by David Field
‘You are renowned for your aversion to shrines,’ Richard reminded him suspiciously, ‘so what is your real reason for being here?’
‘Perhaps, as a doting grandfather myself, I came to see how my late daughter’s namesake is faring. Grace is a beautiful child, and you have just cause to be proud of her.’
‘You are a grandfather?’ Jane queried.
Cromwell nodded. ‘Gregory and Bess had a boy named Henry, a month before the birth of Grace.’
‘But I suspect that business involving another Henry brings you here under pretence of family matters,’ Richard persisted. ‘You are no more famed for family sentiment than you are for idolatry.’
Cromwell sighed. ‘You would have made an astute diplomat, but such matters are these days entrusted to me, and my true reasons for being here are two-fold.’
‘At last we reach the nub of it,’ Richard said, but Cromwell was not smiling.
‘Despite all my efforts, and despite having consigned most of the Pole family to the Tower, I am no nearer naming Norfolk in the conspiracy against the throne.’
‘Your torturers have lost their appetites?’ Richard demanded cynically, at which Jane grew pale and turned her face away.
‘Those who are ennobled may not, by law, be tortured,’ Cromwell told them, ‘and left unmolested they are standing firm. Except for Geoffrey, who is reported to be losing his reason under the harsh conditions in which he is confined, but even he remains silent beyond condemning his own family. I have ordered that he be questioned again. However, there is another way in which I might reach out and seize Norfolk.’
‘That being?’ Richard asked.
Cromwell smiled back in that infuriatingly knowing way of his that Richard had come to despise. ‘Who else was present during that meeting at Bisham, when all was revealed?’
‘You already have them all, save myself and Norfolk.’
‘Take Norfolk from the list, and who remains?’
Jane gave a sharp intake of breath, while Richard glared at Cromwell.
‘You cannot be serious? Who would believe my word against Norfolk’s?’
‘It may come to it, and I merely wish, at this stage, to enquire as to your willingness to speak, should it be demanded of you?’
‘By whom?’
‘Perhaps Henry himself? But we have not reached that stage.’
Richard thought only briefly, then waved both hands in an expansive gesture that indicated the extensive grounds of Bradgate Park. ‘We are confined here because of Norfolk’s malice. If I could free my family to return to Knighton, where we truly belong, by speaking out against Norfolk, then you need only ask. But surely, given my birthright, my motives would be suspect?’
‘Indeed,’ Cromwell nodded, ‘your royal lineage has become something of a handicap, although it does explain why Norfolk chose to take you into his confidence.’
‘But you do not require Richard for this hazardous task at present?’ Jane asked, seeking reassurance.
‘No, as I explained,’ Cromwell replied.
‘Then proceed to your second reason for being here,’ Jane demanded.
Cromwell smiled. ‘Your days of Court intrigue have clearly honed your appreciation of such matters,’ he flattered her, ‘and it is in that capacity that I seek your return to London with me.’
Both Richard and Jane opened their mouths in protest, but Cromwell pressed home his point.
‘Clearly, you would be loath to leave Grace here while she is so young. But, being merely months into this life, she will not notice your absence as much as she might were she, for example, five years old. And you would seem to have an excellent nurse in that former nun.’
‘But if there is no Queen,’ Jane argued, ‘why should a Queen’s Lady be required? Or did you have something more devious in mind?’
‘I wish you to journey to Dover shortly after Christmas, to accompany the Lady Anne, from Cleves in Germany, who is to be the new Queen. She has her own Ladies coming over with her, obviously, but it would nice for her to have available someone who can guide her in the etiquette of the Court here in England.’
‘Does she speak English?’ Jane asked doubtfully.
Cromwell shook his head. ‘Not at this stage, it would seem, but she is accompanied by those who do, and it will be their task to educate her in such matters after the wedding, which is likely to be in the first week of January, at Greenwich, with Cranmer officiating, since she is more comfortable with the Protestant form.’
‘You would take a mother away from her child during its first Christmas?’ Richard objected. ‘You have often recounted to me, when overcome by the splendour of your own wine cellar, how much you enjoyed your own family Christmases at Austin Friars. Is that to be denied to others, now that they are no longer available to you?’
‘You judge harshly,’ Cromwell replied with a darkening face. ‘And you also forget that I shall be obliged to forego my first Christmas with my grandchild.’
‘Could I not remain here at least for the main festivity, on the day itself, then lose no speed in joining you in London?’ Jane asked.
Cromwell thought briefly before nodding. ‘That should be possible. If you bring your own escort from among Suffolk’s men here at Bradgate, you may join the main progress as it crosses London Bridge on its way south.’
‘Am I to remain here?’ Richard asked.
Cromwell nodded. ‘Yes, Norfolk may still be seeking to silence you, although of late he has more to fear from those in the Tower.’
‘I thought you said that they were remaining silent,’ Richard reminded him.
It fell ominously quiet before Cromwell looked him squarely in the eyes and replied, ‘The Tower can have a strange and unpredictable effect on those within its cheerless walls.’
XXX
The preparations for Christmas at Bradgate were the more subdued for the knowledge that once the main celebrations were over on the first day, Jane would be heading south under escort for a period of time that could not be estimated, determined as it was by whatever events might transpire following the royal wedding.
Richard and Jane sat holding hands like star-crossed lovers as the mimes and masques were duly performed by household staff who had spent many weeks rehearsing and perfecting them, and the two little girls giggled and screamed as the various characters in costume came and went. Then it was on to the roast fowl and plum pudding, and Richard was curious to see Grace being encouraged to eat from a spoon held invitingly to her face by a young woman he had not seen before. He called Mary over with a beckoning gesture.
‘Who is that girl seeking to feed Grace her first plum pudding?’ he asked her.
Mary smiled. ‘By your leave, that’s my niece Kate, my brother’s daughter. He passed away some years since, and Kate foreswore taking her vows while she looked after her mother, who passed from us only last week. The poor mite had nowhere else to go, and of course she will not now be able to enter our holy house. If you’d be so kind, master, I’ve taken her into my care, and she shows considerable skill as a child’s nurse, so I’d like to keep her on to assist me while the mistress is away in London. I have to tend to the Lady Jane as well, of course, so I would deem it a favour should you allow Kate to remain with us. She will cost only what she eats, and can lodge with me in my room under the roof.’
‘Of course she may remain,’ Jane replied without even consulting Richard, ‘since Grace so obviously finds her presence comforting, and I have no way of knowing how long I shall be away.’
‘God bless you both,’ Mary muttered as she slipped away to give Kate the glad tidings.
The journey to Dover proved uneventful, and Cromwell had persuaded Henry to award, to the Duke of Suffolk, the honour of escorting Lady Anne from Dover to London, so that Jane’s personal escort had blended in perfectly with their former colleagues as they trotted south in a long line over London Bridge in a waving sea of Brandon livery, with Jane riding alongside Cromwell and several clerks and gr
ooms in the centre of the progress.
At Dover Castle she made her first acquaintance with Anne, and although distanced somewhat by the need for an elderly retainer from Anne’s party to translate between them, they seemed to form a natural bond at their first meeting, and as the combined party set off back north through the Kent countryside, rendered crisp by the New Year frosts, the two of them rode alongside each other, exchanging pleasantries that passed in each direction through the interpreter who rode immediately behind them, Cromwell by his side with a contented smile on his sleek face.
Their pace was so sedate that overnight stops were required, first at Canterbury, then at Faversham, before, on the late afternoon of the third day, they clomped through the gateway of Rochester Abbey and took thankfully to their allotted chambers for a rest before supper. For Jane it was a brief respite before an usher announced the entry of Master Secretary.
Jane gave him the benefit of a wry grin. ‘Do you not fear for your reputation, visiting a lady in her chamber in this fashion? I recall a previous meeting between us when you accused me of whoredom — do you not apprehend that your reputation might suffer by association?’
‘Save your honeyed words for Richard,’ Cromwell replied curtly. ‘The King is here in Rochester, and wishes to indulge in one of his foolish charades. I wish you to be at Lady Anne’s side when he does so, for they are both about to receive an unpleasant surprise.’
‘In what way?’
‘Anne has not been prepared for how gross Henry has become during his widowerhood, and Henry has been led to believe that Anne is more comely than she is, particularly after three days on the road.’
‘Led to believe by whom?’
‘Never mind for the moment. Just ensure that you are there, along with that little German who speaks English, when Henry prances in like some lovelorn troubadour. And for God’s sake don’t burst out laughing, else it will mean both our heads.’
Jane scurried off to Anne’s chamber, on the pretence that she was enquiring after her comfort, and the suitability of her overnight accommodation. She made excuse after excuse to remain there, thus detaining Anne’s visibly annoyed translator, who was anxious to rest before the formalities of the evening, which the King was said to be attending. Eventually there was a knock on the chamber door, and the page who opened it engaged in a brief but stunned conversation with the two men outside in the corridor. Then Jane had to turn her head away, for fear of exploding into helpless laughter at the spectacle that presented itself.
Cromwell entered, accompanied by a hugely obese man decked out in so much greenery that he resembled a walking forest. Even under it all, and after so many months, Jane was able to recognise King Henry, but he remained stern faced as he walked into the presence slightly behind Cromwell, and bearing a large box in his hand.
‘Lady Anne,’ Cromwell announced in his best German, before the interpreter could beat him to it, ‘here is a gentleman of the royal forest, bearing you a gift from your loving intended bridegroom, Henry of England.’
Anne turned to regard the bearer of the gift with a disapproving stare, as her eyes took in the huge bulk, the red face with the drooling lips, the quivering mass of foliage, and the pronounced limp as he moved forward, palm outstretched. It was obvious to anyone who knew him that he was far from impressed by what he was approaching, and he bowed his head as he grew close to Anne.
‘My master would have you accept this as but a small token of his loving regard, and his joyous anticipation of your impending wedding,’ Cromwell told Anne.
Anne inclined her head graciously, took the box from Henry and opened it, giving a gasp of surprise as her eyes lit upon the richly studded gold necklace encrusted with precious stones. She replied, and it was Cromwell who urgently and tactfully supplied the translation for Henry’s benefit.
‘She is most pleased with the gift, and is eager to meet he who sent it,’ he told Henry.
‘Perhaps we should withdraw at this stage, Sire,’ Cromwell suggested, and Henry nodded, his slack mouth still open in horrified disbelief as he took in Anne’s height, her masculine face, her drooping over-large bosom and the intimidating glare of her eyes.
The two men bowed from the presence, and had just regained the privacy of the corridor, the chamber door reclosed behind them, when Henry grabbed Cromwell by the collar of his tunic and pinned him up against the wall.
‘Who the fuck was that, Cromwell? My intended bride, or her washer woman?’
‘That was indeed the Lady Anne of Cleves, Sire.’
‘And you expect me to bed that? Not even for England, Thomas — not even for England. You have fucked up badly this time, and you may well pay for it with your head.’
XXXI
Jane sighed softly to herself, as she thought wistfully of the precious child two days’ hard ride to the north, and the loving man who never failed to give her the affectionate devotion and sexual satisfaction that was so important in her life. And here she was, stuck in Greenwich as lady-in-waiting to a Queen of England who spoke no English, and whose irritating little pooch of a translator trailed behind them wherever they went. She would dearly love to be elsewhere, but Cromwell demanded her loyalty, and she had everything dear to her dependent upon his continued goodwill.
Jane had held Anne’s train at her marriage to Henry two weeks previously in the chapel at Greenwich Palace, wondering in her own mind whether or not her precious Grace was fully walking yet, in order to blank out the drone from Thomas Cranmer as he plodded his way through the order of service. Jane had then shown Anne’s other ladies how their mistress was to be prepared for her wedding night, and had retired, wondering which of the happy couple she felt the most sorry for. They had now been married for almost three weeks, but there was nothing to be gained from the inscrutable face of her mistress to indicate how she was faring under the groping sweaty hand of the fattest man at Court.
Henry, however, never missed an opportunity to berate a wincing Cromwell regarding his experience of newly married life.
‘Could you get it up a fat cow with a face like a man, and sagging tits that resemble over-full wine gourds?’ he demanded. ‘She smells so bad that I would rather fuck yesterday’s cold venison.’
Cromwell was already taxing his brain with strategies to extricate both himself and Henry from the diplomatic mire that he had got them into. An annulment might be the best way forward, even after so short a period, but it would be beyond embarrassing for the King of England to admit that the marriage had not been consummated because of his already widely suspected sexual inadequacy.
Cromwell had dispatched three of his best interrogators back to Cleves to seek other grounds, but it was difficult to believe that someone so plain — and, in Henry’s eyes, repulsive — could have lost her maidenhead to anyone with functioning eyesight, or, if Henry was to be believed, a half-developed sense of smell.
Jane was making her way back from the laundry at which she had deposited yet more of her Queen’s sweat-stained shifts when Norfolk stepped out of an alcove to block her way down the hallway.
‘Viscountess Rochford. Or is it “Mistress Ashton” these days? How goes your daughter — still learning the lessons of life amidst the greenery of Bradgate?’
‘Spare me the shit — what do you want?’
‘If we are to descend immediately into matters of detail, I wish you to introduce my niece to Court, and secure her a position as a Queen’s Lady.’
‘And if I am not so minded?’ Jane asked with more defiance that she felt.
Norfolk smiled horribly. ‘Then a few idle and bored men-at-arms lounging around a field in Leicestershire may not prove adequate for the protection of either an infant girl, or her father, who has aspirations to acquire the throne of England by armed rebellion.’
Jane looked anxiously around to ensure that their conversation was not being overheard. ‘That is all you desire — that a niece be made a Queen’s Lady, just like the last one?’
‘
That is all — for the moment. Her name is Catherine Howard. Another Howard, but with less venom than the last one.’
‘The last one who was executed?’ Jane fired back.
Norfolk smiled. ‘If this one goes to the block, rest assured that you will accompany her, along with your traitorous lover. Both he and your daughter Grace will remain safe from harm, if Catherine Howard becomes a lady-in-waiting by, shall we say, the beginning of March?’
‘You may safely rely upon me,’ Jane whispered. ‘But can I depend upon your word?’
‘The word of a Howard? Do not insult me, my lady. And so good day.’
Catherine Howard became a sparkling, lively and bewitching member of Queen Anne’s otherwise sombre retinue within days, and Henry soon had his eye on the new addition to Court.
XXXII
‘She is beautiful, both in her looks and her nature, and she is a great credit to her parents,’ Kate Calthorpe said as she lifted Grace onto her knee and smiled at Richard. ‘Would you like to hold her?’
Richard nodded, then breathed in heavily as Kate leaned across to hand him his daughter. He had learned that Kate had the most delicious and arousing aroma about her person, and he shamelessly took a deep draft while negotiating Grace onto his knee, where she sat gazing up at him with adoring eyes that melted his heart.
‘She clearly knows her father,’ Kate said, her long fair hair fell gently back onto her light blue mantle. ‘Not every child in this wicked world has that blessing bestowed upon them.’
‘You were intended for a convent?’ Richard asked.
Kate blushed unexpectedly. ‘Indeed I was, master, but as events have transpired I count myself fortunate that I was prevented from so doing before I learned that I would much prefer to be wed, and to have children of my own. Little Grace here has taught me that.’
‘How can a small child have such an effect?’ Richard asked, surprised and somehow elated by her reply.
