Love, Remember Me

by Bertrice Small

  “Poor Cat,” Nyssa said. “You should not have stressed all of the delights of being queen, my lord. You should have also told her of the difficulties involved, and the responsibilities, but you did not. She was ill-prepared to be a queen, but then I wonder if any girl is well-prepared.”

  “She should have been prepared,” he told her. “Catherine was born a Howard after all.”

  Nyssa laughed. “Is there something magical in being born a Howard, my lord? You make it sound as if being born a Howard endows a person with not just beauty and grace, but wisdom and the ability to meet any challenge. Your name is an ancient and honored one, but God did not give the Howards any more ability to struggle through life with than He gave the rest of us. It is past time you realized that.”

  “Impudent chit!” he growled, and stamped from the chamber.

  With a small smile of triumph, Nyssa returned to her embroidery. Besting Duke Thomas was very satisfying.

  A servant entered the dayroom to announce that the king’s sister, the lady Anne, was here to see her. Anne of Cleves hurried in behind the man. Putting her needlework aside, Nyssa arose to greet her former mistress.

  “Welcome, dear madame. Come and sit by the fire with me.”

  “Ach! Such troubles for poor Hendrick and little Catrine,” Anne said. “Vhat a surprise to learn of her life before court! The old Dowager Duchess of Norfolk vas certainly not a goot influence. Imagine allowing men to run about her house at night vith all those little girls in her charge. Is she dotty, then?” Anne settled herself, spreading her fashionable yellow velvet skirts about her. She accepted a silver goblet of wine from the attending servant, who then withdrew from the room.

  “We are fortunate to have had good mothers and fathers to watch over us; to guide us; to see we learned morality,” Nyssa replied. “Poor Cat was really quite badly brought up, I fear.”

  “Ya,” Anne said sympathetically. “God help her now, for who else vill? It is not a goot thing to be a qveen.”

  “I have already heard a rumor that the king is considering returning to you, madame, should his marriage to Queen Catherine be over and done with,” Nyssa told Anne, who blanched.

  “Gott und himmel, nein! I vill never marry vith that rutting old boar again! Once vas more than enough! I vould tink that Hendrick vas through vith marriage now. He does not seem to be able to find a voman who can suit him, and the only one he claimed did, died, Gott assoil her goot soul. He is an old man. Vhy vould he vant another vife?”

  “You know he does not see himself as an old man,” Nyssa said. “Besides, the council will insist he remarry, and attempt to father other children. Little Prince Edward is his only legitimate male heir. What if something should happen to him?”

  “Nyssa, when vill you see that a voman is just as capable of ruling a country as a man? Hendrick has two daughters, and both of them are very bright. Especially my darling little Bess. Bess vould make a vonderful qveen, but it is unlikely she vill ever haf the chance. Poor child. She is very upset about Catrine. They are cousins, you know, through Bess’s mutter. Catrine has alvays been kind to her, and Gott knows few others haf. They hold the sins of the mutter against her little daughter. It is not kind.

  “That is vhy I come to you today. Vhat is going on, Nyssa? Ve haf all heard the gossip about the qveen’s early life, but vhat else is there? Catrine’s behavior prior to her marriage to Hendrick cannot, my confessor tells me, be held against her as long as she has been a goot vife to Hendrick. Vhy do they continue to press her? Vhat do they suspect? Or is there some secret the court does not know? You vill know, for you are in this nest of Hovards, and their safety depends upon the qveen’s fate.” She took a great draught of her wine.

  “The Howards are just as mystified and frightened as the rest of us. Duke Thomas, to his chagrin, did not know of the queen’s early bad behavior. He is frantic the king will hold him responsible for all his unhappiness relating to the queen,” Nyssa said.

  Anne of Cleves snorted. “Duke Thomas is a vicked old man. He dangled that poor little girl beneath Hendrick’s lustful nose, and look vhat he did to you, my sveet Nyssa.”

  “Ahh, but there, despite Duke Thomas, Varian and I have had a happy ending, madame. He loved me from the beginning, and I have come to love him. We were so happy at Winterhaven with our babies, until the queen demanded our presence on the progress. God, I hate the court!” She looked at Anne. “Why did you not come this summer?”

  “I am too vell liked by the people. They still are angry at poor Hendrick for replacing me. I tink that may be the reason for these silly rumors you mention that Hendrick vants me back. The king asked that I stay home this summer so he might present his young vife to his people. I vas happy to comply vith his vishes. I enjoyed being by myself. Bess came to visit vith me, although poor Mary vas forced to go on the progress. Mary does not like Catrine.”

  “Princess Mary was hardly in evidence at all on the progress. She hunted with her father, but other than that, she only appeared on those special occasions when the king wished to present a united family front,” Nyssa said. “She and her women were rarely seen, and kept to themselves.”

  The two women sat chatting about a variety of things, of the coming holidays and how this distressing matter of Catherine Howard would affect them. Nyssa told Anne how they had wanted to leave the progress at Amphill, but that the king, in an effort to please his frivolous wife, had reneged on his promise to them.

  “You know how I love the holidays at RiversEdge,” Nyssa said. She did not tell Anne of the real reason behind their desire to leave.

  Finally the Princess of Cleves departed, and Nyssa returned to her embroidery. It was already dark outside with the coming winter, but with her young eyes she was able to see her work in the firelight. What was going to happen to poor Cat? Would they learn of her adultery, or would she somehow escape the revelation of her treasonous behavior?

  The archbishop had gone again to the queen, and cajoled her into making a written declaration of her scandalous premarital adventures. Catherine firmly believed that her liaison with Dereham was no true contract, but the archbishop thought otherwise. He believed that he now had enough evidence to prove a precontract had existed between the former lovers. It was possible under such circumstances to invalidate the marriage. Catherine had not been a virgin when she came to the king. There were no children involved to be harmed. A potentially explosive situation could easily be avoided under these conditions, yet Thomas Cranmer was still not satisfied. He sensed that there was something else.

  “You did what?” Jane Rochford’s narrow face was filled with rage. “You stupid little fool! You have given the archbishop the very weapon he needs to see that your marriage is dissolved!”

  “But the archbishop said the king would forgive me if I admitted to my wickedness,” the queen said. The fact that her lady-in-waiting had addressed her so disrespectfully went completely over her head.

  “Aye, why should he not forgive his whore?” Lady Rochford was pleased to see that Catherine grew white with shock. She continued, “For that is all you will be to the king if you admit to this willing liaison with Francis Dereham. The king’s whore. Not the Queen of England, but a royal mistress. Even your cousin Anne was never considered that, but then Anne Boleyn was an intelligent woman. You, poor child, have not the wit to know what you have done, do you?”

  “Ohh, Rochford, what can I do?” Catherine whined. “I do not want to be known as a common whore! Tell me what to do!”

  “Call back the archbishop,” Lady Rochford said. “Tell him you were so frightened that you did not make clear to him that Dereham came into you with force. Say he raped you, damnit!”

  “Will the archbishop believe me?” the queen quavered.

  “Why should he disbelieve you?” Lady Rochford said impatiently.

  But Thomas Cranmer did not believe the queen when he was recalled and fed this new piece of information. Now he was quite certain that the queen was lying.
What else was she lying about?

  “Be careful what you say to me, madame, lest your life be forfeit. His grace is prepared to grant you mercy, but only if you speak the truth of this matter to us.”

  “It is true!” Catherine insisted. “I swear it! Dereham forced me!”

  “Every time?” the archbishop said disbelievingly.

  She nodded vigorously. “Aye! I was never a willing party to his lustful intentions, I swear it! I wasn’t.”

  “Your only hope, dear madame, is in the king’s forgiveness. I warn you again to take a care as to what you tell me and swear to.”

  But Catherine Howard was now foolishly convinced that if she claimed rape, she would not be held responsible for her premarital conduct. Why should she not be believed? She remained adamant, and Thomas Cranmer could not sway her for the moment. In her confession she had said that Dereham asked her to marry him any number of times, but that she had refused him. When faced with the information that the chamberer, Mary Hall, had heard Catherine promise Dereham that she would love him always, unto death, that she indeed loved him with all her heart, the queen denied ever having said such a thing. It was Mary Hall’s word against hers, and the king loved her. He would believe her over everyone else, Catherine convinced herself. Had Rochford not said so? And Rochford was wise in the ways of the court.

  The Duke of Norfolk despaired to his grandson over Catherine’s stubborn and childlike belief that if she admitted to nothing, nothing could be proved of her. “Does she not see that by admitting to a precontract with Francis Dereham, she may save her life?” he said. “If she says she was pledged to him first, then her marriage to Henry Tudor is invalid, and no adultery can be proved of her.”

  “They have no proof of adultery?” the Earl of March replied.

  “Cranmer suspects,” the duke answered his grandson. “He thinks, of course, it is Dereham. That is why he is pressing her so. Catherine and our family represent the old form of worship. The archbishop is no fanatic, but he is a reformer. He would see someone more like-minded as Henry’s queen. Surely you know Prince Edward is being raised in the reformed faith. I have heard rumors that they would restore Anne of Cleves to the king’s side, and the people would be very pleased if he went in that direction, Varian. They always liked her, and could never understand why a king would put aside a royal princess in favor of a mere English maid. Aye, Cranmer and his cohorts seek Catherine’s death. Only if she is dead can they be certain she will not creep back into the king’s good graces. Even as a mistress, she would be dangerous to them, or so they believe.”

  “You need have no fear that the lady Anne would remarry the king. She will not have him, Grandfather, or so my wife says. Besides, the lady’s mother was of the old church, and the princess Mary has drawn the lady Anne back to that way of worship. It would do the reformers absolutely no good to restore her, for she would be of no use whatsoever to them,” Varian told his grandfather.

  “The Privy Council is having a secret meeting tomorrow,” the duke said. “I will know more then. In the meantime be careful.”

  Francis Dereham, Henry Manox, and several others in the dowager’s livery were arrested and confined to the Tower. The queen grew quite hysterical at the news. She was terrified at what they might say, and realized that she must say her piece first, before they were questioned. She begged that the archbishop attend her once more. Thomas Cranmer came to listen to her admission that, aye, she had indeed given Dereham gifts, and even received gifts from him. She had had a silk shirt made for him, but not satisfied, he had stolen a silver bracelet from her. He had in return had silk flowers made for her by a little woman in London, and given her some sarcenet which she had made into a quilted cap by the dowager’s embroiderer, who had decorated the cap with friar’s knots, a symbol of true love. When she had first worn the cap, Dereham, according to Mistress Hall, had said, “What, wife, here be the friar’s knots for Francis!” To the archbishop all of this was indicative of a precontract, although the queen continued to vehemently deny it.

  “ ’Twas naught but in fun,” she said. Then she went on to tell the archbishop of how Dereham’s behavior was beginning to embarrass her greatly. “I feared his behavior would come to the ears of my step-grandmother,” she said, “and then I should be sent back to Horsham in disgrace.”

  “Why did you not speak to the lady Agnes about this man’s disturbing behavior, and his too-free manner toward you?” Thomas Cranmer asked.

  “I suppose I should have,” the queen admitted slowly, “but we were really having such fun. I did not want to spoil it for the others. If my step-grandmother had known, she would have locked us all up, and we would have never had any fun.”

  “Did you not realize that your own behavior was wickedly opposed to all that a good Christian woman is taught, madame?” he queried her.

  “I did not know how far it would go,” Catherine said, pouting. “I was just an innocent maid up from the country.”

  “The fellow knew you carnally,” the archbishop said. “Tell me about it, madame.”

  The queen began to cry again. “I am so ashamed,” she sobbed.

  Better she had been ashamed then than now, the archbishop thought sourly. This silly girl is causing us all no end of trouble. However, he turned his most beatific gaze upon her. “Tell me, Catherine, my daughter. Unburden to me, and you will be free again.”

  “Most times he had on his doublet and hose, but sometimes he was naked, I mean without his hose,” the queen said. “He came to me when the old dowager had gone to bed. He brought me all manner of little treats. Sometimes wine, or strawberries, or sugar wafers. Once the most perfect apple I ever saw.”

  “What if the duchess had come in while you were together?” the archbishop wondered aloud. “What would you have done, my child?”

  “She did come in once.” Catherine giggled inanely. “I had to send Master Dereham into the gallery so he would not be caught.”

  Her own words had convicted her, thought the archbishop. She cried rape, yet she sent her lover to hide when she was near to being caught.

  “When the news came that I was to come to court,” the queen said, “I was so excited. My uncle paid for a whole new wardrobe for me. I had three changes of clothes! I never had new clothing before.”

  “What of Dereham?” Thomas Cranmer pressed her. “Was he upset that you were to go away?”

  “Aye, but I cared not. I told him that if he wanted to ask my uncle’s permission to wed me, he must go to Ireland to make his fortune. I had no intention of marrying him, but this was the easiest way to rid myself of the fellow. He saw my eagerness, and he berated me for it. I was forced to tell him that I did not care what he did anymore. I would go to court, and my uncle would find me a good match. Then Dereham said to me that he had heard that I was to wed my cousin, Tom Culpeper. He was very jealous.” She giggled again.

  “When he said that, what replied you, madame?”

  “I said if he knew such a thing, then he knew more than I knew,” Catherine told Thomas Cranmer. “I suppose Tom would have been a good match for me, but that the king fell in love with me.”

  The archbishop knew that the queen and her cousin had known each other since childhood. They had always been fond of one another. Culpeper was highly placed in the king’s affections. Was it possible? Could it be? Was the handsome Master Culpeper involved with the queen? The opportunity was there for him to take. Had he? When the archbishop left the queen, he ordered Tom Culpeper’s arrest. He had proof of nothing yet, but he certainly wanted to speak with the young man.

  Culpeper was an ambitious fellow. He had come to court as a child. He was handsome and had a quick wit. The king was deeply fond of him. It was likely that in order to save his own skin he would tell the truth. But who knew what the truth was? the archbishop wondered. Had the queen committed adultery with Dereham? And would Culpeper know? Would his cousin have confided in him?

  “Tom Culpeper has been arrested and taken to
the Tower,” the Earl of March told his wife as he entered the Duke of Norfolk’s apartments. He had been playing tennis with Lord Melton when he had heard the news. It was already all over Hampton Court, for Culpeper was very popular among his peers.

  “On what charge?” Nyssa asked, pale-faced.

  “No charges have been filed against him yet. He has just been brought in for questioning,” Varian de Winter said.

  “If I found out, then someone else may have found out,” Nyssa told her husband. “God help Cat Howard.”

  He took her in his arms and held her close. “It may be nothing, sweeting. You know that Cranmer has been prying hard. So far he has found nothing that would convict Catherine of anything but bad judgment in men, and a naughty itch she must have scratched.”

  Nyssa giggled. “You make it sound so bawdy,” she said, “and it is very serious, Varian. You know it is!”

  He smiled into her dark hair. “Fate has already set into motion whatever will happen, Nyssa. I cannot change it, and so if I do not see the humor in the situation, I will find myself in a depression from which it will be difficult to emerge. My grandfather’s plans are about to be foiled for good and always. I am sorry for him, but we have our own lives to live, my darling. How long has it been since we have had a quiet moment together? I think it is past time, don’t you?”

  “I have been so fearful for Cat, and for us, that I have hardly thought about it,” she said honestly.

  “I know,” he said, his voice rich with laughter. “I am afraid, madame, that like my cousin, I too have a naughty itch that must be scratched.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t you?”

  Her soft body shook against his. “You are very bad, sirrah,” she told him, but her fingers were unfastening his doublet, reaching past it to unlace his shirt. Her palms flattened themselves against his bare chest. She rubbed her cheek against his warm skin, inhaling his masculine fragrance. Spreading his shirt wide, she licked at his nipples teasingly. Then, sliding to her knees before him, she started to unfasten his top breeches buttons as he removed the upper garments that she had already undone. “Your boots,” she said, realizing that they would impede her further progress.