His sister, the queen, obviously. And to make such an announcement would reinforce her as regent if something were to happen to me and to the Prince Edward. Perhaps even her brother thought he would become regent, guiding his nephew as he assumed the role of king.
A nephew that had not even been conceived yet.
Yes, to add this would raise the Parr family up quite high. I closed my eyes for a moment before speaking.
“What does the queen think of this?”
I opened my eyes to see the earl gape for a moment.
“I would not speak of it with her,” he said finally.
“Yet you spoke of the treaty with Scotland with her,” I responded. “You are obviously fond of discussing policy with her.”
“She has a sharp mind and was well educated, as Your Majesty knows,” the Earl answered. I waited for more but he seemed to be done.
“Well then it shall be considered,” I said finally, and waved for him to rise, which he did reluctantly.
“Your Majesty,” he said before turning to go. “My sister would do her best.”
So they were planning on what to do if I were to fall on the battlefield in France. One could not fault them for such thoughts — it was no coincidence that the Act of Succession was announced before I left to fight. However, this thinking should not be further encouraged.
“I am sure she would,” I responded, watching as the man slowly backed out of the room.
Frustrated at this ploy, I leaned back in the wooden chair that creaked ominously against my weight. I had expected better of Katherine and she had disappointed me yet again.
But now what to do? The easy answer would be to do nothing — it was not required that I address what had happened. And it would show to the Parr family that they did not dictate policy, or even have a say in such.
But the longer I thought about it, the more I wanted this message to be public. Not just for the earl and queen to understand, but for all. Though they had danced around the issue of my death, they had not directly spoken of it and thus not committed treason. Reaching up the rub my face, I thought furiously.
And then, just as if an angel had spoken in my ear, my answer was there. Smiling, I motioned for two page boys to help me from my chair, and gestured toward a third.
“Fetch my secretary and tell him to bring the Act of Succession with him. There is an addition that needs to be made.”
****
There was no grand announcement, no reading in the town squares. I simply had the Act of Succession printed and posted upon common sign posts or delivered to the nobility. The only subjects who would think to defy it would be those who could read anyhow.
So it took until the afternoon before both Katherine and her brother came to my presence chamber. The fact that I had not seen Katherine earlier in the day was unusual enough in and of itself and should have been a clue to them that something was amiss. However, I had heard nothing from my queen.
“Her Majesty, Queen Katherine,” my herald announced, following quickly in a much louder voice, “Lord Parr, the Earl of Essex.”
I turned from where I had been discussing plans for the invasion of France with Charles Brandon and watched as brother and sister approached my dais. Though Katherine had a seat next to me, she did not take it, instead bowing before me.
“Dear wife,” I said, I hoped without any trace of irony. Katherine did well, rising with a kind smile on her face. Her brother did less well, failing to smile and looking as if he had bitten into something rotten.
“Your Majesty,” she responded, still having difficulty saying anything else before the court. This time I did not chide her.
“Is there something you wished to discuss?” I asked, lifting one eyebrow.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, nodding her head slightly. “I have looked over the prospects for your niece, the Lady Margaret Douglas. I have chosen a husband for her, as you asked.”
Now it was my turn to look displeased. Behind Katherine I could see members of the court turning to whisper to their neighbors, passing along the news that I had left such a monumental decision to the queen.
“I believe I only asked for you to compile a list of prospects,” I responded.
“Indeed, yes, Your Majesty,” Katherine said, not quite meeting my eyes. “I must have misspoke.”
But the damage was already done; the entire court was already muttering that this had been the queen’s job, her doing. It did not matter what was said, by me or her. Facts played little part in what the court believed.
“Very well,” I said with a slight sigh, willing to concede this round. After all, it was only the marriage of my niece, and the true power still lay in my hands, no matter what the court my think. I waited for a moment until Katherine reached forward, handing me a small list of names written in her perfect handwriting.
“As you can see, I believe the Earl of Lennox would make a fine choice,” she said.
Glancing down at the paper I could see that she had not only written the names of the gentlemen, but a small list of points in their favor. One name even had a few detractions listed as well. She had also written large enough that I could read without my glasses. These helpful tips did nothing to ease my growing temper.
“Yes, well it will have to be discussed in the Privy Council,” I had, tossing the paper to my secretary. It fluttered out of his reach and he had to scramble down after it, picking it up from the dirty rushes on the floor. I glanced back at the queen.
“Thank you for your assistance,” I said pointedly. “Was there anything else you would like to discuss?”
I saw Katherine hesitate and begin to shake her head when her brother took a half step forward.
“We had an inquiry as to the Act of Succession,” he said, very boldly considering I had not yet acknowledged him.
Katherine turned as if she would hush her brother, but then thought better of it, turning a blank face to me instead.
“Ah,” I said, sitting back into my chair, relishing what was to come. “There is no requirement that an oath be given by the nobility this time.”
“Yes, we noticed,” the earl said, a grimace in place of a smile. “However, it was worded —”
He trailed off, obviously confused as to where to go.
“I believe it was worded quite clear,” I responded. I snapped my fingers at my secretary, who appeared at my side after a moment.
“Perhaps you could read the pertinent information to the earl,” I said sweetly. “He seems to have been unable to do so himself.”
The boy looked to begin reading the entire act, but instead Brandon stepped forward and motioned to the portion that I knew would most interest the earl and, of course, my queen.
“Forasmuch as His Majesty, since the death of the late Queen Jane hath taken to wife Katherine, late wife to Lord Latimer, by whom as yet His Majesty hath no issue, but may full well, when it shall please God—”
I waved for the boy to pause.
“I believe the queen has no announcement to make on this?” I asked.
Blushing bright red, the earl glanced over to his sister who gave a slight shake of her head, the color rising on her own cheeks. If there had been any signs of a baby, she would have mentioned it straight away.
I considered not letting the boy continue. I had only meant to show the earl, and through him Katherine, their place in my court, not to humiliate my wife. But she seemed unwilling to withdraw or contradict her brother in front of the court. I waved for the reading to go on. The document was wordy, and even the earl’s eyes started to glazed over until we reached the line of succession.
“— recognizing and acknowledging also that it is in the only pleasure and will of Almighty God how long His Highness or his said entirely beloved son, Prince Edward, shall live, and whether the said prince shall have heirs of his body lawfully begotten or not, or whether His Highness shall have heirs begotten and procreated between His Majesty and his said most dear and entirely b
eloved wife Queen Katherine that now is —”
“As we discussed,” I said pleasantly to the earl. “Any offspring produced by Her Majesty and I, will be listed after Prince Edward.”
“Yes,” the Earl said, pursing his lips but then deciding to plunge forward.
“But the bit after.”
I nodded at my secretary, whose eyes had grown large, realizing what argument was now being played in front of the entire court.
“— or any lawful heirs and issues hereafter of his own body begotten by any other his lawful wife—“
“There,” the earl said, cutting in. My secretary shrank, not eager to witness what was to come.
“There,” the earl repeated. “Any other lawful wife. This is distressing wording.”
“Is it?” I asked him, keeping my eyes on Katherine who was now looking down at the far corner of my dais, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze.
“Yes,” the earl said desperately. “For my sister is a young woman and this wording makes it seem —”
He suddenly trailed off and I was very glad he had done so. I had not dreamed that he would go this far.
For what was he about to say? That I would behead Katherine as I had two other women who had called themselves my wife? That I would lose her as I had lost my precious Jane, that I would annul the marriage, as I had with two others?
“I merely fear for my sister,” the earl all but whispered, bowing before backing out of the room.
Glancing around the now silent presence chamber, I saw that no courtier would look higher than the rushes on the floor. Even my great friend Charles Brandon would not meet my roving gaze.
And before me was my wife, Katherine, who had done nothing more than have her brother speak to me about the children we might have. Suddenly I felt all the anger and frustration I had felt at her meddling, first with Margaret Douglas and then with the Act, leave my body in a rush. In its place I felt nothing but exhaustion.
Yes, the earl did fear for his sister. She feared for herself, and the court stood, waiting on bated breath to see what would become of my latest wife.
Shaking my head, I reached out my hand.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered, holding her hand as she walked and took her place at the throne next to mine. I nodded at my secretary, who came scurrying forward.
“Strike that phrase,” I said, my voice carrying across the room.
“But your Majesty —”
“Strike it,” I ordered, squeezing Katherine’s hand as I smiled at her.
“For Her Majesty has done nothing in this past year but please me. I would like to do the same for her.”
The Earl of Essex, however, was another matter.
Chapter Four
April, 1544
I shook my head and tossed the missive from the Duke of Norfolk aside. More bad news from the Scots — a drain on our resources and a distraction from my campaign in France. Troops had already been sent across the Channel, but I had yet to follow. Out of able commanders, I had sent Lord Hertford to France, as Katherine had asked me to send him to Scotland. But the young men of my court had seemed to melt away, been killed in some foolhardy attempt at bravery or called home to manage failing estates. I recalled the stories my mother had told me about the wars in her youth; there had always seemed to be a plethora of young men to lead then. And my father had never had trouble calling up arms, even when exiled to France.
But I must be failing. The Duke of Norfolk, leading men a third of his age. Charles Brandon, willing to ride by my side in France, but in no shape to lead troops himself. And more and more I found that the young men about me would only betray me, given half the chance.
I tried to shake off the cobwebs of my past and looked back to my missive from the duke. More troops were needed. A stronger force against the Scots. Food and supplies were running low. The Kentish countryside must be made to send food north. To help soldiers the farmers had never met, defend lands that meant nothing to them.
It couldn’t be done. Not when so many Kentish men were already feeding my army in France, or serving in it themselves.
I called over my secretary. The Duke of Norfolk and I had never minced words together. There could be no help. He must make do on his own.
On my secretary’s way out the door he almost ran into the Earl of Essex, who had evidently been standing there for some time.
After his humiliating confrontation with me two months earlier he had escaped back to his lands. Claiming that there was much work to be done on the barren soil, and he could trust no one to do such in his absence. Without him here to meddle in his sister’s affairs, my household had run quite smoothly.
But present circumstances required me to bring him back to court.
He entered with little fanfare; the court was currently at dinner. Only my groom of the stool, Sir Thomas Heneage, remained with me, standing in the corner. My food sat to the side as I studied the maps of Scotland and France before me. Beside me was a letter from Lord Hertford, assuring me that the French campaign would begin any day now. Without me there.
I gestured for him to sit, but he took no seat while I remained standing. It was good to see he had learned some amount of humility while gone.
“Your Majesty requested me?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.
“Yes,” I answered, gesturing down toward the maps. “I am besieged on both sides by enemies and have not enough able men to fight for me.”
The earl didn’t respond.
“You have raised men from your lands?” I questioned.
“Yes, of course,” he said quickly. I knew he had, but wanted to try to get him talking. I stared at him for a minute before he continued.
“They are in Scotland with the Duke of Norfolk’s men.”
“And you remain here?”
“The duke informed me I was not needed.”
I pursed my lips — that did sound like the duke. Wanting to save as much reward for himself as possible. Which meant fewer leaders, fewer gentry in the fields. I shook my head.
“Well, you are to be sent there now,” I decreed.
“Your Majesty?” he asked, his face paling.
“You have never before seen battle; well, you can see it firsthand in Scotland. The duke writes that the campaign was going well but that fresh supplies are needed. You will ride to out to the east and raise more men, and obtain five hundred heads of cattle to drive north for the army. You will do this before the end of the month.”
The earl gaped at me. He was not experienced enough to realize that this could not be done, but he still recognized that this was a monumental task.
“Or would you rather remain here at court to serve me?”
It was an out, but one I did not believe the earl would take. He had all but told the entire court of his fear of me. Better to be facing the wild Scots by the side of an aging commander than to stay here with me, where his head could be taken from his body by one of my whims.
I closed my eyes against these negative words and the aghast face of the earl. Those whose death orders that I had signed were traitors. Had threatened me and my crown, the crown that was to go to my son Edward. I had done right.
“Well?” I barked.
“I will do as Your Majesty commands,” the earl responded faintly, bowing slightly. I did not demand a deeper bow; the man looked close to fainting.
“Very well,” I said, waving my hand. The earl backed away from me, and I limped over to the table of food, finally settling in to eat. As I tore into the plate of fish, two page boys entered and came up behind me, organizing the maps and letters on my desk. In the absence of any conversation, their movements seemed to echo in the chambers.
With a single focus I devoured the food in front of me, looking for comfort that was not there. Eating had always brought me such pleasure, but in the face of two battles, the food tasted like sand in my mouth. My loss of appetite had only happened twice before, after the death of my mother and the death of my w
ife, Queen Jane. The choking feeling that kept me from swallowing now reminded me of that pain and I was forced to stop eating long before the food ran out.
“Is — your Majesty finished?” one page boy asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes,” I said, gesturing toward the food. “The cooks have not been busy enough.”
I knew my words, though seemingly innocent, would resonate throughout the court. Better that they think me angry with the cooks than afraid of battle. And lonely for my mother.
Outside my door there was a clanging of the guards and hurried footsteps. I gestured for a page boy and was able to meet Sir William Herbert standing as he was hastily announced into my rooms.
Married to my wife’s sister, I had little to do with Sir Herbert, a scholarly man who seemed ill at ease at court. But now he dropped to one knee before me, head firmly bowed.
“Rise,” I ordered. “And tell me your news.”
For an entrance such as this only meant that there could be important news and his hesitation about rising informed me that it would not be good news. I sighed, and tried to ward off the fission of fear that came when I thought that it might be ill news about my son.
“Speak!” I ordered, causing Herbert to jump slightly before rising.
“It is Lord Chancellor Audley,” Herbert breathed out, glancing to the side.
“Yes?” I gestured for him to continue, feeling a small fissure of happiness that there was no ill news of my son.
“It’s just — Chancellor Audley. He’s dead, Your Majesty.”
I looked at the serious face of Sir Herbert and said the only thing that came to my mind.
“Damnation.”
****
I had always experienced bad luck with appointing lord chancellors. These men, commonly referred to as the keeper of the king’s conscious, were responsible for the Great Seal of England. By entrusting such an important article to them, I showed my confidence in their abilities. Lord chancellors would handle smaller disputes, and presided over the House of Lords, a duty I was happy to pass along. Dealings with Parliament were never easy for a monarch.
Katherine the Martyr Page 3