Truth Endures

by Sandra Vasoli

  Our visit to The Vyne drew to a close but instead of following the intended schedule, with our final destination being the city of Bristol, we diverted our path because we had been informed that cases of plague had broken out within that city’s confines. Instead, we rode a short distance to the home of Sir William Paulet, Henry’s Comptroller.

  Basing House was large, quite formally laid out, and fastidiously appointed. It was so luxurious that I felt as if I were back at court. No longer did I have the blithe sense of freedom I had come to delight in riding most of the day and roaming from place to place like a nomad. I savoured those final days at Sir William’s estate but knew a return to the full conventions of court lay just ahead.

  We returned to Windsor as October waned and the trees’ leaves turned brown and crisp. The air had settled into a steady chill, but we had certainly been favoured with remarkably fine weather for the almost four months of our passage. Now, at the close of the progress, I was tranquil and in good spirits. The invigorating exercise, exhilarating sights, and the accomplishment of our intentions for the mission all had acted as a soothing balm for me and, of even greater importance, I could see that they had done the same for Henry. He looked fitter than he had in many a month: his strength had increased, his face showed a high and healthful colour, and once more he laughed easily and often.

  We prepared to hold a merry Christmastide at Greenwich, where I planned to give my King an early gift.

  My joy knew no bounds, for once again, I was pregnant.

  Greenwich

  Late Autumn

  Christmastide

  and New Year 1535

  I do not know who was more elated at the news: Henry or me.

  I had recognized the early symptoms of this, my third pregnancy right away, and had a strong suspicion of the happy truth by late November. By mid-December, as we readied the palace and the court for an especially merry Christmas and New Year, my notion was confirmed.

  Strangely, those early days did not cause me bouts of nausea such as I had endured during my previous two pregnancies. Instead, the most difficult challenge was trying to quell the fears which were so natural: that I would carry this baby almost to term, then lose it yet again. But my midwives were wonderful in their reassurances, telling me it often happened that a too-early delivery would result in the death of an infant, yet the next pregnancy produced a robust, healthy baby delivered at full term.

  So I did my best to keep my attention on my activities, banish pessimistic thoughts, and busy myself with a myriad of duties both domestic and official.

  Since we had returned from progress, there had been much talk about how and when – even if - the many monasteries scattered about the kingdom should be dissolved. Cromwell was working diligently on a report which would collate findings as they poured in from his assistants across the realm who had been assigned to visit the large monastic houses: each charged with conducting full audits, and providing their details to the secretary.

  From the beginning, the early dispatches were distressing, recounting a litany of corruption, embezzlement, limited attention to their holy purposes, and even depravity. The decision whether or not to allow them to remain in place looked as if it would be an easy one to take. Master Cromwell and I had numerous talks about the subject during which I made quite clear to him my preference - that if all the houses were to be dissolved, the riches therein, their lands, and any other potential income would be gathered and used to endow educational pursuits – perhaps a new college? – or supporting education in the smaller villages and towns, in addition to providing significant alms for the poor. I was firm about this and wanted to devise a way to distribute these monies in an organized and highly effective manner.

  In one of my regular meetings with Secretary Cromwell, I expressed these intentions about the funds which would be released.

  He listened carefully, head slightly cocked to one side, as he had a habit of doing. I told him that it was my wish - no, my expectation! - that he would support me in my aim to underwrite charitable pursuits with the money.

  Cromwell pursed his lips at that, but the rest of his features remained impassive. He was a true master at disguising his reactions.

  “Madame,” he began deferentially, “your motives are noble and denote what a refined and benevolent Queen you are. I am truly privileged to serve you - and of course your husband, His Grace the King ...”

  “Thank you, Thomas,” I interrupted sweetly, “But proceed if you will. I know quite well that there is more to follow your pretty compliments. Just tell me what you think!”

  He cleared his throat. “I believe, Your Highness, that there is a way for us to contribute to some educational endeavours, yet still pay much-needed attention to the significant deficits that exist in the treasury. It is an inescapable truth that there is a desperate need to shore up those assets. I expect you know this?”

  “I am well aware my husband the King is of such a generous nature that he will spend largely on items to give pleasure to people he cares about. I also know he has embarked on much building and improving of his properties. But that has been needed for many years, Thomas, otherwise those buildings will fail entirely. What, then, are you suggesting?”

  “Madame, this is a unique opportunity – one which we may never again have in our lifetime. Here is a trove of funds ready not only to make your husband the richest prince in Christendom – which he well deserves, by the way – but also to enhance our army. We may even be able to afford to build several new ships – warships and cargo carriers, which we need perilously.”

  “I understand those requirements, Thomas. But I do not agree with using these monies for those purposes. These are riches acquired from what were once holy sources. It is money which has been donated by our subjects – the churchgoers - for the intent of paying tithes. We cannot use it to pad the pockets of the Crown! Even if we were to build ships for war those people who gave their life’s earnings for a place in heaven would not want that. No – we absolutely must use it to help the poor and indigent, and to educate the subjects of this realm! You know this to be the right thing, Thomas!”

  I felt my annoyance beginning to slide toward outrage. I would NOT allow that man to overrule me!

  Maintaining an absolute composure which exasperated me even further, he replied calmly, “Your Royal Highness, with nothing but the greatest respect, I must make you aware that the King has discussed my plan with me, reviewed it with his councillors, and seems to be in full agreement that any funds which come from the monasteries should, and will, supply the coffers of the Crown. Once invested, it will be determined exactly how the money will be used, but I would signal now that he is much in favour of reinforcing the country’s defences. At present, were we to be attacked, we have little confidence that we could overcome an enemy, and that is not an acceptable position for our Kingdom to be in. I am certain you can understand that.”

  In his voice, I detected a slight tone of condescension. As if I, a woman, might have a hard time comprehending the need for a strong defence. And I could not bear it.

  “I am very well aware of the discussions the King has had on this subject. He is my husband, and always keeps me well apprised. However, that does not mean my wishes will not be honoured. And I ask you, Thomas, to be wise and to know that your great approval with the King is in good part due to my endorsement of your many merits. His Majesty listens to me above all others; I would remind you - therefore I suggest that you do whatever you can to sustain that positive endorsement!”

  Without awaiting his response I stood, lifted the hem of my gown and abruptly marched from the chamber: a queen prescribing her royal entitlement.

  Why was it, then, that I felt such unease from sensing that his eyes bore into my back every single step of the way?

  As Christmas approached, Henry could not have been more kind or considerate of me. He ensured I had anyth
ing I desired to eat and was always solicitous of my becoming overtired. But I was once again in the vulnerable position of not being able to provide my husband with lovemaking, which concerned me. And rightly so, it appeared.

  One afternoon I sat sewing with my ladies. We’d been busy making shirts and smocks for the poor villagers. I intended we would have a good number ready to be delivered by Christmas, so we had been at our activity steadily since dinnertime. Having sat way too long, I had risen, stretched, and walked stiffly to the window embrasure to gaze out over the gardens when I felt someone touch my arm. It was Jane, my sister-in-law. She steered me to a small adjacent closet and, once out of sight, lowered her voice.

  “Madame, may I speak with you?”

  “What is it, Jane?” The insistent tone and her knitted brow gave me concern.

  “Truly, I hesitate to talk of this, but I feel you must be made aware. And – you are my sister, so that makes it even more important.”

  “Then speak. Tell me what you have to convey.” I liked Jane, but I was impatient. She really could be so cloying.

  “It concerns Madge - Madge Shelton, Your Highness. She … she has been seen slipping into private chambers with the King. Just Madge and His Grace. Alone. And on more than one occasion. Of course, I know not what happens behind the closed doors, but I thought you might want to be apprised.”

  She eyed me hesitantly then, as if I might strike her, but instead, I felt as if I had just been punched in the belly. Even the breath left me, but I did not want Jane to see such reaction so, with a mighty effort, I maintained my composure and replied courteously, “I am sure they are simply partaking in some courtly flirtation, Jane. I am not concerned. But thank you. I know you only mean well.”

  “Indeed, Madame. Your well-being is of the utmost importance to me.”

  She curtseyed when I motioned to dismiss her, but then I quickly added, “Oh - and Jane? I would greatly appreciate it if you keep this information strictly to yourself. Please do not fan gossip by spreading the account. I depend on you for this. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, Madame. Implicitly.”

  And she left me standing there in silence.

  I did not say anything to Henry. I knew it would have been folly. But I did, very generously, offer Mistress Shelton the chance to depart immediately and spend Christmastide, as well as a goodly time thereafter, at her family home in Norfolk. She hesitated when the offer was made, but when she saw my face, she quickly curtseyed her appreciation and blurted that she was grateful for the opportunity to be with her parents for Christmas.

  Before she took her leave, however, I followed with, “Madge, are you not betrothed to Sir Henry Norreys? Or am I wrong in thinking that?”

  “No, Madame, you are not. I am indeed promised to Henry.”

  “Then may I make a suggestion? I recommend you use this time to make plans for your wedding, and you carry them out with all haste. You should not delay and let a man like Norreys remain unattached, Madge. You never know when he might set his sights on another young woman - and unfortunate things can happen, so I would like to see you married before you meet such a fate. As soon as possible!”

  A flush suffused Madge’s pale neck as our eyes met. It was enough. She understood that I knew of her trysts with my husband.

  Fearfully she quickly dropped her gaze, sank into a deep curtsey and, upon rising, whispered, “Please do excuse me, Your Highness. I will take great heed of your advice.” Whereupon she backed from the room.

  Our Christmas, New Year and Twelfth Night festivities were filled with cheer. Or at least, that was the appearance they gave for there were times, too many times, when I was flooded with misgiving. But then I remembered that I carried the King’s child, and my spirits were restored.

  This time, I was certain, it would be a boy.

  Hampton Court Palace

  January 1536

  The New Year gift-giving and feasting over, we would remain at Hampton Court through Twelfth Night. But events moved on, even though we, ourselves, did not.

  Immediately after Christmas came a report from Kimbolton that Katherine was ailing terribly and might not last through the next day - yet again! Shortly after that, however, we heard that she had revived, and I recognized that, as had happened so many times in the past, it had merely been a further device to gain Henry’s attention and sympathy. If so, it did not work. To my complete satisfaction, Henry remained indifferent to the news. I also thought about how Mary must have felt, not being permitted to be by her mother’s bedside but though I felt a twinge of pity – especially since I had little Elizabeth at court with me – I had no choice but to put it out of mind. Over and over the girl had refused to make things so much easier for herself and her mother simply by acknowledging me. She had had been offered every chance, and never acted on it. Therefore, there was nothing else to be done.

  The King, George, Norreys, Anne Zouche and I were having supper on the early evening of 8 January when a crier announced the delivery of a message by the hand of Ralph Sadler, Cromwell’s secretary. He entered the chamber, bowed and offered the King a folded letter and then the unexpected happened. Henry broke its seal, read it - and slumped back in his chair with a peculiar expression.

  He remained motionless for some time while we all sat wondering, not without some trepidation, as to its import. Only eventually did the King announce that Katherine was dead. She had, it seemed, succumbed during the early morning hours in the presence of Sir Edward Bedingfield, who had been her steward, and Sir Edward Chamberlain, her lord chamberlain.

  Paradoxically, I felt numb at the news. It was not unexpected for all her devious pretences, and I would be wrong not to admit there were times when I had wished the woman dead and out of our lives forever. But now that she was well and truly gone, I was reflective. Rivalry apart, as a woman she and I had shared the same man, had suffered a common grief, had daughters whom we loved. There was something universal about those experiences and, because of that, in my heart I silently wished her well on her spiritual journey.

  On the positive side: having regard to the reality of my place as Queen and my daughter’s as heir to the throne, I was relieved that she no longer posed any threat.

  Henry remained inscrutable. I could not ascertain how he felt about Katherine’s demise. I think he had so long been frustrated by her that he’d become devoid of any personal feeling although I knew he would have liked, in the early days of their separation, to treat her kindly if she had only obeyed his wishes. Instead, his relief at never having to worry about her again was evident.

  The next morning, he summoned me to accompany him to a dinner in the Great Hall, requesting that I ready Elizabeth in beautiful attire as he wished to show her off to his court. I knew that it was his way of closing the book on the story of Katherine, which had too long been untidily open. So I dressed in a beautiful spring green gown, had Elizabeth gowned in a sweet golden robe, and went to meet my husband in the Hall. I was a bit surprised when I saw him: no sombre mourning clothes for Henry, attired as he was in a sunny yellow jerkin over a fine white silk doublet while wearing a gold bonnet from which a white feather waved.

  He was in great form and had ordered up an excellent feast for himself and his guests. He came to me immediately, encircled Elizabeth and me with his arm and gave me a resounding kiss, upon which he took Elizabeth and, holding her in his strong grasp, carried her proudly about the room, bouncing her and lifting her aloft so all could see his beautiful, red-haired daughter. Elizabeth, of course, adored the attention of her father, and laughed and giggled delightedly, which pleased Henry to no end. I will admit I enjoyed the time immensely myself. It was not often that we were able to present ourselves as a true family so I, too, smiled and laughed, and had a grand time.

  In retrospect perhaps it was not the most prudent display. I know there were some, observing our behavior, who felt affronted
by our seeming lack of respect for Katherine’s death. But it was my husband’s choice, and I followed his lead.

  It wasn’t difficult. And rather more fun than mourning.

  Henry’s good humour persisted, matched with the equally good weather. So good, in fact, that he planned a tournament at the tiltyard as January began its third week. He made a certain statement by the planning of the joust since it was to be held on the very day of Katherine’s interment at Peterborough Cathedral.

  I knew of his plans, albeit my private view was that Henry was well beyond the age where jousting was wise. But after hunting strenuously for the duration of autumn, he had experienced a resurgence in his physical stamina. He’d been playing tennis, had spent time on the archery field, and in general felt well and strong: so much so that he determined he was able to joust again, with the same level of skill he had displayed throughout his youth and, of course, I said nothing to him about my disapproval.

  Henry was right jolly in his preparations. His armourer had been diligently working to create an outstanding suit which he looked forward to showing off. He had recently acquired a new stallion – an enormous horse of Belgian breeding, which Henry and Carew tested in the riding rings near the stables. By then, as the day of the joust approached, Henry had become almost giddy with excitement.