The Catherine Howard Conspiracy

by Alexandra Walsh

  “The most important thing to do now is to stick together and work out a way to keep Kitty safe,” he said in a low, serious voice.

  “And how are supposed to do that?” asked Isabel. “Look what happened to the Boleyns: Mary banished, Anne and George executed. If the king has one of his sudden changes of heart — that could be us!”

  “No!” exclaimed Charles as the full impact of events hit him.

  “There’s no reason why any of us should be executed,” snapped Edward. “We need to learn from past mistakes. Anne upset too many people along the way, Catherine, thankfully hasn’t been at court long enough to make any enemies. We’re used to dealing with our old ones, the Seymours. However, now they have joined forces with the Cromwells, it is them we need to watch closely. Thomas Cromwell, the Lord Privy Seal, holds the king in his pocket.” He glanced over at Catherine who was on the point of collapse. “But for now,” he said, “we must look after Kitty. Margaret, is Lady Carey in her room?”

  “I think she was dining with Sir Francis Knollys, but she should have returned by now,” replied Margaret.

  Edward nodded, then turned to Charles. “Charles, accompany your sister to her room but leave her on the threshold. From now on, no man must enter Kitty’s room,” he said.

  “Why not?” asked Charles. “I’m her brother!”

  “Have you forgotten about George Boleyn? Executed for the monstrous crime of incest with his sister Anne?” roared Edward. “We all know it was a lie but use your head, Charles. From now on, Kitty must be as pure as the Virgin Mother herself so our enemies can start no rumours. No male, not even close family like yourself or any other of your brothers or half-brothers must ever be alone with Catherine.”

  Charles shook his head in disbelief.

  “And don’t forget the more recent rumours about the Seymours that spread through the inner sanctum of the queen’s court while she was lying in with the young prince,” said Edward.

  “But they were surely rumours, they disappeared after Jane died,” said Margaret. “I know it was suggested that Jane’s father had an affair with his first daughter-in-law but you’re not going to credit the whispers about Jane and her eldest brother, the earl of Hertford?”

  “All I will say,” continued Edward, “is that it was probably fortuitous that Jane Seymour produced a boy then had the decency to die, or there could have been an even bigger scandal than when Cromwell released the lies and the trumped-up charges about cousin Anne.”

  Charles and Margaret stared at Edward in awe, but Isabel turned away as though she could not stand to hear the words spoken again.

  “Now you understand why your sister has to be as pure as the down on a swan’s back,” said Edward.

  Nobody spoke. Instead they all looked at Catherine, who had gathered herself a little.

  “Issy?” Catherine whispered, desperately. “Please, this can’t be necessary…”

  Isabel walked over to Catherine and hugged her.

  “My dear, Edward is right,” she said, her brown eyes swimming with tears. “We’ve seen this with other queens, you must be careful. Word will no doubt already be spreading that the king has requested you dine with him. The court has been waiting to see which lady would catch his eye from the moment he returned from his first unfortunate meeting with the queen. You will no longer be safe alone. I’m sorry, my dear, we’ll have to organise a proper guard for you tomorrow. This is out of all our hands now.”

  Catherine was so horrified, she could not even summon words to reply.

  “Come on, Kitten, let’s get you to bed,” said Margaret. “I’ll stay with you and Carey tonight. We need to make sure there can be no vile rumours spread about you. If I’m there, or Carey, no one will dare question you.”

  “Why you? Or Kath Carey for that matter?” asked Charles.

  “Because Charles, I’m the king’s niece and Carey’s his daughter,” snapped Margaret. “If Kitty has two royal women with her, there can be no doubting her virtue.”

  Chapter Five

  “Her, the short one next to Lady Douglas!”

  As the court awoke to the news that the king had chosen his fifth queen, Catherine found it impossible to escape the whispers and stares. They followed her along the corridors into church, into the Great Hall, everywhere she went, always accompanied by a female member of the Howard family. At first, Catherine had bowed her head, trying to avoid the obvious looks and overloud comments, but as the morning had worn on, her anger had risen and she had begun staring people down when they looked too long or threw a barbed comment in her direction. This was not of her making and she was going to show people they could not intimidate her.

  “Will the queen still want me to teach her dancing today?” asked Catherine, as she and Isabel returned from a walk around the rose garden. Until yesterday, her hour spent dancing with Anne had been the high spot of her day. The two had become friends and enjoyed each other’s company. But in the space of one night, everything had changed and Catherine was now in the position of rival.

  Isabel nodded. “Yes, everything must continue as normal for now,” she said as they made their way to Anne’s chambers.

  “Do you think she’ll be angry?” Catherine asked as they arrived at the now familiar doorway.

  “Who knows, Kitten?” sighed Isabel, hugging her tightly. “I’ll be waiting for you out here. If it’s too upsetting for you both, then leave.”

  Catherine nodded, then indicated for the guard on the door to allow her into the queen’s chamber.

  Anne was staring out of the window, her back to Catherine when she entered and curtseyed. As soon as she heard the door click shut, Anne spun around, her face white and pinched with worry.

  “Oh, my Kitty, what is to become of you?” exclaimed Anne, hurrying towards Catherine and lifting her from her low curtsey into a sisterly embrace. “You are my friend, yet, he takes even this from me. Sweet child, what will those awful men make you do?”

  It was the last thing Catherine had expected: anger, a sense of betrayal, even pleading to leave the king be, yes, but not sympathy and concern for her safety.

  “I will do all in my power to keep you safe,” said Anne. “My brother has much influence, he will protect us both, yes?”

  “My lady, you’re too kind, but I worry for you,” replied Catherine as Anne led her to the window seat. “You’re here alone, a princess in a foreign land with no champion. I have my huge family forming a wall around me.”

  “Very true, my dear, but my protection is my royal blood,” said Anne, with some help from her interpreter. “Extensive though your family is, a precedent has been set with your cousin. You must be careful.”

  Catherine felt her stomach tighten in fear; a chill ran down her spine. Surely, it could not happen again? Henry had already killed one Howard wife; it would be truly terrible for the family if he did it again, did it to her. Even the thought made her tremble. She looked up into Anne’s concerned face and said what had been playing on her mind all night.

  “But you’re my friend and I’ve betrayed you,” whispered Catherine, tears beginning to fall down her pale cheeks. “Why would you care about what happens to me? If the king goes ahead with this, you’ll no longer be queen.”

  “You have not betrayed me,” said Anne. “We have no choice in these matters, which is why we must try to protect each other.” She gently wiped away Catherine’s tears. “You are correct, though, I will no longer be queen and this does make me sad…”

  “I’m so sorry…” Catherine interrupted, but Anne held up her hand to silence her.

  “You, my dear, do not need to be sorry. My only sadness is that I will no longer be able to continue with my plan to reunite Henry’s poor motherless children and make them into a proper family.”

  “Even now you only think of others,” whispered Catherine in awe. “If things continue as they are, if I am forced to marry the king, I’ll try to do as you wished, bring Henry’s children to court, reunite them. I�
�ll do my best to keep you safe too, my lady.”

  Anne smiled.

  “We will save each other,” she said, then she stood and straightened her skirts. “Now, shall we dance? It may be the last time we are together and it will cheer us both…”

  There was a fanfare outside and both Catherine and Anne jumped.

  “His Lord, the Privy Seal,” announced a herald, and with much scurrying and, to Catherine what sounded like very voluble protestations from Isabel, the door was flung open and Thomas Cromwell oozed into the room.

  “Your Majesty, I apologise most humbly for the intrusion,” he began, bowing deeply. Anne turned to her interpreter speaking in rapid German. The woman nodded and hurried from the room.

  “It is indeed an intrusion,” retorted Anne. “It is my request you leave immediately.”

  She glared at him imperiously, but Thomas Cromwell merely smiled and turned his back on the queen. Catherine watched his smirking face with horror. Overnight, the established order at court had changed. Previously, Cromwell would never have dared to enter the queen’s chambers in such a brusque manner or treat her with such disdain. Yet now, he dismissed her as though she were a servant.

  A small knot of anger lodged in Catherine’s solar plexus. Until yesterday, Cromwell had continued to champion Anne’s marriage to Henry, now he was ready to disregard her entirely: his only concern was how to further himself and his own ambition, no one else mattered. Fury began to build in Catherine as Cromwell threw Anne a contemptuous look before his beady eyes settled on her. They were like cold, dark pools and she felt as though she were looking into the soul of the devil himself, but she drew herself up, standing tall, her shoulders thrown back, and met his soulless gaze.

  “It is Mistress Howard with whom I have urgent business, your grace,” he said smoothly and dismissively. “If you will permit her to accompany me, then I will gladly leave and ask forgiveness for this unseemly interruption.”

  “No!” barked Anne. “She stays here with me.”

  “With my most humble apologies, my lady, it was not really a request,” he said, his eyes glinting coldly. “Mistress Howard will accompany me or I’ll return with a warrant for her arrest, or maybe yours, your majesty.”

  “On what grounds?” spluttered Catherine.

  “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he replied.

  Catherine looked from the queen to Cromwell. She did not want Anne to take risks with the king’s chief courtier. He was a ruthless man and he would do anything to stay in favour with the king. The most important person in Cromwell’s considerations was always Cromwell and, whether a royal princess or queen, if a woman became troublesome, he would find a way to dispose of her. Cromwell had created the Cleves marriage in order to further his own political ambition; it was within his power to destroy it, particularly if it meant saving his own life over that of the queen. Catherine knew this precarious situation placed Anne in enough danger. The queen was her friend and she would do what little she could to safeguard her.

  “Very well,” Catherine said, her voice suddenly crisp and authoritative. “I will accompany you, my lord, but only to my uncle of Norfolk’s chambers and with my sister as a chaperone. Anything else would be unseemly, particularly at present.”

  “Indeed?” said Cromwell, his eyebrow raised quizzically.

  “Indeed,” retorted Catherine. She nodded to Anne, trying to tell her with her eyes she was sorry, then gathering her skirts, she swept past Cromwell as though the decision to leave the room was hers and not a direct order from the Privy Seal. To her relief, Isabel was waiting, accompanied by Lady Rochford; they immediately fell into step behind her as she strode along the busy corridor. Cromwell stalked after her, quickening his pace until they were level, then he walked so closely at her side, he was almost stepping on the hem of her dress.

  “Do not try to outwit me, child,” he hissed in her ear, pulling her to a standstill so that Isabel and Jane nearly cannoned into them. He ignored the other women, unconcerned by their presence. “Wiser men and women than you have tried and failed to better me,” he continued. “Remember the fate of your cousin, and she was a far greater thinker than you.”

  “I will never forget or forgive you for what you did to Anne Boleyn,” replied Catherine. “You’re hardly better than a murderer and I won’t allow you to harm this queen. She is innocent of anything apart from having clear sight when it comes to the king.”

  Cromwell laughed mirthlessly.

  “Why, Mistress Catherine, you do indeed have the Howard spirit buried in that pretty bosom,” he said. “Try not to let it lead you into danger. You may have the eye of the king today but women are silly creatures, easily discarded. There is always another one available to satisfy a man’s urges, so tomorrow he may have changed his mind. If that’s the case, my dear, you will reap the harvest from all the bad seeds you have sown.”

  She glared at him. “Is this the urgent business you wished to discuss?” she asked. “A warning to be a good girl and do as I’m told?”

  “Partly,” he nodded. “Although, your family will probably have already issued a similar command. No, my business is this: while Henry has you in his heart, you will begin to feel you can do anything, ask him any favour and do as you please. Be careful, Mistress Howard, the king has a mercurial temper and a suspicious mind. He is easily led into believing lies. Your uncle will have plans to control the king through you, possibly to do me damage too. Warn him it would be most unwise. Tell tales about me to the king, my dear, and you will find greater mischief spread about you than any member of your vain and arrogant family could even begin to imagine.”

  He patted her cheek in a patronising manner.

  “You’ll do for now,” he whispered into her ear, “but don’t get comfortable or begin to think you will be queen for long. I have other plans for Henry and this realm.”

  With a self-satisfied chuckle, he moved away down the corridor, leaving Catherine cold with fear.

  Chapter Six

  My heart is sore with weeping, but it will not change my predicament and I must shed no more tears of blood… Catherine dipped her pen into the ornate crystal inkwell and continued: …the court is shifting its allegiance from the sweet Lady Anne but, at present, only a few are taking the Howard side. In the seething nest of vipers that is the Privy Council, these self-serving creatures know from bitter experience that, while the king may currently be enamoured with me, his favouritism can alter in a heartbeat. They have witnessed the king’s mood changing as swiftly as the wind blowing the weathervane from north to south: he is either as stubborn as a bull or as easily led as the meekest of lambs and, in this, they sense opportunity. Even now, the Cromwells and the Seymours dance their pretty girls in front of him, trying to turn his heart away from me. Despite what my uncle thinks, my position is far from secure. In fact, I feel that I am in more danger than ever…

  The door to Catherine’s new and spacious rooms crashed open, making her jump away from the desk in fear. Expecting to see the king’s guard come to arrest her on some trumped-up charge created by Thomas Cromwell, she was relieved to see her uncle, Thomas Howard, her brother Charles, her brother-in-law Edward Baynton and, to her surprise, Charles Brandon, the duke of Suffolk and best friend since boyhood of the king. Yet, they wore grim expressions and her momentary relief evaporated.

  “This is an insult directed at the Howard family, at me and, most particularly, at you,” snarled the duke of Norfolk, throwing a roll of parchment down onto the desk in front of her. Bemused, Catherine picked up the document that held the ornate Privy Seal, a device that made it legal and binding.

  “At me?” queried Catherine. “What has happened?”

  “Cromwell has given the order to dissolve Thetford Priory,” said the duke of Suffolk.

  Despite her growing relationship with the king, Catherine had not yet been formally introduced to the duke of Suffolk. Charles Brandon had once been married to the king’s youngest sister, Prince
ss Mary, but since her death he had remarried. His current wife, his fourth spouse, was Katherine Willoughby, a woman who had been his ward and the intended betrothed of his son, until Charles had married her when she was only fourteen years old. Yet, despite the age gap, rumoured to be as great as thirty-five years, the marriage appeared to be successful. Brandon was still a good-looking man. He had once been said to be the mirror image of the king. But now, with the king bloated and unhealthy, Brandon looked like his younger, fitter brother.

  “By dissolving Thetford Priory, where the Howard family has buried their dead for centuries, he is forcing us to exhume their remains and move them to the chapel at my seat in Framlington,” her uncle said furiously. “By doing this, Cromwell is demonstrating his power. He is showing us that, while the Howard family may once again be enjoying the king’s favour, it could be taken away at any moment, as it is really he, Thomas Cromwell, who rules through the king and we would be wise to remember it!”

  “This is on Cromwell’s orders?” gasped Catherine.

  Edward nodded. “After his meeting with you last week, the Lord Privy Seal is demonstrating how he still holds power over us all.”

  “The question is this, though,” said Brandon, “are you prepared to accept this insult from the upstart brewer’s boy?”

  Catherine turned to her uncle. She knew what was expected of her, both as a member of the Howard family and a future queen consort, yet to utter such words would make her complicit with their plans, an idea that scared her more than anything else she had so far experienced during her time at court.

  “Uncle, I do not understand…” she began.

  “Will you allow Cromwell to insult you?” repeated the duke of Norfolk, his eyes glinting with fury.

  Suddenly, she realised the true helplessness of her situation. Although her betrothment to the king had elevated her status at the court, to her family and, most particularly, her uncle who was the head of the Howards, she remained a puppet to be used in order to help him achieve his own plans and ambitions. Her blue eyes rose to meet his and she shot him a look of desperation, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.