“You don’t mean that he could be harmed for translating the Bible!”
“Under certain conditions he could be burned at the stake.”
At once Stuart saw the work of William Tyndale in an entirely different light. He knew that there was a movement to stop the translation. The king, so far, had taken no active part, so he asked tentatively, “Is the king opposed to an English translation?”
“Not at present, but I think he will be.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Perhaps you’d like to meet with my chaplain. I’m sure he could help you answer some of your questions—the questions that obviously keep you from investing in your faith.”
“That would be most kind, but your husband keeps me very busy.”
“I can see to that. Perhaps the three of us could pursue this matter together.”
Stuart paused. Vining’s parting words—“One doesn’t want to be caught between them”—echoed in his mind. But what was he to do? Queen Catherine awaited his answer. And he had never refused her. “I would be most honored, Your Majesty.”
Three days later, when Stuart was walking along one of the broad pathways in the garden next to the castle, deep in thoughts of Queen Catherine, he heard his name called and turned to see Charles Vining with an attractive young lady.
“Come, Winslow,” Vining called out. “Come and walk with us a while.”
At once Stuart joined them. “Mistress Anne,” he said with a nod.
“Master Winslow.”
“Welcome back to court.”
“I confess I missed it,” she said, with a smile that was impossible not to return. “The country is terribly boring. This is where I belong.” She looped one hand through Stuart’s arm and the other through Charles’s, and they resumed their walk around the gardens. Stuart’s face burned, and he scanned the windows, hoping the queen did not spy them together.
Anne Boleyn was not what one would call a beautiful woman, but she was an intensely attractive one. She had a heavy cascade of glossy black hair that freely fell down her back. Her best features were her large dark eyes. They were lively and curious and gave an impression of intimacy even upon this first, casual meeting. “So, do tell, Master Winslow,” she said, with a graceful inclination of her head, “How fare your birds?”
“Do you speak of the king’s hunting birds,” Charles put in, “or Nell Fenton?”
Anne had a deep, pleasant laugh. “Nell mentions you often, sir.”
“I’m surprised,” Vining said. “Winslow here claims she hasn’t thought about him in months.”
“Oh, a lady’s attention can always be recaptured. Just as a man’s can.” She cocked an eyebrow at Stuart.
“I wish it could,” Stuart said regretfully. “But I fear I’ve tried everything with Nell over the years. It appears hopeless.”
“Leave us now, Sir Charles. I’m going to instruct Master Winslow on how to secure the affections of the young lady he so desires.”
“If anyone could teach such a thing, it would be you, my dear.” Charles grinned and moved away, laughing softly.
“Shall we continue our walk, Master Winslow?”
“My pleasure, Mistress Boleyn.”
She spoke freely of her life in France, but hardly mentioned her family. She was the most vivacious woman Stuart had ever seen, and in spite of his devotion to the queen, he was completely taken by her.
“Well, now, tell me about your prospects.”
“Well, to be truthful, I don’t have many, madam. I have no title and no property and little money. I am merely keeper of the mews.”
“Come, now. I happen to know the king is very proud of his birds. But about Nell?”
“I fear it’s hopeless.”
“Oh, you must never say that! There never was a woman born who couldn’t be taken by spirit and determination. Now, let me tell you how to catch her interest. …”
“She’ll be the next queen,” Charles said quietly in Stuart’s ear as they watched Anne with the king. “Mark what I tell you.”
“I don’t believe it. The king has a wife.”
“Nearly nine years at court, and still you remain naive! Just watch how the king hangs over Anne, and watch her when she speaks to this fellow Wyatt. There! Are you watching? He’s head over heels in love with Anne.”
Stuart watched as Anne moved through the crowd, stopping to speak to a lady, then greeting a lord. All the while both Wyatt and the king had a difficult time looking anywhere but in her direction.
“Heavens, Vining, you just may be right.” He looked to the queen, who was managing to watch the court festivities as if nothing at all was wrong. “He’s a poet, you say? The man who seeks Anne’s attentions?”
“A dead poet, if he doesn’t end his pursuit and the king finds out about it.”
Three days later, Stuart had the opportunity to put Charles Vining’s assertion to the test. He had followed the crowd that was watching the king playing at bowls. Also in the crowd was the poet Wyatt, and Stuart heard an interchange between the two. During the game, Wyatt had displayed a trinket belonging to Anne, and King Henry produced a ring that she had given him. The atmosphere grew tense.
It had never occurred to Henry, Stuart saw, that Anne might give one of her favors to another man. Henry could not conceal his anger. He fixed his eyes on Wyatt and said gruffly, “You have been deceived, sir.”
Charles, standing next to Stuart, whispered, “Well, that’s the end of whatever romance there was between Wyatt and Anne Boleyn.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, the Boleyns and the Wyatts depend on royal good will, and you won’t find either Anne or Thomas doing anything to endanger that. No, I wager we’ll see Wyatt melt sadly and wisely into the background.”
“I’ll take that wager. A sovereign?”
“Make it two, you fool. I’m happy to take your money. You must have noticed the king’s infatuation with Anne Boleyn,” Charles insisted. “Why should you be surprised?”
“I just don’t believe she’s that kind of young woman.”
Charles stared at his friend in disbelief. He started to argue and then changed his mind. “Well, time will tell. And when it does, I’ll have two new coins in my pocket.”
“Isn’t there anything that can be done for this gossip, Charles? It is most damaging to Mistress Anne.”
“No, there isn’t. Henry doesn’t burden himself with the morals of ordinary men. He thinks he’s above such things. It’s merely a part of courtly life. You know that by now.”
“But Henry is married to Catherine. Such idle stories will hurt her.”
“But if Henry pays no attention to God or man, why should he pay attention to his wife? And if he decides that Anne Boleyn will be his mistress, then it’s as good as done.”
“There’s a man to see you at the gate, Master Winslow.”
“Who is it?”
“Don’t know, sir.”
Stuart went to the gate and found Orrick, one of the Stoneybrook servants. One look at his face told him that bad news was his errand. “What is it, Orrick?”
“It’s your grandmother, sir, Lady Leah. She’s very sick. Your father said to bring you at once.”
Fear filled him. His whole family depended upon Lady Leah. What will happen to Mother and Father and Quentin if she dies?
“I’ll come at once. Let me get a few things, and I’ll fetch a horse from the stable.”
Stuart tumbled off his horse and threw his reins to a Stoneybrook stableboy who said, “I’ll take care of the animal, sir.”
As soon as Stuart came into the hall, he saw his father sitting at the oak table, his hands clasped and misery on his face.
“How is she, Father?”
“She’s dying, Son.”
“Surely not! There must be something that can be done. Is the doctor here?”
“Come and gone. There’s nothing he can do. It’s the sweating sickness.”
The
words brought a cold chill to Stuart. The sweating sickness was much like the plague, a lurking danger every spring and summer. Stuart had seen the disease even among the court. It struck without warning. Its victims broke out in a heavy sweat and emitted a horrible odor. They turned red all over and developed a high fever. In the last stage a rash appeared, and death soon followed.
And now his beloved grandmother had it.
“Are you certain?”
“The doctor is. Just pray God it doesn’t affect the rest of the family.”
“Where are Mother and Quentin?”
“At a neighbor’s. I don’t want them anywhere near. But I knew you’d want to see her, regardless of the danger.”
“You were right. Thank you.”
Stuart went to the bedroom his grandmother favored. He saw there was no hope. She looked like a shrunken mummy, and she was covered with red blotches. Going to her bed, he knelt down and whispered, “Grandmother, can you hear me?”
There was a long silence, and then Lady Leah’s eyes opened. Her voice was so faint that he had to lean forward. “I’m glad you came, Stuart. I have a final message for you.”
“What is it, Grandmother?”
“You must learn to love God.” The words were broken; speaking took all of her strength. “And you must leave the court.”
There was no answer for that except “God bless you, Grandmother. You’ve been such a blessing to us.”
“Get your father.”
Instantly he jumped up and ran to open the door. “Father, come at once!”
Claiborn came in and went to the other side of Leah’s bed. Neither of them seemed to fear death.
She reached up her hands, and each man took one. “You have been my treasure. Claiborn, you are a true man of God.” She said a few more words to him, and then her voice faded as she said, “Follow Jesus, Stuart. Always follow Jesus.” There was a long silence, and after a time she whispered something that Claiborn could not hear. “What did she say, Stuart?”
Stuart’s throat was tight, and his lips were dry. “She said, ‘I’m going to be with my Savior.’”
That was the last word spoken by Leah Winslow, and shortly afterward the two men rose to their feet. “She was a woman of God, and she loved you dearly,” Claiborn said. “Never forget what she said.”
Stuart’s throat was so tight that he could not answer. He just nodded. “Yes,” he finally managed to say. As he left the room, he knew that something had changed that could never be brought back again—at least not in this world.
“Well, the old woman is finally gone,” Edith said almost carelessly.
Lord Edmund was stricken, for he had cared, in his fashion, after his mother. He was shocked by his wife’s callousness. “She was a good woman,” he said.
“Of course, I know that. I didn’t mean to be cruel.”
“You never cared for her.”
“I did! I just didn’t show it the way others do,” Edith said.
“The lawyer was here this afternoon,” Edmund said. There was something furtive in his manner of speaking, and Edith gave him a sharp glance.
“Why are you looking so odd? She left you all the land, didn’t she?”
Edmund cleared his throat. “No, she didn’t. She left that tract of land to Claiborn—and the house too.”
“She couldn’t have!” Edith’s face flushed, and anger poured out of her. “It’s yours by right!” Ives moved behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“No, that acreage was hers all along, I’m afraid. That’s what the lawyer says. She could leave it to anyone she wanted to. We’ll have to persuade Claiborn to put the land in his will in order to unite Stoneybrook at some point, make her stronger.”
“He’ll never do that,” Edith snapped.
They argued and tried to find a plan, but Edmund finally said heavily, “There’s nothing we can do. The land is theirs.” He was upset, but he had halfway expected it. “She loved Claiborn the best. She always did.”
Claiborn looked out the window but saw nothing, for his thoughts were of his mother. Grace came to stand beside him, and said gently, “She saved us, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. I don’t know what would have happened to us if she hadn’t brought us here.”
“What will happen to the land now?”
“This land? Why, it’s ours, Grace. Mother’s tract of land, this house. She showed me her will.”
“You mean we don’t have to live under Edmund’s rule?”
“No, not in the least. We’re freer then ever. We can elect to separate the land from Stoneybrook, till this soil as our own.”
“Thank God! I could never tell you how hard it was for me seeing Edmund mistrust you as he did.”
“Well, I still have hopes of Edmund’s changing. I’m hoping that this final act of mother’s will encourage him to take another look at me, at us.”
“Edith won’t be pleased.”
“No, but we can live with that.” He took her in his arms. “We’ve followed where God has led us, and see what it’s brought us.”
“Our own home. Ours, Claiborn. Only ours.” She shook her head. “I never really thought I’d see the day again, short of returning to Ireland. It almost makes me hopeful enough to join you in your hope that you and your brother can someday be reconciled.”
He pulled her closer. “God will see to it in time. I’m confident in him.”
The funeral was performed at once. It was a simple family affair. No one wanted to be exposed to the sweating sickness. Stuart went through it almost as if he were asleep, but actually he was stunned. He was glad when the ceremony was over and stole away to walk with Heather. She had been one of the few who had attended the services for his grandmother, and she took his arm with sadness still on her face. “Stuart. I’m so sorry for your loss. How are your father and your mother faring?”
“We’re all stunned, Heather. Somehow we thought Grandmother would always be with us.”
“I’ve heard many speak of how wonderful she was. I wish I had known her. She sounds like a fine lady.”
“Thank you for coming. I didn’t expect it.”
“I had to come. You’re important to me.”
He gave her a small smile. Would anyone at court do the same for him? He couldn’t imagine it. They walked and talked for a while, as comfortable together as if they saw each other every week. She said, “I have a message for you from Mr. Tyndale.”
“For me? What did he say?”
Heather brought him to a stop and stared up into his eyes. “He said to tell you, Stuart, that God has a plan for you.”
“God has a plan for me, eh? I must say, I’m not convinced.”
“He said he knows God will use you. He’s going into hiding, you know.”
“Hiding!”
“Yes, his work has made him the target of many a hunter.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Yes, but nothing Master Tyndale seems to truly fear. Stuart, he thinks that dangerous times are coming for all of God’s people and that you’re going to have to make a choice one day.”
“I can’t believe that the king would ever be cruel.”
Heather did not answer; she knew that Stuart still had confidence in the king. She was watching him carefully. He took her hand. “You’ve been so kind to me always, Heather. I appreciate that more than you know.”
“I could never be anything but kind to you, Stuart.”
A little unnerved by the intensity of her tone, Stuart gave a half-laugh and hugged her.
He had a sudden knowledge that there was something in him that desired her, and he was shocked and appalled at his desire. He stepped back quickly and saw her smile.
“What’s the matter, Stuart? You’ve hugged a woman before, haven’t you?”
“I—I’m sorry. I’m not myself.” He shook his head. What did her peculiar smile mean?
“You must return soon,” she said.
“I shall. Th
ank you again for coming.”
He could not get away quickly enough. He rode away at a full gallop.
16
Catherine was not surprised when Henry arrived. There was no secret of his intentions of late. But she would not make it easy for him.
He marched into her bedroom and after making a few false starts said, “My dear, I think you can guess what I’m going to say.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“I have been studying the Scripture, and it becomes more evident to me and to the priesthood of the church that we have not had a marriage. Therefore we are going to end something that never really existed.”
“I do not understand you.”
“You must be aware that it is stated in the book of Leviticus chapter 20, verse 21, ‘If a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an impurity. He hath covered his brother’s nakedness: they shall be childless.’ Obviously, when I married my brother Arthur’s widow, I committed a terrible sin. You, perhaps, were not aware of it, and neither was I. But there it is.”
“I do not believe this is the truth,” Catherine said. When Henry just stared at her, she began to weep.
“We have never been married, Catherine. We are not married now, and we never shall be.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Catherine to give in to her grief fully.
It was Anne Boleyn whom he wanted, Anne who he believed would bear him the coveted male heir.
Catherine watched when Henry left the castle and strode away, walking as if free of a burden. Herself. Mary. She pounded the stone wall as she watched him stride, almost floating. On the far side were three ladies-in-waiting. One was Anne Boleyn.
The woman turned to greet the king. He drew her away and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. He leaned his head down to hers, talking. Anne stopped, then looked over his shoulder at the queen’s apartments. Catherine lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, boldly meeting the temptress’s gaze.
But Anne just gave a small smile, then turned and led King Henry away.
The king stared at Wolsey and said bluntly, “Wolsey, I have never been married to Catherine. I’ve explained this to you. God has chastised me and punished me by not giving me a son. And you’re going to help me rectify that.”
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