Honor in the Dust

by Gilbert, Morris

  “It’s very hard to be noble in this day and age.”

  The two men went over to the king when he dismounted, and Vining said, “Well done, Your Majesty. Well done indeed.”

  “I’ve done better. What about you? Would you like to try a little jousting, Vining?”

  “If you please, Your Majesty.”

  “No, I think I’ve had enough.” Henry was wearing enough armor to buy a small kingdom. He glittered in the sun, and when he removed his helmet, his red hair caught the glow. “Now, what about a go at the birds, Winslow?”

  “Yes, sire. I think you’ll be pleased.” Next to jousting and perhaps dancing, the king loved to fly his falcons best. It was for this reason that Stuart had become such a favorite. Now the king pulled Stuart after him. “Come along. I’ll get rid of this armor, and we’ll see what mood our birds are in.”

  “Yes, sire, it will be a pleasure.”

  An hour later the two men were examining the raptors. The king selected a falcon named Hook and asked, “What do you think of him, Winslow?”

  “A fine bird, Your Majesty. Worthy of a king.”

  Henry reached up and ruffled the hawk’s feathers and laughed when the bird uttered a harsh cry. “Well, let’s try him out.” He leaned toward Stuart. “I saw you conversing with Mistress Fenton last week at the masque.”

  Stuart felt his face flush. “Yes, sire, I was there.”

  “Did she deny you?”

  “Indeed, sire, she did.”

  “You take these things too seriously, Stuart. I know you think you’re in love with Nell, but you’re at court! It will happen to you a dozen times. She’s your first. Let her go, and you’ll see I’m right.”

  Indeed, it has happened to you a dozen times! The king laughed, as if he could read Stuart’s thoughts. “Come along, then. And by the way, you’ve worked very hard lately. Take a holiday. Go see your parents. It may help your spirits.”

  “You mean it, sire?”

  “Of course. Go tomorrow. Tell the horsemaster I said you could take Tyrone.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. It would be good to see my family again.”

  “A man should honor his parents, my friend, always remember that.”

  Even as Stuart dismounted in front of his parents’ house, his mother came out the door. She flew to him, and he caught her up and swung her around.

  She cried, “Well, don’t crush me, Son!” But she was laughing.

  Putting her down, he said, “You’re looking very fine. Far too lovely to be my mother. But where’s that little brother of mine? That’s who I really came to see.”

  “He’s somewhere near,” his mother returned. “Somewhere very near,” she added, cocking a playful eyebrow.

  Stuart looked down. There Quentin was, peeking around her skirts. He dodged back behind her as soon as they made eye contact.

  “Come here, little brother. Let’s see what you look like.” Slowly the boy edged out, biting his finger. Stuart smiled. “You look pure Winslow.”

  “It’s odd, isn’t it,” she asked, looping her arm through his, “that in some families, all the members look alike. In others, they look as though they were found under a bush. No resemblance at all.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing the Winslow men are fine-looking, isn’t it, Mother?” He kissed her on the cheek and repeated, “You’re looking very well indeed.”

  “And so are you, Son.”

  “Where’s Father?”

  “Oh, he’s out on some errand for Lord Edmund. I’m sure you’re hungry. Come along. I’ll make you a meal.”

  The meal turned out to be full scale with hot mutton and fresh bread.

  Stuart plied his mother with questions about the life at Stoneybrook and finally he asked, “What about Father and Lord Edmund?”

  Grace dropped her head for a moment. “Lord Edmund will never forgive either of us. We keep praying, but it never changes.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Does he still overwork Father?”

  “Well, not so much as he once did. Your grandmother sees to that.” She laughed suddenly, and her eyes danced. “Every time Edmund tries to do something unthinkable to your father, she just mentions that perhaps she had better leave the land and this house to him. That quiets Edmund down very quickly. He’s actually a very selfish man, but then he always has been.”

  “What about Lady Edith?”

  “She still spends money as if it were dirt. Wears a dress once and then gives it away. She drives Edmund almost crazy, and I can see why.”

  Half an hour later Claiborn came in. “Well, you’re here, my boy.”

  Stuart rose at once, moving Quentin to his hip. “Hello, Father,” he said. “You’re looking well.”

  “Well enough for an old man.”

  The two men sat down to catch up. From time to time Grace would leave to take care of some household chore.

  Stuart said, “Mother is really happy, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is, and so am I. That brother of yours has brought joy into our life. It’s just like when you came to us. We were so happy then.”

  “What do you think he’ll be when he grows up, Father?”

  “He’ll be a good man. That’s what he’ll be. A man of God.”

  As always, Stuart felt awkward when his father or mother mentioned God to him. He knew they were disappointed that he had not found the Lord and that he was living what they considered an immoral life at court. He changed the subject by saying, “Well, I don’t know what kind of a world he will face.”

  “It’ll be the same world as this one.” Claiborn smiled gently, “Full of sin but also full of God. That’s the way it has always been, and that’s the way it always will be.”

  Heather’s eyes opened wide. “Stuart!” There was welcome in her voice and in her expression. “Come in. I didn’t know you were home.”

  “A surprise visit. Are you busy?”

  “Never too busy for you.”

  “You’re looking absolutely fetching, Heather Evans.” He took in her blond hair and her deep-blue eyes and noticed with surprise that she was a young woman now. He had always thought of her as somewhere between childhood and womanhood. Now he said, “You’re growing up.”

  “That happens, Stuart. Are you disappointed?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You sound like one of the ladies at court. They go around trying to get men to tell them how beautiful they are and how wonderful.”

  “And do you tell them?”

  “Not very often.”

  The two sat there talking for a time, and he finally said, “One of these days you’re going to be sought by young men.”

  “Why, I already am.”

  “Oh? Is that Howard still coming around?”

  “No. He wasn’t right for me.”

  Stuart had always enjoyed teasing Heather. “Well, I’ll tell you what,” he said, putting on a sober expression. “I’m going to insist on meeting these other young suitors.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I want to be sure their intentions are honorable and that they show my dear sister the proper respect.”

  “Stuart, we’ve discussed this. I’m not your sister, and I don’t need your protection.”

  “Well, you know how young men are with young girls.”

  “No, why don’t you tell me?” She leaned forward, resting her pert chin in her womanly hands.

  Stuart laughed. “So you’ve already learned some of the ways of a maid with a man. Look at you!”

  She leaned back and blushed, as if embarrassed that he’d caught her out.

  “Heather, you’ll soon be the most beautiful woman in England. You need not cultivate any womanly wiles to draw men to you.”

  “Now, Stuart, let’s have none of that court talk.”

  “You’re right. That’s all I hear. Nobody ever means anything they say. So I might sound as if I’m lying, but I’m not. You are bea
utiful.”

  She looked at him with a pained expression. “I wish you’d leave there.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why? You’re not in love with one of those women, are you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Heather stared at him. “You spoke much too quickly, and I suspect you are not telling the entire truth.”

  “Well, there’s nothing that is ultimately truthful about anything at court.”

  The two sat on, debating whether Stuart should leave the court or not, until an hour later when William Tyndale came in. He was delighted to see Stuart.

  “Tell me about the court.”

  “You don’t want to hear about that, not really.”

  “No, I don’t. I was just being polite.”

  “What about your translations?”

  “It’s going to get him into trouble. That’s what’s going to happen,” Heather said.

  “Why, the king would never permit that.”

  “You don’t know the king if you think that, Stuart,” Tyndale said. “If he decides that there will be no Bibles in English, he’ll burn people at the stake in order to stop it.”

  “No, he would never do that.”

  Tyndale shook his head sadly. “I can tell you’ve changed, my boy, but I’m praying that one day God will use you in a mighty way.”

  His words made Stuart uncomfortable, for he loved Tyndale. As he left the next day to go back to the court, he thought about what the man had said. “I don’t know how God could use a fellow like me,” he muttered. Because never had he felt more distant from God than he did now.

  15

  Vining sat beside Stuart on a bench outside the court kitchens. They had scrounged up a baked chicken and were now picking the carcass clean. Vining smacked his lips. “Delicious,” he said. But his eyes were no longer on the chicken bones, but rather on a courtier passing by. He had loved women, many women, although he was married and had two children.

  “I have never met your wife and children,” Stuart said, setting down his chicken bone. “Where do you keep them?”

  “Oh, I never let them come to court.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my wife is too plain. The king doesn’t like plain people. He likes good-looking chaps like us and even bonnier women.”

  “You shouldn’t speak of your wife that way.”

  “What way?” Vining’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What did I say?”

  “You said she was plain.”

  “Well, she is plain. She’s always been plain. But she had a lot of money. From her first marriage. Her husband had the good grace to die and leave all his wealth to Millie. So she was glad enough to get a handsome fellow like me with a title. It works well for both of us. I share her money, and she has something good to look at now.”

  “You are a scoundrel, Charles!”

  “Well, of course I am. Always have been. But the king understands that.”

  “So where do you keep your family?”

  “Oh, we have a country house not far from London. I go there on occasion to give her a little cheer and comfort. She gives me a pocketful of money. Otherwise how would I possibly afford to stay here?”

  “I thought the king supplied you with money.”

  “Well, he does. He’s very generous, but it’s not nearly enough. Not when one dresses as I do. You’d be wise to spend some of your winnings on a new wardrobe, Stuart. Some day soon we’ll be meeting the king’s new bride.”

  “New bride? Please tell me he is not serious—that he will not really divorce Catherine.”

  Vining gave him a wry look. “Ah, prepare for more disillusionment, my young friend. The king wants a son more than anything else. And haven’t you discovered yet that whatever Henry wants, Henry is going to get? He can do that, you know.”

  “But he couldn’t make a harlot the queen!”

  “Oh yes he could. Some of the mistresses have been rather nice, actually. Anne Stafford was a pretty girl, soft and pleasant. I think I might have made headway with her myself, but of course that wouldn’t have been a politic choice, would it now?”

  “How many have there been?”

  “Oh, I’ve lost count. There was one called Jane Popyngcort. A horrible name, isn’t it? Well, anyway, she was his mistress. She was maid of honor to Queen Catherine.” He suddenly laughed again. “Honor. A maid of honor. Isn’t that a laugh? Henry got tired of her and sent her off with a reward of a hundred pounds.”

  “And the others?”

  “Oh, the others, the others. Elizabeth Blount, or Bessie, as she was called, was a court beauty. She sang and danced beautifully and was rather loose in her morals. Back in the year eighteen she became the king’s mistress. A rather ironic thing it was, Stuart. Henry was guarding Catherine’s health, hoping that the child she was carrying would be a boy, while Bessie birthed a child that was a boy—and lived.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “His name is Henry Fitzroy, and he’s been assigned a princely household like that of the king’s legitimate daughter.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Oh, yes. He may be king some day. Who knows? Henry could do that. Then after Bessie there was Mary Boleyn—well, actually, Mary Boleyn Carey. Henry kept her for quite a while. And so it goes. It’s all become rather boring, actually.”

  It was not boring in the least to Stuart. His own fall into immorality had brought shame to him, but he was still capable of being shocked. Now knowing this history in full, he felt that the world was a lesser place. He had admired King Henry and seen in him a strong man full of courage and knightly virtues. To find that he was no more than a mere serial adulterer sickened him. He’d known enough of the story, of course. It was impossible to dodge the gossips, impossible not to see it with his own eyes over the years. But the idea that it was all common knowledge was truly outrageous.

  He thought of Queen Catherine and her daughter, Mary. Catherine had few friends who were not seeking some favor from the king or from her, but Stuart sought nothing but to be a companion to both mother and child. Stuart wiped his mouth on a cloth and rose.

  “Where are you off to?” Vining asked.

  “To see the queen, I believe.”

  “You won’t mention—”

  “Of course not. Give me a little credit, Vining. I’ve learned a bit about how the court moves over the years. I know what is a safe topic for our lady—and what is not.”

  “Mind that you don’t let anything slip,” Vining said doubtfully. “She can be fearsome in her wrath. And Henry’s current, mad ideas about religion frustrate her and make her fearful. One doesn’t want to be caught between them.”

  He would play any game that Mary wanted for hours at a time, and today was no different. So hard did they play, running about the corridors and gardens in a game of hide and seek, that he finally persuaded her to sit beside him to read a book, only to have her fall asleep, her face against his shoulder. Stuart looked up to see Catherine leaning against the doorframe, watching them.

  “She’s such a beautiful girl, Your Majesty.”

  “More than some,” Catherine said with a smile. “She dotes on you. She talks about you all the time. You’re her favorite playmate.”

  “She must give you a great deal of pleasure.”

  A slight cloud crossed Catherine’s face. “She does. If only she had been a boy. That disappointed the king.”

  “Does he love her?” Stuart asked cautiously.

  “He doesn’t think about her.” There was sadness in Catherine’s tone, and she said quietly, “It was my task to bring a son to Henry, and I haven’t done it.”

  “You may yet.”

  “If God wills.” She turned suddenly and said, “Are you a Catholic? You never talk about your faith.”

  “I’m a very poor example when it comes to faith. I was baptized, of course, when I was a baby. But my religion has become … unimportant. Other things occupy my mind.”

/>   “You should do something about that.”

  “I’m sure I will in time. For a while I spent a great deal of every day reading a Bible.”

  “It’s difficult to be a good Catholic.”

  “Why do you say so?”

  “Because in England it’s different from Spain, my country. In Spain there was no question. Everybody was religious. They had to be.”

  “Was that good, in your opinion? A forced religion?”

  “It’s the right thing, the right way,” Catherine said firmly.

  He looked into her dark eyes, saw her furrowed brow. “But something is troubling you, Majesty, about the church?”

  Catherine’s eyes almost glittered with her passion. “God made the church, the Catholic Church, beginning with Saint Peter. There are not two churches. Only one. Men want to change that.” She hesitated, then said, “My husband may be one of them.”

  “But the pope has bestowed on him the title Defender of the Faith.”

  “He wrote a paper defending the church. That was why he was given that title, but he feels little allegiance to her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “As am I. It grieves my heart.”

  “How do you think people want to change the church?”

  “They’re never satisfied,” she said with disgust, pacing now. “It’s mostly this man Martin Luther stirring up trouble among the people. Some even wish to take the Bible out of Latin and translate it into English.”

  Stuart asked as mildly as he could, “Please, I don’t understand your fear. What harm might be found in an English Bible?”

  “It could be very bad.”

  “How so?”

  She stilled and faced him, incredulous. “Because only priests are trained to understand the Scripture. It’s kept in Latin so that the common people will not take the Scripture and twist it. They do that, you know. They’ve already tried through the ages.”

  And so can the pope, Stuart almost said, but luckily caught himself. “I know a man whose whole purpose in life is to do exactly that, translate the Bible into English.”

  “Who is he?” Catherine demanded, leaning forward, and then at once she closed her eyes and leaned back. “No, don’t tell me. I would have his life in my hands, and I don’t want that.”