Jane Seymour, the Haunted Queen

by Alison Weir

  Jane felt again that same excitement that had come upon her when the messenger had brought Edward the Cardinal’s summons. Yet, she reminded herself, nothing was certain; she must rein in her hopes. But please God, let Sir Francis Bryan say yes!

  * * *

  —

  Father had spoken to Catherine, but, he said, she had declined to talk to him. As those tense weeks of Edward’s absence passed, and Jane hoped and prayed for a communication from Sir Francis Bryan, little more was said about the dark matter that hung over Wulfhall like a cloud.

  Jane wondered why Catherine would not tell anyone what had happened to make her parents leave so abruptly. If, as she had told Edward, she had not been unfaithful, and the children were his, why was she holding back? Or was there nothing to tell? In that case, surely anger and a sense of injustice would impel her to seek redress, rather than shying away from doing so? But Catherine remained tight-lipped on the subject. It was like having a stranger in their midst.

  And then, in the heat of August, Edward came home from France, earlier than expected. There was no loving reunion with his family; his face told them that something dire had happened and, at the sight of it, Mother sent the children to the chamber called the Old Room, where they had their lessons and played.

  Jane wondered fleetingly if Edward had somehow displeased the Cardinal, but then she saw him recoil as Catherine came to greet him, and stare at his wife as if she were a piece of dirt to be brushed away. When he did not kneel for Father’s blessing, but fixed him with that same look, Jane began to feel afraid. What was going on?

  “Sir, I would speak to you in private, please,” Edward said, his voice like steel.

  Sir John nodded. “Of course. Come into my closet.”

  Catherine looked like an animal caught in a trap, staring at them both. Jane caught Mother’s eye, but Mother looked as perplexed as she was. Jane thought guiltily of what she had seen in the tower. Should she have said something?

  Father and Edward were in the closet for only a few minutes before Edward crashed out, slammed the door and stalked toward them. He pointed at Catherine.

  “Leave this house,” he commanded. “I will not have you under this roof a moment longer. You have dishonored me and my family, and I cannot endure your society any longer. Go and get your belongings.”

  Catherine’s face had gone white with fear. With a great sob, she flung herself to her knees. “Edward, I beg of you! Please do not send me away. What of the children?”

  “What of them indeed? You should have thought of them when you embarked on your evil deeds.”

  “Edward, what is all this about?” Mother cried.

  He turned an anguished face to her, as Catherine’s wails increased in volume. “Oh, God, Mother, I do not know how to tell you. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to say.”

  Jane was seized by a fit of trembling. She did not want to hear this.

  Beside her, Margery was crying.

  “You must tell me,” Mother insisted, in the voice of authority that had quelled many an obstreperous child or servant. Catherine subsided to a whimper. Her eyes were dark pools of horror.

  Edward closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “Father has been her lover these past nine years, almost since we were wed.” He dragged the words out, his voice sounding strangled. “The boys are most likely his.” Jane felt as if she had been punched. As Mother, poor Mother, sank down on a bench, she and Margery swooped to put their arms around her. “No,” Lady Seymour said, in a broken voice, all her authority vanished in an instant. “No, no, no. Not Catherine, his own son’s wife. I guessed long ago—God help me, I knew—there was another woman, but I never dreamed of this. Oh, Blessed Virgin, help us!” She collapsed in a torrent of weeping. Even Thomas was blinking away tears.

  Jane could not believe it. Not Father, their beloved father, who had been as a rock to them all? Yet rocks could be made of clay. How could he have done something so base, so vile? And kept on doing it all these nine years? For if John was his son, this wickedness had been going on since the year Edward married.

  She tried desperately to recall any hint of what had been happening under their very noses, and of course, when she thought about it, there had been signs, innocent in themselves, but now invested with a new significance. This, surely, had something to do with the Fillols departing so abruptly that day. Had they seen something that aroused their suspicions, or had Catherine confessed to what had been going on? Oh, God, it must have been her and Father in the tower—and on more than one occasion, judging by those stains! Her cheeks flamed with the shame of it. She could not bear to think of Father in such a lewd situation. It was disgusting.

  But it explained his constant kindness to Catherine, his anger with Edward, and why he stayed up on the night Catherine’s mother spoke to her. He must have been anxious lest Catherine betray what they had been doing. And when he had gone to talk to her himself, it must have been to warn her to keep quiet. It was all so sordid.

  And Mother—she had known that Father was being unfaithful with someone. How had she stayed cheerful and gone about as if all were well, putting everyone else first as usual? Such bravery was humbling—and shocking. But of course Jane had known, in some corner of her mind, that something was wrong. In her innocence, she had put it down to Mother suffering the change of life.

  “Now you see why she has to leave,” Edward said. In response, Catherine threw herself at him and clung to his knees.

  “I beg you, do not send me away!” she screamed. “Please! Please! I cannot leave my children! Edward, I beg you!”

  He disengaged her, none too gently. “You will do as I order you,” he hissed, his voice icy. “Get up. Go.”

  The world seemed to be turning upside down. Jane could not bear the thought of facing Father when he emerged from the closet, where he was no doubt hiding like a coward. And whatever Catherine had done, she could not help feeling some pity for her.

  “I will take you to Prioress Florence at Amesbury,” she said. “Harry, will you escort us?”

  “Aye,” Harry agreed.

  “Margery, look after Mother,” she urged. “I will be back as soon as I can. Catherine, please get up. We must gather your things.”

  Thomas and Harry lifted Catherine to her feet.

  “I must see the boys!” she cried, struggling to evade their grip. “I cannot leave my baby! I must see them!” She was becoming hysterical.

  “No,” Edward said. “Someone, get her gear.”

  “I’ll do it.” Mother made for the stairs, looking defeated and suddenly much older. Jane could not stem her own tears. She could well imagine the pain of losing a child, and how John and Ned would feel when they realized that their mother was never coming back. And that would only be the beginning of it.

  Just then, Mother stumbled and collapsed on the bottom stair. “It’s no use,” she wept, “I cannot…It’s all so dreadful.” Jane and Margery hastened to succor her.

  Harry let go of Catherine and squeezed Jane’s hand. “I’ll take her to Amesbury,” he said. “You stay with Mother.”

  Jane dabbed at her eyes, appalled to see Mother in such a state. “Maybe it would be best,” she agreed. “I’ll write a note to the Prioress.”

  “Please let me see my children!” Catherine begged, her eyes wild. She tried to push Edward aside, but he held her firmly, ignoring her cries. Jane fetched writing materials, but her hand was shaking so much that she could manage no more than an untidy scrawl.

  “I have told Prioress Florence only that you have been an unfaithful wife,” she said to Catherine. “I will not shame this family by telling the whole truth.”

  “That’s very wise,” Anthony observed, his voice hoarse, “and it’s what we should all agree to do. Let’s not make this any worse than it is. Imagine how the scandal would rebound on us if what has happen
ed ever got out.”

  “You mean we should act among ourselves as if nothing has happened?” Mother said, rising unsteadily to her feet. “You believe I can do that?”

  Anthony’s lean, handsome face flushed. “Mother, I am only trying to spare you further distress. If we keep this matter in the family, you will be able to look our friends in the eye, without shame. And in truth, what else can you do? We are all bound to Father in loyalty and obedience. If you abandon him, the world will censure you as a faithless wife.”

  “We will discuss this later,” Mother said.

  She dragged herself upstairs and they sat there waiting for her, the silence broken only by Catherine’s sobs. Presently, Mother came down carrying a bag crammed with clothes, with a groom in her wake hauling a leather-bound chest. Jane could see from the resolute look on her face that she had recovered a semblance of her usual composure and was doing her best to be strong. “Catherine, here are your things,” she said, her tone cold. “Harry, can you order the litter to be brought round, and horses?”

  “It’s here,” Thomas said. “I gave the order.”

  “You must go,” Mother said, turning to face her weeping daughter-in-law. “Edward has decreed it, and I will not gainsay him. I hope, Catherine, that you realize the enormity of what you have done, and that you are sorry for it. In charity, I will pray for you.”

  “Please!” Catherine begged, her teeth chattering. “Please let me see my children!”

  “Get her out,” Edward said, and as Harry hesitated, he pulled her toward the door. She started screaming, but he slapped her face. “Quiet! What must the servants think?”

  Harry put a firm arm around Catherine and hurried her through the door. Jane followed them and stood by as he bundled her into the litter. When she leaned inside, Catherine stared at her, looking half crazed.

  “Listen,” Jane said. “If you respect our silence and never name my father as your paramour, I will do my best to ensure that you see your children. If you don’t, I will think you the most ungrateful creature that ever lived, and do nothing more for you. Do you understand?”

  Harry was looking at Jane with new respect. Catherine seized her hand. “I promise I will never speak of him! I give you my word, my vow. I’ll do anything, if you’ll bring my children to me or let me visit them.”

  “I will try,” Jane promised. “God be with you.” She stood in the Great Court, watching as the litter was borne off and Catherine’s wails faded into the distance. Then she went to find Edward.

  * * *

  —

  They were still in the hall, absorbing the enormity of what had happened.

  “She has gone,” Jane said. “Edward, you should be aware that a visit from the children may be the price of her silence.”

  Edward was slumped on a bench, his anger spent. “I don’t want them seeing her. No good can come of it.”

  “Her discretion will come of it! Besides, I more or less promised her that if she keeps silence about Father, I will do my best to help her see the children.”

  “You had no right!” Edward barked.

  “She has a lot of sense!” Mother riposted. “Do you want our shame trumpeted to the world? Word gets about, you know. Nuns love gossip. It’d be all over the county in five minutes. Think of me—and think of those poor children. They are going to miss their mother. They have never known a day without her.”

  “I will think on it,” Edward growled.

  “Then think quickly,” his mother said.

  “The thing I don’t understand,” Anthony spoke up, “is how you found out about Father being Catherine’s lover.” Jane saw Mother wince.

  Edward hesitated. “You will find the truth hard to believe. When I was in France, I was racked with uncertainty about Catherine. I had to know if she had really been untrue to me, and if the children were mine. It was the worst time to be away from home, and it grieved me that there was no way I could resolve these matters until my return. I was losing sleep over it.” He paused. “There was a gentleman in the Cardinal’s retinue. When we were at Amboise, I heard him speak of a learned man in the town who was supposed to have great skill in magic.”

  “A warlock!” Anthony burst out.

  Edward glowered at him. “Be grateful you weren’t in my situation, boy. You know nothing of what you speak.” He turned to the rest. “This man was reputed to be able to see visions and predict the future. I wondered if he could help me. I visited him in a house in a narrow street not far from the mansion where the artist Leonardo lived. At first, the man said it was forbidden to conjure visions, and if he did, he risked being accused of witchcraft or heresy. I swore I would tell no one. I offered sureties. In short, I begged and pleaded, because I was desperate to know the truth.”

  “But how did you know he was not a charlatan or fraud?” Harry asked.

  “People at court spoke of him with respect, as a learned man, a man of probity. Only this gentleman of the Cardinal’s had mentioned his magicking, and he assured me that he was as sound in that respect as in any other. And so I was happy to pay, handsomely, for his help.”

  Mother was shaking her head. “I cannot believe that a son of mine would involve himself in something like this. Father James would be appalled.”

  Jane herself was appalled, but also engrossed.

  Edward stood up. “I can see that you don’t approve of what I did, and I doubt you will believe it. There’s no point in telling you what happened. I’m going to the stables.”

  “Wait!” Jane cried. “We’ll hear you out. I’m sure you acted for the best reasons. Doesn’t everyone agree?” Her gaze swept over the entire company.

  “I will hear you out,” Mother said, “but I’ve had shocks enough for one day.”

  Edward sat down again. “Mother, I gained no sense that this man was wicked; rather that he was sober and sincere. He understood my anxiety, and was sympathetic. He told me he would use a magical perspective to try to discover what was happening at home. He took me into a small room hung with black cloth, and invited me to sit with him at the table. On it were placed two silver candles and a bowl of what looked like cristallo, filled with water. He asked the water to let us see the truth about my wife, then he took five moonstones from his pocket and dropped them in the bowl.”

  Mother crossed herself, but held her peace.

  “Nothing happened for a while,” Edward recounted, “but then, to my amazement, an image began to appear in the water. It was of a woman in a green gown, like the one Catherine often wore, but…I will only say that there was a man with her, in a more familiar posture than befitted the honor of either of them. The vision lasted only for seconds, but I recognized him. It was Father.”

  “How could you be sure?” Thomas asked, incredulous.

  “I had no doubt. But even if I was mistaken, or the man used trickery, it was no more than the truth, and Father has admitted it. Both of them have.”

  “So because of what you saw, you hurried home,” Thomas said. “What did the Cardinal say to that?”

  “I did not tell him the truth. I said my wife was crazed because her father had died, and I was in great fear for her. He was sympathetic, and gave me his blessing. I do not think he will hold it against me.” He buried his face in his hands.

  For a few moments, no one spoke.

  “What will you do now?” Jane ventured to ask.

  “If Catherine takes vows, you could easily obtain an annulment and marry again,” Anthony said.

  “You think I want to?” Edward asked, his tone bitter.

  “You must give yourself time,” Mother said. “We all need time to come to terms with what has happened.” She was weeping again. “Your father is become a stranger to me. I know not how I shall cope. And what is to become of the children?”

  Edward sighed. “I have thought long about this
. I love them both. They may be mine, but even if they are Father’s, they have the same blood. The law presumes that the husband is the father of any child of his wife, so there is no need to brand them with bastardy. Therefore I will do nothing to their prejudice.”

  Jane could see that Mother was as relieved as she was to hear that.

  “As long as you do not withdraw your fatherly love from them,” Mother said. “They are going to need that, especially John. And they are not to blame for any of this.”

  “I cannot stop loving them, even if they remind me of their mother and the wicked thing she has done,” Edward replied. “But I do intend to contest Sir William’s will; there is no reason why I, or her children, should be deprived of Catherine’s inheritance.”

  Thomas looked up. “If you do that, brother, you risk angering Lady Fillol, who might have her revenge by proclaiming to the world that it was our father who tupped her daughter.”

  “Thomas!” his siblings chorused in protest.

  “Have you no respect for Mother?” Harry snapped.

  Thomas had the grace to look contrite. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  “And I am sorry too, more than I can say.” It was Sir John, standing in the doorway, looking like a broken man and searching their faces as if to see whether any semblance of love and respect remained. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  His children rose to their feet, through the force of habit that had been drilled into them from infancy. All the obedience, deference and affection that Father had commanded throughout their lives could not be overturned in an instant. And yet already Jane found herself looking at him with new eyes. He was still the father she had loved, and yet he had become a stranger, a man revealed in all his sinful weakness. Her brain could not fully compass it.

  “Margery?” Sir John said.