The Taming of the Queen (45 page)

‘Gardiner says he is very near to a treaty with the emperor at Bruges, but the emperor insists there are to be no new changes to the church in England. I don’t dance to his piping – don’t think that. But it’s worth my while to delay reform to please the emperor. I don’t want to upset him now. I have to measure what I do, measure like a philosopher, all the time, every little change. The emperor wants a treaty with me so that he is safe to attack the Lutherans in his empire, especially Germany.’

‘If only—’ I begin.

‘He’ll wipe them out, burn them all as heretics if he can.’ He smiles. He is always attracted by ruthless means. ‘He says he will stop at nothing to stamp them out. And where will you get your heretical books from then, my dear?’

I stammer a denial, but the king is not listening to me.

‘The emperor needs my help. He wants us to be at peace with France so that he can get on with knocking the Germans into orthodoxy. Of course he doesn’t want me stepping any further from the papists as he defends the pope’s church.’

‘But surely, my lord, you would never return England to the power of the pope in Rome,’ I observe. ‘You would never fail God in order to please the Spanish emperor? You would not serve the world and risk your honour?’

Henry applauds a shot well played on court. ‘I shall do as God guides me,’ he says flatly. ‘And His ways and my ways are mysterious indeed.’

I turn and applaud as he does. ‘That was hard!’ I exclaim. ‘I never thought he would get it.’

‘I would have got it easily when I was young,’ Henry remarks. ‘I was a champion tennis player. You ask Anne of Cleves. She will remember the sportsman I was!’

I smile past him to where she sits, on his other side, watching the game. I know she is listening; I know that she is thinking what she would have said if she had been in my place. I know that she would speak up for the people of her country who only want to read the Bible in their own language and worship God with simplicity. ‘Is it the case, Princess Anne?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she says agreeably. ‘His Majesty was the finest.’

‘She is a good companion for you.’ Henry turns to me and speaks in an undertone. ‘It is pleasant to have a beautiful woman like her at court, isn’t it?’

‘Why, yes.’

‘And she is so fond of Elizabeth.’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Everyone tells me I should never have let her go,’ Henry says with a little self-conscious laugh. ‘If she had borne me a son he would be five years old now, think of that!’

I know that my smile has died. I don’t know what to think of that, or of this entire conversation. Has Henry forgotten that he never consummated his marriage with the now-desirable Anne of Cleves, telling everyone that she was too fat, and no virgin, and that she smelled so badly that he could not bring himself to do the act?

‘Some people say that she had a child by me,’ Henry whispers. He waves encouragement to the losing player, who bows his thanks.

‘They do?’

‘Nonsense, of course,’ he says. ‘You must pay no attention to what people say. You don’t listen to such gossip, do you, Kateryn?’

‘No,’ I reply.

‘Because d’you know what they are saying in France?’

I smile, ready to be amused. ‘What are they saying in France?’

‘That you are ill and are going to die. That I shall be a widower and free to marry again.’

I force a thin laugh. ‘How very ridiculous! But you can assure the French ambassador that I am very well indeed.’

‘I will tell him,’ Henry smiles. ‘Imagine them thinking that I would take another wife. Is it not ridiculous?’

‘Ridiculous indeed. Ridiculous. What are they thinking? Who is advising them? Where do they get these rumours from?’

‘So, no reform,’ Archbishop Cranmer says to me when I come to church to pray and find him kneeling before the cross. His old face looks tired in the light of the candles from the altar. He had thought and studied and prayed on the reforms that the church needed, and then found that one letter from Bishop Gardiner turned the king around again.

‘No reform yet,’ I correct him. ‘But who can doubt that God will shine the light of learning on England and its king? I have hope. I have faith, even when progress is so very slow.’

‘And he listens to you,’ Thomas says. ‘He is proud of your scholarship and he takes your advice. If you will keep warning him against the power and corruption of Rome, and advising him to be tolerant of the new thinking, we will go on. I am sure we will go on.’ He smiles. ‘He once called me the greatest heretic in Kent,’ he says. ‘But still I am his bishop and his spiritual advisor. He will tolerate discussion from those he loves. He is generous to me and to you.’

‘He is never anything but kind to me,’ I confirm. ‘When we first married I feared him, but I have come to trust him. Except for when he is in pain, or when he is angry about something, or when things are going badly, he is always patient and generous.’

‘We two who are honoured with his affection and trust, will work for his good and the good of the kingdom,’ Thomas Cranmer pledges. ‘You, with the cause of reform in the court, teaching them the right way with your rooms a beacon of learning, and I will keep the clergy to the Bible. The Word, the Word; there is nothing greater than the Word of God.’

‘He spoke today of a war on the reformers in Germany,’ I say. ‘I am afraid that the emperor is planning a terrible purge of believers, a massacre. But there was no way for me to speak against it.’

‘There will always be times when he won’t listen. Just bide your time and speak when you can.’

‘He spoke also of rumours that Anne of Cleves had his child, and he said that she was an ornament to our court. He told me that people are saying that I am ill and likely to die.’

Thomas Cranmer looks at me as if he fears what I might say next. Gently he rests his hand on my head in a blessing. ‘As long as you never do anything wrong, then God will protect you, and the king will love you,’ he says quietly. ‘But you have to be completely innocent of any sin, my daughter, completely innocent of any imputation of sin. You must always show wifely loyalty and wifely obedience. Always make sure of that.’

‘I am innocent of sin,’ I maintain stubbornly. ‘You don’t have to caution me. I am Caesar’s wife – no-one can say anything against me.’

‘I am glad of it,’ replies Thomas Cranmer, who has seen two adulterous queens climb the steps to the scaffold and not defended them. ‘I am glad of it. I could not bear . . .’

‘But how am I to think? How am I to write? How am I to speak to him of reform without offending him?’ I ask bluntly.

‘God will guide you,’ the old churchman says. ‘You must have courage, you must use your God-given wits and your God-given voice, and you must not let the old papists of the court tame you. You must be free to speak. He will love that in you. Don’t waver. You are the God-given leader for reform at court. Take your courage – do your work.’

In February the king’s fever returns.

‘No-one can care for me like William Butts used to do,’ he says miserably. ‘I shall die for lack of good doctoring.’

He demands that I come to his bedside but he is ashamed of the smell in the room that no oils and herbs can conceal, and he does not like me to see his linen shirt wet in the armpits and stained at the front with constant sweat. But worse than this, he is starting to think that this is not ill health, but old age. He is sinking into a dark fearfulness of death that nothing but the return of his health will lift.

‘Doctor Wendy will do his best for you,’ I say. ‘He is so faithful and careful. And I pray for you every morning and night.’

‘And bad news from Boulogne,’ he remembers miserably. ‘That young fool Henry Howard is squandering everything I have gained there. He’s boastful, Kateryn. He’s vain. I have recalled him and I will send out Edward Seymour to take his place. I can trust Edward to keep my castle safe.’

‘He will keep it safe,’ I say soothingly. ‘You need not fear.’

‘But what if I don’t get better?’ His eyes, tiny in his puffy face, squint at me as fearfully as a child. ‘There is Edward, of no age, there is Mary who would turn to Spain in a moment. If I were to die now, this month, the country would be at war again by Easter. I wouldn’t trust any one of them not to take arms, and they would say they were fighting for the pope or fighting for the Bible, and all they would do would be to plunge this country into an internal war, and the French would invade.’

I sit at his bedside and take his damp hand. ‘No, no,’ I say. ‘For you will get better.’

‘If I had a second son, I would be at peace,’ he frets. ‘If you were carrying a child at least I would know that there was the chance of another son.’

‘Not yet,’ I say carefully. ‘But I don’t doubt that God will be good to us.’

He looks dissatisfied. ‘You will be Regent General,’ he reminds me. ‘It will all fall on you. You will have to keep them at peace while Edward grows up.’

‘I know I can,’ I say. ‘For so many of your councillors love you and have promised their duty to your son. There would be no war. There would be a loving care of him. The Seymour brothers would protect him, their nephew. John Dudley would support them. Thomas Cranmer would serve him as he does you. But it will never happen, for you will be well as the weather turns brighter.’

‘I see you only name reformers?’ he demands, his eyes sharp and suspicious. ‘You are of the reform party, as people say. You are not on my side, you are on theirs.’

‘No indeed, I acknowledge the good men of all points of view. No-one can doubt that Stephen Gardiner loves you and your son. The Howards are true to you and to Prince Edward. We would all protect him and bring him to the throne.’

‘So you do think I will die!’ He crows at having trapped me. ‘You think you will outlive another old husband and enjoy a widow’s estate.’ His face flushes red as his anger rises. ‘You sit there, at my sickbed, and imagine the day you will be free of me and free to take some worthless lad as your next husband, the fourth! You, who have wedded and bedded three men, are thinking of the next!’

I hide my shock at his sudden fury and I stay very calm. ‘My lord husband, I am sure you will recover from this fever, as you have from the injuries of your youth. I was trying to reassure you so that you would not worry on your sickbed. I pray for nothing but your health and I know that it will be restored to you.’

He glares at me, as if he would see past my steady gaze and into my heart. I meet his eyes without flinching, for so much that I say is true. I honour him, I love him as a loyal subject and an honourable wife who has promised before God to love him. I never think of his death. It has been a long time since I dreamed of being free. I truly believe that he will recover from this illness and go on and on. This marriage will be my last. I may go to my grave loving Thomas Seymour, but I never think now that we will be together some day. There are no imaginable circumstances in which we could be together. He never looks at me, and I keep my passionate thoughts to myself and see his smile only in rare erotic dreams.

‘You cannot doubt my love for you,’ I whisper.

‘You pray for my health,’ the king says, soothed at the thought of me on my knees.

‘I do. Daily.’

‘And when the preachers come to your room and you read the Bible do you speak of a wife’s obedience to her husband?’

‘We do. We all know that a wife worships God in her husband. That is unquestioned.’

‘And do you doubt purgatory?’ he asks.

‘I think a good Christian goes to heaven because of the saving grace of Jesus,’ I say carefully.

‘At his death? At the exact hour and minute of his death?’

‘I don’t know when, exactly.’

‘So will you pay for Masses for me? Will you establish a chantry for me?’

How to answer this? ‘Whatever you wish,’ I promise him. ‘Whatever Your Majesty would prefer. But I don’t expect to see it.’

His little mouth trembles. ‘Death,’ he repeats. ‘Thank God I am afraid of nothing. It’s just that I cannot imagine the country without me. I cannot imagine a world without me here, without the king that I have become, the husband that I am.’

I smile tenderly. ‘I can’t imagine such a thing either.’