by Alison Weir
Katheryn noticed that the Lady Anne was attended by a lot of German ladies, all wearing the most outlandish, unflattering clothes. She had been told that they were to serve alongside the English ladies.
At last, thankfully, the company processed into the former priory of Dartford, which, like all the other religious houses in England, had been closed down by the King. Katheryn was of the same opinion as the rest of her family, that it was wrong, nay, sacrilegious of his Grace to dissolve the monasteries and appropriate their wealth, but it did not trouble her unduly. She had more pressing concerns. Her duties and her new life were about to begin.
* * *
—
That evening, the Lady Anne summoned her maids and ladies to join her in her privy chamber. She invited them to be seated, the ladies on stools, the maids kneeling on the floor.
“My name is Anna,” she told them, in her halting, guttural English. “I would like to know you.” With the help of one of her gentlewomen, the Flemish Mrs. Gilman, who was to serve her as an interpreter, she spoke to each of them in turn. When Katheryn was presented, she curtseyed and smiled at the Princess, aware that she must be feeling nervous being in a new land and about to marry a strange, awesome, and, frankly, repugnant man.
“Mistress Katheryn Howard, your Grace,” Mrs. Gilman said. “She is niece to the Duke of Norfolk.”
“You are welcome,” the Princess said, smiling back. “You are happy to be here?”
“Oh, yes, your Grace!” Katheryn replied. “How could I not be? It is an honor to serve you.”
“You haf been at court long?”
“No, I am new here, too!” Katheryn laughed. She liked this kind young woman, who was making such an effort to be friendly. Anna was also encouraging her English ladies to make friends with her German women, who were sitting together on one side of the chamber. Katheryn did try, but they knew hardly any English, so she ventured to approach Mother Lowe, the German Mother of the Maids, a stout matron who was very much on her dignity, yet spoke some English.
“Who are you?” Mother Lowe asked, in her abrupt manner.
“Katheryn Howard. My uncle is the Duke of Norfolk.”
Mother Lowe looked unimpressed. “And your Vater?”
“Lord Edmund Howard. He died last year,” Katheryn told her. “My mother died when I was a child, and I was sent to live in the household of my grandam, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk.”
“You vere happy there?”
“I was, but I’m pleased to be at court.”
“Your family vill be proud of you.”
“I hope to make them so.”
Later, the conversation, halting as it was, was all of the new Queen’s official reception on the morrow. Anna seemed daunted by it, yet she was clearly determined to make a good showing of herself. Katheryn herself could not wait to don the splendid dress of crimson velvet she was to wear.
As the evening wore on, she hoped there would be music and dancing, or even cards, but the Lady Anna went to bed soon after nine o’clock, and so the rest of them had to retire, too. Of course, they needed to be up early in the morning to ride to Blackheath, but Katheryn was praying that this would not be the pattern of their future evenings.
* * *
—
Wearing the velvet gown made Katheryn feel like a queen herself. Waiting with the rest of Anna’s household before the silken pavilion that had been erected at the foot of Shooter’s Hill, she did not care about the cold, although some of the other maids were shivering. They had left Dartford at dawn and ridden ahead, to be ready to receive their new mistress when she arrived.
Waiting with them were what seemed like thousands of people: knights, soldiers, liveried servants, and crowds of common people, not to mention the numerous lords and ladies, who were decked out in their best for the occasion. Even the Dowager Duchess was there, standing with the Countess of Bridgewater and the rest of the Howard contingent.
All eyes were on Anna’s chariot as it descended Shooter’s Hill at noon at the head of an impressive train. When she alighted outside the pavilion, the Earl of Rutland bowed before her and Lady Margaret Douglas, the Duchess of Richmond, and the King’s other niece, the Marchioness of Dorset, stepped forward with words of welcome. Then Katheryn and the rest of the household made their obeisances.
“I give you all hearty thanks,” Anna said, turning to her chief ladies and kissing them in turn. There was an interminable wait while her almoner made a long speech in Latin, then formally presented to her everyone who was sworn to serve her, which took some considerable time, with each kneeling in order of seniority to kiss her hand. Katheryn was freezing afterward and grateful to retreat into the pavilion, where scented braziers had been lit and they could all thaw out and partake of the banquet laid out on a long table. Afterward, they helped Anna to change into a gown of cloth of gold. Katheryn was amazed to see that it had just a circular skirt with no court train, and saw other ladies staring, too.
They waited outside the pavilion. Katheryn thought that Anna looked nervous. Last night, the ladies had been talking about their mistress’s first meeting with the King and saying that it had not gone well, for his Grace had appeared in disguise and surprised his bride. After that, though, there had been nothing but courtesy between them. Katheryn thought that if the King had surprised her, she might have screamed in horror!
Trumpets sounded in the distance. Seeing Anna mounting her palfrey, Katheryn got on her own horse and followed in procession with the other ladies toward Greenwich Palace. From her elevated position on horseback, she could see the Lord Mayor and leading citizens of London, all bowing low, and behind them the royal trumpeters approaching, heralding the King’s procession. As Anna’s party halted by a stone cross, Katheryn saw Uncle Norfolk in attendance on his Grace, with the Duke of Suffolk and Archbishop Cranmer, whom she had glimpsed occasionally at Lambeth. Oh, it was wonderful to be at the center of such a great pageant!
The King looked like some unearthly, majestic being in his coat of purple velvet and cloth of gold. He was glittering with jewels and people were gaping in awe. He beamed to left and right, raising his hand in greeting, then spurred his horse to greet his future Queen.
“My Lady Anna, welcome to England!” he cried for all to hear and bowed in the saddle. Anna responded most humbly. Katheryn could not make out what they said, but she could see the King smiling and saw him embrace Anna, to resounding roars from the crowds.
A great procession was forming, and the Earl of Rutland was signaling sternly to Anna’s household to get into place behind him. They followed the King and his bride back to the pavilion, she riding in the place of honor at his right hand. Everyone was cheering and rejoicing.
In the pavilion, Katheryn stood with the other maids as the King called for spiced wine, helped himself to some sweetmeats, and presented his chief ministers to Anna. She waited while pleasantries were exchanged, and then it was time to leave for Greenwich.
When the trumpets blared out again, the procession re-formed with the King and Anna at its head. Katheryn was in the second chariot, the one carrying the English ladies, chamberers, and laundresses. Ahead, in the first chariot, sat the German ladies. Katheryn thought that the English ladies should have been accorded precedence; after all, Anna was to be Queen of England, but she supposed courtesy demanded that the foreigners were made much of.
On they passed through the deer park and up the hill, beyond which the red-brick palace of Greenwich lay on the banks of the Thames. Katheryn gazed down at the painted roofs and soaring turrets, overawed at the sight. Truly, it felt as if she had died and gone to Heaven! Her old life at Lambeth seemed long ago now. This was what she had been born for.
The river was crowded with boats full of people come to see the new Queen, and music wafted up from the various craft. As the royal procession arrived at the palace, there was a massive
crack of guns from the roof of the great tower at the center of the range of buildings fronting the water, which boasted a fine series of bay windows. The chariots followed the royal couple through the gatehouse at the bottom of the tower and arrived in an inner courtyard, where the King dismounted, assisted Anna out of her litter, and lovingly embraced and kissed her. Everyone clapped and cheered.
The ladies and maids followed as he led Anna to her apartments. As Katheryn passed through the soaring hall, she could smell fresh paint and hear banging. Heavens, they must still be making the palace ready for its new mistress!
By the time the ladies and maids arrived at the Queen’s lodgings, the King had gone. They found Anna in earnest conversation with Mother Lowe, but both fell silent at the appearance of the English attendants. Mother Lowe came over and barked out orders in broken English. “Unpack!” “Air the bed!” “Lay her Grace’s table!” It was obvious who was going to be in charge. Mrs. Stonor would have her work cut out establishing her authority against such a formidable adversary.
* * *
—
Three days later, Katheryn and the other maids helped the ladies to dress Anna for her wedding, with Mother Lowe hovering protectively, pointing out a pearl out of place or a twisted sleeve. Katheryn had got Mother Lowe’s measure by now. She wasn’t the dragon she had at first appeared to be, just a proud old woman who cared deeply for her mistress and wanted nothing but the best for her.
Anna looked lovely in her wedding gown. Katheryn had marveled at the sumptuous cloth of gold with its pattern of large flowers stitched with great Orient pearls. It had long, hanging sleeves and a round skirt in the Dutch fashion. She helped to comb her mistress’s fair hair. As became a bride, Anna was wearing it loose beneath a coronal of gold set with brilliant gems.
“Pass me that basket,” Mother Lowe commanded, and Mary Norris handed it to her. Katheryn smelled the fresh tang of dried rosemary as Mother Lowe pinned sprigs of it to Anna’s bridal gown, saying something to her in German. Then the great ladies of the household came forward with gold chains and a jeweled crucifix, which Mother Lowe insisted on hanging around Anna’s neck herself, and a belt adorned with gold and stones, to be fastened at her waist. When she was ready, she shimmered, so glittering was the effect. It was the only time that Katheryn thought she looked beautiful.
Only Anna’s ladies-in-waiting were to attend her to the ceremony in the Chapel Royal. Katheryn would have given much to be there but had to stay behind with the other maids and make all tidy. Yet they were allowed to be present in the King’s presence chamber, where, following the nuptials, his Grace and his new Queen dined together before the court, with the chief lords and officers of state in attendance. Standing to the right of the Queen with the other maids, all of them wearing their crimson dresses again, Katheryn watched the royal couple. Dinner was served with great formality and eaten mostly in silence. Although the King showed every courtesy to Anna, and spoke to her from time to time, he did not seem as jovial today as he had shown himself at Blackheath. Probably it was because of the solemnity of the occasion. Anna looked terrified—as well she might, given what lay ahead.
After dinner, she retired to her chamber, and the maids whiled away the afternoon making music and telling jokes until Mother Lowe told them to quieten down because the Queen needed her rest.
In the evening, they dressed Anna for her wedding feast. Katheryn could barely suppress her excitement, for this was the kind of court festivity of which she had dreamed, but her mistress did not appear to feel the same way, try as she might to keep smiling.
The food was delicious, the wine potent, the conversation buzzing, and Katheryn was soon in a state of high elation. When, afterward, the King led a privileged company of courtiers into his presence chamber for a banquet of sweet treats, she was overjoyed when Anna beckoned her maids to follow and attend her. After everyone had partaken of the delicacies and comfits, a masque was performed, called The Masque of Hymen. Katheryn had heard of the masques at court and had longed to see one; never had she witnessed anything so wonderful, with the performers in their fantastical costumes, the clever, colorful scenery, and the enchanting music. She laughed along with the rest at the bawdy innuendos until she thought the seams of her bodice would split. She was thrilled when, at the end, the players pulled members of the audience onto the floor, asking them to dance.
“Little cousin!” It was Tom Culpeper, dressed as a satyr and looking very much the part. He beamed down at Katheryn. “May I have the pleasure?” He held out his hand and she willingly took it, not daring to look in the direction of Mother Lowe or Mrs. Stonor. They took their places in line for an allemande and the music struck up again. How good it felt to be dancing in front of the King and the whole court! Katheryn could not resist the temptation to show off a little and get herself noticed.
“His Grace doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself,” she murmured as they moved out of earshot of the dais.
“He has a bad leg,” Tom muttered. “It gives him hell. He can’t dance these days, although he was a great dancer when he was younger and excelled at every sport.”
“It must be terrible to know that such pleasures are behind you,” she said.
“How are you enjoying life at court?” he asked.
“I love it!”
Suddenly, the music stopped and they all stood back to watch the King lead his bride from the dais.
“We will dance a pavane—the King’s Pavane!” he cried, and the musicians resumed their playing, slower this time, with a compelling drumbeat. The other dancers fell into step behind the royal couple in a slow and stately measure. When it ended, Katheryn curtseyed as Tom bowed.
“Shall we dance the next one?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said.
She was on the floor for the rest of the evening. Not wishing to confine herself to one partner, she spun around with several gentlemen, all of whom told her how beautiful she was and how divinely she danced. It was a heady experience.
Suddenly, the music stopped for good. The King had risen. It was time to put the bride to bed. Mother Lowe was summoning the Queen’s ladies to attend her, but when Katheryn and Anne Bassett hastened over, she told them they were not needed.
“It is not fitting that unmarried maidens witness the bedding,” she told them. “You may retire.”
“Come along now!” bade Mrs. Stonor, still trying to assert her authority.
Katheryn watched wistfully as the King and Queen departed, then trailed along with the other maids, not wanting the night to end.
* * *
—
The Queen looked quite becoming in her new English gown and French hood. She had been nervous about wearing both, thinking them too immodest, but she had looked pleased when the King nodded in approval and complimented her. Katheryn and the other maids took their seats behind them in the royal stand at the side of the tiltyard. The jousts that were to take place today were part of the marriage celebrations.
Katheryn roared with the rest when the knights began charging. It was exhilarating to witness the heart-stopping clashes of challengers and defenders. This was what she had hoped the court would be like. Life was good! She had a kind mistress who was amiable, even lovable. She was making friends at court and attracting admirers; already, she had seen several young gallants with their eyes on her, eyes that hinted of assignations and secret dalliance, and she had taken pleasure in disdaining them all. She was not yet ready to involve herself with another man: she was enjoying herself too much. To Francis, she gave barely a thought. She had not been in touch with him or visited Lambeth; she did not even know where he was. It was strange to think that, this time last year, she had been so deeply in love with him. How strange that passion like that could burn itself out. Well, they had been doomed from the start, she reflected.
In the interval, refreshments were served, and the
maids and the young gentlemen of the King’s household fell to talking about the tournament and speculating as to who would win. Katheryn soon became aware of a cluster of girls giggling away to her left.
“What’s funny?” she asked, swiveling around.
“You haven’t heard the gossip?” Lucy Somerset asked.
“What gossip?”
Lucy bent close to her ear. “People are saying that the King can’t…you know…with the Queen!” she sniggered. “The word is that he is able to do the act with others, but not with her.”
The other girls rocked with suppressed laughter.
“Is it true?” Katheryn asked, staring at the Queen. Everyone knew that the King had been visiting Anna’s bed regularly, and Anna had given no clue that anything was amiss. Not that she would say anything to her maids, of course, but she had seemed happy enough.
“A lot of people believe it,” Dora Bray said, ever fascinated by the subject of sex.
“I wouldn’t go about repeating it,” Anne Bassett warned. “It’s treason to impugn the succession.” Several mouths clamped shut. Katheryn decided to give the gossip no credence. It was unkind to make fun of others’ misfortunes. Some people just liked to create a drama.
* * *
—
Had she thought that life in the Queen’s service would be one round of endless pleasures? How mistaken she had been. For, once the wedding celebrations were over, life quickly settled down into a boring routine. The Queen could not dance, make music, or sing. She would not ride a horse unless she had to. Rather than call for entertainments, she preferred to remain quietly in her apartments.
Her ladies found themselves sitting for hours on end, sewing or playing at cards or dice. Katheryn often sat on the floor, playing with the ladies’ lapdogs. Occasionally, Anna asked Will Somers, the King’s fool, to perform for them, which was a welcome diversion, as was the acrobat who turned triple somersaults. Sometimes, the King would visit, which sent them all aflutter, sinking into curtseys. He would greet his wife courteously—he had perfect manners—and stay awhile talking to her and her ladies. Anna’s English was improving daily, as she was working hard at it, but still she was gauche in his company, while the maids were awestruck, some barely able to respond to his Grace’s pleasantries. Katheryn was not one of them. On the one occasion he addressed her, asking if she would pour him some wine, she presented it with a curtsey, saying, “I hope you enjoy it, Sir.” His eyes lingered on her, and he nodded.
