While Catherine Howard engrossed all the King’s attentions, the neglected Queen was sent to Richmond, ostensibly for change of air, but really that she might be out of the way.
In that charming palace she passed her time very tranquilly, and was enabled to indulge her taste for good living, without fear of any unpleasant observations from his Majesty.
Cromwell had just achieved his last great task. He had suppressed — we should call it “disestablished” — the luckless Knights Hospitallers, and was now looking out for fresh spoils for his insatiable master.
The blow he meditated could not be much longer delayed. Yet he hesitated to strike it — perhaps, from a presentiment that it might recoil upon his own head.
The Court was still at Greenwich Palace. One day, when the King was playing tennis, of which recreation he was extremely fond, Catherine was alone in her private room with Lady Rochford.
The chamber communicated with the grand gallery, and was charmingly furnished, being hung with rich stuffs instead of tapestry. Its deep bay windows looked out upon the windings of the river, and commanded a distant view of the capital.
Catherine had been practising a ballad, written by Skelton, which she intended to sing to her royal admirer, and had just laid down her cittern, when a page entered with a letter.
As he bowed and delivered it to her, he said, “The person waits without Will it please your ladyship to see her?”
Catherine opened the letter, and turned pale, But controlling her emotion, she said, “Admit her.”
“Who is it?” inquired Lady Rochford noticing her uneasiness.
“Mary Lassells,” replied Catherine.
At the mention of this name, Lady Rochford likewise became pale.
Again the page appeared, and introduced a young woman, the lower part of whose face was concealed by a muffler.
She made a deep reverence to Catherine as she came in, and as soon as the page had retired, removed her muffler, and disclosed features with which both ladies were well acquainted.
Mary Lassells — who, it will be remembered, was in possession of Catherine’s dangerous secret — was about thirty, good looking, intelligent, but cunning and perfidious. She secretly enjoyed the confusion caused by her appearance.
As she remained silent, Catherine thus addressed her: —
“What brings you here, Lassells? You promised solemnly you would never trouble me again; and you well know I do not desire to see you now. If you want assistance, I am quite willing to befriend you.”
“Your ladyship has always been kind to me,” replied Mary Lassells. “May I speak freely?”
“You may,” said Catherine. “Lady Rochford knows all.”
“Then I need not hesitate to state that I have seen Francis Dereham.”
“Do you come from that villain?” interrupted Lady Rochford. “If so, I advise the Lady Catherine not to listen to you.”
“I am not sent by him,” replied Mary Lassells, firmly. “My object is to serve the Lady Catherine, not to harm her. I heartily wish her all the wealth, prosperity, and honour she so well deserves, and I trust no obstacle will interfere with the attainment of her wishes. I have heard it said by those possessing good information, that before the Princess Anne of Cleves came to England there had been a contract of matrimony between her Highness and a German prince; and I now hear that on this ground, she is to be divorced from the King. It is also said that his Majesty designs to put the Lady Catherine Howard in her place; and certainly she is in all respects more worthy of the honour, but—”
“You fancy there may be some obstacle,” said Lady Rochford.
“If a prior contract of matrimony can cause a divorce, it seems to me that a similar engagement might prevent a second marriage,” observed Mary Lassells.
“I knew there was danger,” muttered Catherine. “At any price, this woman’s silence must he purchased.”
Though uttered in a low tone, the remark was not lost upon the cunning Lassells.
“You have been well schooled, Lassells; I suppose by Dereham?” observed Lady Rochford.
“You shall know the exact truth,” replied the other. “I had gone to the north of England, with no thought of ever returning to London, when news of the Lady Catherine’s advancement reached me, and feeling sure she would prove a good mistress to me, I ventured to come hither.”
“She is well disposed towards you, as you see,” said Lady Rochford; “but she must be certain she can trust you. Since you returned to London, have you seen Francis Dereham?”
“Do not equivocate,” added Catherine. “I am aware he has been searching for you.”
“Your ladyship is in the right — but he failed to discover my retreat,” replied Mary Lassells. “I know he is one of the Lord Cromwell’s gentlemen; but before holding any communication with him, or with the noble Earl, his master, I resolved to see your ladyship, and he governed by your wishes.”
Catherine and Lady Rochford exchanged glances, knowing what was meant.
“You must neither see him nor the Lord Cromwell, Lassells,” said Catherine.
“I am quite willing to obey your ladyship. But the Lord Cromwell may summon me before him, and interrogate me. Under your ladyship’s protection, I should be safe.”
“You cannot have her with you in the Palace— ’twould be too dangerous,” whispered Lady Rochford.
“I must,” replied Catherine. “It is only thus I can defeat their designs. —— —— You shall stay with me, Lassells,” she added. “But you must promise absolute fidelity.”
“I swear to be faithful to you to the death,” cried Lassells, dropping on her knees, and kissing Catherine’s hand. “Were I placed on the rack, I would never betray you!”
“Enough!” cried Catherine. “Henceforward, you are one of my personal attendants. Have you any little boon to ask from me?”
“Yes, if I dared ask it,” replied Lassells.
“Speak! What is it?” said Catherine, smiling.
“This ring!” cried the cunning woman, who had noticed the ruby.
“Why, you cannot wear it!— ’tis not fit for you.”
“No matter!” cried Lassells, eagerly. “Give it me, I entreat you! I have set my heart upon it.”
Catherine drew it from her finger, and presented it to her.
“Mind! it must seal your lips for ever,” she said.
“It shall!” cried Lassells, springing to her feet — her eyes blazing with strange light.
“What folly is this?” cried Lady Rockford, in dismay. “The King bade you never part with that ring.”
“I do not think he will miss it,” said Catherine.
“But if he should, Lassells will give it me back, and she shall have another.”
Lady Rochford did not appear satisfied, and might have required immediate restitution of the gem, had not an interruption occurred at the moment.
Adrian Culpepper was ushered in by the page. His manner was cold and ceremonious. With a formal bow, he said, “I am come to conduct the Lady Catherine Howard and the Lady Rochford to the King.”
“We are ready to attend you,” replied Catherine. “Is his Majesty still in the tennis-court?”
“He quitted it half an hour ago, to confer with the Duke of Norfolk and the Bishop of Winchester. Something has occurred to ruffle him — I know not what. The Lord Cromwell is in the palace.”
“But not with the King?” cried Catherine, uneasily.
“No; he was refused an audience; but he has not yet departed. He waits in the hope that the King may change his mind, and send for him. He has often done so before.”
“But he shall not do so now,” replied Catherine.
“You have nothing to fear from him,” said Adrian.
“I shall never feel safe till he is lodged in the Tower. He would poison the King’s mind against me, if he could.”
“You look upon him as an enemy, because he would prevent the divorce,” said Adrian, in a low tone. “I, too, wo
uld prevent it; and yet I am not your enemy, as you well know.”
“No more of this, Adrian,” she rejoined.
Seeing they were about to depart, Mary Lassells, who had withdrawn on Adrian’s appearance, came forward.
“Has your ladyship any commands for me?” she said.
“Remain here — in the ante-chamber — till my return,” replied Catherine.
The woman’s face seemed familiar to Adrian.
“Is it not Mary Lassells, whom I remember as your tirewoman?” he asked.
“It is,” replied Catherine. “I have just taken her again into my service.”
“I hope she will serve you well,” said Adrian, with a look that implied a doubt.
II. Showing how Cromwell’s Designs were frustrated.
CROMWELL had come to Greenwich Palace that day, fully resolved to strike the blow he had so long meditated.
He brought Dereham with him, as that person’s testimony would be needed; but he left him in the barge till he should be summoned to the King’s presence.
The blow, if successful, was to be followed up by others equally important. After the revelations he designed to make, he felt sure that Henry’s wrath would be kindled against Norfolk and Gardiner, and he expected to obtain a warrant for their immediate committal to the Tower. By this master-stroke he should destroy his opponents, and at the same time arrest the divorce.
But his enemies were beforehand with him, and took care he should not obtain access to the King.
Accordingly, as we have seen, on his arrival at the palace, he was refused admission to the royal presence. But he was not to be deterred from making a further effort, and remained.
Meanwhile, Norfolk and Gardiner were closeted with the King, and using every endeavour possible to accomplish their opponent’s ruin.
“What charges in particular do you bring against him?” demanded Henry, who had been listening with a stern countenance to Norfolk’s representations. “Let me hear them.”
“All that I charge against him can be proved, as will appear, when his papers are seized,” replied the Duke. “I charge him, in his capacity of Prime Minister, with receiving enormous bribes, and encroaching on the royal authority.”
The King uttered an exclamation of displeasure.
“As Vicar-General, I accuse him of entertaining heretical opinions, and I can substantiate the charge,” said Gardiner.
“That is nothing new, my lord Bishop,” observed Henry. “He must be guilty of heresy in your eyes, and would retort that you too rigorously adhere to the old doctrines.”
“But he has carried his zeal to a treasonable extent,” said Norfolk. “On one occasion, in the warmth of argument with the Earl of Southampton, he plucked forth his poniard, and declared he would maintain the cause of the Reformation, sword in hand, even against your Majesty!”
“Ha! said he so? By our Lady, he is a traitor, and deserves death!” cried the King, furiously.
“In many important matters, as can be shown, he has abused your Majesty’s confidence, and betrayed his trust,” said Gardiner. “I need scarcely remind you of his want of scruple in involving your Majesty in a matrimonial treaty, the real object of which was to strengthen his own power, without regard to any other consideration.”
“True,” remarked the King; “his conduct therein was unpardonable. He forced me into a marriage that I detested; but, by St. Anne, he will find it the worst day’s work he ever performed.”
“The worst has still to be stated against him,” said Norfolk.
“Ha! what more remains?” cried Henry.
“No greater crime can be committed by a minister than to alienate from his sovereign the affections of a large portion of the people. This Cromwell hath done. He has become extraordinarily odious to the people, and must be sacrificed to their just resentment.”
At this moment, the fold of tapestry that masked the entrance of the cabinet was drawn aside by an usher, and Catherine entered, followed by Lady Rochford and Adrian.
“You are just in time, Kate, to hear my decision,” said Henry. “I have resolved to commit Cromwell to the Tower. If he be found guilty of the crimes laid to his charge, he will lose his head.”
“They are certain to be proved against him, sire,” said Norfolk.
“Yet let me intercede for him,” said Catherine.
“You forget that he is your enemy, Kate,” cried the King.
“No, sire. I would have him punished, but not with death. Spare him, I beseech you!”
“The people clamour against him, sire,” said Norfolk, sternly. “His death alone will pacify them.”
“They shall be contented,” rejoined the King, with a stern smile. “I cannot grant your request, Kate, and ’tis best I should not.”
“Still I would rather he lived, even though he plotted against me,” she sighed.
“You have a gentle heart, Kate,” said Henry, taking her hand; “but it cannot be as you wish. He must die. Ha! where is the ruby ring I gave you?”
“Is it not on my finger, sire?” she rejoined, feigning surprise.
“You see it is not,” he remarked, suspiciously.
“I must have left it on my toilet-table,” she replied, carelessly. “I will put it on anon.”
“See you do,” he rejoined.
Here the Duke of Norfolk interposed.
“Cromwell is without, sire,” he said. “Shall I arrest him on his departure?”
“Not here,” rejoined Henry. “Arrest him at the council-board to-morrow. His disgrace must be public.”
“Your Majesty is right,” replied the Duke.
At this moment, an usher entered, and said that the Lord Cromwell implored an audience of his Majesty.
“He is importunate,” cried Henry, sternly. “I have already declared I will not see him.”
Thereupon, the usher withdrew.
Not long afterwards, Henry, and all those with him, issued from the cabinet, and traversing the great hall, which was crowded, as usual, with ushers, pages, and gentlemen, went out upon the terrace facing the river.
His Majesty had ordered his barge to be got ready to proceed to York Place, where he intended to spend the remainder of the day. Catherine and Lady Rochford, with several other Court dames, were to accompany him.
As the royal party approached the place of embarkation, they perceived Cromwell standing among the attendants, near the head of the stairs. He evidently intended to make a last effort to obtain speech of the King.
With him was Dereham, a circumstance that awakened Catherine’s worst apprehensions. She glanced at Lady Rochford, and saw that her looks reflected her own uneasiness.
Cromwell prostrated himself before the King, but Henry haughtily repulsed him, declining to hear a word he had to say.
“If you will not hear me, sire, at least listen to this person,” cried Cromwell, calling Dereham forward. “He has something to reveal that concerns you much to know.”
Henry paused for a moment, his curiosity being excited.
“Speak! What is it?” he cried.
Catherine gave herself up for lost. But Adrian Culpepper flew to the rescue.
“Give no heed to the knave, sire,” he cried. “His heart is full of deceit and treachery, and whatever he may say to you will be false. Look at him, sire. ’Tis Francis Dereham! Do you not recognise him?”
“Ay, by St. Anne, I recognise him now!” rejoined Henry. “The fellow’s audacity is astounding!”
“It is the more astounding, considering his career,” said Adrian. “Since revelations are to be made, let him recount his own history to your Majesty.”
“It is a portion of my own history that I desire to relate, if your Majesty will deign to listen to it,” said Dereham.
“Your exploits with Dragut, the corsair, will interest his Majesty most,” observed Adrian. “Begin with those.”
“I will begin at an earlier date,” said Dereham, boldly. “If my memory fails me, the Lady Catherine Ho
ward will assist me.”
“Ha! dar’st thou mention that lady’s name, villain?” cried Henry, furiously. “Thou shalt rue thine insolence! I now see why thou hast been brought here.”
“Hang him, sire! — hang him! He richly deserves it, for a false knave that he is!” cried Will Sommers, who was standing behind.
“Do with me what you will, sire,” said Dereham; “but let me explain.”
“Peace!” thundered Henry. “You say he has sailed with Dragut, the corsair?” he added to Adrian.
“He is a pirate and a cut-throat! The Lord Cromwell knows it, and yet hath protected him!”
“Ha!” exclaimed the King.
“I know him only as one of the Duchess of Norfolk’s gentlemen,” said Cromwell. “But I know, also, that he is—”
“A corsair!” cried Will Sommers, in a shrill voice.
At another moment this sally might have caused a smile; but the King glanced angrily at Cromwell.
“I have been told that you have protected certain desperadoes, my lord!” he said. “But till now I did not believe it.”
“Do not believe it now, sire,” rejoined Cromwell. “It has not yet been proved that Dereham is a corsair.”
“The truth shall be wrested from him by the rack,” said Henry. “Let him be taken to the Tower forthwith!”
In obedience to a sign from the Duke of Norfolk, Dereham was immediately surrounded by the halberdiers stationed near the stairs while Henry, without bestowing another look on Cromwell, entered the barge.
III. The Council Chamber.
IN a large antique chamber, lined with crimson tissue, adorned with gold roses and fleurs-de-lis, sat Henry and his Council.
The superb canopy of the throne was deeply fringed with gold, and embroidered at the back with the royal arms and supporters of the Tudors. The ceiling was of timber-work divided into squares, richly painted and gilt, and the pendants were likewise gilt, producing a gorgeous effect.
Over his magnificent attire Henry wore a robe of purple velvet, furred with ermine. Around his neck was the collar of the Garter. He had just taken his seat upon the throne, and cast a stem glance at the Council, who were seated in a wide semi-circle around him.
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