“What a merciful escape.”
“It is not always judicious to cut off the heads of those who have powerful friends in Europe. Thomas Boleyn was an Englishman, and no powerful monarch. So Anne lost her head.”
“It is small wonder that my lady Anne revels in her freedom,” I said. “I can understand how she feels now. Free…with no anxiety! Free to enjoy the King’s mercy.”
“The King was merciful to Cromwell too” was the answer. “He gave him the ax in place of the gallows. As a lowborn man it should have been the gallows but the King was a little moved by his pleas for mercy and granted the block.”
“And now he is no more.”
I could not join in the laughter and merriment of that night when the mummers came into the hall and there was dancing to entertain our visitors. I kept on thinking of the feverish relief of Anne of Cleaves, the mercy shown to Thomas Cromwell—an ax to cut off his head instead of a rope to hang about his neck—and of the young girl who was blithely walking into danger as the King’s fifth wife.
Kate came to my room that night.
“You brood too much, Damask,” she told me; for she understood the trend of my thoughts although I had said nothing. “Does it not seem to you that by the very fact that we live in a world where death can come at any moment to anyone, we should cherish those moments we have of life?”
I thought that perhaps she was right. And a few days later Rupert came to Remus Castle.
Our visitor from Court had left and we were quiet again.
Intending to take little Carey into the rose garden and sit there and enjoy the peace of the place while I worked at my sewing I went to the nursery where I found Betsy in tears. Carey who had been well fed was sleeping and when I asked her what was wrong she told me that her sister’s master, who had been good to her, had yesterday been drawn on a hurdle and taken to Smithfield to undergo the dreaded sentence of hanging, drawing and quartering. This barbaric custom of hanging a man and cutting him down when he was still alive to disembowel him was so horrifying that to hear of it sickened me; I tried to comfort Betsy and asked of what her sister’s employer had been accused.
“He was not rightly sure,” she told me. “But it was doubtless speaking against the King and the new law.”
He did not rightly know meant that there had been no trial. What had happened to our country since the King had broken with the Church and ordinary humble folk must watch their words?
I could not think of how I could comfort Betsy so I took the baby and went out to the rose garden. Kate came there and sat beside me as I stitched. She too was somber for she had heard of the tragedy.
“He was hanged, drawn and quartered with three others as traitors,” she told me, “while three more were burned as heretics. What a strange state of affairs. Those who were hanged, drawn and quartered were traitors because they spoke in favor of the Pope; those who were burned as heretics were studying the new religion and spoke against him. So those who are for Rome and those who are against Rome die together at the same hour at the same place.”
“There is a simple explanation,” I said. “The King has made it clear that there is to be but one change. The religion is the same—the Catholic Faith, but in place of the Pope as Supreme Head of the Church there is an Englishman, the King. To declare the Pope head of the church makes a man a traitor. But to study and practice the new doctrines set out by Martin Luther is heresy. Lowborn traitors are hanged, drawn and quartered; heretics are burned at the stake. That is how things stand in this country at this day.”
“All men and women should take the greatest care not to dabble in these things.”
“My father told me that Luther had said: That what the King of England wills must be for the English an article of faith—to disobey which means death.”
“How do we know,” said Kate soberly, “whether we are not at this moment talking treason?”
“Let us hope that only the birds and insects can hear.”
“It was more comforting when there was the old law. Now it is so difficult to know whether or not one speaks treason.”
“So one must be careful before whom one says one single word which can be considered treason. I’ll dareswear Betsy’s sister’s master wished no harm to the King. It may well be that by talking of this man we could be accused of treason. Perhaps Betsy by shedding a tear for him is a traitor. It is a frightening thought.”
“Let us talk of other things. I will show you the sapphire bracelet Remus has bought for me. That man is so proud to have a son. He says he is afraid to let it be known, for the King can be very envious of men who get healthy sons.”
“Could it then be treason to have a son! The young Prince Edward is something of a weakling, I believe.”
“How strange that my little Carey should be such a lusty animal while Edward with all the royal care and fuss is puny.”
“Is it treason so to discuss the heir to the throne?”
“Treason is lurking round the corner always ready to creep up on one. If we talk of a ribbon—could that be treason? If my ribbons are of a prettier color than those of Queen Katharine Howard and I say so—could that be treason? Methinks, Damask, that we should guard our tongues and never speak at all except to say the sun is shining or it rains or like your mother discuss the merits of one rose against another. That is safety. But this is a matter of which we have talked often, and in spite of all I would rather go to Court and risk death than die of boredom here.”
But the thought of treason had had a sobering effect on us both and neither of us was in the mood to banter.
It was the following morning when Rupert came.
As soon as he rode into the courtyard accompanied by his servant, I knew he had brought bad news. I ran out to him and embraced him.
He said: “Damask, oh, my dear Damask….”
“Father?” I asked. “Is it Father?”
He nodded and I saw that he was trying to control his features that he might hide his grief.
“Quickly,” I cried. “Tell me quickly. What is it?”
“Yesterday your father was taken to the Tower.”
I stared at him in horror. I could not believe it.
“It’s not true,” I cried. “It can’t be true. Why? What has he done?”
And even as I spoke our conversation of the last few days came back to my mind. How easy it was to be a traitor to the King. What could he have done to take him to the Tower, he who had never done anything to harm anyone in his life before?
“I must talk to you,” said Rupert. “Where is Kate? Where is Lord Remus?”
Lord Remus was out with the hunt. Kate, having heard the sounds of arrival, joined us in the courtyard.
“Rupert,” she cried. “Welcome, brother.” Then she saw his face. “Ill news?” she cried, looking from one of us to the other.
“Father has been taken to the Tower,” I said.
The color left her face; her great eyes looked stony. I had rarely seen Kate so moved. She turned to me, her lips quivering, and held out her hand. I grasped it and she pressed it firmly. She was reminding me then that she understood my suffering and that she was as my sister.
“Pray come in,” said Kate. “Do not let us stand out here.”
She slipped her arm through mine and we went into the great hall.
Kate said: “We cannot talk here.” And she led us to an anteroom. There she bade Rupert sit down and me too; and seating herself she said: “Pray tell us all.”
“It was yesterday while we were at dinner. The King’s men came and arrested Uncle in the King’s name.”
“On what charge?” I cried.
“Treason,” said Rupert.
“It could not be true.”
Rupert looked at me sadly. “They took Amos Carmen too. They found his hiding place. They went straight to it as though someone had betrayed the fact that he was there.”
“In our house?” I asked.
Rupert nodded. “After you left
, Amos came back. He was being hunted. He had declared the Pope to be the true head of the Church and refused to sign the Act of Supremacy which as a priest he was required to do. He was going to escape to Spain because there was no hope for him here while the King lived; your father was helping him.”
I covered my face with my hand. How could he have been so foolish! He had walked straight into danger. It was what I had always feared. That which had threatened us had at last caught up with us.
It was Kate who spoke. “What can we do to save him?”
Rupert shook his head.
“There must be something,” I cried. “What will they do to him? That…which they have done to others?”
“It would be the ax for him,” said Rupert as though to comfort me. “He is of gentle birth.”
The ax! That greatly loved head to be severed by the executioner. That good life to be ended by a stroke! How could such things happen? Had these people never known what it was to love a father?
Kate said gently: “This is a terrible shock to Damask. We must take care of her, Rupert.”
Rupert said: “That is what I am here to do.”
“I must go to him,” I said.
“You would not be allowed to see him,” Rupert reminded me. “It is his wish that you should remain here with Kate.”
“Remain here…when he is there! I shall do no such thing. I am coming home at once. I will find some way to see him. I will do something. I will not stand by and allow them to murder him.”
“Damask…this is a great blow. I have broken it too roughly, too harshly. Here you are safe. You are away from the house. He did not wish you to come home while Amos was there. He would allow none of us to be involved. He declares again and again that he and he only is responsible for hiding Amos. He was not in the house, but you remember the little cottage in the nuttery. Uncle hid him there and himself took food to him. No one went to the loft above. Only garden tools were stored in the lower part, you remember. It seemed he was safe there. It would be folly to go back now. We do not know what will happen next.”
“So they came while you were at dinner.”
Rupert nodded.
“And he…how did he go?”
“Calmly, as you would expect. He said, ‘No one here knows of this but myself.’ And then they went out and took Amos. They have both been carried off to the Tower.”
“And what can we do, Rupert?”
Rupert shook his head blankly. What was there to do? What could anyone do? What the King willed was an article of Faith—and Amos had broken the King’s law and my father had helped him do this.
Kate, wondrously gentle for her, said: “I am going to take you to your room, Damask. You are going to lie down. I will bring a posset which will soothe you. You will sleep and then you will be better able to suffer this blow.”
“Do you think I am going to sleep while he is in the Tower? Do you think I want possets? I am going back at once. I am going to find out what I can do….”
Rupert said: “It’s no good, Damask.”
“You may stay here if you are afraid,” I said, which was unkind and unfair too. “I shall not cower behind Lord Remus. I am going home. I am going to discover what can be done.”
“Nothing can be done, Damask.”
“Nothing. How do you know? What have you tried to do? I am going back at once.”
Rupert said: “If you go I shall come with you.”
“You should stay here, Rupert.”
“Where you are I wish to be,” he said.
“I will not have you risk anything for me. But I shall not stay here. I shall go back at once. There may be something I can do.”
Rupert shook his head but Kate surprisingly came down on my side.
“If she wishes to go back, she must,” she said.
“But it is dangerous,” protested Rupert. “Who knows what will happen now?”
“What of my mother?” I asked.
“She is stunned by the blow.”
I could imagine her, startled out of a world where she had lived shut away from events and the blight on her roses was by far the greatest tragedy she could envisage.
“And what is being done?” I asked.
“What can we do?” asked Rupert. “He was taken yesterday. He is in the Tower. They have allowed him to take a servant with him. Tom Skillen went. He came back for a blanket and some food. They allowed him to take them to him. So he is not being so badly treated as some.”
I said firmly: “When can we start?”
“We could leave tomorrow,” said Rupert. “It is too late today.”
Kate said: “That is wise. You will go tomorrow. Rupert must rest. He has had a long journey.”
I was silent, staring before me, visualizing it all. His calm acceptance when they came to take him; the barge would have taken him through the Traitors’ Gate. And he would have been thanking God that Damask was not at home, that she had not been in the house at all while he had sheltered Amos. He would be saying, “Damask is safe.” As if I wanted to be safe while he was in danger. Why had I gone? Why had I not been there? I would have done something, I promised myself. I would never have allowed them to take him. I thought of him in his dismal prison in the Tower. So many had exchanged their comfortable beds for a pallet on the cold stone floor—to await death.
But it could not come to that. It must not. There would be a way.
Kate was leading me to my room.
There was the night to be lived through before we left. I could not wait to start on the journey home. Remus had come in from the hunt, beaming and full of high spirits. The change in him when he heard the news was astounding. His skin turned a pale-yellow color and his jaw worked without his volition. I was looking at Fear. No man in these days cared to be connected with a traitor.
He recovered quickly, for he was remote from my father; all he had done was marry a cousin of his wife. Surely that could not be construed as treason? After all there had been no question of Lawyer Farland’s treachery at that time. He had been a rich man, a respectable lawyer who had given good service to many of the King’s close friends. Remus decided that he was safe and the fear passed. But I could see he was glad that I had decided to leave his house.
At dawn I was up, ready to leave. I was touched by Kate’s solicitude. Never before had she shown her affection for me so clearly; she was deeply moved and she whispered to me: “Rupert will take care of you. Do as he wishes.” Then she threw her arms about me and held me tightly for a second.
She stood at the gateway watching us ride away.
It grew lighter as we rowed upriver but I scarcely noticed the landscape as we passed. I was thinking of him; pictures kept coming in and out of my mind; I thought of his standing by the wall watching the barges go by, his arm about me. I heard his voice telling me that the tragedy of the Cardinal was the tragedy of us all. How prophetic were his words, for the Cardinal had fallen when the King broke with Rome and the reverberation of that break still echoed through the land and it was for this reason that my own father now lay in his dank and dismal prison awaiting death.
It was more than I could bear. I was in such despair that only my anger could rouse me from it. I would in my present mood have gone to the King himself and told him what a cruel and wicked thing this was to harm a good man who had done nothing but what he believed to be right.
There on the bank were the towers of Hampton Court. I shivered as we passed it. Work was still being done on it, I remembered inconsequentially. My father had mentioned only the last time we had passed that a great astronomical clock was being erected in one of the courtyards and that the lovers’ knots with the King’s and Jane Seymour’s initials which had been put into the great hall were already out of date since there had been another Queen since and talk of yet another. The towers which had always seemed so enchanting to me, now seemed menacing.
How slowly Tom Skillen rowed, I thought impatiently. But it was not true that he did. Poor Tom
, he also had changed from the carefree young man who had crept into Keziah’s bedroom by night.
We had arrived. The barge was tied to the privy stairs and I scrambled out and ran across the lawns into the hall, where I found my mother. I threw myself into her arms and she kept repeating my name. Then she said: “You shouldn’t have come. He didn’t wish it.”
“But I am here, Mother,” I said. “No one could stop my coming.”
Simon Caseman appeared. He stood a little apart from us, a woebegone expression on his face. He looked strong and powerful so I appealed to him.
“There must be something we can do,” I said.
He took both my hands in his and kissed them. “We will never give up hope,” he said.
“Is there some way of getting to him?” I asked.
“I am trying to find out. It may be possible for you to see him.”
I was so grateful that I pressed his hand warmly.
He said: “You may rely on me to explore every path.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you.”
“My dearest child,” said my mother tearfully. “You will be so worn out with the journey. Let me get something. I have heard that the juice of the pimpernel will raise the spirits when one is melancholy.”
“Oh, Mother,” I said, “nothing could raise my spirits except to see him come through the door a free man.”
Simon had edged Rupert aside. Rupert had done his task in bringing me home and he could only now regard me with sorrowful eyes which told me how well he understood my pain and would willingly bear it for me. There was something very good about Rupert. He reminded me of my father.
“What can we do?” I demanded of Simon, for he seemed more capable than any.
He said: “I am going to one of the jailors. I know him well. I did a little business for him and he owes me something. It may well be that he could let us through so that you might see your father.”
“If that could only be.”
Simon pressed my shoulder. “Rest assured,” he said, “that if this cannot be brought about it will be due to no lack of effort on my part.”
“When?” I demanded.
“Stay here with your mother. Comfort her. Go into the gardens with her. Behave as though it were any day and this had not happened. Try please. It is the best. And I will get Tom to row me to a tavern I know and there I may well discover something. I will see if I can find my warder friend and I’ll make him see that he can do no harm in allowing you and your father to see each other.”
The Miracle at St. Bruno's Page 16
