‘It’s nothing for you to trouble yourself about,’ Nan says. ‘Really, nothing. All the servants have moved the queen’s household a score of times, a hundred times. All you have to do is to ride beside the king and look happy.’
‘But all the bedding! And all the clothes!’ I exclaim.
‘Everyone knows their part,’ she repeats. ‘You need do nothing but go where you are sent.’
‘My birds?’
‘The falconers will take care of them. They’ll go in their own cart behind the falcons and hawks.’
‘My jewels?’ I ask.
‘I take care of them,’ she says. ‘I’ve done this for years, Kat, honestly. All you have to do is to ride beside the king if he wants you there, and look beautiful.’
‘And if he doesn’t want me?’
‘Then you ride with your companions and your master of horse.’
‘I don’t even have a master of horse yet, I haven’t filled all my household posts.’
‘We’ll appoint them as we travel. It’s not for lack of applicants! All the clerks will travel with us, and most of the court. The Privy Council meets wherever the king happens to be, it’s not like we are leaving court, we take everything with us.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Oatlands first,’ she says with satisfaction. ‘I think it is one of the best palaces, on the river, newly built, as beautiful as any of them. You’ll love it there, and the bedrooms aren’t haunted!’
OATLANDS PALACE, SURREY, SUMMER 1543
Nan is completely right: the court breaks itself up and reforms with practised ease, and I love my rooms in Oatlands Palace. It was built on the river near Weybridge to be a honeymoon palace for Anne of Cleves, so Nan cannot truly claim that it is not haunted. Anne of Cleves’ sorrow and disappointment are in every courtyard. Her maid-in-waiting Katherine Howard was triumphantly married to the king, here in the chapel; I imagine he chased her, panting endearments, limping as fast as he could go through the beautiful gardens.
The palace was built with the stone of the abbey at Chertsey, every beautiful sandstone block pulled down from where it was dedicated to God to stand forever. The tears of the faithful must have fallen in the mortar; but nobody thinks of that now. It is a huge sunny palace, near to the river, designed like a castle with a tower at each corner and a huge courtyard inside. My rooms look towards the south and they are sunny and light. The king’s rooms adjoin them, and he warns me that he can walk in at any time to see what I am doing.
Over the next few days Nan and I draw up the list of posts in my household and start to fill them with the king’s choices, with our friends and family and then, when we have satisfied everyone who has a claim on me, with those whose careers we want to advance. I look at the list prepared by Nan and her friends who support the religious reforms. Giving them a place as my household officials at court and in my rooms as my companions strengthens their numbers at the very moment that they are losing the king’s support.
He has approved the publication of a statement of doctrine called The King’s Book, which tells people that they have to make confession and believe in the miracle of the Mass. The wine becomes blood, the bread becomes flesh – the king says it is so, and everyone must believe. He has taken away the great English Bible from every church in every parish and only the rich and the noble are allowed to read the Bible in English, and they can only do so at home. The poor and the uneducated are as far from the Word of God as if they were in Ethiop.
‘I want some scholarly ladies,’ I say to Nan, almost shyly. ‘I always felt that I should have read more and studied more. I want to improve my French and Latin. I want to have companions who will study with me.’
‘Certainly you can hire tutors,’ she says. ‘They’re as easy to get as parakeets. And you could have an afternoon sermon preached every day, Katherine of Aragon did. You have a range of opinion in your rooms already. Catherine Brandon is a reformer, while Lady Mary is probably secretly faithful to Rome. Of course she would never deny that her father is Supreme Head of the church,’ Nan lifts a warning finger to me, ‘everyone has to be very, very careful what they say. But now that the king is restoring the rituals that he banned, and taking away the English Bible that he gave to his people, Lady Mary hopes that he will go further and reconcile with the pope.’
‘I have to understand this,’ I say. ‘We lived so far from London, we heard almost nothing, and I couldn’t get hold of books. And anyway, my husband Lord Latimer believed in the old ways.’
‘There are many that still do,’ Nan warns me. ‘A frightening number still do, and they are rising in favour. But we have to fight them and win this argument. We have to get the Bible back into the churches for the people. We cannot let the bishops take the Word of God from the people. It is to condemn people to ignorance. Even you will have to study discreetly, with an eye on the law of heresy. We don’t want Stephen Gardiner sticking his ugly nose into your rooms, like he does everywhere else.’
The king comes to me almost every night, but often wants nothing more from me than conversation, or to share a glass of wine before he goes to his own bed. We sit together like an old loving couple, he in a glorious embroidered nightgown strained across his massive chest and belly, with his sore leg propped on a footstool, me in my black satin with my hair in a plait.
His physician comes with him to give him his evening doses: drugs to ease the pain of his leg, for his headaches as his eyes are failing, to make his bowels move, to clear his urine, which is dangerously dark and sticky. Henry winks when he tells me that his physician has given him something to help with vigour. ‘Perhaps we will make a son,’ he suggests. ‘What about a little Duke of York to follow my prince?’
‘In that case I’ll have some of that physic?’ Will Somers takes the liberties allowed to an official Fool. ‘I could do with a bit of vigour at night-time. I would be a bull, but I am a little lamb; truly, I am a little lamb.’
‘Do you skip and prance?’ the king smiles as the physician hands him another draught.
‘I gambol. I gamble away my fortune!’ Will clinches the joke with a pun, making the king laugh as he drinks, so that Will thumps him familiarly on the back. ‘Choke up, Nuncle. Don’t cough up your own vigour!’
I smile and say nothing while the physician is measuring out the series of little draughts, but when everyone has gone from the room, I say: ‘My lord husband, you have not forgotten that I had no child from two previous marriages?’
‘But you had precious little joy in them, didn’t you?’ he asks bluntly.
I give a little embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, yes, I wasn’t married for my own joy.’
‘Your first husband was little more than a boy, afraid to say boo to a goose, probably unmanned, and your second was a dotard, probably impotent,’ the king declares inaccurately. ‘How should you have got a child from either of them? I have studied these things, and I know. A woman needs pleasure in order to take a child. She has to have a crisis of pleasure, just as her husband does. This is ordained by God. So at last, dearest wife, you have a chance of becoming a mother. Because I know how to please a woman till she weeps for joy, till she cries out for more.’
I am silent, remembering the involuntary cry that I used to make when Thomas was moving inside me, his breath coming fast and my pleasure mounting. Afterwards I would find that my throat was sore and I would know that I had screamed with my face against his naked chest.
‘I give you my word,’ the king says.
I push away my thoughts and smile at him. I know that there can be no pleasure for me in a dead woman’s bed. It can’t be possible that his damp fumblings can give me a child, and the rue should prevent a monster-birth. But since two earlier wives were divorced for lack of a son I would be a fool to say that I don’t think we’ll get one – whatever sensual pleasures he promises.
Besides, oddly, I find that I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I’m not going to tell Henry that I cannot feel desire
for him, not when he is smiling at me and promising me ecstasy. At the very least I owe him kindness, I can give him affection, I can show him respect.
He beckons me towards him as he sits on his great chair at the fireside. ‘Come and sit on my lap, dearest.’
I go readily enough and perch on the breadth of his good thigh. He puts his arms around me, he kisses my hair, he puts his hand under my chin and turns my face towards him so that he can kiss me on the mouth.
‘And are you glad to be a very rich woman?’ he asks me. ‘Am I kissing a great personage? Did you like the jewels? Did you bring them all with you?’
‘I love them,’ I assure him. ‘And I take such a pleasure in the wardrobe and the furs. You are very good to me.’
‘I want to be good to you,’ he says. He pushes a strand of hair away from my face and tucks it behind my ear. His touch is gentle, assured. ‘I want you to be happy, Kate. I married you to make you happy, not just for myself. I am not thinking just of myself, I am thinking of my children, I am thinking of my country, I am thinking of you.’
‘Thank you,’ I say quietly.
‘Is there anything else you would like?’ he asks. ‘If you command me, you command all of England. You can have samphire from the cliffs of Dover, you can have oysters from Whitstable. You can have gold from the Tower and cannonballs from the Minories. What would you like? Anything. You can have anything.’
I hesitate.
At once he takes my hand. ‘Don’t be afraid of me,’ he says tenderly. ‘I imagine that people will have told you all sorts of things about me. You will think yourself a Saint Tryphine, married to a monster.’
I give a little choke as he names my dream.
He is watching me closely. ‘My love,’ he says. ‘My last and only love. Please know this. What people will tell you about my marriages is completely wrong. I’ll tell you the truth. Only I know the truth, and I never speak of it. But I will tell you. I was married when I was a boy to a woman who was not free to marry me. I didn’t know it till God harrowed me with grief. Baby after baby was taken from us. It nearly killed her, it broke my heart. I had to let her go to spare her further pain. I had to release her from a marriage that was cursed. It was the hardest thing I ever did. But if I were to have a son for England I had to let her go. I sent Katherine of Aragon away, the finest princess that Spain ever raised, and it broke my heart to do so. But I had to do it.
‘And then, God forgive me, I was seduced by a woman whose only desire was ambition. She was a poisoner, a witch and a seductress. I should have known better, but I was a young man, longing for love. I learned my lesson late. Thank God I saved my children from her. She would have killed us all. I had to put a stop to her and I found the courage to do so.
‘Jane Seymour – my choice, the only wife I freely chose for myself – was my only true wife, and she gave me a son. She was like an angel, an angel, you know? And God took her back. I cannot complain for she left me with a son and His wisdom is infinite. The Cleves woman was an arranged marriage brought to me against my wishes by bad advisors. The Howard girl . . .’ His face crumples into rolls of fat. ‘God forgive the Howards for putting a whore in my bed,’ he gulps. ‘They deceived me, she deceived them, we were all blinded by her whorish prettiness. Kate, I swear, you will be a good wife to me indeed if you can make me forget the pain that she caused me.’
‘I will if I can,’ I say quickly. ‘Please don’t distress yourself.’
‘I have been heartbroken,’ he says honestly. ‘More than once. I have been betrayed – more than once. And I have been blessed by the true love of a good woman.’ He carries my hand to his lips. ‘Twice, I hope. I hope you will be my second and my last good angel. I hope you will love me as Jane did. I know that I love you.’
‘If I can,’ I say softly. I am genuinely moved to tenderness. ‘If I can, I will.’
‘So you can command me,’ he says gently. ‘I will do anything that you want. You just have to say.’
I trust him. I think that I will dare to name the favour that I want. ‘It’s my rooms at Hampton Court,’ I start. ‘Please don’t think me ungrateful, I know they are the finest rooms and Hampton Court is—’
He waves away my words. ‘It’s the most beautiful palace in England, but it is nothing to me if you don’t like it. I shall demolish it if you wish. What displeases you? I will have it altered at once.’
It is the ghosts in every corner, it is the initials of dead women on the stone bosses, it is the flags where their feet walked. ‘The smell,’ I say. ‘From the kitchens below.’
‘Of course!’ he exclaims. ‘You’re so right! I have often thought it myself. We should rebuild, we should change. The place was planned by Wolsey. He looked after himself, you can be sure of that. He planned his own apartments perfectly but he did not think what the other wing would be like. He never cared for anyone but himself, that man. But I care for you, beloved. Tomorrow you shall come to me and we shall get a builder to draw up new rooms for you, a queen’s side that will suit you completely.’
Truly, this is a rare husband. I’ve never known anyone so quick to understand, and so eager for the happiness of a wife. ‘Lord husband, you’re very good to me.’
‘I love your smile,’ he replies. ‘You know, I watch for your smile. I think I would give all the treasures of England for that smile.’
‘My lord . . .’
‘You shall be my wife and my partner, my friend and my lover.’
‘I will,’ I say earnestly. ‘I promise it, husband, I will.’
‘I need a friend,’ he says confidingly. ‘These days, I need a friend more than ever. The court is like a pit for dogfighting. They turn on one another and everyone wants my agreement and everyone wants my favour, but I can’t trust anyone.’
‘They seem so friendly . . .’
‘They are all liars and dissemblers,’ he overrules me. ‘Some of them are for the reform of religion and would make England Lutheran, some of them would have us return to Rome and put the pope at the head of our church again; and they all think that the way ahead is to trick me and entice me, step by step, down their way. They know that all the power is in my two hands. I alone decide everything, so they know that the way ahead is to persuade me.’
‘Surely, it would be a great shame to go back on your godly reforms,’ I say tentatively.
‘It’s worse now than ever. Now they look beyond me to Edward. I can see them trying to calculate how long I might live and how they can win Edward to their will and against mine. If I were to die soon they would fight over my boy like dogs over a bone. They would tear him apart. They wouldn’t see him as their master, they would see him as their road to greatness. I have to save him from that.’
‘But you are well,’ I reply gently. ‘Surely, you will live for years yet? Long enough to see him grow into a man and into his power?’
‘I have to. I owe it to him. My boy, my only boy. His mother died for him, I have to live for him.’
Jane again. I nod sympathetically and say nothing.
‘You will guard him with me,’ the king rules. ‘You will be as a mother to him, in place of the mother that he has lost. I can trust you as my wife in a way that I can trust no councillor. Only you are my partner and my helpmeet. You are my second self, we are as one. You will care for my power and for my son – no-one else can love and guard him. And if we go to war with France and I ride with the army you shall be regent here, and his protector.’
This is the greatest trust, proof of love beyond anything I ever expected. This is far more than I could have dreamed, better than birds or jewels, better than new rooms. This is the chance to be a queen indeed. I have a moment of vaulting ambition succeeded by fear. ‘You would make me regent?’
The only woman to be regent in the absence of the king was Katherine of Aragon, a princess raised to rule a kingdom. If the next were to be me then I would be honoured higher than anyone but a royal in her own right, born and bred. And if I were Rege
nt of England and protector of the heir then I would be expected to guide the people and the church in the way of God. I would have to become a defender of the faith, just as the king named himself. I would have to sponsor the faith of the people. I would have to learn the wisdom to steer the church towards truth. I am breathless at the prospect. ‘My lord, I would be so proud, I would work so hard. I would not fail you. I wouldn’t fail the country. I don’t know enough, I don’t understand enough, but I will study, I will learn.’
‘I know it,’ he says. ‘I know you will be a devoted wife. And I trust you. I hear from everyone that you were Lord Latimer’s friend and his helpmeet, that you cared for his children as if they were your own, that you saved his castle from the ungodly. You shall do the same for me and mine. You are above faction, you are above taking sides.’ He smiles. ‘You shall be Useful in All that You Do. I was so moved when they told me that was your motto. For I want you to be useful and to take pleasure, too, my dear. I want you to be happy – happier than you have ever been in your life.’
He takes my hands and kisses one, then the other. ‘You will come to love me and understand me,’ he predicts. ‘I know you would tell me that you love me now, but that is to flatter an old fool. These are early days for us, honeymoon days; you have to speak of love, I know that. But you will come to love me in your heart, even when you are alone and no-one is watching. I know it. You have a loving heart and a clever mind and I want them both devoted to me. I want them both turned to me and to England. You will watch me at work and at play, at bed and board and at prayer, and you will understand the man that I am, and the king that I am. You will see my greatness, and my faults and my tender parts. You will fall in love with me. I hope you will fall in love with me completely.’
The Taming of the Queen Page 8
