In The Midst of Madness: Tudor Chronicles Book Two

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘Until then, my boy.’

  Chapter 9 - 1540

  eg enfolded Ralph in her arms, offering comfort. She couldn’t think what else to do, so she just held him while he regained control of his emotions. Meg too, was very upset that the King had executed Cromwell for treason and heresy according to the charges. But the real reason was the failure of the Cleves marriage, and Cromwell’s failure to end it the moment the King asked.

  Meg had always liked Cromwell, despite his reputation, and he had always been unfailingly kind to her. Even his part in Anne’s downfall had been orchestrated by the King and the Seymour faction. Cromwell had just done what he did best, find reasons. The fact that he couldn’t find a reason this time had cost him his head.

  ‘He was more to me than a father, Meg. He took me in when I was seven, into his family. He raised me, taught me, loved me, as his own son he loved me!’ Ralph’s voice broke again as he thought of all the thousands of kindnesses he had received from Thomas Cromwell over the years.

  ‘Did Gregory go to the…. Did Gregory go?’ Meg couldn’t bring her to say ‘execution’ or ‘block’ to Ralph.

  ‘Yes, Gregory and Richard and I were all there. He saw us, before….’ His voice trailed away again and he closed his eyes to shut out the pain of seeing the man who had given him so much have his life snuffed out by a vengeful King. Meg knew just how he felt, recalling her own pain four brief years earlier when she had accompanied Anne to the scaffold.

  ‘So who will do his work, Ralph? You? Richard? Not Gregory, that is sure.’

  Ralph laughed briefly at the thought of Gregory, a nice man but without any sense or ambition taking the reins of governance so cruelly snatched from his father.

  ‘Thomas Wriothesley will do the main part of it. Master Cromwell taught him as well as he taught Richard and me. But Tom has the necessary …..,’ Ralph swallowed, ‘single mindedness! Richard too, has the drive and determination, but not me. I can’t be as ….’

  ‘Ruthless,’ supplied Meg. ‘But I’m pleased it’s not you, Ralph. You have a gentleness about you that the others haven’t. That’s why I love you!’ Meg’s eyes widened at her own words, no less true for being said in the heat of emotion.

  ‘Oh Meg,’ Ralph’s tone seemed to hold a certain amount of relief at this confession. Meg felt they had been friends since she had come properly to court as lady’s maid. They had both been about court when Anne was Queen, but he had been much younger then, just a scribe for Cromwell and she had been a linen maid. But since Meg had been coming to the office with messages for Cromwell and Norfolk, they had grown very fond of each other. Very fond, she thought.

  Meg had dropped her eyes, and was blushing to the roots of her hair at her outspokenness. Ralph put his finger under her chin and raised her eyes to his.

  ‘My lovely Meg,’ he whispered, and moved his lips gently over hers, tentative and seeking at first, then when Meg didn’t resist, firmer and more demanding. Her lips parted under the pressure of his, and their tongues met, twining and dancing together.

  Suddenly Ralph broke the kiss and Meg looked at him, startled by his abrupt movement. Then the door of the office opened and Richard entered, his face as shocked and upset as Ralph’s had been, because of the death of their master.

  Meg bobbed a curtsey to Richard, nodded and smiled at Ralph, and quietly closed the office door behind her, making her way back to the apartments, smiling to herself and wondering what the future might hold for her – and for Ralph.

  ***

  ‘I’ve come to help Cat with her packing, Jane. And to speak to Kitty.’ Mary tried to keep her tone civil to her sister-in-law, but she had so little patience with Jane Rochford, it was difficult. Each time Mary saw her, she remembered the accusations Jane had levelled at George and Anne. Although Mary knew they had been the truth, she just couldn’t forgive Jane.

  ‘Speak to her about what, though?’ Jane’s searing tones assaulted Mary’s ears as Jane took Mary’s presence as an insult.

  ‘Her future with the King, Jane. If she is going to be his …… bride.’ Mary could barely imagine Henry married to little Kitty – didn’t want to imagine it, truth be told. When she herself had been Henry’s mistress, she had been in her early twenties and he had been in his prime, tall, golden, with an athlete’s physique and an appetite for life and love second to none. He had been exhilarating and intoxicating, and she had enjoyed being the mistress of such a magnificent King as Henry.

  Now, he was hugely fat, with an ulcerated leg that stank unless the dressing was changed at least twice a day. He drank to excess and his foul temper was becoming legendary. She couldn’t see how Kitty could bring herself to marry him, much less bed him. The simple logistics of Henry’s bulk and Kitty’s tiny frame coupling in the marital bed made Mary feel queasy.

  ‘Monseigneur has spoken to her about marriage to the King, Mary. And I have made sure she knows what to expect, so I don’t know why you need to see her!’ Jane was becoming more and more shrill with each word.

  ‘I will still see her, Jane. In private.’ Mary’s voice had taken on a hardness that brooked no refusal. Jane wrung her fingers together and went to bring Kitty.

  ‘Cousin Mary!’ Kitty’s delight in seeing her couldn’t be doubted. She threw her arms round Mary and hugged her as tightly as she could, reaching up to kiss her cheeks several times. Mary smiled down at her, concerned that she still had no reservations about displaying affection. Remembering the lies that were told about Anne, she wondered who else she also showed affection to.

  ‘Hello my lovely Kitty. I have come to see you before you marry the King. Are you sure you want to do this, child?’ Mary led Kitty to sit on the window seat, far away from the door at which she was sure Jane Rochford was listening.

  ‘Oh, yes, my Lady.’ Kitty was breathless, trying to tell Mary all the things that had happened to her since the Lady Anne had come to England from Cleves. ‘The King loved me the moment he saw me, he said, when Lady Anne first came to England in all that rain.’ She held Mary’s fingers tightly and looked up at her, smiling.

  ‘Did he now?’ asked Mary. ‘He saw you as soon as that, did he?’

  ‘Yes, my Lady. I was wearing my favourite blue gown, you know, with the silver, and Lady Anne came from the ship and we all had to help her get dry and dressed for the King, and I was in her room when the King came in, and my gown looked lovely all spread out when I made my best curtsey, and the King must have noticed how lovely it was, because he smiled at me when I stood up, and he smiled again when he went out of the room after he had kissed Lady Anne night-night.’ Kitty stopped for breath, and Mary’s heart sank. Monseigneur had indeed served a Howard girl on a silver platter to the King. A Howard girl who had no more sense than a mayfly.

  ‘Jane says she has explained to you about what men and women do in bed, Kitty. Do you understand what you and the King will do when you are married?’

  Kitty had been examining Mary’s rings as she held on to her fingers, and she looked up at her and smiled slyly, ‘I know what men and women do in bed, my Lady.’

  Mary was astonished at the tone of Kitty’s words, and the look in her eyes as she said them.

  ‘Do you? How do you know? Has the King already…..?’

  ‘I saw plenty of young men in bed when I lived with Grandmamma the Duchess.’ said Kitty, still scrutinising Mary’s rings. ‘They used to sneak into the girls’ bedchamber and play games under the blankets.’ Kitty smiled knowingly and Mary took a shuddering breath.

  ‘Did you play …. games, my lovely?’ Mary whispered, dreading the answer she knew was coming.

  ‘Only sometimes, my Lady. Not all the time. I was very young after all.’ Kitty raised her head and gave Mary a breath-
taking smile. ‘But I’m not frightened of what the King will do. He loves me!’

  ‘How could he not, Kitty. You are so enchanting.’ Kitty beamed at Mary, ‘I just worry about you, that’s all. If you’re ever unhappy, you must write to me and I’ll see what I can do. Or send a note to Monseigneur. He’ll want to look after you too.’

  ‘He loves me as well,’ said Kitty happily. Mary looked at her curiously. The child seemed fixated on being loved, and that concerned her. ‘But I shan’t be able to send a letter, or a note,’ Kitty smiled and shrugged, and squeezed Mary’s hands.

  ‘Why ever not, my lovely? I’m sure a messenger could be found to bring it to me. Or Meg, I’m sure, would take a note to Monseigneur.’

  Kitty’s laughter trilled round the room, and she stood from the window seat and did a little dance ‘No, silly. Because I can’t write! I can only do my name. Kitty. That’s easy – it’s all sticks!’ She lifted her arms in the air and twirled, admiring her dress as it spun with her.

  ‘All sticks? What’s all sticks, my lovely? I don’t understand. What have sticks got to do with it? Do you mean quill pens? They’re feathers, not sticks.’ Mary was lost with this strange conversation. Was Kitty serious that she couldn’t write? Had Grandmother Norfolk not had her educated? Did Monseigneur know? Mary tried to bring her whirling mind back to Kitty’s chatter.

  ‘K- I- T- T- Y, when you write it, you only need to do sticks. Look,’ and Kitty picked up a pen and paper from the writing desk in the corner and brought it to Mary. She dipped the pen and, tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth, did a vertical scratch on the paper, then two diagonal scratches to join it. ‘K’, she said happily, then did three vertical scratches, crossing two of them horizontally, ‘I, T, T’, and then another diagonal scratch one way, crossed with another the other way, ‘Y’, she said firmly, nodding her head. ‘KITTY.’

  ‘That’s why Sir Francis taught me to write Kitty, not Catherine, because I can’t make the sticks curl, and he said there are a lot of curls to learn if you write Catherine!’

  ‘And Sir Francis is ….?’ Mary became more appalled the deeper she got into this conversation. She hardly thought Norfolk knew all this about his niece.

  ‘Sir Francis Dereham,’ said Kitty, pride in her voice. ‘He was Grandmamma’s secretary at Horsham, and he wanted to be my husband, but he left.’ Pride turned to sadness and her mouth turned down. ‘He was kind to me and tried to teach me my letters. He taught me to write my name.’ Kitty was smiling as she remembered.

  ‘Did he teach you anything else, my lovely? To read perhaps? Music? Another language?’

  ‘Henry taught me to play the virginals.’ At Mary’s raised eyebrows Kitty supplied sulkily, ‘Henry Mannox was my Grandmamma’s musician.’ She sighed, ‘He taught all the girls to play, and he composed music and poetry for Grandmamma. I was a very little girl when he taught me. My hands weren’t big enough,’ she laughed, looking down at her tiny hands, as if realising they hadn’t grown very much since. ‘I might have been eight?’

  ‘You will have to play for the King, my lovely. He enjoys music. Did Sir Francis Dereham ask your Grandmamma if he could be your husband? Was he sent away?’

  ‘No! He just told me. He got a better position, in a richer house. That’s why he went away,’ Kitty sighed sadly, then beamed again, ‘but now my husband is the King of England, and he is really rich!’

  ‘Is, Kitty? What do you mean, IS?’

  Kitty came back to the window seat and bent over Mary, taking her hands back in her tiny ones. Mary felt strangely uncomfortable with Kitty’s tactile nature. ‘Because he IS,’ she whispered. ‘We went to see Archbishop Cranmer, and we were wed. It was the same day that Master Cromwell lost his head. Jane was there, she knows. But it’s a secret for now, Henry says. And in bed, afterwards,’ she shrugged, smiling, ‘I don’t think it went in, you know?’ Mary nodded, speechless in horror, ‘But he thought it did, and I didn’t tell him. Another secret.’ Kitty giggled.

  Mary was thunderstruck, but tried not to let Kitty see how horrified she was. She assured Kitty that she would keep all her secrets, then hugged her, telling her she hoped for her happiness, then she left to find Norfolk.

  ***

  ‘Did you know, Uncle?’ Mary’s voice was as loud as it ever got, and her use of the word Uncle betrayed her anxiety. She paced his room, twisting her gloves in her hands.

  ‘Know, niece? Know what?’ His voice was hard – he didn’t appreciate being spoken to like this, but Mary was obviously upset.

  ‘Did you know he has married Kitty? And that she is illiterate? And it is doubtful she is a virgin! Did you know all that?’ Mary’s voice was rising again, and she lowered it carefully – she didn’t want to start sounding like Jane Rochford.

  ‘Cranmer is a weak man, can’t keep a secret, so yes, I knew that. Only a few days ago, though, so it hasn’t been a secret long. Did I know she’s illiterate? Well, I know she’s not very clever, so that’s no surprise. Not everyone educates their daughters, Mary, so she’ll not be the only one at court like that! Did I know she wasn’t a virgin? Well, the looks she gives men, even older men like me, tells me she’s no stranger to a man’s body, so to answer your question, I’m not surprised she’s not a maid. As long as she “keeps herself only unto the king” now, eh girly?

  ‘And you still let them marry, Uncle. Knowing all that, and after Anne? You still approve?’ Mary couldn’t believe her uncle didn’t share her trepidation for Kitty.

  ‘Hell’s teeth, Mary! We needed him to marry a Howard. Someone who will put our family before those damned Seymours. Someone who can influence the King in our favour! You know how the game is played, Mary. You were here long enough!’

  ‘Yes, Uncle. That’s why I’m not here now. And as soon as I can pack her chests, Cat won’t be either. She is betrothed to Francis Knollys and I’m taking her back to Hever to wait for her wedding.’

  ‘Kitty won’t like that.’ Norfolk saw determination in every line of Mary’s body.

  ‘She’s got Jane Rochford. Meg can stay here or come with me as she chooses. But Cat isn’t staying here to be caught up in this madness.’

  Mary turned to her uncle as she put her hand on the door latch. ‘The Howards might not survive this, Uncle. Be very careful who you trust, and be very careful who you let Kitty trust too!’

  Mary walked along the galleries towards Cat’s apartment. She knew her daughter would be disappointed not to serve the new Queen, but Mary needed her safe, and she knew it wouldn’t be safe at court. Kitty would be so trusting, she would be the architect of her own downfall. Mary’s heart broke for the tiny girl caught up in plans that were far beyond her capacity to understand.

  Mary remembered when she and Anne had first gone to the French court; Anne had been a small girl and had been petted and protected by the older ladies, but she had grasped her freedom with both hands.

  Anne had been praised for her intelligence and her wit as she grew; Mary only had her pretty face and lush body. She shuddered to think how naïve she had been, how she had allowed herself to be flattered and used by the men in the French King’s service, and ultimately by the King himself. Even when she had returned to England, she had been used by the King, as Norfolk was allowing poor Kitty to be used.

  Mary thanked God every day for her good fortune in taking Will Stafford for her husband. The husband they had found for her, Will Carey, had been a kind man, happily giving her children his name and looking after them as his own. But falling in love with Will Stafford when she was still a young widow had been the making of her life, and of herself.

  Will had the strength of character to insist she leave court and be a proper wife to him, and in so doing she had grown into the woman she was; practic
al and thoughtful with a strong streak of moral integrity that she surprised herself with sometimes. Mary was determined to pass on as much of this as she could to Cat when she left court, so Cat could pass it on to her own children; she didn’t want any more Howard girls used and discarded at the whim of the King.

  Chapter 10 - 1540

  eg lifted her face to the warm sunshine dappling through the trees, listening to the cries of the watermen from the river and the calls of the ducks and geese in the reeds. Ralph’s head was resting in her lap and he sectioned an apple with his dagger and handed her a slice. They were both escaping their duties for a while as they shared their midday meal. Ralph told her how much he missed Cromwell.

  ‘No-one knew how kind hearted he was, Meg, how philanthropic. He felt so strongly that the common people should be educated, that they should be able to read the word of God for themselves, and the words of other philosophers and poets too. Did you know he endowed colleges as well as schools for orphans? But all he’ll be remembered for is the dismantling of the stranglehold the church has on the people.’

  ‘He was always so kind to me,’ she whispered, brushing Ralph’s hair from his forehead gently.

  ‘He liked you, Meg. He worried for you, because you were caught up in a madness that was not of your own making. He was concerned that Norfolk might throw you to the wolves as he threw his niece and nephew.’

  ‘The Duke doesn’t frighten me quite as much as he used to, Ralph. I don’t think I’m important enough for him to want to hurt me. He just sees me as someone to carry messages. It’s the King who terrifies me now. He has changed so much. When he was first married to Lady Anne, he was so in love with her, he was like a child with a new toy. But after the joust, when she lost the baby, he suddenly seemed to tire of her, and looked round for a different thing to play with.’ She sighed, remembering.