace, that there are a number of heretics in the realm, men who doubt the word of Your Majesty and plan to work against those laws which you have set down.”

  “What’s this?” cried Henry.

  “Books are being circulated, books which Your Majesty has forbidden his subjects to read. They are being compiled against Your Majesty’s orders. There are men who seek, by sly and secret means, to work against you. They disagree with the Six Articles. They would defy Your Grace and teach a false religion.”

  “Oh, these meddlers!” groaned Henry. “They torment and plague me. Why cannot they accept the religion which their King has given them?”

  “They are wayward subjects, Your Grace. It is the books which are at the root of the evil. I ask Your Majesty’s permission to make a search of every dwelling in this town. Give me this permission, and I will have the ringleaders in a week.”

  Henry was silent and Gardiner went on: “These heretics, Your Grace, they creep into every corner of the court. Even about Your Majesty they gather.”

  He stopped, noting his master’s frown. Henry did not wish to be disturbed with these matters now. He had eaten well; he had drunk well; and he wanted his pleasant little Queen to sit beside him. They had been married for two weeks, and the more he saw of her, the more he liked her, so he wished that nothing should interfere with his postmarital courtship.

  Clever Gardiner was a good servant, the sort he needed about him, but there were times when the fellow irritated him. He knew whither Gardiner wished to lead him. His Queen had been betraying her thoughts. She was not a foolish, frivolous woman, and she spent much time with her books. Some of these books, Henry guessed, would not have given great pleasure to his Catholic Bishop. Let the Queen read what she would; he wanted no fool for a wife, and as long as she did not imagine herself to be too clever, he was pleased that she should display a certain good sense. Most of the clever people at his court had a desire to examine new ideas; it was natural.

  Regarding his wife, Henry was in a benevolent mood. He was happier than he had been since they had brought him the news of Catharine Howard’s infidelities. The fact was he had needed a wife, and now he had one. She was a good little woman who gave him much pleasure. He wished, therefore, to be left alone with his pleasure; and if Master Gardiner had the good sense he imagined himself to have, he should realize this.

  “Your permission, Sire, to search the houses of Windsor, and I will bring you proof.”

  “Oh…very well, Sir Bishop. Go to your searching.”

  “Every room in Windsor, Sire, shall be ransacked in the service of Your Grace.”

  The King narrowed his eyes. “You’ll not search the Castle apartments, my lord. You’ll keep your fingers out of them, Sir Bishop.”

  Gardiner bowed, well pleased. So the King already knew of the Queen’s sympathies, and he did not wish to be disturbed with the knowledge. This could mean only one thing: the present Queen was in such high favor that her religious opinions were of little moment. They were to be ignored… for the time being.

  Certainly the Bishop was not displeased. Once the King had tired of his little pig, he would be only too eager to listen to an account of her heresies. And, cogitated the Bishop, if and when that came about, and Master Thomas Seymour returned to court …the stage would be set.

  THE BISHOP’S FIRST action after that interview with the King was to send for a certain Dr. London, whom he knew to be in the town of Windsor.

  Gardiner had a special reason for sending for this man. He had watched the career of the Doctor of Divinity and knew him for a man of great resource and cunning. Dr. London had worked under Thomas Cromwell in the dissolution of the monasteries and he had been the perfect tool of his master. Cromwell had said: “Bring me evidence of the infamies which persist in such and such an abbey.” And Dr. London had never failed to bring what was required of him; he was an indefatigable exposer of foulness; he was a reviver of old scandals; and if he could find no scandal foul enough to please his master, well then, he was a man of ready wit and it was not beyond his power to invent them.

  Moreover, Dr. London was a man who needed to show the Bishop his loyalty. As he had once been Cromwell’s man, he could not easily become Gardiner’s. In these dangerous times a man must take sides; and Dr. London had shown the Bishop that he wished to establish himself as a good Catholic.

  The man had wisdom. He looked into the future. The present King was ailing; his son was weak; and there was Catholic Mary waiting to take the throne. Dr. London—like Gardiner—saw a return to Rome not far distant. He had no wish to feed the flames of Smithfield.

  Such a man, the Bishop was sure, would work with zeal.

  “Dr. London, I have work for you. You have shown me that you wish for preferment. You have sworn loyalty to me and the true religion. Now is the time to prove it.”

  “I am at your service, my lord Bishop.”

  “The task to which I am appointing you, good Dr. London, is the smellingout of heretics in Windsor.”

  “Ah. They abound in this town, sir. They abound.”

  “Alas, ’tis true. I have the King’s order to bring them to justice. Whom do you suspect of heresy?”

  “There is a priest, Anthony Pearson. I have made notes of his sermons, your lordship. He has said enough to send him to the stake.”

  “Mayhap examination of his house will lead you to others.”

  “I doubt it not.”

  “Go to it, good Doctor. I doubt not that you will find evidence against these rogues.”

  “My lord Bishop, it is said that these people are given aid by some at court.”

  The Bishop nodded. “For the time, Doctor, let us keep to the herd. We will shoot at the head deer later.”

  The Doctor’s eyes gleamed. He understood. Great things lay ahead of him. This was but a beginning. He would perform the task required of him, and another and greater would come his way. That was what the good Bishop, the mighty Bishop, was telling him.

  “How many heretics would my lord Bishop require?”

  “Not too many. We might say… four. They should be humble men. The court is to be left alone. Start with this priest Pearson and see whither that leads.”

  The Doctor bowed himself out of the Bishop’s presence and at once went to his task.

  AS HE LEFT THE Castle of Windsor, John Marbeck was singing softly. It had been a successful evening, a wonderful evening indeed when the King had singl
ed him out to express his pleasure.

  John Marbeck was a simple man, a deeply religious man, a man of ideals. His greatest desire was not that he might win fame and fortune at court, but that he might help to give the Bible to the people of England.

  He had many friends in Windsor, men with ideals similar to his own; he met them in the course of his duties at church and he sometimes joined gatherings at their homes and, on occasions, they visited his. During these meetings there was one subject which they discussed with passion: religion.

  Each of these men wished to do some work which would aid others to reach the great Truth which they believed they had discovered.

  Pearson did it by his preaching, as did Henry Filmer, a friar, who, being turned from his monastery, had become interested in the new learning and was now a vicar in Windsor.

  Marbeck’s friend Robert Testwood, a fine musician and the head of the choir to which Marbeck belonged, had introduced him to these men; and how happy Marbeck had been to show them the great work which he was doing!

  “I shall go on working at my Concordance,” he told them, “until I have made possible a greater understanding of the Bible.”

  “Then keep it secret,” Pearson had warned him.

  It was strange, thought Marbeck, looking back at the gray walls of the castle, how simple men such as himself and his friends, knowing the risks they ran, should continue to run them.

  Robert Testwood had said: “This is more than a religious issue, my friends. We do these things because within us we feel that a man should have freedom to think as he wishes.”

  Marbeck was not sure of that. The religious issue, to him, was all-important. And on this night he wished merely to be happy. The King had complimented him on his voice; the Queen had smiled graciously upon him—the Queen, who, some said, was one of them.

  He smiled, thinking of the future. Perhaps he would dedicate his Concordance to that gracious lady.

  He was singing the song he had sung before the King, as he let himself into his house.

  He stood at the door listening. He heard noises within. Strangers were in his house.

  His heart was beating fast as he opened the door and went into that room in which he did his work. There stood two men; he noticed that his cupboard had been turned out, as had the drawers of his table. In the hands of one were several sheets of his Concordance. These men had forced the lock; they had discovered his secret.

  “What… what do you here?” he stammered.

  “John Marbeck,” said one of the men, “we come on the King’s business. You are our prisoner. There will be questions for you to answer.

  “Questions… questions? I beg of you, give me those papers…. They are mine….”

  “Not so,” said the man. “These papers are our prisoners also. Come, master chorister. There is no time to waste.”

  “Whither do you take me?”

  “To London. To the Marshalsea.”

  Marbeck was trembling, remembering tales he had heard and had bravely not heeded. Now they were close to him and he would have to heed them. He thought of torture and death; and as he left Windsor for London in the company of his captors he thought of the smell of crackling wood and burning flesh; he thought of the martyr’s death.

  ANNE, LADY HERBERT, came to the Queen and begged a secret audience with her. Katharine forthwith dismissed all her attendants.

  “What ails you, sister?” asked the Queen. “I declare you look as if you have seen a ghost.”

  Ah! thought Anne Herbert. Mayhap I have. The ghosts of Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard warn me.

  “Gardiner is moving against you. He, with his friend Wriothesley, has ordered a search of the houses in this town.”

  “A search!”

  “There have already been arrests.”

  “Whom have they arrested?”

  “Four men of Windsor. Two priests and two musicians. Pearson is one of them, Marbeck another.”

  “God help us!” cried the Queen. “I know why these men have been taken.”

  “It is a blow at you, dearest sister. They dare not attack you now because you have the King’s favor. But this is a warning. As soon as they consider they have a chance to work against you, they will do so. Dearest Majesty, you must give up your reading, give up those little gatherings of our friends. It was unsafe when you were Lady Latimer; but now that you are the Queen it is desperately dangerous.”

  “Anne, what will happen to these men?”

  “I know not. Dr. London is preparing a case against them.”

  “Dr. London! That rogue. He was Cromwell’s man. That is he, is it not? He roamed the countryside and turned the monks from their monasteries while he took their treasure.”

  “He took those treasures for his master, Kate. He is a man without principles. Then he worked against the Catholic monks; now he works for Catholic Gardiner and the King’s Secretary, Wriothesley. He is wily; he is clever and he is unscrupulous. What is to become of these men, I do not know. They say they have found Marbeck’s notes on the Bible. That will ensure a fiery death for him.”

  “But, Anne, the King has a fondness for Marbeck. He complimented him on his singing.”

  “Gardiner has no fondness for Marbeck’s religious views.”

  “The King is all-powerful.”

  “But, Kate, Gardiner will show that Marbeck has disobeyed the King’s orders. I am afraid… desperately afraid. Not only for these men… but for you.”

  “We must help them, Anne. We cannot let them die.”

  “Let well alone. Listen to me, dearest Kate. Remember those who went before you. You have the King’s favor now. Keep it. Do everything you can to keep it, and stay away from trouble.”

  “But I must do everything I can for these men, Anne.”

  “You tempt Fate.”

  “No, Anne. I must prove my courage in this. I have to acquire courage. Something within me tells me this. If I fail now I should fail later.”

  “Later?” said Anne Herbert fearfully.

  “Anne, there may come a time when I shall have to be very brave indeed.” Katharine put her arm about her sister. “Speak what is in your mind, dearest. You talk of four men of Windsor, and you think of two Queens. Remember, I have an advantage over them. I know what happened to them; though they, poor souls, had no indications of what they would come to. All will be well, I promise you. The King is fond of me and he grows fonder.”

  “Dearest sister,” said Anne, “I would that you were merely my sister and not my Queen.”

  IN THE DARKNESS of the royal bedchamber the Queen whispered to the King: “My Lord, you are pleased with me?”

  The King’s laugh was a deep, satisfied rumble.

  “Your Grace has been good to me.”

  “Well, sweetheart, that is what I would wish to be to one who pleases me as you do.”

  “In my happiness I think of others less happy.”

  “That’s like you, Kate. You’re a kind woman.”

  “I trust my ways do not displease you.”

  “And what is all this talk of pleasing and displeasing? It seems that women talk in this way when they would ask a favor.”

  “You are clever. You follow the workings of my mind.”

  “I am well versed, Kate, in the ways of women.”

  “It is of those men of Windsor so recently arrested that I think. They have been condemned to the flames.”

  The King grunted. This was no time to talk of state matters. He wished Kate would ask for something for herself, some ornament, some fancy velvets to make a gown. Now, first, she must ask that his daughters might be reinstated; then she must ask for money for them. He had given way to her there. Now she was going to plead for these heretics who were condemned to die.

  “Poor Marbeck!” she said.

  “Aye!” said the King. “Poor Marbeck.” The man had an enchanting voice. A plague on Gardiner for arresting him. Why should he interfere with the King’s pleasure? For Marbeck, with his
pleasant singing, had brought pleasure to his King. “It would be well if Marbeck’s accusers spent their time in no worse way than he does,” growled Henry.

  Katharine felt exultant. “Your Majesty will pardon this man?”

  Henry himself had been thinking of doing that; but he was not going to say that he would immediately. Katharine was going to ask a pardon for all four, and he did not wish to pardon them all. He was not going to allow men to act with impunity against himself; and these men, in acting against laws which he had approved, were acting against him.

  Blood must flow, he reasoned. If any lift the mildest voice against the King’s command, blood must flow …or, as in this case, flesh must burn.

  He could not therefore pardon all the offenders; but he liked Marbeck. What if he gave Marbeck to Katharine? But the other three would have to go to Gardiner.

  “Kate,” he said, “this man has been condemned. Books have been found in his house.”

  He felt the Queen’s shiver, and he knew that, had he allowed those men to search her apartments, they would have found similar books there. Well well, let her read her books for the time being; it was pleasant to discourse with a woman of good sense.

  “Pardon them, my dearest lord,” pleaded Katharine. “Show your clemency.”

  “Only fools show clemency, Kate. If I let those men go free, what would happen, think you? Others would proclaim themselves heretics without more ado.”

  “Only those who do so in secret already would do that.”

  “When men practice in secret what they fear to do in the open, that is not a good thing, Kate. Perhaps we should find more of these rogues.”

  “No, my lord, I beg of you.”

  “There, sweetheart. You are a woman and soft. You plead for these men because it is in your nature to be soft with all. You are our Queen—our wellloved Queen. We will do something to show you our regard.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “I give you Marbeck.”

  “A thousand thanks, Your Grace. And Pearson… Testwood and Filmer?”

  “You’re greedy, Kate. No. Take Marbeck, and be grateful. I cannot interfere further with justice, even for your sake.”