Katherine the Martyr

by Leigh Jenkins

  Wearily, I sat back in my chair. I had only attended this meeting of my full Privy Council because I had believed it to be a simple matter. I could have signed an Act of Attainder against these men, and allowed them to be burned within the week. But now the usual fighting had broken out.

  I was no fool. I knew that Bishop Gardiner and those who stood with him still longed for the days of Catholicism. For a return to the pope, now called the Bishop of Rome by my new church. And that Lord Hertford, along with his brother and any number of others, would see my reforms of the church pushed farther, right to the edge of Lutheranism.

  However, thus far, neither man had done anything that was against my laws. No books written by Luther or frantic letters addressed to the Pope had been found. Each man had just been unceasingly against one another. And it now took all my strength to keep these two warring factions apart from one another, to allow neither side to gain.

  “I’ll call for a ceasefire,” Charles Brandon said from my right, reaching out to barely touch the edge of my sleeves. I looked into the lined face of my friend and nodded my ascent. It was almost time for me to lead the court into dinner.

  “Your Majesty?” piped up a voice from my left. I shook Charles off and leaned forward. Down the large hall the arguments continued, but Lord Wriothesley had traveled down to kneel beside my chair, the grouping of papers in his hands.

  “Yes?” I asked, my voice tired even to my ears.

  “I have found an error,” Wriothesley said.

  “Error?” I asked. This was not what I wanted to hear.

  “An error with Lord Hertford’s claims.”

  This silenced the entire table and every head turned to look at this man.

  “The three men who he received confessions from did indeed travel to York. But if you see here —” Wriothesley began shifting through the pages until he reached the final page. “Those three men were not the ones who accompanied the bishop into the houses that morning. They were questioning the local priest. So they would not have seen what they claimed to have seen.”

  “Impossible,” Hertford said, his voice filled with horror. Before he could move, I had the papers in my hands, and saw what Wriothesley said was true.

  “Well, it seems that these confessions of yours are not valid,” I said, tossing them back to Hertford, who was still gaping like a fish. As Wriothesley slunk away, I reached for the Acts of Attainder to my right, signing each one and passing them on to make sure my seal was affixed to each.

  “Ah,” Gardiner said, pulling the stack of papers towards him with pleasure. “They shall be executed within the week. Beheaded or burned at His Majesty’s pleasure. Which shall it be?”

  I let my eyes roam over to Hertford, who was still shaking with fury over this loss.

  “Burned,” I said, my word final. “Burned on the Tower Green.”

  Chapter Two

  January, 1544

  Your Majesty, I write to you most the most humble greetings —

  The sound of the guards outside my door suddenly knocking their pikes together pulled me from my reading. My youngest daughter, Elizabeth, was already requesting to rejoin the court, despite having spent most of the fall and all of the Christmas season here. However, I had recently sent a new tutor to my son Edward, a Dr. Richard Cox that Katherine had recommended. Elizabeth would benefit from a shared education. I would speak to Katherine about sending my daughter to join her brother’s household.

  The pikes clanked once again and I nodded for a page boy to see who was at the door.

  “It is the Scottish ambassador,” the boy quickly reported back.

  I growled and motioned for him to help me up from my chair. Since the previous fall tensions had run high between my kingdom and our unreliable neighbors to the north. If I thought I could, I would overrun and subjugate the entire country. However, that would take a force stronger than had yet been raised — Scotland was a wild land and hard to penetrate. Nothing like the open, giving fields of France that were so easily conquered and could feed an army on the march.

  Despite my expressed desire to not see this man at court, he seemed to have wormed his way back. Word had reached me that Scotland had renewed its friendship with France, whom we were mounting an expedition against for this spring. I did not need Scotland attacking from the north at the same time.

  Reaching the double doors that led out to my receiving chambers, I gestured for the door to be opened. Outside the ambassador stood on the other side of the crossed pikes, puffed up and ready to lecture my two guards.

  “We will walk,” I said simply, gesturing for the man to follow me towards the great dining hall. I continued without waiting; it took a moment of scurrying for him to catch up to me.

  “Is there perhaps a time we could speak Your Majesty?” he said, his voice thick. He paused for a moment in a hacking cough, and once again had to rush to reach me.

  “No,” I responded. “We are speaking now. What does King James have to say to me?”

  We were passing by a number of courtiers who swept into low bows; without fail, every ear also turned up in an effort to hear our conversation. But speaking behind closed doors would only give rise to more speculation. Here, snippets of conversation would show that we had nothing to hide.

  “He — he wishes to question the validity of the marriage contract between Prince Edward and his daughter, the most precious Princess Mary.”

  “What?” I roared, turning on the man who had immediately shrunk back. Already I could feel my temper rising up my back, overtaking me. My vision became hazy and all I could see was the sniveling, shaking man before me.

  “How could such a question even be asked?” I bit out, pulling off my cap and swiping it toward the man who jumped back. His quickness only served to fuel my anger, and I pulled back, ready to strike at him again.

  “The Treaty of Greenwich, now that it is void —” the fool started, but I lunged for him again and he squeaked as he darted back.

  “It is your disloyal master who had broken that treaty!” I hollered, my shoulders heaving as I tried to make sense of what the man was saying. Glancing to the side, I finally noticed that lines of courtiers seemed to be frozen in fear, comically bent at the waist in their bows. No ear was craning to hear me now; my words had echoed off the walls, barely muffled by the few tapestries.

  This was not the place for this discussion.

  “You will meet with my Privy Council tomorrow morning, an hour before dinner,” I said, forcing my voice to be calm. “You will then deliver this news to them, and explain to England why this final bit of treachery has been thrust upon us by the unfaithful King James. I pray that you will be able to satisfactorily convey your master’s intentions to us.”

  With that I turned and pushed myself down the hall. No courtier had the bad sense to raise their head or ask me for a favor now. Indeed, every head stayed firmly tucked away until I reached the great hall, where the long tables were already lined with courtiers. I wasted no time in climbing to my great seat at the front of the hall, the chair quickly pulled back. Once I managed to sit and be pushed toward the table, I waved my hand and every person in the room — from Katherine on my right down to the lowliest maid in waiting — sat at their own tables.

  “Is Your Majesty troubled?” Katherine asked once the ale had been poured.

  “Troubled?” I growled, turning on her. But unlike the Scottish ambassador, Katherine did not shrink away, instead merely glanced down at my hands.

  “Yes, I am troubled,” I said, trying to speak clearly and not let my anger overcome me. “Troubled because the Scottish ambassador has betrayed us. It seems my son shall not have a Scottish bride.”

  Katherine’s quick bite of her lips let me know that she was not surprised by what I said.

  “You knew?” My voice was low and I knew that only she could hear me.

  “Lord Parr — I’m sorry, the Earl of Essex, my brother, had mentioned that he feared as such. When the Treaty of
Greenwich was broken —” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

  “It is hard to trust the Scots in the best of circumstances,” she finished after a moment. “They seem never able to keep their word.”

  Despite my anger, a small spark of glee filled me.

  “Yes,” I agreed, a smile finding its way to my face. “They are a feckless people.”

  “And I must admit that I did not cherish the idea of a Scottish queen,” Katherine continued, shaking her he head. “It would have fallen to me to teach her how to behave. She would be difficult. Not like Your Majesty’s two daughters, good English girls. I am sure the Princess Mary would have proven a difficult charge.”

  This was undoubtedly true; the Scots were known for their wild nature.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Lady Margaret Douglas is proof enough of that. Despite my sister’s influence, her father’s Scottish nature always seems to win out, causing her to constantly disobey me.”

  “It would do to have her wed to a safe nobleman who could keep her away from the danger she so often courts,” Katherine said, dipping her head.

  I thought about that; my niece did seem to do nothing but attract troublesome men.

  “If you would like, I could look for a suitable match,” Katherine continued.

  “Yes,” I said, after a moment’s pause. “There will not be a long list of men up to the task though.”

  We both laughed together, and Katherine nodded.

  “Shall I look in England or for a Scottish noble?” she asked.

  “Scottish,” I decided quickly. “It would be best to have someone loyal to us in Scotland.”

  “Since King James is decidedly not,” Katherine agreed. “We will do better without Mary, Princess of Scotland. She would bring us nothing but trouble.”

  “Ah, my dear,” I said, reaching out to pat her hand before turning to the food that had sat ignored on my plate. “You are certainly right about that.”

  ****

  The Scottish ambassador seemed shocked by the sudden turn in my nature, my willingness to let the marriage drop. We dismissed him with a few well-chosen phrases that were sure to anger King James, but it mattered not. Our focus was to remain on the fighting planned in France, although we would now need to leave a sizeable force here to travel north and protect us from Scotland.

  “Have you decided on who you will send north to protect us from the Scots?”

  Katherine’s sudden interest in politics startled me, and I felt my eyes narrow with suspicion. Every wife thus far had thought it her right to meddle in politics — but I had learned from my time with the witch Anne Boleyn how disastrous that could be.

  I pulled away from her, no easy feat in my large bed, and frowned. It would not do for her to think that she might dictate matters of state. Besides, the candlelight was low; I wished to try for a child and quickly so that I might drop into sleep. Now seemed not the time to mention this.

  Katherine blushed and lowered her head.

  “I know it troubles Your Majesty and wished only to offer you a way to discuss it. Without fear of insulting a counselor or one of your lords. I often wish to talk aloud when I have a matter troubling me. I only hoped to give you a way to discuss this.”

  I felt the anger slide away from me at her humble words.

  “You must remember to call me Henry,” I gently chastised and she nodded. “And traditionally the Duke of Norfolk travels north for me. His lands reside up there, he is able to raise a large army, and quickly. Quicker than any other.”

  “Indeed, that would be an honor for him,” Katherine agreed. “One that he has held many times. He was even protecting the north for you before I was born. With his father. It must be a relief to Your Majesty to have such loyal men at your disposal.”

  “Yes, Thomas Howard has always proven his loyalty in the end,” I said, sighing. “Though his damn son has soured his line. I would trust that boy no further than Cornwall. Even his father doesn’t put forward his name. But the duke is no longer a young man. ”

  “It does seem that a younger man would inspire the men.”

  I let her words wash over me, a prickling of irritation at the back of my mind. It was obvious we would not be trying for a child tonight. Not as long as Katherine wished to discuss who was leading the Scots. And I was no fool — she obviously did not think the Duke of Norfolk should be the one to do so.

  “Do you have a suggestion?” I asked, deliberately pitching my voice higher so that she would not think me angry.

  She bit her lower lip and then nodded her head.

  “Earl of Hertford, Edward Seymour?” she said finally.

  So this was who her ally was. I knew that before I made my intentions toward her known that Edward’s younger brother — Thomas — had shown an interest in my now bride. It seemed that their allegiance ran deeper than a mere flirtation.

  “I will discuss it with the Privy Council,” I said, now making sure my voice was gruff. She opened her mouth, and I rolled away.

  “Perhaps I should have remained in my chambers,” I continued, before she could continue an argument. “If you only wished to discuss politics.”

  This silenced her completely and I felt her pull the covers up over my shoulders before turning away to make herself comfortable.

  ****

  I did not bother to return to Katherine’s chambers for over a week. However, I did look into the Earl of Hertford’s ability to raise an army — he would do well in to the east, but no one could raise an army in the north like the Duke of Norfolk. And to have an army raised and then marched over the entirety of England would be a waste of time and resources. I called the Duke of Norfolk to my presence chamber, making sure the Earl of Hertford was among the hundred or so courtiers that littered the room.

  “Ah, my good friend,” I said, gesturing for him to rise. He trembled as he did so, though I am sure I was one of the few who noticed this. Thomas Howard was not a man to show weakness lightly.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice rough.

  “I wished to invest you with the power to ride north to your homeland and raise an army for this spring. As every good Englishman knows, we cannot trust our neighbors to the north.”

  I glanced to the side to see the Earl of Hertford looking as if he had swallowed curdled milk. Behind him Wriothesley had a sly grin on his face as he too took in the Earl’s expression.

  “I would be honored to take on this task for Your Majesty,” the Duke said, long used to accepting my orders.

  I noticed in the back of the room the frowning face of a young Scottish lord, the Earl of Lennox, who was visiting my court in order to wed my niece Margaret Douglas. He would be one of many who would no doubtedly report my words to King James, letting him know that we were mustering an army.

  He would learn of it anyway; he had as many spies at my court as I had at his. No doubt one was currently riding south to tell me of him doing the same.

  But breaking our peace treaty and jilting my son could mean nothing less than war.

  Chapter Three

  February, 1544

  “Your Majesty, the Earl of Essex,” my herald announced. I turned away from the papers before me on my desk; it seemed the Duke of Norfolk could do nothing without sending me a missive explaining his actions. Perhaps I should have sent Lord Hertford.

  Shaking my head to dispel the thought, I gestured for the earl to approach. Though now my brother-in-law, we had little contact with one another. His request to speak with me was quite unprecedented.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low. It took a moment for him to straighten when I motioned for him to rise. I was not the only one now affected by old age.

  “You wished to speak with me?” I said, moving to take a seat before the fireplace. The damp chill was little chased away by the roaring fire, but it did help me take note of the earl’s features. Even in midday the gray skies of winter made it hard for me to see a man’s face clearly.

  “I wished
to learn more about the Act of Succession,” he said, not one to mince words.

  Immediately I felt a frown forming on my face. Essex would not be the first man to question my right to claim who my heirs might be. But he could certainly follow those who had to the block.

  “It is to be published on the seventh,” I said. “There shall be no altering it.”

  “I have no wish to alter it,” the Earl said quickly. “Merely to add to it.”

  This was a startling confession and I nodded for him to continue.

  “As it stands now, Prince Edward, followed by the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth are listed as your heirs.”

  Once again I nodded.

  “I had wondered about any children my sister might bear? Queen Katherine is still young; I know Your Majesty has hope.”

  Hope was one thing, but to say Katherine was young? Sighing, I waved my hand.

  “If the Queen were to tell me she was with child, a new act can easily be commissioned.”

  “Yes, but it would be possible to add a clause about future children. Not only would it secure your line, without an additional act to confuse the yeomen who can barely read, it would also reflect well on your majesty’s health. I believe a show of confidence, especially as we plan to attack France, would speak well of Your Majesty.”

  I did not respond at first, for it was true. Though an act from me took little effort, it still had to be distributed, often to men who could barely write their own name. And I wanted no confusion over my succession.

  However, there was more. There always was, with every courtier, and I leaned back in my chair, peering at the Earl through narrowed eyes. He remained seated, leaning slightly forward and on his left arm. He did not even move to brush aside the few hairs that had fallen in his eyes, so intent was he.

  A show of confidence. Yes, altering the act would be a show of confidence, that my health was good and there were no cause for any rumors to the contrary. But who else would I be showing confidence in?