The Rose Without a Thorn

by Jean Plaidy

  About the Book

  IN THE COURT OF HENRY VIII, no woman is beyond the King’s notice, and no queen is beyond his wrath. In the span of just seven years, Queen Catherine of Aragon is discarded in boredom; Queen Anne Boleyn is beheaded on trumped-up charges of infidelity; Queen Jane Seymour has the good fortune to die from childbirth just as the King begins to lose interest in her; and Queen Anne of Cleves is rejected for being ugly. It’s beginning to seem that the sovereign is incorrigible in matters of the heart. But when a self-proclaimed charming bimbo with no wealth, no gift for conversation, and no head for the intricacies of politics strikes the King’s fancy, her family will do backflips to grease the works toward a fifth royal wedding, despite the King’s track record. With a pretty singing voice and a penchant for giggling, Katherine Howard unwittingly woos the most powerful man in England, and suddenly finds herself in a position both glamorous and deadly. For Katherine’s past is speckled with improprieties, and the court is full of schemers who could ruin her with a whispered secret. In The Rose Without a Thorn, Jean Plaidy, the grande dame of historical fiction, weaves a spellbinding story of how a king’s affection for a young girl turns from a fairy-tale-come-true, to a bitter chokehold that will kill her.

  In Katherine Howard’s fresh, unforgettable voice, The Rose Without a Thorn explores the frantic posturing and jostling for power that defines sixteenth-century life in the English court and the subtle series of events that leads to Katherine’s demise. Her fall from naïveté is sudden and shocking. After a childhood of poverty and blissful ignorance in a ramshackle houseful of children, her transformation to lady-in-waiting—and her subsequent initiation into the carefree joys of sex—seems effortless and entertaining. Katherine is suited for love, and moves easily from one passionate paramour to the next, with no inkling that her actions could threaten her reputation. But when a chance encounter endears her to King Henry VIII, it becomes clear that her destiny is not her own. Between the brash politicking of her ruthless uncle and the magnetism of her own gentle personality, Katherine is caught in an inescapable relationship with His Majesty that will force her to forsake the one man she truly loves. She must play a role, and play it well, or she and her entire family will face destruction. But Katherine’s past catches up with her before she learns the rules of the game, and no amount of love or loyalty will conjure the mercy she needs to stay alive. In elegant, spare prose, Jean Plaidy takes a fascinating look at one woman’s brief but dazzling fame.

  Questions for Discussion

  1 Who is the scribe? What is the significance of these bookends to the novel? Why does Katherine want her tale put down in writing?

  2 In her statement “The road is laid before us and we must pass along it, and, through ourselves, come to salvation—or damnation,” Katherine seems to suggest that our fate is decided for us, but that our reactions to that fate determine our ultimate reward. Where in the novel do you see a tension between fate and personal determination? How much free will does Katherine actually have in her situation? Does she exercise it?

  3 What series of events does Katherine’s mother’s death set in motion that leads to Katherine being moved to Horsham? If her mother had stayed alive, what do you think would have happened to Katherine?

  4 When Katherine joins the household at Horsham, she becomes the butt of constant jokes about the Howard family, and the fact that the Duchess puts on airs about the family name. Why doesn’t Katherine mind their teasing? Why does she put up with her manipulative, sometimes even cruel new friends, like Isabel?

  5 Why do things begin to unravel for Katherine’s cousin Anne? What event brings on her miscarriage? How does Henry manage to drum up an adultery charge against her? What immediate effect do these events have on the Howard family? Why does Uncle Norfolk join those who condemn Anne?

  6 Katherine describes her aunt this way: “The Duchess was a lady who would make herself believe what she wanted to—particularly if the alternative was too unpleasant to contemplate.” Which other characters in the novel use this coping mechanism? Does it serve them well or ill?

  7 Katherine describes gloom in the Howard house after Henry announces his betrothal to Anne of Cleves: “Anne of Cleves, with her Protestant upbringing, was certainly not what the Howards were looking for.” How much does Katherine understand of the religious/political nuances and implications surrounding Henry’s decisions? How does Plaidy convey these to her readers even when her narrator doesn’t understand them?

  8 What is Thomas Cromwell’s dire mistake regarding Anne of Cleves, and what is the reaction of his colleagues? What stand does Katherine take in this issue? What role does the Duke of Norfolk play in Cromwell’s demise? Does Katherine absorb any new information after watching this unfold?

  9 By their third flirtatious visit, Katherine describes herself as “completely disarmed” by the King’s playfulness. Even when he bruises her, she says, “I giggled inwardly, asking myself if it were an honor to be bruised by the King.” Is she truly clueless as to what’s going on? What is her first hint that Henry is volatile, even with her?

  10 What does Katherine call the “one sphere in which I was not ignorant.” Is it useful to her?

  11 Why does Joan Bulmer’s letter spook Katherine? What does Joan want? How does Katherine talk herself out of seeing the letter as a warning signal?

  12 Who sends word to King Francis of France about the mess Katherine finds herself in? Why? What would have been different if this step had not been taken?

  13 Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, visits Katherine in the Tower and offers her a possible stay of execution. What are the terms of his offer? Why does she refuse this opportunity? If she had accepted Cranmer’s offer, do you think Henry would have taken her back? Why or why not?

  14 After the Duchess discovers Katherine rolling on the floor with Derham, Katherine stoically observes, “People often vented their rage on those who were the victims of their neglect because they were in truth blaming themselves.” In what ways does Katherine suspect her aunt blames herself? Where else in the novel do you recognize the theme of blaming the victim?

  15 How does public opinion change as a result of Katherine’s death?

  16 Concerning Catherine Parr, Henry’s sixth wife, the scribe closes with: “It was not a case of choosing, but being chosen.” Is it fair to call this the theme of the novel?

  The French Proposal

  BEFORE THE PRINCESS MARY were laid out the treasures which had been brought for her inspection. There were rich fabrics, velvets and cloth of gold, and miniver and martin with which to fur her garments; there were necklaces, coronals and girdles all sparkling with priceless gems.

  She stared at them stonily.

  Lady Guildford held up a chain of gold set with rubies. “But look at this, my lady. Try it on. Is it not exquisite?”

  Mary turned her head away.

  “Please allow me, my lady. There! Oh, but it is so becoming and you have always loved such beautiful ornaments!”

  Mary snatched the trinket from her neck and threw it on to her bed, where Lady Guildford had set out the other treasures.

  “Do not bother me,” said Mary.

  “But the King has asked to be told your opinion of these gifts.”

  “Gifts!” cried Mary. “They are not gifts, for gifts are given freely. These are bribes.”

  Lady Guildford trembled, because the King had come into the room smiling, certain of the pleasure the jewels must give his sister.

  “Ha!” he cried. “So there is my little sister. Decking herself out with jewels, eh? And how does she like them?”

  Mary turned her face to him and he was startled by her pallor. Her blue eyes seemed enormous. Could it be that she had lost flesh and that was why she looked so?

  “She likes them not,” snapped Mary.

  Henry’s face crumpled in disappointment, and Lady Guildford held her breath in dismay. He would be angry, and like everyone else at Court, she dreaded the King’s ou
tbursts of anger. But because this was his sister whom he loved so deeply, he was only filled with sorrow.

  “And I had taken such care in choosing what I thought would please you.”

  She turned to him and threw her arms about his neck. “You know well how to please me. You do not have to buy costly jewels. All you have to do is stop this marriage.”

  “Sister … little Mary … you do not understand what you ask.”

  “Do I not? It is I who have to make this marriage, is it not? I assure you I understand more than any.”

  He stroked her hair and Lady Guildford was amazed because she was sure that was a glint of tears she saw in his eyes. He forgave his sister her boldness; he suffered with her; it must be true that Henry loved nobody—not even his wife—as he loved his beautiful sister.

  “Mary,” he said gently, “if we broke off this marriage it would mean our friendship with the Emperor was broken. He is our ally against the French. If I wrote to him and said there shall be no marriage because my sister has no stomach for it, there might even be war between our countries.”

  “Oh Henry, Henry, help me.”

  He held her against him. “Why, little one, if I could, I would, but even you must fulfill your destiny. We cannot choose whom we would marry. We marry for state reasons, and alas this is your fate. Do not be downhearted, little one. Why, you will charm your husband and all his Court as you charm us here. I doubt not that in a few months, when you are as loved and honored over there as you are here, you will laugh at this foolish child you once were. And you will not be far off. You shall visit us and we shall visit you. And, dearest, when you come to our Court we will have such a masque, such a banquet, as never I gave for any other…. ”

  She jerked herself away from his embrace, her eyes dark with passion.

  “Masques! Banquets!” she cried. “Is that all the balm you have to offer for a broken heart?”

  Then she ran from the apartment, leaving him standing there, bewildered—but miraculously not angry, only sad because he could see no way of helping her

  Mary sent for the Duke of Suffolk.

  “Have a care, my lady,” warned Lady Guildford. “Remember the Duke’s reputation. He is not a man to be lightly invited to a lady’s private apartments.”

  “You may leave this to me,” Mary retorted imperiously. “And when he comes I wish to be alone with him.”

  “But my lady … ”

  “Those are my orders.”

  He came and stood before her, and when Mary had dismissed Lady Guildford, who went most reluctantly, she put her arms about his neck and they stood for some seconds in a close embrace.

  It was he who took her hands and withdrew them from his neck; they stood looking at each other.

  “Charles,” cried Mary, “Margaret has refused you and the Emperor is going to refuse me. Was there ever such great good fortune?”

  He looked at her sadly, and she shook her head in exasperation.

  “You despair too easily.”

  “Tell me for what you think we may hope,” he asked.

  “I am eighteen and marriageable. I must be given a husband from somewhere. And if a Duke is worthy of Margaret of Savoy, why not of the Princess Mary? That is what I shall ask my brother.”

  “He thinks you far more precious than Margaret of Savoy.”

  “He must be made to see reason.”

  “I beg of you, be cautious for both our sakes.”

  She threw herself against him: “Oh Charles, Charles, who ever was cautious in love?”

  “We must be … if we wish to survive.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Do not think I spend my days sitting and dreaming. I have made a plan.”

  He looked alarmed; she saw this and burst into laughter. “You will soon discover what it is. Very shortly you will receive an order to appear at the Manor of Wanstead. Then you shall hear all about it.”

  “Mary … ”

  She stood on tiptoe and put her lips against his.

  “Kiss me,” she said. “That makes me happier than talk. By the Holy Mother, there is so little time when we may be alone; Mother Guildford will find some pretext soon to come and disturb us. Oh, you are back … miraculously free … as I am! Charles, Charles, do not ever think that I will allow them to take you from me.”

  He abandoned himself. How could he do otherwise? She was irresistible; he could even ask himself: What did it matter if this was the end of ambition? At moments like this he could believe he would willingly barter all he had achieved for an hour with her.

  Charles was not the only one who was summoned to the Manor of Wanstead. Thomas Wolsey, Bishop of Lincoln, received a command to attend, as did the Bishops of Winchester and Durham.

  When they arrived they found Sir Ralph Verney, the Princess’s Chamberlain, already there; with him was the Earl of Worcester who told them that, on the instructions of the Princes Mary, he was to take them with him into the great hall.

  There Mary was waiting to receive them. She looked more than beautiful on that day; she was regal; she had put on a purple cloak which was lined with ermine, and standing on the dais she greeted them with the utmost formality.

  When she had spoken to each singly, she begged them to be seated, while she addressed them.

  She spoke in her high clear voice and, although now and then during her discourse her eyes fell on Charles, she gave no suggestion that she regarded him in any special light; and the impression she gave was that he was there because he was the Duke of Suffolk and for no other reason.

  “My lords,” she said, “I have assembled you here to speak of a matter which touches my royal dignity, and I look to your loyalty to the Crown to support me. I know I can rely on you. It has been brought to my ears that the Prince of Castile and his family continually conspire against my brother and this realm. I am, therefore, resolved never to fulfill my contract with him.”

  There was silence among the assembly, but there was one among them whose eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Wolsey had risen high in the King’s favor since the war, and he saw himself rising still higher. He had long doubted the sincerity of the Emperor, and that the alliance with the Prince of Castile should be abandoned suited his plans.

  Mary continued: “I beg of you all to plead my cause with the King, my brother, who may well be displeased with me for summoning you hither.”

  Charles watching her thought How wonderful she is! There is no one like her. Who else, but eighteen years old, would have dared summon her brother’s ministers to her presence and make her will known?

  He was exultant because he was beginning to believe that she must achieve her desires—and hers were his.

  When Mary rode back with her attendants to Greenwich, the people came out to cheer her; they marveled at her appearance for, on this occasion with the certainty of victory in her eyes, she was so beautiful.

  She had not been so happy since she had realized the difficulties which stood between her and the man she so ardently loved, and one of the reasons for her elation was that Thomas Wolsey had spoken to her when taking his leave.

  “My lady,” he had said, “you may rely on me to do my utmost with the King to have you released from this match which is repugnant to you.”

  Mary recognized in that man a spirit similar to her own. “Wolsey is on my side,” she told herself.

  Henry no longer had any doubt of the perfidy of the Emperor.

  Envoys from France had arrived at Greenwich, ostensibly to make terms for the return of the Duc de Longueville and other prisoners whom Henry had taken at Thérouanne; in fact they came to bring a message from the King of France which was for Henry’s ears alone, and as he listened to it the veins stood out at his temples. Not only had Ferdinand renewed his alliance with France, but the Emperor Maximillian was his ally in this and—behind the back of his comrade-in-arms, Henry of England—had made his peace with the French. It was however the wish of the King of France to make friends with England; and if His Grace wo
uld summon the Duc de Longueville to his presence, the Duke would lay before him a proposition from the King of France.

  Henry summoned the Duke to his presence, and with him that minister on whom he had come to rely, Thomas Wolsey; and when the King heard what the Duke of Longueville had to say, his eyes glistened with something like delight. By God, he thought, here is a way of avenging myself on that pair of rascals. Foxy Ferdinand and Imperial Perfidy will dance with rage when they hear of this.

  The matter was settled and it only remained for the principal person concerned to be informed. Henry sent for his sister, the Princess Mary.

  When she came to his presence Thomas Wolsey was with the King, and her warm smile included them both, for she believed Wolsey to be her friend.

  Henry embraced her.

  “News, sister, which will be most welcome to you.”

  Her smile was dazzling in its satisfaction.

  “We are breaking off relations with Maximillian, and a marriage between you and his grandson is now impossible.”

  She clasped her hands together. Gratitude filled her heart, to Providence, to Henry, to Wolsey, to the Emperor for his perfidy. Her prayers were answered. She was free and in a short time she would cajole Henry into letting her have her way.

  “Therefore,” went on Henry, “you should no longer consider yourself under contract to the Prince of Castile.”

  “Most joyfully,” she answered.

  “Do not think though that we have not your future at heart, dear sister. We have a dazzling proposition to put before you, for Monsieur de Longueville has brought us an offer from his master. What would you say if I were to tell you that within a few months you will be Queen of France?”