Farewell, Love, I read. And all thy laws forever,
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more;
Senec and Plato call me from thy lore,
To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavour.
I was just trying to work out who or what ‘Senec’ was when Lady Rutland suddenly appeared at my right hand and asked if she might disturb me.
“Yes,” I said, and then added, “What is it, milady? You look most troubled.”
“I am, but I’m pleased to see you are following Lady Edgecombe’s advice. She loves poetry, especially the poets of today, such as Sir Thomas Wyatt and Henry Howard.”
“Who? The Earl of Surrey?”
“Yes, milady, but I haven’t come to talk about poetry; there’s something far more serious.”
“What, my family? My mother? My sisters? My brother?”
“No, no, milady. It’s about the queen.”
“Has she lost her baby?”
“No. milady. I think that it’s something far worse than that. In fact she’s done something and might lose her head for it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. None of this was making sense. I had thought that the king and new his wife were deeply in love.
“Well, it’s like this, milady. Do you remember about one month ago when the king cancelled all the banquets and masques at court because of his bad leg?”
“Of course I do. I was about to go to London when I received a message not to.”
“Well, during that period, my dear, when there were no activities at court, the queen became very friendly with a young man called Thomas Culpepper.”
“What do you mean ‘very friendly’ with him?”
“They…”
“Wait a minute, Lady Rutland. Aren’t the queen and Thomas Culpepper cousins?”
“Yes, milady, but according to the stories we’ve been hearing these last few days at court, the queen had become quite bored while the king was indisposed; you know, no dances, no reason to wear all her new gowns and jewellery and so she began to see Master Culpepper in secret. And,” Lady Rutland continued, “if that weren’t bad enough, they asked Lady Rochford to arrange these meetings.”
“But that’s not so bad,” I shrugged. “It may not be very wise. Everyone knows at court that Lady Rochford is a true gossip. She can’t keep a secret like a leaking bucket can’t hold water.”
“I know that, my dear, and so do you, but it’s clear that those two, the queen and Culpepper, did not.”
“And how many of these secret meetings did they have?”
“I don’t know exactly, milady, but I know that they continued even when the king set out on his Northern progress – you know, when the whole court set out for Yorkshire and the north.”
“But surely the queen has been sleeping with the king, hasn’t she?”
“Perhaps, milady, but as Culpepper is a trusted member of the king’s household he could get very close to the queen as well.” She sighed and looked at me sadly as if she knew what would happen. “I suppose they carried on with their affair while His Majesty was busy with his own affairs, I mean the affairs of state.”
“And does the king know about all this?”
“I don’t think so, milady. But if he doesn’t know now, it won’t take long before he does. You know what gossip is like at court. You need only one lord to look more than once at a lady and tongues start wagging nineteen to the dozen. It can’t be long before His Majesty knows and when that happens I don’t want to be at court on that day, or even that week. I’m telling you, my dear, the king will be so angry that anything can and probably will happen.”
I sat there dreading to think what could happen and I saw that Lady Rutland was thinking along the same lines. “Oh, poor, stupid Catherine Howard,” she said at last in a whisper as she gathered her gown around her ready to leave. “Don’t these young girls ever learn? Just show them a few diamonds or give them a pretty gown or two and they surrender their honour without a thought for the future. Oh, I’m so glad I wasn’t brought up like that. But enough of that,” she said trying to shake these gloomy thoughts from her head. “I must go now but I promise I’ll let you know if anything else happens. But you must promise me, in return, not to tell anyone what I’ve just told you - not even in German to your Kathryn or Gertrude.”
I nodded my head and she bowed low and left, leaving me to my thoughts and Sir Thomas Wyatt’s poem about Farewell, love.
That night as I lay in bed I couldn’t help thinking about the king and his young wife. If this story is true, my light-hearted queen, I thought, you’ll not be so light-hearted much longer. If you, as His Majesty’s ‘rose without a thorn’ hurt the king with one of your thorns, I would certainly not like to be in your dainty shoes when he finds any blood on his royal fingers.
For the next two days all I could think about was Catherine Howard and her foolish ways. I could understand the exciting feelings of power and plenty that came with being close to the king - but being so close to this king, together with his stinking leg was, to use an English understatement, not a very pleasant experience. And to be the king’s wife and then be caught with another man had to be the worst experience of all.
The first person who gave me more detailed information about what had passed between the queen and Thomas Culpepper was Alice Skipton, one of my best friends at court, an intelligent woman and one on whom I knew I could rely on. She sent me a sealed letter with a royal messenger who had to return to London. It arrived sometime after the progress had arrived in York where most of the court, and especially the king, were extremely annoyed that the Scottish king, James the Fifth, had refused to meet King Henry.
My dearest Anne, she wrote.
I hope you will not mind but I will write this letter in simple English as I know that although you can now speak English quite well, you told me earlier you still have problems reading the language and sometimes do not understand all the words. When you read this letter you will understand why I do not want you to ask anyone about any of the words in it. I will also be pleased if you burn this letter when you have finished reading it and not talk about it with anyone.
As you know, we set out from London on this Progress and from the beginning we had many problems. The heavy rain made it very difficult for all of our carriages to move and many of them became stuck in the mud -especially on the open roads between the towns. However, we did succeed, finally in reaching York although we arrived there much later than the king had wanted. His Majesty had planned to meet the King of Scotland but, in the end, even though he had promised to come down to York from Edinburgh, he never arrived. Some of the people on the Progress said that King James was afraid to meet our king, but whatever the reason, Henry was furious and shouted at everyone for a few days afterwards.
But now I must tell you about Queen Catherine. While we were on the move, Thomas Culpepper, a good-looking young man, was frequently seen in the queen’s company. Naturally a lot of people gossiped about this but of course this did not include me. According to the usual rumours that are part of our courtly life, he used to visit the queen at night when she was staying at Lincoln, Pontefract or here at York. One of the stories I heard was that he was almost caught in her bedchamber by Sir Anthony Denny who, as you know, is one of His Majesty’s most trusted advisers. (You first met him soon after you arrived in England.) He had come to the queen’s chamber to ask her about some travel arrangements, but she was inside with Culpepper. Fortunately for both of them, the door was locked on the inside so either he hid under the bed or else he managed to climb out of a window and thus he was not seen there.
And so, my dearest friend, I am telling you this so that you should know what is happening at court even though you are not here with us. As is customary, the Catholics and the Protestants are fighting over who will have more influence with the king and that is the reason that whatever the queen does or whatever happens to her in the future - whether it be very good or very bad - it will b
e of great import for everyone.
I leave you as your dearest friend and remind you to burn this letter when you have finished reading it. I hope you are in the best of health.
Alice Sk.
After reading this letter I immediately threw it into the fire and again felt very worried about what could happen to the queen. Even though she was the Duke of Norfolk’s niece I knew that because of her natural innocence and trust in people, she was very naïve in the ways of the court. I also knew that if the king heard about this story, his fury would be frightening and probably deadly.
After a few days, I managed to push this matter to the back of my mind and began to think about my wardrobe. Which gowns would I keep; which ones would I have repaired for the winter and which ones would I get rid of or give to some of my friends? These they could wear as they were or use the material to make new gowns for themselves.
I grew more aware of the approach of winter as the autumn leaves fell on the lawns at Richmond. The days were growing colder and shorter and I felt this even more than some of my friends as, by nature, I am a ‘summer’ person. I am so fond of the long, bright summer days and, most of all, I really enjoy the long summer evenings when I can sit outside until late with my ladies. Then we can embroider, read or just gossip as we watch the sun go down with its deepening orange light reflected on the River Thames.
And thus it was, as I was sitting outside in the gardens on a pleasant September evening that I heard footsteps running towards me from behind. I put down my sewing and looked around and was most surprised to see Alice Skipton moving as fast as her elegant shoes would allow.
“Alice, Alice, what are you doing here?” I asked, noticing that she was not smiling her usual smile. “Is anything wrong?”
“Yes, milady,” she said as she bent forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Much is wrong.”
“With you?”
“No, milady, with the queen.”
“Has he…?”
“Yes, milady. According to a couple of my friends at court, Archbishop Cranmer has found out about the queen’s affairs.”
“Affairs?”
“Yes, milady, with Thomas Culpepper and with one or two other men.”
I could not say anything for a few minutes. I sat there in complete shock and held my head in my hands. Then I looked up at Alice who was also shaking in fear with the thought of what would probably happen.
“But Archbishop Cranmer?” I asked. “How did he find out? He’s such a mild fellow. I’m surprised that her uncle, the duke, and Bishop Gardiner haven’t had him removed from office or eaten him up.”
She leant forward and held my hand. “No, milady, this is no time for jokes. This is a very serious matter. Let me catch my breath and I’ll tell you what I know.”
I waited a few minutes and then I poured her a glass of wine and slid a plate of sweet cakes over to her which she started nibbling. We sat there for a little more in friendly silence as she finished her wine and then she began.
“First of all, milady, there are two parts to my story,” she said quietly. “The good part and the bad part.”
“So tell me the good part first,” I said. “Bad news can always wait.”
Alice gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “The good part is that the king doesn’t know the bad part.”
“And the bad part is?”
“The bad part is the continuation of what I wrote to you in that letter from York when we were on the progress. Much more has happened since then.”
“What? More details or more people?”
“Both, milady.” Alice took my hands and held them in her own warm hands. Then she looked at me straight with her sharp dark eyes. I knew this woman was no fool and anything she told me would be reliable information. “So listen carefully, my dearest Anne and I’ll tell you all I know - but,” and here she looked around, “you must not tell anyone else, not a soul, And not even your Kathryn or Gertrude even in German, because they may accidentally tell someone in English. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“So this is what I know. It seems that while the king and the court were away on the progress a man called John Lascelles came to speak to Archbishop Cranmer. He told him things that he’d heard about the queen’s past life, that is, when she was a young girl living in Lambeth with her step-grandmother Agnes, at the Duchess of Norfolk’s house.”
“What did she do there that was so bad?” I asked, wondering what terrible things a young girl of about thirteen could do.
“It seems,” Alice continued, now talking in a conspiratorial whisper even though nobody could hear what we were saying, “that while the queen was growing up in this house, she’d had some sexual affairs with at least two young men there. One of them was with her music teacher, Henry Mannox, and the other was with Francis Dereham who was the secretary to the duchess.”
“But surely the duchess must’ve been living there to see that young Catherine behaved herself?”
“No, milady, and that’s part of the problem. According to the various stories I’ve heard, Catherine and Dereham became so friendly that they called each other ‘husband’ and wife’ and he even trusted her to look after one hundred pounds for him when he had to go to Ireland on the king’s business.”
“So, even supposing that these stories are true, Alice, how did this John Lascelles get to know about them? Surely they would have made sure that nobody knew about them.”
Alice shook her head sadly from side to side. “No, my dearest Anne, it wasn’t like that at all. In those days, the Duchess spent little time in her Lambeth house and so all the young people there – and there were more of them, not just Catherine and her own young men – took advantage of her absence. One of them was called Mary Lascelles…”
“John’s sister?”
“Yes, and she told Archbishop Cranmer all about the queen’s past with Mannox and Dereham.”
“So why did he report all this to Archbishop Cranmer? What would he get out of it? Surely it had nothing to do with him?”
For an answer Alice looked at me and held out the small gold crucifix she wore around her neck. “It was because of this, milady. Religion. John Lascelles, who it seems isn’t a very nice man is also a very fervent Protestant. As you know, the Howards are Catholics, Roman Catholics, and they are not happy with what the king has done to their Church over the past few years. So I think that the reason for Lascelles’ tale-bearing is that he wishes to cause as many problems as he can for the Howards. And this includes blackening their name in the eyes of the king.”
“And so he has,” I said in a resigned tone. “Or if he hasn’t done so yet, he will do so soon. Oh, Alice, if His Majesty hears of this, I’m sure there’ll be trouble. When I was married to him I saw things like this on several occasions and when they happened someone was always hurt. Oh, my poor Catherine. What has she done? And what will happen to her?”
Silently, we both sat there in the garden. All you could hear were the birds chirping in the trees and the distant sounds from the river. Each of us was thinking about the worst that could happen to the young queen and to the others if the king got to hear of this sordid story.
“Tell me, Alice,” I said, looking up after some time. “When Catherine and Dereham called each other ‘husband’ and ‘wife,’ was this just a childish game for fun or were they really betrothed to each other? And do you know if they had signed any form of nuptial or pre-nuptial contract?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose you’re thinking of the situation you had with the Duke of Lorraine’s son many years ago?”
I nodded and immediately thought of my own past experience. “You know,” I said, “if there was a contract, of any sort between them, it means that…” and I could not bring myself to finish off the sentence as I held my hands to my mouth.
“Yes, my dearest Anne, you are right,” said Alice, completing my sentence. “It would mean that, in the eyes of the Church, our king is a bigamis
t.” She paused to let the words sink in. “Can you imagine that – our King Henry, the ruler of our country, the king who has been five-times married – is a bigamist? I wonder what the archbishop will do? What will he say? If he doesn’t report it, he’ll be damning his soul forever, and if he does report it, then the chances are that Catherine will be imprisoned or even die for it.”
“No, no, Alice, the king won’t kill her for that. I know he’ll be furious and shout and box a few people’s ears and maybe throw a few people into the Tower, but I’m sure he won’t kill her. After all, he’s too much in love with her. Just look at all the clothes and other gifts he’s given her.”
Alice did not look convinced. “I hope you’re right, my dear. You lived with him for six months and you should know.”
“I’m not sure that I really did live with him but I just hope that however angry he becomes, he’ll do the Christian thing and forgive her afterwards.”
“Amen,” said Alice and kissed the crucifix around her neck.
I heard no more news about the queen for a week or so, that is until Alice came over to see me again at Richmond Palace. At the time I was sitting next to a window trying to catch the afternoon light doing some embroidery with Lady Rutland and Lady Edgecombe when Alice was ushered into the room. After greeting the two ladies, she said that she wished to talk to me privately and so, excusing ourselves, we went out to the same place in the garden where we had sat earlier and knew that we could not be overheard.
“Listen, my dear,” she began as soon as we had sat down. “I’ll not waste any time but just tell you the latest news.” She stopped for a moment, breathed deeply and said, “Archbishop Cranmer has reported what he’s heard about the queen to the king.”
“He has?” My mouth was open and I was in shock. Even though I’d hoped and prayed that this would never happen, it had. I could already foresee the results of the archbishop’s words. But would they really happen?
Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved Page 23