The Sixth Wife: The Story of Katherine Parr Page 10

  “My lord …”

  “The matter is closed, sweetheart.”

  She was silent, and the King smiled smugly in the darkness. He felt loving and benign. He had granted his Queen’s request, and he had saved his friend Marbeck, which, after all, he had long made up his mind to do.

  GARDINER WAS PLEASED with the Windsor episode. As he explained to Wriothesley, the Queen had Marbeck, but they had kept the other three for the flames which had now consumed them. This was no true victory for the Queen, as the King himself had not wished Marbeck to die and would doubtless have saved him even if the Queen had not asked for his life.

  “The woman is soft and a fool,” said Gardiner. “She should have asked for one of the others and left Marbeck to rely on the King’s favor. Well, she is new to her position and I prophesy that she will not long hold it. And this is not an end to the matter. I have set the good Dr. London to pursue his inquiries, and ere long he will have more men and women to bring up for examination. And this time, Master Secretary, I think he might look a little higher. Oh, not so high as I intend him to go, but creeping up, creeping upward.”

  “The Queen will protect her friends.”

  “She has no chance against us. Remember there is the Act to suppress what is called the New Learning. Has not the King himself said that the ignorant people have contaminated and perverted the Scriptures by their translations, and that these translations are not in accordance with the Catholic Church of which he is head? Tyndale’s translation has been condemned as crafty and false. It is an offense to be in possession of such books. As for those who add to their sins by further translating and writing, they deserve the flames. If these people are allowed to proceed, the Latin tongue will become a dead one. The three men of Windsor have been rightly burned under the Act of the Six Articles. Rest assured that more arrests will follow. And very soon we may be in a position to take our aim at the main target, eh, Wriothesley, my friend?”

  Gardiner was smiling as he spoke. Soon he hoped to see Cranmer fall with Katharine Parr, as Wolsey had with Anne Boleyn, Cromwell with Anne of Cleves. And after Cranmer it would be the turn of those men who had become the greatest enemies of all—the Seymour brothers, Lord Hertford and Sir Thomas. As brothers-in-law of the King, they had enjoyed special favor since Henry’s marriage with their sister; but as uncles of Edward they would be more dangerous still. Gardiner believed that Edward would still be a boy at the time of his accession and, if he were, he could easily be the tool of his uncles. Lord Hertford was constantly with the boy, molding him, dominating him. Hertford was not only an ambitious man; he was also a strong one. He would aim to be nominally the Protector of England and in actuality England’s ruler. Sir Thomas Seymour was even more to be suspected, for while the boy Edward feared his elder uncle he doted on the younger. It would, therefore, be a masterstroke to have the two brothers in their graves before the accession of their nephew. And why not? Powerful as they were, they leaned toward Protestantism, and that created a flaw in their armor. Moreover, Thomas had cast his eyes in the Queen’s direction.

  These were ambitious schemes, in which Gardiner would need the help of the entire Catholic Party; they were not, however, impossible of achievement, if crafty patience were employed; and employed it should be.

  He could visualize a future with the Lady Mary on the throne— Queen Mary, that true and loyal supporter of the Catholic cause. It might well happen in his lifetime, and he doubted not that if it did he would be one of those whom she would raise to a lofty eminence. He must be beside the Queen; he must teach her what should be done with heretics. When he contemplated his good Catholic Queen Mary on the throne he could almost smell the fires of Smithfield.

  “Have no fear, my dear Wriothesley,” he said now. “Our good friend Dr. London will smell out our enemies. I think you will be surprised when he has done his work. We can rely on that man’s help.”

  IN A WAY GARDINER was right. When Dr. London contemplated the future he saw a similar picture to that conjured up by Gardiner: Queen Mary on the throne and the Catholics triumphant.

  He was very anxious to show himself a good Catholic, and how could he do this better than by pleasing the Catholic Bishop of Winchester and the King’s Catholic Secretary?

  They had brought down the little game; now they looked higher.

  “But not too high, good Doctor.” Those were the very words.

  As usual he selected his victims, and his choice fell on the learned Dr. Haines who had been the Dean of Exeter and was now a Prebendary of Windsor. But he would go even higher than that; he would creep a little closer to that one who he knew was the most important on the list. He would go to the Queen’s household and select Sir Philip and Lady Hoby, together with Sir Thomas Carden. He would also take some of the minor gentlemen and ladies. That would suffice.

  He outlined his plan to his friend Simons, the lawyer who had been a great help in the affair of the men of Windsor.

  “A difficulty presents itself here,” said the wily lawyer. “We need evidence, and we have not the King’s permission to search the royal apartments.”

  Dr. London confessed himself to be in a quandary. These people he had selected, he knew, had interested themselves in the New Learning, but how could he prove it?

  He was disturbed, but, remembering the methods he and his master Cromwell had used during the dissolution of the monasteries, he decided on a plan of action. After all, had not the Bishop of Winchester something like this in mind when he had selected the experienced Dr. London for this task?

  “It would be necessary,” said Simons, “for us to find men who would testify against them. That would not be easy.”

  “We have not been given enough power,” said Dr. London. “Did not the three men who have recently been burned at the stake mention the names of these people?”

  Simons looked at the Doctor sharply.

  “That was not so, Doctor.”

  “An oversight. Doubtless had we tried to extract these names from them we should have done so.”

  “But we did not.”

  “There was written evidence of what these men said during examination, was there not?”

  “There was.”

  “And where are these documents?”

  “In the hands of the clerk of the court.”

  “A man named Ockham. I know him well. He should be easy to handle.”

  “What do you propose, Doctor?”

  “My good man, the evidence is not there because of an oversight. It is always possible to remedy such oversights.”

  “Do you mean to… forge evidence…to insert something those men did not say concerning and implicating these men and women?”

  “Hush,” said the Doctor. “You speak too freely.”

  “But that… would be criminal.”

  “My dear lawyer, when the Bishop of Winchester asks for victims, he must have them.”

  “You wish me to see…Ockham?”

  “I will see the fellow.” The Doctor laid his hand on Simons’ shoulder. “Do not tremble, man. This is the task which has been set us. Success is expected of us; never doubt that we shall achieve it.”

  THE QUEEN SAT in her apartment with a few of her ladies. They were working at their tapestry, but the Queen’s thoughts were far away.

  On a stool beside her sat little Jane Grey. The child attracted Katharine. She was so small and so beautiful. She was only six years old, but she was wise enough for eleven; she was also clever with her needle, and most happy to be beside the Queen.

  Little Jane believed that one day she might be a Queen. Edward had whispered to her that he would ask if she might be his, when he was of an age to ask. They wanted to marry him, he believed, to his cousin, young Mary of Scotland, but he was not sure, because such a matter as the choice of his wife would not be mentioned to him just yet. He had heard too that Mary had been promised to the King of France, and that his father was very angry about that. “But I am not, Jane,” he had said,
“and you know why.”

  They had smiled and nodded because they understood each other so well.

  So Jane, who might one day be a Queen of England, liked to study the ways of the present Queen, and she found that study of great interest to her. She knew when the Queen was frightened as she was today, although she did not know the cause of her fear.

  The tapestry was beautiful. In the center was a medallion about which flowers were being worked in gold and scarlet, blue and green silks. At each corner was a dragon with crimson fire coming from its mouth; and it was on one of these dragons that Jane herself was working.

  It is a sad thing, I verily believe, to be a Queen, pondered Jane as she stitched at her dragon.

  It was also a sad thing to be a King—a little King. It was all very well when you were mighty and all-powerful as was the King himself. It was when you were a little boy who was unsure of himself, as all young people must be, that it was alarming. It was only when they were in the apartments with Mrs. Sybil Penn that they were really unafraid. Mrs. Penn refused to look upon the Prince as the future King; he was her little one, she always said; and she would rock him on her knee and bathe his skin and croon over him; she would mutter threats against his tutors and his riding masters, and tell Jane that they should not long treat her little princeling as they did.

  Edward would sit there contentedly in Mrs. Penn’s lap and Jane would sit at her feet.

  “Jane,” the young Prince would say, “now let us play at being children.”

  Jane intended to look after him when she grew up; that was why, if she were to be his Queen, she wished to know all about queenly duties.

  Life was so difficult. It changed so quickly. The Princesses Mary and Elizabeth were now often at court and consequently the children saw less of them. It seemed a long time since Uncle Thomas Seymour had sailed away. Edward complained bitterly of his loss.

  “It all changes so quickly, Jane,” he had said, his brow puckered so that Jane knew that he was thinking that soon the greatest change of all might come: the day when Prince Edward would become King Edward.

  And now, what was it that was worrying this dearest of Queens? She was preoccupied; she was not paying attention to what her ladies said; every now and then she would glance toward the door as though she expected to see someone enter, someone whose coming would be very important; as though she longed for it and yet she dreaded it.

  Jane knew that some of the ladies and gentlemen of the court had disappeared suddenly. Among them were Sir Philip and Lady Hoby and Sir Thomas Carden. People did go away suddenly, and when you asked for news of them, strange looks appeared on people’s faces.

  Jane had often traveled along the river from Greenwich to Hampton and she had seen that gloomy fortress of the Tower. She had heard terrible stories of what went on behind those gray stone walls; and she knew also that when people looked as they looked now when the names of Sir Thomas Carden and the Hobys were mentioned, that meant that those of whom one inquired had gone to the Tower.

  Katharine, as she stitched at her tapestry, was marveling at her own temerity. Her sister Anne had been against what she had done, had implored her not to interfere.

  “Discard these new ideas,” Anne had pleaded. “Shut your mind to them. These people are beginning to look to you as a leader. You know what these arrests mean. They mean that Gardiner and Wriothesley are working against you. They have marked you for their victim.”

  Anne was right. Katharine knew these things to be true. She was a meek woman, but she had a mind and she could not shut it to ideas, however dangerous. If she thought they were the right ideas she must accept them; she must read, and be true to herself; and because of some urge within her she must accept Gardiner’s challenge.

  She had said to Anne: “How can these men possibly have found evidence against the Hobys and Carden? I know they are in possession of books, but those books remain in their apartments. The King has not given his permission that the castle shall be searched.”

  “Someone has informed against them.”

  “I do not believe it. Who would have done so? None but our friends here at court knows of their connection with the New Faith. And none of our friends has been questioned. We know that.” It came to her as an inspiration. After all, she was no fool. Had not the Bishop appointed that rogue Dr. London to work for him, and did not Katharine know in what manner London’s evidence against the abbeys had been compiled?

  From that inspiration grew another: If he were going to prove that some had spoken against the men and women of the Queen’s household, who could be better informants than dead men who could not speak for themselves? At the house of the clerk of the court would be those documents which had been written at the time of the examination of the three martyrs. If those papers could be seized and they could be proved to contain forgeries, not only would Katharine’s friends be saved, but her enemies would be exposed.

  It was bold, but she felt the need to be bold. The right action—if her suspicions were correct—could save not only her friends now, but perhaps herself in the future.

  She had not hesitated. This day, while the court was sitting, she had sent men on whom she could rely to the house of the clerk of the court. They would seize those documents on her authority.

  If she had made a false step her position would be an unenviable one, but the King was still very kindly disposed toward her; if she were right, then would she be triumphant indeed.

  No wonder she was nervous. No wonder she kept glancing toward the door.

  She looked down and saw the wondering eyes fixed upon her. Was it sympathy she saw in those lovely eyes? Katharine stooped and kissed the upturned face.

  “Jane, my dear,” she said, “you shall come to my chamber. We will find a post for you. Oh, you are overyoung to be a maid of honor, but you shall be there to serve me, because it pleases me to have you with me.”

  Jane kissed the hand of her royal benefactress and expressed her thanks in the solemn manner which was habitual to her.

  She wished she knew what ailed the Queen.

  THE KING WAS FURIOUS. The trial of those members of the Queen’s household had been proved to be full of trickery. The clerk of the court had been arrested; papers had been found at his home which contained forgery, inserted by him to implicate the arrested men and women. Dr. London and Lawyer Simons, together with the clerk, had been concocting evidence.

  He sent for Gardiner and berated him severely.

  Gardiner swore he had been deceived by Dr. London and the lawyer.

  “Then let them feel our wrath!” cried the King.

  His eyes narrowed, and they told Gardiner, although the King spoke not a word of this matter, that he understood these accusations, purporting to be directed against members of the household, were meant to involve his Primate Cranmer and the Queen; and that if more such tricks were played it would be Gardiner himself who felt the weight of the King’s displeasure.

  Henry reflected: I’d dismiss this fellow now if he, being so sly, were not so useful to me.

  As it was he would be content with the punishment of others.

  “Let this Dr. London be set in the pillories of Newbury and Reading and Windsor. Let papers be attached to his person, notifying all who can read them that he has committed perjury, so that all may know what the King’s will is toward those who would accuse the innocent.”

  The King raged up and down the apartment, calling God to witness that he was a just King. He shook his fist at Gardiner.

  “Remember it, Bishop. Remember it.”

  Gardiner was trembling when he left the royal presence.

  He found Wriothesley and told him that it would be unwise to take further action against the Queen for the time being. They had underrated her. They had thought her weak, and this she most certainly was not.

  “It would seem,” said Wriothesley wryly, “that all we have done is to bring to the stake three men of little importance, while much harm has been done
to ourselves in the eyes of the King.”

  “You are impatient, sir,” said Gardiner testily. “We have lost the first battle, but it is the last one that proclaims the victor. This would not have happened but for the fact that the King’s marriage is as yet young. In a few months…in a year…he will have ceased to love Madame Katharine. His eyes will have fixed themselves on another lady. We have acted too soon, and London was a fool. Many men are exposed in these matters of policy… exposed as fools. There is no place for fools. Let us not accuse each other of folly. We will wait and, ere long, I promise you, Katharine Parr will go the way of the others.”

  In her apartments Katharine embraced her friends who had returned unharmed from their imprisonment. They fell on their knees and thanked her; she was their savior and they owed their lives to her courage.

  “Do not rejoice too soon,” warned her sister.

  But Katharine kissed Anne tenderly. She felt strong now. She had made up her mind as to how she should act in a future crisis; it would be as her integrity demanded.

  “Beware of my lord Bishop,” whispered Anne.

  And afterward, Katharine often heard those words when the hangings rustled or when the wind howled through the trees.

  “Beware…Beware…Beware of my lord Bishop.”

  They mingled with those words which seemed to come from the tolling of the bells.

  THE FIRST YEAR of Katharine’s life as Henry the Eighth’s sixth Queen was slowly passing.

  It was full of alarms as startling and terrifying as those sudden attacks of Gardiner and his Catholics. During the year, Gardiner had seemed to turn his attention from her to Cranmer; and contemplating the manner in which the Catholic Party had plotted for the downfall of the Primate Thomas Cranmer, and noting how on two occasions it was the King himself who had saved Cranmer, Katharine was comforted. The King, it seemed, could feel real affection for some. In the case of Cranmer, the astute monarch, knowing his well-loved Thomas to be in danger, had presented him with a ring which he might show to the Council as a token of the royal regard. None, of course, had dared attack a man who was possessed of such a token. On another occasion when the Catholics had wished to set up a Commission for the examining and discovery of heretics, the King had given his consent to the formation of this Commission but had foiled the purpose of it—which was to ensnare the Archbishop of Canterbury—by setting none other than that Archbishop, Thomas Cranmer, at the head of it.