The King's Secret Matter

by Виктория Холт

  “Get up,” went on Henry. “Now you have spoken, and right glad I am to have this matter brought into the light of day. I married a woman who was my brother’s wife, and in the Book of Leviticus we are told that this is a sin in the eyes of God. I have been shown God’s displeasure. I have been denied a male heir. What are you and your ecclesiastics prepared to do in this matter?”

  Wolman, completely restored to confidence, began to outline Wolsey’s plan. “Your Grace will know that I have talked of this matter with His Eminence the Cardinal.”

  Good Thomas, thought Henry. Acquisitive, avaricious he might be, but he could be relied upon to work out a plan of action which would bring the King his desires.

  “The Cardinal feels it will be necessary to summon Your Grace before a Council led by himself and the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

  The King nodded. He could rely on Thomas; as for Archbishop Warham, he was a timid fellow and could be trusted to do as his King commanded.

  “There,” went on Wolman, “the matter would be discussed, and if the Council found that Your Grace had never in truth been married…”

  The King interrupted: “I should then be free to marry.”

  “It would be necessary doubtless to have the matter confirmed in Rome.”

  The King nodded. Clement was a good friend to him and Wolsey. He felt jubilant.

  He clapped his hand on Wolman’s shoulder. “You have been bold,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, “thus to accuse me. But we ever like bold men even when they upbraid us for our sins.”

  * * *

  GABRIEL DE GRAMMONT, Bishop of Tarbes, led his train into the King’s apartment, where Henry, with Wolsey, Warham and several of his most eminent ministers, was waiting to receive them.

  Wolsey was delighted because he felt that at last the alliance with France was secure. This would mean war with the Emperor. Wolsey visualized a Europe rising in unison against that young man. Henry had recently received an appeal from Clement who implored him to stand against the Emperor; if he did not, declared the Pope, Charles would shortly be the universal monarch. The Italian countryside had been devastated by his troops, and there was only one course of action: England, France, and the Vatican must stand against the conqueror. The letter had come at an opportune moment and Henry had been deeply impressed by it. And when Wolsey had pointed out: “We must stand by Clement now, for it may be that shortly we shall wish him to stand by us” Henry understood, and was as eager as his Cardinal for the French alliance.

  So they had helped the Pope by sending Sir John Russell to Rome with money which would enable Clement to pay his troops and assist in the garrisoning of the City. His Holiness, when he heard English help was on the way, had called a blessing on the English King and Cardinal, and had said that their friendly action had restored him from death to life.

  The moment was certainly ripe to apply to him for the Bull which would confirm that the marriage between the King of England and the Emperor’s aunt was not valid and that therefore the King of England was free to marry where he wished.

  Henry listened to the French Ambassadors outlining the terms of the new alliance which would mean certain war with the Emperor. François was not the man who would sit down under defeat; he would want to regain all that he had lost; he was waiting for his turn to impose harsh terms on Charles.

  Henry nodded shrewdly. He knew that his people had always regarded the French as their natural enemies; and that since the coming of Katharine to England they favored the Spanish alliance. Katharine had contrived to endear herself to the people, because they thought her serious and virtuous and there were many who had profited from her charities. Henry was a little disturbed that she had made such a good impression, but the people must be forced to understand the desirability of getting a male heir. When they realized that the important men of the Church, backed by the Pope himself, considered the King’s marriage unlawful, they would be as eager as he was to accept it as no marriage at all. They would look forward to the pageantry a royal marriage would mean.

  Henry pictured it: His bride beside him in the Palace of the Tower of London where she would come before her Coronation; he saw the glittering crown on her head; he saw her sitting beside him in the tiltyard, all haughtiness gone, only gratitude and love for him who had lifted her to such eminence. And the face he saw beneath the crown, the eyes that smiled at him with a faint hint of mockery, were not those of some stranger from France but a well-known young lady, a well-loved one, one who had haunted him ever since he had first seen her at Court and who had beguiled him in the gardens of her father’s castle of Hever.

  “By God!” he whispered to himself. “Why not?”

  He could hear her voice, high-pitched and imperious: “Your wife I cannot be, both in respect of mine own unworthiness and because you have a queen already. Your mistress I will not be.”

  And, strangely enough, he who had never been humble was so before this girl; he, who had looked upon the gratification of his desires as his Divine right, was content to wait and plead.

  He had to rouse himself from his reverie to listen to the Frenchmen; and when he did so the words of Grammont startled him.

  “There is one point which I feel compelled to raise at this time,” he was saying. “Rumors are circulating concerning the King’s marriage. My master would wish to know whether it is certain that the Princess Mary is the legitimate daughter of the King.”

  Sudden anger flamed in Henry’s eyes to be replaced by immediate exultation.

  If the legitimacy of the Princess Mary was in question, who could blame him for his determination to have the circumstances of his marriage examined?

  He forced a look of intense sadness into his face and glanced towards Wolsey, who said quietly: “We heed the Bishop’s words. Little good can come of discussing that matter further at this stage.”

  * * *

  KATHARINE WATCHED her daughter riding into the Palace of Richmond and she thought: This is one of the happiest moments of my life.

  How radiant the child looked! How she had grown! Was she as happy as her mother was by this reunion?

  Mary came forward ceremoniously, her eyes lowered. It is because she fears her emotions, Katharine decided. What a Queen she will make when her time comes.

  With Mary came her governess, Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, and Margaret’s son Reginald, both good friends of the Queen. So here was further cause for rejoicing.

  Now her daughter knelt before her, and Katharine, who could stand on ceremony no longer, raised her up and embraced her.

  “My dearest daughter…”

  “Oh Mother, it has been so long.”

  “Soon we shall be alone, my darling, and able to talk freely to each other.”

  “That will be wonderful, Mother.”

  She has not changed towards me, thought Katharine exultantly. How foolish of me to fear that she would.

  She turned reluctantly from her daughter to greet Margaret. “I thank you for the good care you have taken of my daughter.”

  “To serve Your Grace and Her Highness is my pleasure,” answered Margaret formally, but the gleam in her eyes was certainly not formal.

  “And your son is here too.” She smiled at Reginald. “That gives me great pleasure.”

  So they entered the Palace, and as soon as possible Katharine took her daughter to her private apartments that they might be alone.

  “I have longed for this,” she told Mary.

  “Oh, Mother, if you could only know how much I longed to see you. I used to kneel in the turret watching for a party of riders which would be you and your suite on the way to the Castle.”

  “My dear child…and I never came!”

  “No, but I always hoped. I never knew before how important hope is. One goes on being disappointed and loses it for a while, and then…there it is again.”

  “You have learned an important lesson, my dearest.”

  “And one day, Mother, Reginald ca
me. That was a consolation.”

  “Ah, I noticed that there was friendship between you.”

  “Is he not wonderful, Mother? He is so clever and yet so kind. I think he is the gentlest man I ever knew.”

  Katharine smiled. “And you liked his gentleness?”

  “So much, Mother. With him I felt at peace. And after he had been with us a short time the message came that I was to return to you. We shall not be parted again.”

  Katharine did not answer. It was her duty to prepare her daughter to receive the French ambassadors who would carry news of her beauty, accomplishments and deportment to the King of France.

  And if this marriage were to take place within a year…or very little longer…Mary would be sent to France, for there could be no excuse for keeping her at home any longer. Katharine felt she could not endure another separation.

  “You are sad, Mother,” said Mary. “Is it this marriage they are arranging for me which makes you so?”

  The Queen nodded. “But we will not think of unpleasant things. It could not happen for a very long time. I will tell you this: I will do everything in my power to postpone, nay prevent it.”

  Mary threw herself into her mother’s arms and cried passionately: “Yes, please do. Do not let them send me away from you again. Why could I not marry in my own country?”

  Katharine stroked her daughter’s hair.

  “Because, my darling, you would have to marry someone who is as royal as yourself.”

  “There are people here who are as royal as I am.”

  Katharine felt a twinge of alarm. Such words, when applied to one of the King’s subjects, could be dangerous. Buckingham had used them too often.

  “Edward IV was Reginald’s ancestor and mine also. So Reginald is as royal as I am.”

  The Queen was silent, thinking: Then has she thought of Reginald as a husband?

  The idea excited Katharine. And why not? It was true Reginald Pole had Plantagenet blood in his veins. Surely it was a better policy to arrange marriages rather than executions for those whose royalty could be a threat to the crown.

  If Mary married Reginald Pole, she could remain in England. Katharine visualized a happy future with her daughter never far from her side. She pictured herself with Mary’s children who would take the place in her heart of those she had never had. If only it could be. If only she could prevent this French alliance!

  “Yes,” she said slowly, “Reginald Pole has royal blood in his veins. I am glad that you feel affection for him because I know him to be a good man, and his mother is one of my dearest friends.”

  Mary was astute enough to read the promise in those words. She embraced her mother in sudden ecstasy as though, thought Katharine, she believes me to be all-powerful.

  But let her think that, because it makes her happy; and we must be happy in these hours of reunion.

  * * *

  LATER KATHARINE sat with her dear friend Margaret Pole and they were alone together, which gave pleasure to them both.

  Katharine was saying: “This is one of the happiest days of my life. I have dreamed of it ever since Mary went away.”

  “As she has too,” added Margaret.

  “It pleases me that she and Reginald should be drawn to each other.”

  “They have indeed become good friends. The Princess is such a serious child that the difference in their ages is scarcely noticeable. My son considers her to be one of the most highly educated ladies it has been his pleasure to meet.”

  “Your son has not taken Holy Orders?”

  “No, he has not done so yet.”

  “Does he intend to?”

  “I think he is eager to study more before he does so. That is why he is going to the Carthusians at Sheen.”

  The Queen smiled and a thought came to Margaret which she had had before; then it had seemed a wild dream, but it did not seem so now because she believed she read the Queen’s thoughts correctly.

  Katharine went on: “The French marriage does not please me.”

  “But the King and the Cardinal…”

  “Oh yes, the Cardinal leads the King the way he wishes him to go.”

  Margaret was surprised that the Queen should speak so frankly; then she realized that Katharine did so because the bond between them was a little closer even than it had been before.

  “I shall not allow Mary to receive the French ambassadors tomorrow,” went on the Queen. “I shall make the excuse that she is too weary after her long journey from Ludlow. Depend upon it, I shall do all in my power to prevent this proposed marriage. Nor do I despair of so doing. Monarchs are fickle, and François more fickle than most. Mary was betrothed to this boy once before, you remember. There was great enthusiasm…even a ceremony…and then a few years later it was as though that ceremony had never taken place.”

  “The Princess is sensitive. One does not care to think of her in a foreign court. And I believe that that of the French is the most licentious in the world.”

  The Queen shuddered. “How I should like to make a match nearer home for her. There are more worthy men in England than across the seas.”

  The two women had drawn closer together; they were not Queen and subject merely, not only lifelong friends; they were two mothers discussing the future of the children who meant everything in the world to them.

  * * *

  WHILE THE QUEEN sat with Margaret Pole, Iñigo de Mendoza called at the Palace and asked for an interview with her. It was imperative, he declared, that he see Her Grace without delay.

  When the message was brought to the Queen, Margaret, without being bidden to do so, left her presence and Mendoza was ushered in.

  Katharine saw from his expression that he was extremely agitated, and his first words told her why.

  “The Cardinal is working to separate you and the King; he has called together certain bishops and lawyers that they may secretly declare the marriage to be null.”

  Katharine could not speak. She knew that the King no longer desired her; that his disappointment at the lack of a male child continued to rankle. But to cast her off as a woman who had been living with him all these years outside the sanctity of marriage, was unthinkable. Such a thing could not happen to a daughter of Spain.

  “I fear I have given you a great shock,” said the ambassador. “But it is a matter which must be faced quickly. This must not be allowed to happen.”

  “It is the Cardinal who has done this,” said the Queen. “He has long been my enemy.”

  “He could not have done it without the King’s consent,” the ambassador reminded her.

  “The King is a careless boy at heart. He is tired of me…so he allows Wolsey to persuade him that he should be rid of me.”

  “Your Grace, we must act immediately.”

  “What can we do if the King has decided to rid himself of me?”

  “We can do our best to prevent him.”

  “You do not know the King. All that he desires comes to him. He takes it as his Divine right.”

  “He may have his will with his own subjects, but Your Grace is of the House of Spain. Have you forgotten that the Emperor is the son of your sister?”

  “They care little for the Emperor here now,” said Katharine wearily.

  “Your Grace,” the ambassador replied almost sternly, “they will have to care.”

  Katharine covered her eyes with her hand. “So this is the end,” she said.

  “The end! Indeed it is not. Your Grace, if you will not fight for yourself, you must fight for your daughter.”

  “Mary! Of course…she is involved in this.” The Queen had dropped her hand, and the ambassador saw how her eyes flashed. “Are they saying that Mary is a bastard?”

  “If the marriage were declared null, that is what I fear she would be called, Your Grace.”

  “That shall never be,” said the Queen firmly.

  “I knew Your Grace would say that. I beg of you, be as calm as you can, for it is calmness we need if we ar
e to outwit those who work against us. It would be helpful, I am sure, if you could behave as though you know nothing of this which is being called the King’s Secret Matter. The only help we can hope for must be from the Emperor and in view of existing relations our task is made difficult. I beg Your Grace to speak of this matter to no one until we have found a means of conveying the news to my master, your nephew.”

  “This we must do without delay.”

  “Your Grace is right. But to send a letter might be to act rashly. I feel sure that everything that leaves my hands is in danger of falling into those of the Cardinal’s spies. We must find a messenger who will go to the Emperor with nothing written down, who will tell him by word of mouth what is happening here in England. Let us discover such a man, who must be humble enough not to excite suspicion, yet loyal enough to keep his secrets until he arrives in Spain.”

  The Queen, knowing that the ambassador spoke wisely, agreed.

  “I will call on you tomorrow,” he told her. “By then I hope to have some plan. In the meantime I trust Your Grace will give no sign that we have wind of the King’s Secret Matter.”

  When Mendoza left her, Katharine sat for a long time, very still, an expression of melancholy amplifying the lines on her face.

  Such a short while ago she had felt so happy because her daughter was returned to her. Now her happiness had been shattered, for she knew that the greatest calamity which could befall her was threateningly near.

  “There are times,” she murmured, “when I think God has deserted me.”

  * * *

  AS HENRY PREPARED to set out for the Cardinal’s Palace of York Place, a complacent smile played about his mouth, and his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction in which humour mingled.

  It was an amusing situation when a King was summoned to appear before a court, charged with immorality. He believed that those lawyers and men of the Church must be telling themselves that here was the most tolerant King on Earth. He might have had them all clapped into the Tower for their presumption. But what had he done? Meekly accepted the summons to appear before them and hear his case thrown from the prosecuting to the defending counsels like a ball in a game.