The Shadow of the Pomegranate (19 page)

Katharine was seated before her mirror and her women were dressing her hair. Her reflection looked back at her and she was not displeased with it. Henry admired her hair so much; he liked her to wear it loose by night – which tangled it; but often she compromised by having it plaited into two heavy ropes.

Henry was ardent again. They were full of hope, he and she; the next time there was the sign of a child she was to take especial care, he had commanded. It was clear to him that he was dogged by ill luck. Witness the campaign in Spain for instance. Their inability to produce a child who could live was merely another example of their bad luck.

She smiled. If only I had a child, a son, she thought, I could be completely happy.

‘Maria,’ she said to her maid of honour, Maria de Salinas, ‘you have a happy look today. Why is that?’

Maria was confused. ‘I, Your Grace? But I did not know . . .’

‘It is a look of contentment, as though something for which you longed has come to pass. Does it concern my Lord Willoughby?’

‘He intends to speak for me, Your Grace.’

‘Ah Maria, and since this has brought that look of happiness to your eyes, what can my answer be but yes?’

Maria fell to her knees and kissed Katharine’s hand. When she lifted her face to the Queen’s there were tears in her eyes.

‘But you weep,’ said Katharine, ‘and I thought you were happy.’

‘It will mean that I can no longer remain in the service of Your Grace.’

‘He will wish to leave Court and take you away to the country then?’

‘It is so, Your Grace.’

‘Well, Maria, we must accept that.’ And she thought: How I shall miss her! Of all the girls who came with me from Spain, Maria was the best, the most faithful. It was Maria whom I could trust as I could trust no other. Now she will be gone.

‘I myself feel like shedding tears. Yet this must be a happy occasion, for you love this man, Maria?’

Maria nodded.

‘And it is a good match. I know the King will willingly give his consent with mine, so there is naught to make us sad, Maria. Why, Lord Willoughby will not carry you off to a strange country. There will be times when you will come to Court, and then we shall be together.’

Maria dried her eyes with her kerchief and Katharine, looking into the mirror, did not see her own reflection, but herself arriving in England, after saying an infinitely sorrowful farewell to her mother, with her the duenna Doña Elvira Manuel, who had proved treacherous, and her maids of honour who had all been chosen for their beauty. Maria had been one of the loveliest even of that lovely band. They were scattered now, most of them married . . . Inez de Veñegas to Lord
Mountjoy, and Francesca de Carceres, most unsuitably, to the banker Grimaldi.

‘Maria, tell me, have you seen Francesca recently?’

‘She still waits for an audience. Does Your Grace wish to see her? Perhaps, now that I am going . . .’

Katharine’s face hardened. ‘She left me once, because she felt it was to her advantage to do so. I would never take back one who had proved her disloyalty to me and to her family.’

‘I have heard, Your Grace, that the banker loves her truly.’

‘Then if she is so loved she should be content with that state of life which she deliberately chose. There will never be a place for her in my household.’

When Katharine spoke as firmly as that Maria knew that her mind was made up.

Katharine changed the subject. ‘I hope that you do not intend to leave me at once, Maria.’

Maria knelt once more at the Queen’s feet and buried her face against Katharine’s skirts.

‘It is my only regret that I cannot be in constant attendance on Your Grace.’

There was sudden commotion outside the apartment. The door was flung open and the King stalked in. His face was a deeper red than usual and his anger was apparent from the manner in which he strutted. In his hand he carried papers, and a quick glance at those papers, as she swung round from the mirror, told Katharine that it was news from Spain which had angered her husband.

Maria rose to her feet and dropped a curtsey with the other women in the apartment. The King did not bestow his usual smile of appreciation on some particular beauty who caught his
eye. Henry was always single-minded and now his thoughts were on the papers he carried.

He waved his hand in an imperious gesture. It was eloquent. It meant: ‘Leave us.’ The women hastened to obey, and Maria’s heart sank seeing those signs of anger in the King’s face, because she, who was closer to Katharine than any of her companions, knew that the Queen was beginning to fear the King.

When they were alone Henry stood glaring at his wife, for the first few seconds too angry to speak. She waited, having learned from experience that when the King was in such a mood a carelessly spoken word could fan the flame of anger.

Henry waved the papers as though they were banners and he were advancing on an enemy.

‘News from your father!’he spat out. ‘He seems determined to insult me.’

‘But Henry, I am sure this cannot be so. He has the utmost regard for you.’

‘So it would seem. He tells me here that my armies are useless. He is offering to fight my battles for me if I will pay him to provide mercenaries!’

‘This cannot be so.’

‘You have eyes. Read this,’he roared.

She took the papers and glanced at them. She could only see her father as her mother had taught her to look at him. Isabella had never complained to their children of Ferdinand’s conduct; she had always represented him as the perfect King and father. Katharine had only heard by chance that her father had on many occasions been unfaithful to Isabella and that there were children to prove it. And even though she must accept him as an unfaithful husband – in her opinion to the greatest
and most saintly woman who had ever lived – still she could not believe that he was anything but honourable; and she accepted in good faith what he had written.

‘Well?’ demanded Henry harshly.

‘My father considered what happened to our men in Spain. He wishes to help you.’

‘So he casts a sneer at me and my armies.’

‘You read into this what is not intended, Henry.’

‘I . . . I? I am a fool, I suppose, Madam. I lack your perception. There is something you and your father forget.’ He came close to her, his eyes narrowed, and she shrank from the malice she saw in his face. ‘But for me, what would have happened to you? I brought you up to your present position. It would be wise not to forget that. There were many who were against our marriage. What were you then? A miserable outcast. Your father would not support you . . . you were living in poverty.’ Henry folded his arms behind his back and scowled at her. ‘I was told that a monarch such as I might choose my wife from all the greatest heiresses in the world. And what did I do? I chose you. You, Madam, who had been the wife of my brother, who were neglected by your father, who was living in miserable poverty in Durham House. I raised you up. I set you on the throne. And this is my reward . . .’

She tried to fight the terror which such words inspired. She had grown pale and her twitching fingers caught at the cloth of her gown.

‘Henry,’ she said, ‘this I know well. Even if I did not love you for your many qualities . . . I would be grateful and wish to serve you until the end of my life.’

He was slightly mollified. She thought: Oh God, how easy it is to placate him, how easy to anger him.

‘’Tis as well you aware of your debts,’he growled. ‘And your father! What have you to say for him? He too should be grateful for what I did for you. This is an example of his gratitude!’

‘Henry, he is offering to help you . . .’

‘With German mercenaries! Because we English are unable to fight our own battles!’

‘He does not mean that, Henry. I am sure of this.’

‘Not mean it! Then why does he say it?’

‘Because he believes you to be suffering a keen disappointment, because he is sorry our army did not achieve its end.’

‘He does not want English troops on Spanish soil! By God, would I had hanged the traitor Dorset. Would I had not listened to your woman’s pleading for a worthless life.’

‘Nay, Henry, you must not blame Dorset.’ She was suddenly overwhelmed by her tenderness for this big man who, it seemed to her, at times had the heart and mind of a child. ‘Let us face the truth. We failed. We failed because we had not enough food for our men, and we sent them out ill-equipped. Certainly you cannot accept my father’s offer – though he makes it in friendship; I do assure you of that. But there is an answer to those who have jeered at our failure. There is an answer to my father.’

‘What is this answer?’

‘That you should prepare an army that will be invincible, that you should place yourself at the head of it and attack the French, not from the South but from the North. There you would find a climate not unlike our own; there would not be the same difficulties in feeding an army that was separated from England only by twenty-one miles of sea. And with you at the head of it . . .’

A slow smile was spreading across the King’s face. He did not speak for a few seconds; then he burst out: ‘By God, Kate, we have the answer there. That is it. We shall start from Calais . . . and go on from there. And this time it will not be a Marquis who commands, but a King.’

All ill humour had disappeared. He seized her in his arms and hugged her, but already his thoughts were far away from her; he was leading his men into triumphant battle. This would be a masque to outdo those merry exercises that had charmed the courtiers and the people at Windsor, Richmond and Westminster.

He was content – content with life, content with Kate.

He danced round the apartment with her, lifting her in his arms, pausing so that she should marvel at his strength, which she did – running his fingers through her hair and over her body.

‘There’s one thing that will not please me. I shall be separated from my Kate. And what will she be doing while she awaits the return of the conqueror, eh?’ The little eyes were alight with laughter and confidence. ‘Mayhap she will be nursing the heir of England . . . the heir to all those lands which I shall bring back to the English crown!’

Katharine was laughing in his arms. The danger was over for a while; the King was happy again.

So it was to be war. Katharine was eager to show Henry how she could work for him and that he could rely on his Queen’s being always at his side.

Henry was in high spirits. He was certain that he was going to win fresh honours and was already regarding the coming
war as a glorified masque. It was a comfort to know that he could safely leave those matters of minor importance to Katharine, and he was pleased with her because she was so eager to be made use of.

He spent all his nights with her.

‘There is one thing only I long for, Kate, and that is to leave you pregnant on my departure. What joy for me! I go forth to win honour for England, knowing you are at home nursing my seed within this comely belly of yours. I’ll give England new dominions, Kate, and together we’ll give her heirs. How’s that?’

‘Henry, if only it could be so I’d be the happiest woman on Earth.’

‘Of course it shall be so.’He had no doubt.

Katharine summoned Thomas Wolsey to her presence; she was impressed by his efficient handling of his duties which now included the assembling of the materials to be used in the war.

She was glad one day when in conference with the almoner that the King joined them.

Henry’s face glowed with bluff good humour.

‘Ha, Master Wolsey,’he cried. ‘Her Grace tells me that you are of great use to us.’

‘I do my humble best, Sire,’ answered Wolsey. ‘My regret is that I have not four pairs of hands and four heads with which to serve Your Grace the better.’

Henry laughed and laid a great hand on Wolsey’s shoulder. ‘We are well pleased with those two hands and that head, my friend. The Queen has shown me the value of your work. She regards you highly, and the Queen and I are of one mind on all matters.’

‘There is great joy in serving such a master . . . and such a mistress.’

‘And we are fortunate in our servant. Show me the list of supplies you have prepared.’