Katherine the Martyr

by Leigh Jenkins

  The mere idea of this was enough to tire me, and I waved away the plate and ale.

  “I am exhausted,” I said plainly to Heneage. Doctor Butts nodded and twitched the blankets over me, as Heneage removed the plates.

  “If your Majesty could try not to move, you would be fine to sleep,” the doctor said, nodding for Heneage to watch me. “We could wait to put the bandages on until later.”

  “I will wake you in time to be dressed. I do not believe the duke will be here for at least another three hours,” Heneage said, moving his stool toward me after placing the plates outside the door.

  “Very well,” I said, leaning back, turning my head toward where the juice had fallen on my pillow. It was still the sweetest smell in the room.

  ****

  “It is good to be returned to court, and gracious of Your Majesty to feed me so well upon my return.”

  The duke is seated to my right, his son to my left. Upon taking our seats, I could see how pleased he was at this arrangement, and the fact that only Heneage and a few page boys attended us. And that there were no other guests.

  His report before my throne had been brief, recounting only the most basic details of the battles. The Earl of Sussex seemed to speak more, piping in with tidbits his father had written to him of the battles. But the duke was an old enough and skilled enough courtier to know that these preening moments would do little to raise him higher in my eyes.

  Old enough — the duke certainly looked older. As the doors to my chamber had been thrown open just as I had been lowered onto my throne, I had bit back a cry at the sunken cheeks and grey hairs that littered his nearly bald head. True, the Duke of Norfolk was one of my oldest courtiers, but for the first time I truly saw how ancient he had become.

  It had made my own bones ache, and as the first dishes were brought to my table, being first served to me and then to the duke, I pushed aside the memory. Charles was gone. I had buried so many people I had loved. Rising to greet the duke and then having him and his son for dinner had caused a cold sweat to break upon my brow. I needed no more reminders of my age.

  “I wish to hear more about Scotland,” I ordered, leaning back as a fish stew was presented to me.

  The Earl of Sussex opened his mouth, but closed it with a look from his father.

  “It is the same wild land we have always known, Your Majesty,” the duke said evenly. I narrowed my eyes at him, as I leaned forward to feed myself the first few bites, making sure to scoop a generous portion of fish into my mouth.

  “I can hardly believe you found this to be true,” I countered.

  The duke shrugged.

  “The men are quite the same. It is the lords who have changed. Though still considered a nation loyal to the pope — to the Bishop of Rome, pardon me. Though still considered loyal to the Bishop of Rome, the threat of Lutheranism looms great there. As there is no one to dictate what is safe to read, any book or tome is allowed in. The lords regularly flaunt their forbidden texts as a matter of fact. There is no order.”

  “You did not mention this in any of your dispatches,” I responded.

  “I did not know of it until I was almost to return. I had been fighting the lords, not discussing theology with them.”

  I could not see this old man, with his gruff manner and popish beliefs discussing theology with anyone. I covered a laugh with another bite of stew and then waved for it to be taken away and the meats brought on.

  “But I wish I had known of it,” the duke continued as his stew was removed. “If I had, I would have suggested that Lord Hertford not be sent to Scotland as regent.”

  “He was not sent as regent,” I answered. “Merely as — emissary. It will take careful consideration to determine who will permanently fill that seat.”

  To my left the Earl of Sussex scowled, but the duke merely bowed his head. He knew, as his son does not, that I shared his worries that Hertford will only fan the flame of Lutheranism. That I knew of his leanings and have no way to counter them.

  The rest of the meal is filled with recounts of the battles, the duke obviously padding some of his own exploits. I could not imagine the man leading such a charge down a hill as he claimed, but there is no one to contradict him, so I instead allowed myself to enjoy the story.

  When Heneage finally helped me to my rooms that night, I felt in the best spirits since Charles’s passing. Even this slight reminder did nothing to upset me, and I allowed Doctor Butts to change my bandages without my usual complaints.

  “Your Majesty?” Heneage said once I am comfortably in bed. “Her Majesty the queen is here to bid you good evening.”

  I could see the worry on the man’s face, and I waved it away.

  “Allow her in,” I ordered. “She certainly has come to apologize for the error of her way this morning.”

  But she had not come to apologize.

  “I thought the entire court believed Lord Hertford to be regent of Scotland,” she greeted me with, talking even as she dipped into her curtsey.

  “The word regent was never used,” I bit back, feeling my good mood evaporate. Instead, the ire that Katherine had brought with her on every past visit climbed my back, taking hold of my head once again.

  “It seemed implied —”

  “One never implies the word regent,” I responded dryly.

  Katherine nodded at this and then bit her lip. She refused to meet my eye, and it is this, the defiant glance away from me, that angered me more than anything else.

  “And you will better know your place, madam!” I shouted, furious at her standing there when I can do nothing but limp around with my arms around a page boy. Angry that she constantly contradicted me in matters of religion and now seemed to be doing so in matters of state. She should understand, they should all understand, that I am the only king. The only head of the Church of England.

  “Your Majesty –” she said, her words soft, even taking a step toward me. But her movement did nothing to calm the anger that raged inside of me.

  “You will leave my presence and will not return until you are called for. And be thankful that you do not walk the steps that those before you have!”

  Katherine’s face went completely white at my words, her hands flying to the high-necked collar of her dress on their own accord. Even Heneage and Doctor Butts froze. I had never before referenced the fate of the two women I had sent to the block for betraying me.

  After a moment, she dipped down and then backed from the room, seeming to realize that her only option is retreat.

  The remainder of the night was filled with restless sleep. I woke every hour, startling Heneage, who was seated by the door. Moaning myself awake, my leg aching, but the memories that Katherine had drawn up causing more pain. It was with relief that I saw the bright light of dawn out my window, and I called for Heneage to help me rise up. The moment he does so, I began to understand that my illness is back, as a wave of dizziness so strong overtook me, and I immediately collapsed onto the bed.

  “Your Majesty?” Heneage asked, still holding onto my left arm, his brown eyes wide. I shook my head and there is a knock on the door, which he ran to answer. I can hear a few heated words outside the door, but then Heneage took a step back, murmuring low.

  “Bishop Gardiner to see Your Majesty.”

  I want to curse at the man for allowing the bishop in here, with me still in my gown and unable to keep the room from tilting, but the older man does not even seem to notice my predicament.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, dropping to one knee by my bed, the excitement practically rolling off of him.

  “Yes?” I managed, waving toward him.

  “It is the queen,” he said, smiling up at me. “Banned books have been found in her room, and we have evidence that she has been sharing them with others.”

  And suddenly my parting words to Katherine were no longer a mere threat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  October, 1544

  Three days later I’m awoken by
shouts outside my door. Exhausted, I tried to struggle into a sitting position, but Heneage raised a hand toward me and murmured not to disturb myself.

  I allowed my body to fall back onto the sweat-soaked pillow, then closed my eyes. Eventually, the shouting got to right outside my door. I heard Heneage open it, but then he firmly blocked the person outside from entering. In the corner, Doctor Butts shook himself awake, then moved to check my leg.

  “I must speak to His Majesty.”

  It was Katherine’s breathless voice. By the tremor in it, I could tell that Gardiner’s questioning of her ladies had finally reached her ears.

  “His Majesty is currently resting,” came Heneage’s harsh voice. “And must not be disturbed. You know how important his health is, madam.”

  “I understand,” she responded. “But you will do well to listen to your queen. There are urgent matters of state that I must discuss with him.”

  For a moment Heneage seemed to waver, but then set his shoulders.

  “Your Majesty can come speak with him this afternoon, when he is awake. Now, his doctor insists that he rests.”

  Doctor Butts seemed to balk at this, but didn’t call out to correct Heneage.

  A defeated sigh came from the other side of the door and I could almost see Katherine wringing her hands.

  “This afternoon?” she asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Heneage said, a bit of relief now evident in his voice. “His Majesty can accept you this afternoon.”

  Another moment passed. I can hear soft whisperings, almost as if Katherine was talking to herself.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I can wait until this afternoon.”

  I could see Heneage bow, as he should to his queen, and then the door is closed.

  Katherine was not at court for Anne Boleyn’s trial, nor was she present for the trial of Katherine Howard. She did not know how quickly the axe could fall.

  When my midday meal comes, nothing more than broth and a few pieces of bread that I found hard to swallow, another commotion is heard. This time, Heneage bowed swiftly to me and then left the room, heading off the commotion in my outer chambers.

  Silently, Doctor Butts came toward me, lifting the poultice off of my leg and beginning the painful process of wrapping the bandages. His elderly hands shook as he did this, but he seemed as skilled as ever.

  “I will brew a tisane if Your Majesty will consent to take it,” he said, pulling the last bandage into place. “It will help bring down the fever.”

  I nodded.

  “Anything to cool this infernal room,” I answered. “Must the fire be stoked so high?”

  The doctor glanced over toward the small flames in the fireplace, and then nodded.

  “It will help break the fever,” he decreed.

  I shrugged, as it seemed too much effort to argue with him. Gently he mopped my brow, bringing back a sweat-soaked cloth. He looked at it with a small sigh.

  “If you would like, I could fetch Her Majesty,” Doctor Butts said, looking over at me slightly. “If that might calm you.”

  “She will return in the afternoon,” I answered, knowing full well that she would not.

  “Your Majesty …” Doctor Butts began, but then bit his lip. He had never before expressed an opinion about my court, despite how long he had been with me. I squinted at him, trying to make out his concerned, wrinkled face amidst my fever.

  “Your Majesty, I am afraid you don’t understand. Bishop Gardiner has called for a trial. I believe Her Majesty will be arrested by this afternoon.”

  The heat in my belly spread over me, as familiar feelings of anger take hold.

  “You believe I do not know what is happening in my own kingdom?” I demanded. “That I am ignorant?”

  “No!” Doctor Butts said, and then dropped to one knee. I could hear his harsh grunt as he hit the ground, but he gave no sign of discomfort. “I only feared that Chancellor Wriothesley and Bishop Gardiner were acting without your permission.”

  My bones aching, I forced myself up and leaned over the bed to stare down at his bent head.

  “They are acting with my permission; moreover, they are acting on my express orders. The queen has behaved abominably. She has broken my laws and has betrayed me.”

  My voice wavered on this last bit, so I waited a moment and then continued.

  “She must pay for her crimes.”

  Doctor Butts pale white face looked up at me, his look of horror unmasked. He has heard these words before, for I had said these words before. The fact that he has made me say them again intensified my anger. Reaching over, I find the sweat-soaked rag he used. I fling it down, smacking him in the face.

  “You will leave,” I ordered, my words clipped.

  “Your Majesty, please, your leg and your fever —”

  “Can be treated by someone with more sense!” I roared. “Need I repeat myself? You will leave court immediately!”

  The doctor has been around long enough to know there is nothing more that he can do. He nodded his head and then stumbled to his feet. In his haste to leave he did not even pick up his tools, merely backing away and running into Heneage as he leaves the room.

  “Please, fetch my assistant to give a tisane to His Majesty,” is all Doctor Butts said. Then he is gone.

  Heneage glanced at me, bewildered, but then saw the tight anger on my face and nodded. A quick word with a page boy just outside my door, and then he returned, his face serious but not anxious.

  “Your Majesty, Chancellor Wriothesley has returned and bid me come to you with news.”

  I nod, though I know what the next words will be.

  “Her Majesty, Queen Katherine, has been found guilty of heresy and placed under arrest. She will be in the Tower by nightfall.”

  ****

  Usually it was Heneage who kept me updated on the trial. Twice a day he disappeared for about an hour and then returned, full of news about what books have been found, what Katherine’s ladies had betrayed. Talk had been made of calling her stepdaughter Margaret back from France, but this was decided to be too expensive and also unnecessary. It was then that I knew they had enough evidence to have her executed.

  I had only attended one trial related to the women who had called themselves my wife. When I was a young man, over ten years ago, Catherine of Aragon and I had gone before the pope’s emissary to determine if our marriage was legal. That trial had lasted for months, though Katherine had only showed her face one of the days; I had remained in court that entire long summer, trying to find out the truth — if she had truly been married to my older brother Arthur before his death or not. The testimony and legalities that the different bishops had put forth often made my head swim.

  The other two trials — those of Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard — had not been so messy or as long. Evidence of their affairs and other lovers had been easy to find and both had been found guilty within a week. There had been no reason for me to attend those trials, as I never attended the trials of those guilty of treason.

  Just recalling the trial with Catherine made my head swim. Those long months when I had been forced to accept that I had wasted years trying to beget a son. That her lies, her insistence that she had been a virgin on our wedding night, had cost my country so much. And what could she, a Spaniard in the end, understand about the necessity of a son in England? In her country, women would accept the crown. Her own mother had ruled alongside her husband, claiming Castile in her own right. Something that would not do in England. And Catherine had never understood.

  “Your Majesty?” Heneage asked, coming toward me as I pinch my nose, trying to ward off the memories. His face swam before me; the young lines of his eyes could belong to any of the young men who held this post before him. For a moment I see the face of Henry Norris, my groom of the stool who had slept with Anne Boleyn and been beheaded the day before her. I cry out, the scream becoming caught in my throat.

  “Your Majesty!” Heneage cried out, surging forwa
rd with a glass of ale. More of it ends up spilled on the bed, but some ends up before me, and I manage a gulp, trying to tamp down my terror. Ever since I had sent Doctor Butts away, it had been only Heneage here to attend me. An assistant to Doctor Butts appeared every few hours or so, changing my bandages and leaving a tisane for me to take. But they did not linger, and despite my continued anger, I found that I was missing his skills as a doctor.

  “Leave,” I try to croak out. It took a moment for Heneage to understand, then he stood, nodded to me, and made to back out of the room. He has almost gone when there is a sharp knock.

  Despite my sweat-soaked bedclothes and the pounding in my head, I nodded for him to open the door. He did so quickly and then darted back toward the fireplace, obviously intent on staying. Chancellor Wriothesley and Bishop Gardiner paid him no mind as they swept into the room, both dropping down before me.

  I could tell by the shocked looks on both of their faces that they were dismayed to find me in such poor condition. They exchanged a quick glance and then Wriothesley quickly spoke.

  “Your Majesty, perhaps if we recall Doctor Butts —”

  “No,” I cut him off. I thought about adding how the doctor had spoken out for the queen, knowing that would stop their prying, but refrain. The men shared another not-too-subtle glance and then continued.

  “We wished to report on the state of the trial,” Wriothesley said diplomatically.

  “Very well,” I said, waving my hands.

  “Tomorrow the vote will be held among the peers. We believe the queen will be found guilty.”

  Despite expecting this outcome, I still felt a clinching in my gut at these the words. But I forced myself to nod.

  “We have here, annulment papers for your to sign, if you so wish,” Bishop Gardiner added, presenting a long paper to me with a flourish. “We will take Her Majesty’s signature as well, and then she will be condemned as Katherine Parr, not as Her Majesty the Queen.”

  Reaching out, a quill is suddenly thrust into my hand by Heneage, and I scrawled along the bottom of the paper. Gardiner frowned at it, but Wriothesley nodded, and then handed the paper to Heneage. Though usually my secretary would take care of this, I had not seen him for over a month. Instead it is Heneage who affixed my seal to the document. Now Katherine will know that this was truly my wish.