by Alison Weir
1540
Late in April, the weather turned warm and the King returned with the court to Whitehall. Almost immediately, he arranged for Katheryn to be conducted to his privy garden by the river, which contained a shady arbor where they could be private. It became the setting for most of their trysts; only when it was raining did they retreat indoors to the King’s privy gallery. His ardor was increasing daily. He was plainly entranced. He would clasp her to his broad, gem-encrusted breast, his mouth seeking hers with passion.
“You have rejuvenated me, Katheryn!” he murmured in her ear one balmy evening. “Your youth, your grace, your beauty—so fresh and pure. Nature made you to shine equal with the stars. I love you!”
It was the first time he had said this to her.
“Could you love me, too?” he asked beseechingly. When she looked at that Roman profile and felt the sheer power that emanated from the man, she marveled that he could be so humble before her.
“I have always loved you, Sir,” she told him. It was not the truth in the way he wanted it, but he took it to be, and crushed her in his arms so that she could barely breathe.
He showered her with gifts: jewels and beautiful silks. She hid them from everyone else, laying them away at the bottom of her chest, but showed them to her uncle and grandam when next she gave them a report on her progress.
“Things are turning out as I anticipated.” The Duke smiled, as satisfied as a cat lapping cream. “When his Grace takes a fancy for a person or a thing, he goes the whole way.”
The Duchess had had more new gowns made for Katheryn, who gasped when she saw them, for they were the kind only a queen or princess might wear. Cloth of gold, cloth of silver, crimson tissue, and scarlet damask, all edged with pearls and gems or banded with goldsmith’s work. They must have cost a fortune.
“To see a good return, you must invest well,” the Duke said. “It is time to raise our game. It will soon be May Day, and there are to be jousts and entertainments. This will be your chance to shine, Katheryn, and to increase the King’s love for you.”
“Has he asked you to bed with him?” the Duchess asked bluntly.
“Not yet,” Katheryn said. “He is passionate, but respectful.”
“Hmm,” the Duke murmured, his face darkening, and Katheryn thought of those rumors that the King was impotent. Was that why he had not yet importuned her? Had her uncle had the same thought?
“Permit him a few more favors,” Norfolk said at length. “See if that arouses his ardor. But don’t give yourself to him. Make it clear you are saving yourself for marriage.”
It was a bit late for that, she reflected drily. She had nothing to save. The thought of the King pawing at her breasts or attempting closer intimacies still repelled her, but she would allow it if he tried—if he asked her nicely enough. Oh, she was becoming a coquette these days!
* * *
—
When next she was with the King in the arbor, she responded as ardently as she could to his kisses, willing him to go further. And he did. His hand moved to her bodice and began caressing the exposed part of her breast. If she kept her eyes closed, she could almost believe it was Tom doing it, which made it bearable. Emboldened, the King’s hand strayed down to her hip. That was enough for now. Gently, she drew it back to her waist.
“Ah, Katheryn, you little tease!” he chuckled hoarsely. “You know, I would make you my mistress. I would acknowledge you openly before the world.”
“I do not know what your Grace means,” she said.
“I would be your servant!”
“And my lover?” With such words she hoped to inflame him.
“Oh, God, yes!” he breathed. “If you would permit it.”
She drew back. Her hopes that he would be too infirm for lovemaking were dwindling fast. “Alas, Sir, I could not. I would save myself for marriage. If I became your acknowledged mistress, people would think I had given myself to you.”
He swallowed, looking flushed. “It was wrong of me to ask, Katheryn. Forgive me. I was carried away by my desire for you.”
“It is forgotten,” she told him lightly, giving him what she hoped was an adoring look.
“I have something for you,” he announced. “Compensation for my bad behavior, but you would have had it anyway.” He drew from his doublet a velvet pouch and handed it to her. She opened it to find two delicate gold chains and a beautiful cameo pendant depicting Venus and Cupid.
“Do you like it?” the King asked eagerly.
“I love it, Sir!” she cried. “Oh, thank you!” And she gave him a warm kiss.
“How I love you,” he said. “You are my English rose, my Tudor rose.”
* * *
—
The next time they met, he told her that she must call him Henry in private, and gave her a length of gold silk for a gown. She exclaimed in delight, and he was inordinately pleased.
She showed the jewels and the silk to the Duchess of Richmond the next day, laying them out on a bed when the dorter was empty and everyone else was about their duties. She did not like to show Isabel, for she suspected that she would not approve, even though they were now friends again; nor did she wish to alienate other ladies and maids who might, justly, feel that she was being disloyal to the Queen. But Mary Richmond was a Howard, who could be counted on to applaud the King’s interest in her.
To Katheryn’s dismay, Jane Rochford walked in and goggled at the bounty on the coverlet.
“Holy Mother, where did you get those?” she asked.
“The King gave them to me,” Katheryn admitted.
Jane stared at her. “He must be marvelously set on you.”
“I am not his mistress,” Katheryn said, “not in any way.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Jane retorted. “It was what Anne said. She had set her sights far higher. Is that what you are aiming at, Mistress Katheryn?”
There was a pause, broken only when Katheryn laughed. “And you think I would?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said tartly. “Would you?”
“Oh, be realistic!” Katheryn retorted. “I’m sure his Grace would never think of me in that way. It is just a passing flirtation.”
She smiled at the Duchess and walked through to her bedchamber, discreetly signaling to Jane to follow. As soon as they were alone, she closed the door. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Tom about this,” she said. “When the King beckons, it is unwise to say no—you surely understand that—but I have heard that his interest quickly wanes and, when it does, I want Tom to be there waiting for me.”
Jane seemed mollified by this. “I won’t tell him,” she said, “as long as you carry on meeting him. Otherwise he will smell a rat.”
Katheryn wondered how long she would be able to keep seeing Tom before the King became aware of it. She was beginning to dislike herself for all the lies she had to tell.
* * *
—
It occurred to her later that day that the Queen might have heard the gossip. Yet there had been no change in Anna’s demeanor toward her, no sign that she was aware that anything was amiss. Uncle Norfolk had said that the King would divorce her, come what may. It was a question of when, rather than if. Katheryn felt sorry for her, living in ignorance of the fate hanging over her, but she was also a little uneasy because, so far, there had been no hint of any divorce proceedings. Of course, she told herself, there wouldn’t be. Such things were conducted in secret. The Queen would probably be the last to know, therefore secrecy was the order of the day.
* * *
—
Katheryn was excited about May Day. She had been told that it was always celebrated with sparkling festivities at court, and she was starved of such things. This year, there were to be four days of tournaments at Whitehall. When she appeared in her new scarlet damask gown on the first day,
she attracted many envious looks and compliments. But she was not too conspicuous because everyone else was wearing their best clothes.
She crowded in with the other maids behind the King and Queen and their lords and ladies-in-waiting in the wide oriel window of the new gatehouse at Whitehall and, tense with anticipation, craned her neck to see the triumphal jousts that were taking place in the street below. Being so tiny, she could barely see anything, which was frustrating, as she had heard that the tournament had been proclaimed in France, Flanders, Scotland, and Spain, and that the flower of European chivalry was here.
“There are forty-six defenders,” Dora Bray told her, ogling several of them at once. Katheryn caught a glimpse of mounted men in white doublets and hose.
“The Earl of Surrey is leading them,” Anne Bassett added. “There’s your uncle, Lord William Howard!”
“Sir John Dudley is leading the challengers,” her sister Margaret told her, giving Katheryn a sly glance. “I can see Thomas Culpeper among them.”
Katheryn smiled. It was better if people thought she was being courted by Tom than by the King.
“Mr. Culpeper’s wearing my mother’s colors!” Anne exclaimed. “I’d have thought she was past all that at her age.”
“She’s not the only one to be susceptible to his charms,” Lucy Somerset observed.
Katheryn could not help feeling jealous. Of course, Tom could not wear her colors, for their relationship was supposed to be a secret, but why did he have to wear Lady Lisle’s?
Beside her, Elizabeth Seymour was jumping up and down to see her young husband, Lord Cromwell’s son, show his prowess in the lists.
Suddenly, the King roared, “No!” There were gasps from those surrounding him and cries of dismay from the stands.
“What’s happened?” Katheryn asked.
Jane Rochford turned around. “Mr. Culpeper has been unhorsed, but he has got up and is walking away from the barriers.”
Katheryn’s heart pounded in relief. She could not have borne it if Tom had been seriously injured or killed. She must still love him, to feel like that. Oh, if only life were not so complicated!
When the day’s jousts were over, the King presented handsome prizes to the victors. Then word went around that the challengers were keeping open house at Durham House on the Strand and that the King and Queen were attending and there would be a lavish feast. All were welcome.
Katheryn picked up her skirts, fought her way downstairs, and joined the crowd of courtiers surging up Whitehall to Charing Cross and the Strand beyond. It carried her to Durham House, which was lavishly adorned with rich hangings and furnished with great cupboards of plate. The King and Queen were already at table in the great hall as everyone filed in and took their seats and servitors came in procession with meat and drink in plenty. Minstrels played and the walls echoed with talk of the day’s exploits.
Seated between her tall sister Margaret and tiny Mary Norris, Katheryn saw Tom at the opposite table, looking none the worse for his fall. He smiled at her, but she did not acknowledge it lest the King be looking in her direction. She had seen his eyes on her, too, more than once, and was glad she had attracted his attention. Nothing must be allowed to jeopardize Uncle Norfolk’s plans.
More tournaments were held over the next few days, and on every evening open house was kept at Durham House, with the King and Queen attending. There were suppers and banquets and Katheryn enjoyed herself hugely. On the last night, Norfolk and the Dowager Duchess were there, keeping a careful eye on how she comported herself. She was glad she was wearing the cloth-of-silver dress, for surely the King could not fail to approve of how it fitted her tiny waist and billowed out in soft folds to the floor. She watched as the Duchess gave the Queen an enameled box containing a pearl bracelet and the Queen thanked her warmly. She could not but marvel at the duplicity of her grandam.
Tonight, they had gathered in the spacious gardens that bordered the Thames, in the soft glow of lanterns strung in the trees. It was a warm night and servants moved among the guests offering sweetmeats and comfits from gold salvers or pouring wine into jeweled goblets. Katheryn was standing with Isabel and Elizabeth Seymour only a few feet from the King, who was loudly congratulating a group of young men who had fought in the jousts. Queen Anna and some of her ladies were listening avidly, while her maids were casting lascivious glances at the heroes of the hour. Suddenly, Katheryn became aware that the King was looking in her direction
Seizing her moment, she smiled back and was gratified to see his eyes narrow in appreciation as they traveled up and down her figure.
“Come and join us, Mistress Katheryn!” he commanded, and she moved forward, noticing that the Queen was now nowhere to be seen. She did her best to respond prettily to the banter of the King and the young gallants, aware all the time of Henry’s unwavering gaze. Then, curtseying, she withdrew, meaning to leave him hungry for more of her company. She took care to circulate among the guests, especially the young knights who had fought in the tourney, and midnight found her standing at one of the long tables, wondering if she really wanted anything else to eat. Reaching for some gilded marchpane, she became aware of a tall presence beside her. It was the King.
“You have been evading me,” he said, only half in jest.
“No, Sir, not really,” she protested. “I thought it best not to attract attention by being where I wished to be—I mean, by your side. And the Queen’s Grace was here.”
“She has gone back to Whitehall,” he said, looking very pleased about it.
Katheryn’s hand flew to her mouth. “I should have attended her! I will be missed.”
The King smiled indulgently. “She slipped away quietly. She did not want to interrupt anyone’s pleasure. She took just two of her maids. And I applaud your discretion.” He leaned in closer and she could smell the wine on his breath. He was a little drunk, she realized.
“Be mine tonight, Katheryn!” he murmured. Fortunately, no one was standing nearby.
“No, Sir, I cannot,” she whispered. “I mean to preserve that virtue you claim to prize.”
He gave her a rueful smile and sighed. “I stand well rebuked. Will you come to the privy garden then, tomorrow afternoon?”
“If I can get away,” she said.
“I shall live in hope,” he replied, his eyes glittering with desire.
He moved away and joined a circle of nobles, who all greeted him heartily. Katheryn put the marchpane and some candied fruits on her plate and went in search of her friends. Suddenly, Tom was standing before her, barring the way.
“Tell me it isn’t true what people are saying,” he muttered, looking wild and fraught.
She swallowed. “What are they saying?”
“That the King is in love with you. Is it true?”
“Keep your voice down!” she hissed. “Come over here, it’s quieter.” Luckily, the King was at the other side of the garden, separated from them by a great crowd of noisy, chattering people. She led the way to a stone bench beneath an overhanging branch and sat down.
Tom joined her, sitting a good foot away. “Well?”
She owed him some honesty at least. “It is true that he thinks himself in love with me, but I am not in love with him. He has asked me to be his mistress, but I would not.”
“And yet you have let things progress that far!”
“Tom, I have no choice! When the King beckons, we all have to jump. You must know that; you serve him daily.”
“I understand, but you must have given him some encouragement.”
She hesitated. “It’s complicated, Tom. I have been sworn to secrecy.”
“It’s always complicated,” he snorted, “and I didn’t notice his Majesty taking much trouble to keep his interest in you secret tonight. It’s what half the people here are gossiping about.” His eyes bored into hers. “Tell me t
ruthfully, Katheryn. Have you encouraged him?”
She was silent for just a little too long. “I did what I felt I had to do,” she said at length.
“Don’t play with me,” he growled, and grabbed her wrist so tightly that she wondered if there had been any truth to the story about him committing rape and murder.
“Let go,” she muttered. “People are looking.” She stood up. “We cannot be seen here together.”
“Why, are you afraid that the King will notice us? Or that someone will tell him we are together?”
“You don’t own me!” she retorted. “Stop hectoring me.” And she walked off toward the house.
He caught up with her in one of the deserted state rooms. He was beside himself, actually crying. “Katheryn, is it over between us? Be honest, please!”
She felt like crying herself. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but, with the King’s pursuit of her progressing so speedily, and the outcome looking hopeful, he would be hurt much more if she gave him false hope now.
“It has to be over, Tom. The King, of all men, will not brook a rival, and I do not know what the future holds.”
“You are putting his love before mine?”
“I have no choice!” Tears were streaming down her cheeks now.
“Then he has deprived me of the thing I love best in the world!” Tom flung at her. “I thought to make you my wife. Now you are lost to me. I could die.” He sank down on a stool, sobbing. She did not know what to say or do to comfort him.
She knelt at his knee, grateful that no one had overheard them and come to investigate what was going on. “I’m so sorry, Tom. If it were up to me, this would not be happening. But I really have no choice in the matter, believe me.”
He raised a wet, ravaged face to her. “Yes, you do. You could tell the King that we are in love and promised to each other.”
