The King's Rose (33 page)

“She’s just a child,” I hear someone cry. “So young, too young.”

“God save you, child,” another voice from the crowd cries. “God save you.”

I can sense their horror, gazing up at me upon the scaffold, my white gown billowing in the wind.

“Pray for me,” I ask them. My voice is weak, I don’t know if they can hear me. “Please, pray for me.”

I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the brightness of the sun, but someone moves forward and covers my eyes with a cloth, ties it behind my head. My legs fold neatly under me. I don’t need to cry. I am braver than I thought was.

“God, my soul is Yours. Please forgive me.”
Please.

As I lean forward to press my neck to the block, I hear the beating of drums.

 

AND AFTER A MOMENT OF PAIN
there is falling, but I hold my faith close to me, I let myself fall. After a moment of falling it’s all over, and I feel I’m being lifted. The brightness is gone. When I open my eyes there is light, but it does not make my eyes squint, it does not cause me pain.

When I open my eyes, I know where I am. It is not London, nor court, nor the Tower. The grass is green, the sun is warm, and I hear singing: a young voice, light and sweet. The voice is pouring out of my own throat—it is pouring out of me.

I know I am finally home.

DESCRIPTION OF THE CONTRARIOUS PASSIONS IN A LOVER

 

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE
It has been recorded that the king’s advisers, seeking to spare the king from the humiliating details of Catherine’s betrayal, took it upon themselves to arrange her condemnation in his absence. The Privy Council went so far as to sign her death warrant, with the king’s approval. Whether they did this to spare the king’s feelings, or out of their own concern that the king might falter in condemning Catherine Howard to death, is unknown. It is true that at the time the accusations were revealed, Henry was happy with his wife and did not want to be rid of her. His initial reaction to the allegations against her was one of doubt and suspicion, for he believed in his wife’s honesty and purity—this is interesting to note, considering the king’s proclivity toward paranoia and distrust of those around him.

In regard to Catherine’s crimes against the king, the confessions in this novel are all based on historical accounts. Thomas Culpeper confessed to the “intent to do ill” with the queen, but he did not confess to having had a sexual relationship with her before or during her marriage to the king. According to the laws of treason at the time, the intent to commit treason alone was enough to condemn them both to death. The idea that they did have an adulterous affair for the sake of pregnancy is merely conjecture, for the sake of fiction.

As for Catherine’s part in this treason, a letter was discovered among Thomas Culpeper’s belongings, addressed to
Master Culpeper
and signed
yours as long as life endures, Katheryn,
on which the letter in this account is loosely based. Assuming it is genuine, this letter was certainly enough evidence of Catherine’s affection for Thomas Culpeper, and surely helped secure her condemnation.

Years later, when King Henry’s daughter Mary Tudor ascended to the throne, she revoked from the records all laws that had been signed by the king’s advisers in his stead. This included the Bill of Attainder for Catherine Howard’s execution.

Little good it did Catherine then, more than ten years after her death.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Thomas Libby, for being both a supportive husband and an enthusiastic research assistant. Thank you to my mother, Bernice; my grandma Sunny; my sisters, Marcie, Valerie, and Susan; and the best in-laws anyone could wish for, Florence and Eugene Libby.

Thank you to my agent, Esmond Harmsworth, for his patience and dedication, and to my editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel, for taking on this project with complete enthusiasm and invaluable insight.

An extraordinary thank-you to Hazel and Roy Brock for being the most wonderful hostesses in all of England: welcoming us to their home, schlepping us around in their tiny red car, enjoying a surprise snow day, filling us with wonderful food, and gracing us with their delightful company.

I have a few thank-yous whose names, unfortunately, have been lost—scrawled on the backs of admission tickets and lost receipts. Still, I would like to thank the Yeoman Warder at the Tower of London who permitted us on to the altar in the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula to see the rarely visited grave of Catherine Howard. Also, millions of thanks to the thoughtful and generous tour guide who let two Americans join his already-overbooked evening tour of “Haunted Hampton Court.”

And I would like to thank Catherine Howard. I did not see your ghost haunting that legendary gallery at Hampton Court. I had hoped you might convey to me some message from beyond the grave, some truth about your life you would want expressed within the pages of this book, or at least a blessing for me to tell your story in what manner I saw fit. But I think it’s for the best that I didn’t meet your ghostly presence. I did leave a stone upon the marble crest marking your burial site in the chapel, to signify that you did receive a visitor, for a change, on the 465
^th
anniversary of your execution.

Catherine, may you rest in peace.