Katheryn Howard, the Scandalous Queen

by Alison Weir

  She half hoped he would be, if only to shut him up. But she would not wish a traitor’s fate on him, even though he was proving a serious liability. Only yesterday, he had asked for more money, and she had sent Kat Tilney to him with a purse of silver—and rewarded her for doing it.

  “He is a fool,” she said, recovering her composure, “and I have told him he can be nothing to me.”

  “Then tell him again!” Tom flared. He gave a long sigh. “I’m sorry, my love. It struck me to the heart to hear that knave boasting. I could have strangled him.”

  “Forget him,” she urged. “I don’t want him intruding in any way on our precious time together.”

  Soon she was in Tom’s arms again, and all was as it should be. She prayed fervently that Francis would keep his mouth shut in future. He really was dicing with death and might learn his lesson the hard way—and take her down with him.

  1541

  Early in September, the court left Pontefract and moved on to the ancient castle of the archbishops of York at Cawood. As they approached on horseback, Margaret Douglas leaned forward in the saddle, her long red hair flying in the breeze, and told Katheryn that Cardinal Wolsey had been arrested here. It was a sad, ancient pile and they were glad to leave the next day for Wressle Castle, which had been confiscated from the powerful Percy family after they had supported the Pilgrimage of Grace. They stayed here for three nights and Henry came to Katheryn’s bed on two of them.

  “It’s about time we got ourselves a son!” he said, heaving himself on top of her and fumbling between her legs. She dared not think of Tom at these times, or afterward, when Henry gently cradled her in his arms, his beard rasping her cheek, and told her how much he loved her and how blessed he was to have such a wife. She hated herself then, knowing how she was deceiving him.

  As the days wore on, she lost count of the places they stayed. Leconfield, Hull, Leconfield again, and back to Wressle. Then they were on their way to York and Henry’s long-anticipated meeting with the King of Scots. It was the middle of September by the time they arrived, and they were a long way behind schedule.

  “We should have been halfway back to London now,” Henry said, as they saw before them York Minster rising in splendor above the city walls. “At least, given how far behind we are, the workmen will be finished.” Before they came away on the progress, he had ordered the refurbishment of the former abbot’s house in the dissolved Benedictine abbey of St. Mary’s in York, which was now to be called the King’s Manor. “I’ve had fifteen hundred men working night and day.”

  Ahead, they could see crowds massed around the great Micklegate Bar, the royal entrance to England’s second city. Henry looked pleased.

  “A fine welcome lies ahead, I see. I’m told that the good people of York have seen the lavish preparations for our visit and concluded that they betoken some extraordinary triumph. They expect me to have you crowned in the Minster, Katheryn. It will do no harm to let them think that, or hope that you will bear a duke of York.”

  “I pray for it daily,” she said, feeling guilty because she had not conceived again since her miscarriage in the spring.

  They had dressed in their most magnificent clothes, as had the citizens, who put on a brave show for their coming. There was as much solemnity as there had been at Lincoln. Henry and Katheryn were formally welcomed by the Archbishop of York and three hundred clergy, then two hundred men who had rebelled against the King and been pardoned came to make further submission, kneeling in the street before him and offering purses bulging with gold. Then the procession moved on into the city at a stately pace.

  The King’s Manor was magnificent. The army of workmen had done a wonderful job. Katheryn gazed up in amazement at the newly rebuilt great hall, which was furnished with the tapestries and plate that had been brought from Whitehall to impress King James. Henry had also transported from London his richest clothes and new liveries for his archers, pages, and gentlemen. Colorful tents and pavilions had been erected in the grounds of the old abbey to accommodate the members of both courts, and vast supplies of food had been purveyed from the districts around about York.

  Katheryn knew at once that it would be difficult for her and Tom to meet. The manor house, large as it was, was crammed with courtiers and servants. The best Jane could contrive was a brief assignation at the top of the back stairs, with herself on guard on the landing below.

  It was wonderful to be alone with Tom, if only for a short time.

  “We haven’t long,” Katheryn whispered, looking fearfully up and down, “but I have been yearning to see you, my dear heart, and to tell you how well I love you.”

  “I thought to die of longing,” Tom muttered, holding her tightly.

  They barely had time for a few kisses, and then Jane was there, saying that Katheryn should leave.

  The next night, when they snatched an hour in Jane’s chamber, Katheryn told Tom more about her years at Lambeth. “When I first was there, when I was a young maiden, I hated it. My grief was such that I could not but weep in the presence of my fellows.”

  “But you were happier later on?”

  “I thought I was. But I know what real happiness is now.”

  “How is that?” He smiled at her.

  She pretended to think about it. “Well, there is this gentleman who keeps coming a-courting. And I have a store of other lovers at other doors as well as he!”

  He stared at her in disbelief for a moment until she started giggling. Then he snaked one arm around her and smacked her bottom with the other hand. “Wicked wench!”

  She squealed, loudly enough for Jane to tap on the door and hiss, “Be quiet!”

  They were unable to meet after that. Henry claimed her nights for himself, fired up with the idea of siring a duke of York, conceived in the city.

  One evening, Jane handed Katheryn a pretty ring. “It is a gift for your Grace,” she said, “from Mr. Culpeper. And costly, too. He gave it to me this afternoon, after returning from Sheriff Hutton, where the King was hunting.”

  Katheryn admired the bright scarlet garnet in its gold setting. It fitted her finger perfectly.

  The next day, Tom sent a pheasant for her dinner.

  “Your Grace should buy something for him in return,” Jane said, and there was something in her tone that made Katheryn wonder yet again if she was half in love herself with Tom. It would explain how protective she was of him and his interests.

  “I know!” she said. “I will go and buy something myself. We can go in disguise into York and look in the shops.”

  Jane’s eyes gleamed. “Do you think we’ll get away with it?”

  “Trust me!”

  Wearing hooded cloaks to disguise themselves, Katheryn and Jane slipped out of the King’s Manor and went to explore the streets of York. Katheryn had forgotten what it was like to have the freedom to wander where she would. It felt strange now to be jostled in crowds and have men whistling after her. If only they knew who she was!

  They enjoyed walking the narrow, bustling streets, where the upper stories of half-timbered houses nearly met above their heads. They passed beautiful churches and fine civic halls, and marveled at the range of wares in the shops and the marketplace.

  Near Minster Yard, they found a goldsmith’s shop. Displayed among his wares was a pair of bracelets.

  “These will be a suitable gift for Tom,” Katheryn said, counting the coins out of her purse. “Will you take them to him? Tell him they are to keep his arms warm!”

  That set them both laughing. They strolled back, taking care to pull their hoods over their faces as they neared the King’s Manor.

  Katheryn had divested herself of her cloak and was washing her hands for dinner when Henry arrived in an angry mood.

  “He’s not coming!” he growled, stumping around the room. Thankfully, he was so preoccupied that he did no
t ask where she had been.

  James had not arrived when expected. Henry’s frustration had been mounting for some days, as time went by and the Scots King failed to appear. Now he was puce with anger.

  She took his hand. “What’s happened?”

  “The Scots have raided England! They’ve burned houses and murdered at least seven people. And this after my nephew expressed friendship to me and the desire to see me. If this is friendship, I’m the Pope!” His expression was fierce. “By God, I’d have something to say to him if he were here. People have no honor these days. When I consider all the fanfares for his visit and all the outlay on preparations…” He was quivering with anger. “Well, he shall know my displeasure. This is not the way to court my friendship!”

  He ranted on for a while, as Katheryn made soothing noises. She didn’t pretend to understand Scottish politics; in fact, she was getting bored. And she was weary of traveling. They had been away for three months now and she was ready to go home. There was nothing to stay for now, after all.

  She was glad when they left York. It was now nearing the end of September and the weather was growing chilly. They spent an uncomfortable night at Holme-on-Spalding-Moor in a manor house that had been confiscated from Sir Robert Constable, one of the leaders of the Pilgrimage of Grace, whose body had hung in chains above the gates of Hull. The house had an eerie atmosphere—Katheryn could easily imagine Sir Robert’s unhappy ghost walking here—and she was glad of Henry’s solid presence beside her in bed.

  They rode east to Hull so that he could plan fortifications; he was always expecting the French to invade. He enjoyed anything to do with military matters; the exercise restored his good humor, and he was again in a holiday mood during the five days they lodged at Hull Manor House. He could not bear to be without Katheryn for long and spent every night with her. There were no opportunities for dalliance with Tom.

  From there, the great, but somewhat fatigued, procession traveled south into Lincolnshire, where the court was entertained and feasted at Thornton Manor, Kettleby Hall, Bishop’s Norton, Ingleby, Nocton Manor, and Sleaford. By the middle of October, they were back at Collyweston, and two days later they arrived at Fotheringhay Castle, which was one of Katheryn’s dower properties. Although every effort had been made to make the ancient stronghold habitable, even comfortable, and it was obvious that the royal apartments had once been palatial, it was cold and damp and everything looked faded.

  Katheryn was interested to learn that King Richard III had been born in the castle, a long time ago, when Fotheringhay had been one of the chief residences of the royal House of York, Henry’s kin on his mother’s side. He didn’t want to hear about it, however. He had a very low opinion of his great-uncle Richard, who had murdered his young uncles, the Princes in the Tower, and had apparently stopped at nothing to steal the crown.

  Henry was also uncomfortable in the nearby church, where some of his Yorkist ancestors were buried. Katheryn thought it fitting that she should visit because she was patroness of the collegiate foundation of Fotheringhay, but Henry told her that the college had been surrendered to the Crown two years ago, so there was nothing for her to do.

  The church was one of two places she did not like at Fotheringhay. On the second night, Jane arranged for Tom to be waiting there, deeming it the safest place for a meeting. Katheryn donned her cloak and, concealed in its deep hood, slipped past the guards at the castle gates. They hooted after her, thinking her a serving wench keeping a tryst with a rustic swain. She ran along the moonlit street and pushed open the heavy church door. Tom greeted her, carrying a lantern, but she could tell from his face that something was wrong.

  “I have heard from my brother,” he said. “My mother is ill. She has made her will, but she has made no bequests to me, or even mentioned me in it.” He started walking up and down the chilly nave, his face twisted in anger. “I had hoped that my parents would come to believe me innocent of rape and murder, but clearly they do not. I looked for at least some sympathy from my own mother.”

  Katheryn put her arms around him; she could feel the underlying hurt in his tense body. “Would you like me to write to her? I can tell her that the King himself believes in your innocence.”

  Tom hesitated. “It is best left alone, but thank you for offering, my darling. You are so good to me.”

  She wondered why he was turning down her offer. Did his family know something she didn’t? Did he fear they might tell her? No, that was disloyal of her. He was innocent, and much wronged by his parents—she was sure of it.

  “It’s worth a try,” she pointed out. “Especially as your mother is ill.”

  “No. I will write to her myself,” he said. “If all else fails, I will take up your offer.”

  He was too downcast to be in the mood for lovemaking, so they left, pulling the door shut behind them. It was quiet as the grave in the village, but suddenly, as they began walking toward the black bulk of the castle, they heard male voices singing faintly somewhere behind them, which stopped them in their tracks. They stared at each other.

  “What’s that?” Katheryn whispered.

  “It sounds like monks chanting,” Tom said. “It’s coming from the church, but all is in darkness—and there was no one there a minute ago.”

  They stood there listening for a while, Katheryn feeling as if her hair was standing on end. Abruptly, the music stopped, but they could hear a man’s voice intoning. It sounded like Latin.

  She was trembling. “Let’s go back to the castle!”

  “You go ahead,” Tom bade her. “I’ll follow in a little while. We can’t be seen together. Good night, my love.”

  But Katheryn had gone, running toward the castle as if the hounds of hell were at her heels.

  * * *

  —

  The other bad place at Fotheringhay was in the great hall, near the vast fireplace. The fire was kept stoked, but, every time Katheryn passed, it was cold there, and she found herself full of fear for no reason.

  “You feel it, too,” said a voice behind her, as she paused there, shivering. She wheeled around. It was Francis and, for once, he was not smiling. “Something bad happened here.”

  Anne Parr, who was in attendance on Katheryn with Dora Bray, regarded him coolly. “My mother and I served the late Princess Dowager, who owned this house, and she complained of it being damp and inhospitable, but she never spoke of any dark deed taking place here.”

  “It could have happened long ago. The castle is very old.”

  “There’s definitely a cold spot here,” Katheryn said, keeping her distance from Anne. “If I move over here”—she took a few steps to the left—“it is warmer, and yet I am further from the fireplace.”

  “And here, too, it is warmer,” said Francis, moving to the right. “It could be a portent of something bad that will happen in the future.”

  “Oh, stop talking nonsense, Mr. Dereham!” Anne reproved him.

  Just then, Tom entered the hall and visibly bristled at the sight of Francis, who glared at him. For a moment, Katheryn feared that they might fall to blows.

  “Mr. Dereham, I have letters for you to write,” she said quickly. “Attend me in my closet. Come, ladies.” So saying, she led them away, pretending not to notice the venomous looks on both men’s faces.

  * * *

  —

  They were soon on their way south to Higham Ferrers, where they were guests of Lucy Somerset’s father, the Earl of Worcester. After a very convivial evening, Katheryn ran into Francis on the stairs. She could smell alcohol on him.

  “Well met, wife!” He smirked.

  “Hush!” she hissed. “My ladies are not far behind.”

  He sidled past her on the narrow spiral, sliding a hand around her waist. “I’ll have you again yet,” he murmured.

  Angrily, she twisted out of his grasp, nearly losing her ba
lance. “Never!”

  “We’ll see about that,” he drawled. “If anyone is going to enjoy your favors, it is me, who has the right to them.” He kissed her soundly on the mouth, then was gone, clattering down the stairs.

  She was still fuming when the royal train moved on to Willington, but by the time it reached Ampthill Castle and Chenies Manor, where she and Henry were accommodated in a stately new wing, she had convinced herself that Francis was all bluster. He had as much to lose as she did by betraying her. He just enjoyed playing cat-and-mouse with her, the knave. Well, it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

  At Chenies, Alice Restwold asked for leave to visit her husband at the Vache, their country house. “It’s only five miles away, Madam. I can be there and back in an afternoon.”

  “Of course,” Katheryn agreed.

  Alice remained standing there. “I wonder, Madam, if you could help me,” she said, smiling, “for the sake of the good times we shared at Lambeth.”

  Katheryn went cold. “What can I do for you?”

  Alice smiled. “I was thinking that it would be lovely if I could turn up at home looking like a great lady. It would impress my husband! A fine biliment…perhaps a pretty jewel?”

  It was a blatant demand and it was outrageous, not least because chamberers were not supposed to dress like great ladies. But Katheryn dared not show her anger.

  “I will see what I can do,” she said stiffly.

  “Thank you, Madam,” Alice said, dipping a curtsey.

  Katheryn watched her go, fuming. She had had no choice but to comply with her demand. Gritting her teeth, she looked in her traveling chest and found a biliment of goldsmith’s work she had meant to use for a French hood, and a little golden tablet pendant. Giving them to Jane, she ordered her to take them to Mrs. Restwold. Thank God she could trust Jane not to take advantage of her!

  She wandered into her privy chamber, where her ladies and some gentlemen were enjoying a lively game of cards. Margaret Douglas was sitting apart. It took a moment for Katheryn to realize that she was weeping.