Katharine Parr, the Sixth Wife, page 14
It seemed that the King deeply regretted having pardoned the pilgrims. He had sent to tell them that he took it marvelously unkindly that they, being his subjects and having long experience of his clemency and his readiness to hear the petitions of all and redress grievances, would attempt a rebellion rather than sue to him. His Grace calls into question our sanity and marvels at the ingratitude shown him in this insurrection, especially by men of nobility like me, John had written, as if the King had aimed his displeasure directly at him. He wonders at his nobles suffering such a villain as Master Aske to be privy to our affairs and says that he and his lords at court consider our honor greatly tarnished by our folly. Katharine could imagine John’s reaction when he heard that. There is much confusion here as to how to respond. They have called another meeting for next week, in Pontefract. I will stay in York until then.
“No!” Katharine said out loud. “Come home!”
“Are you all right, my lady?” asked Bess, Walter’s wife, as she entered the hall with a brace of rabbits for supper.
Katharine mentally shook herself. One must never show weakness in front of servants. “I am perfectly well.” She smiled.
* * *
—
She did not see John again until Yuletide was almost upon them. In the meantime, he had written to tell her that a settlement seemed to be in sight, and that she must not worry. She did, of course.
He arrived back as the servants and the children were putting up evergreens in the hall and the castle smelled of Christmas spices, roast meat, and fruit puddings.
“Father!” Margaret cried, running to him and throwing her arms around him.
“John!” Katharine dropped the wreath she was making and hastened into his arms. “Tell me, is all well?”
He smiled at her. “The King has agreed to everything!”
“Oh, my goodness…” She was at a loss for words. It was the last thing she had expected. “Tell me.”
They extricated John from Margaret and retreated to the closet he used for estate business, which was well away from the excited chatter in the hall.
“Well?” Katharine asked, desperate to hear his news. “Oh, forgive me, I should send for some refreshment for you.”
“It can wait.” He placed his hand on hers. “When we met at Pontefract, Master Aske had us draw up a list of our grievances. All the things you would expect. A return to Rome, the monasteries spared, the Lady Mary declared legitimate, the clergy relieved of heavy taxes, Cromwell and other subverters of the laws of the realm and maintainers of heretics to be dismissed and punished—and we asked that a Parliament be held at York and that the Queen be crowned there. I voiced the opinion that none of these would be pleasing to the King and that he would be angered by them, but Aske sent the articles to the Duke of Norfolk all the same. I was worried that we were dicing with fate, so I wanted to know where we stood morally and legally. I knew that Archbishop Lee was in York. He’s a king’s man through and through. We had invited him to the meeting, but he did not come. I said we should ask him if there were any circumstances in which subjects might lawfully move against their prince, and Master Aske said I should go and put that question to him in church the next morning. So I went.”
“Oh, John,” Katharine breathed, “you didn’t?”
“I wanted an answer,” he said bluntly.
“But you could have been accused of inciting treason!”
“That’s water under the bridge now, lass. As it happened, the archbishop would not speak to me, so I left him a note explaining why I had come. But, when he was in his pulpit, he declared that no true subject could take up arms without the King’s permission. Some pilgrims in the church with me started shouting at him, so the clergy made him take refuge in the vestry and locked the door.”
Katharine was horrified. When news of this reached the King…
John touched her cheek. “There’s no need to look so worried, lass, not now. This week, the Duke of Norfolk summoned us to Doncaster and said he had been instructed by the King to issue a new free pardon and to inform us that a Parliament will be held in York to debate their demands, and the Queen’s coronation, at Whitsuntide. I went with Master Aske to receive the general pardon from the Duke, and we expressed our gratitude on behalf of all the pilgrims. Then Norfolk told us to go to our homes and bade Master Aske ride south to London, for the King had invited him to spend Christmas at court as his guest.”
Katharine tried to look pleased, but her heart was racing. The King had not acceded to their demands; he had said only that Parliament would consider them. In appearing to grant what they wanted, he had cunningly got them to disperse. In her view, John was far too trusting.
“The danger is passed,” he said, “and we can get on with our lives. Being among the pilgrims was a very painful and dangerous time for me, but it is over now, I thank God.”
She wished she could believe him. He had brought them close to disaster in challenging the archbishop. As she left him to order food while he changed out of his riding clothes, she tried to suppress her inner turmoil and braced herself to put on a brave front over Christmas, for the children’s sake.
Throughout the festivities, which were very merry because John had said they had cause to make much good cheer, she kept worrying about the future. She could not rid herself of her fears, could not stop imagining John being butchered on a scaffold, or herself and the children being cast out from Snape, grief-stricken and homeless, their future eternally blighted by her husband’s treason.
John must be made to distance himself from the rebels, or people would begin to think that he had not acted under duress. Maybe Uncle William or Will, who had marched against them, could be persuaded to put in a good word on his behalf with the King. His Grace had no cause at all to doubt their loyalty. Both had heartily embraced the recent reforms and Uncle William had been entrusted with overseeing the closure of monasteries in Northamptonshire. But a personal appeal by John himself would probably be the best course. It was essential to make the King understand that he had not acted of his own volition.
When they were finally abed on Twelfth Night, and John was mellow with wine, she turned to him and found herself crying and her fears spilling out.
He was kind. “I understand, Kate,” he said, cradling her in his arms. “You speak sense. I will go to London and make all right with the King.”
* * *
—
He left in January, and Katharine resigned herself to weeks of anxiety as she waited to hear from him.
A fortnight later, she received a letter. He was at Stamford, on his way back to Yorkshire, and would be attending to business in Malton before riding home. He would be with her ere long.
That was fast work, she said to herself, sitting down on the hall settle to digest the rest of the letter.
He had not seen the King. He had got as far as Hertfordshire, where a royal messenger had found him and informed him that he was ordered north to do his Majesty service on the Scottish marches, for it was feared that the Scots would take advantage of the recent disturbances and invade. He was to report to the Lord Warden as soon as possible. It is good news, he wrote. It means his Grace still trusts me. When I lodged in an inn at Stamford, I received a letter from Sir William FitzWilliam. He had made a good report of me to the King, of my being among the pilgrims against my will.
May God bless Sir William FitzWilliam, Katharine thought, rising to complete her daily tasks. Maybe they had heard the last of this whole sorry business.
Chapter 10
1537
Dinner was finished and the children had disappeared to their chambers. Katharine reached for her book and settled down to enjoy a few snatched moments. The wind was roaring outside and she was grateful to be sitting in the cozy parlor with the fire crackling in the grate.
She had not been there ten minutes when she heard shouts from outside. Jumping up and peering through the window, she caught her breath as she saw that a crowd of about twenty men had gathered outside the castle. By the look of them, they were in an ugly mood.
“Come out, traitor!” they shouted. “Traitor! Turncoat! Show yourself!” Some were shaking their fists, others brandishing weapons and farming implements.
Trembling in fright, she hastened to the hall, where she saw Jack and Margaret running down the stairs.
“Go back up and stay there!” she said, in the firmest voice she could muster.
“Stepmother,” Jack said, “in my father’s absence, I am the master here. I will deal with them.” For all his bravado, there was a tremor in his voice.
“Your father would never forgive me if I let you,” she said, but he just stood there, as the clamor outside grew louder. The servants were crowding into the hall, some bullish, some clearly terrified, and they were all looking to her for directions. She was so frightened that she could barely speak, but somehow God gave her the courage.
“Open the door,” she instructed Walter. He stared at her.
“Open it, please,” she repeated.
“Aye, do as my lady says,” Jack ordered.
The bolts squealed as they were wrenched back, and Katharine found herself confronting the angry, baying mob. She realized with a shock that she knew some of them; she had passed the time of day with them in the market or been served by them in neighboring houses.
“Why are you harassing women and children?” she cried above the hubbub.
“It’s not you we want, lady,” growled a big man with a shock of red hair. “It’s Lord Latimer, the traitor!”
“He is not here,” she said. “And why do you call him traitor?”
“We be pilgrims. He has betrayed us.”
“Aye,” another man yelled. “We know he’s been to London wi’ his tail atween his legs to curry favor with the King.”
“Lord Latimer had legitimate business in London,” Katharine cried. “The King has granted what you asked for. How can my lord have betrayed you?”
They all began talking at once, in aggrieved tones. Someone had told them that John was desperate to regain the King’s favor.
“Please go away,” she urged them. “He is not here. I do not know where he is. When he returns, I will tell him of your concerns, and I am sure that he will put your minds at rest.”
“Yes, go!” Jack echoed. “You have no business coming here and scaring everyone.”
“We were told that his lordship was here,” barked Red Hair.
“Well, he isn’t, I promise you,” Katharine declared, praying that they would leave. “If you must, you may come in to satisfy yourselves of that.”
She had not thought that they would be so bold, but no sooner had she spoken than they surged into the castle, almost knocking her down and ignoring Jack’s outraged protests.
“Shut up, boy,” one said. “You should be hanging your head in shame at what your father has done.”
“It’s you who should be ashamed,” Jack retorted, but was silenced with a blow to the mouth. Blood dripped from his cut lip. Katharine hastened to him, but he waved her away. Around them, the rebels were toppling over benches and stools, ransacking chests and racing through to other parts of the castle. They weren’t just looking for John; they seemed to be intent on vengeance and destruction. She could hear loud crashes from the direction of the kitchens. Merciful God, where would they stop?
Margaret must be terrified. Shaking in rage and terror, Katharine flew upstairs and found her stepdaughter cowering, whimpering, under a table, with the cloth pulled well down to conceal her. Her eyes widened in fright as Katharine lifted it up.
“Stay there!” Katharine said. “I will not let them harm you. They seek only your father. Thank God he is not here.”
She left Margaret’s room, closed the door and watched stonily as the intruders poured into the bedchambers, making short and noisy work of their search and emerging with armfuls of stuff—good hangings they had ripped from the walls, a silver reliquary, and various treasures that the Latimers had cherished for generations. She thanked Heaven that her jewels were in a secret compartment in her marriage chest. They would never guess that it had a false bottom.
She held her breath when they thrust themselves into Margaret’s chamber. She could hear them banging about and prayed that the child would not make a noise. She sagged with relief when they came out, but her anger flared when she saw that one of them had Margaret’s doll in his hand. It was a fine doll, bought in York.
“You wouldn’t steal from a child?” she challenged. “How would you feel if someone took your child’s toy?”
The man, an oafish fellow built like a barrel, looked at her mutinously, as if weighing the cost of opposing her. She knew she wasn’t in any position to bargain with him.
“Please,” she said, softening her voice. “My stepdaughter is distressed enough.” She held out her hand for the doll. To her great surprise, the man gave it to her.
“I’m not a monster,” he said. “Pilgrims be honest men.”
She was about to say that honest men did not ransack and loot houses, but thought better of it. Instead, she laid the doll on the bed and followed the men down to the hall, thanking God that Margaret had not been discovered.
She seethed when she saw that one of the rebels was grasping a gold salt cellar. It was one of John’s prized possessions because King Henry VII had given it to his father in reward for loyal service. Broken furniture was lying around the hall and the armorial glass in one of the windows had been smashed. Such wanton vandalism shocked her.
“So, are you satisfied that my lord is not here?” she asked Red Hair, in the most scathing voice she could command. “Did your men have to do so much damage while looking for him?”
He glared at her. “Traitors get what they deserve.”
“My father is no traitor!” Jack hissed. Katharine silenced him with a look.
“Now, will you please leave,” she said to the rebels.
“Not until we are sure of Lord Latimer,” Red Hair told her. “Our orders are to wait here for him. He has been sent for and warned, in no uncertain terms, that we will destroy this castle if he does not return directly.”
Katharine was so appalled that she could barely speak. “You will do no such thing! I will not have a gaggle of thieves living under my roof. Just leave, now.”
“You don’t have a choice in the matter, lady,” said a skeletally thin, dour-looking man who seemed to be Red Hair’s second in command. “We mean to hold you and his lordship’s children hostage until he shows himself loyal to us again.”
Outrage and fear welled up in her. Her heart was racing and she felt faint. “This is all so unnecessary! The King has granted your requests. What more do you want?”
“Lady, do you really think this King will keep his word? Strikes me we’ve been fobbed off with empty promises. Everywhere you go, there is unrest. The people are worried, and they are angry. We’re in need of our leaders, and Lord Latimer should remember the oath he took.”
“We pilgrims don’t hurt women and children,” Red Hair said. “Ours is a holy cause and we are devout men. We will trouble you as least we can. You are free to go about your daily business, so long as you stay in the castle.”
Katharine was seething. How dare they tell her what she could and couldn’t do in her own house!
“So long as you haven’t destroyed it!” she retorted. “So much for not hurting women and children!”
“That would be down to Lord Latimer,” the Skeleton said. “If he cares for you—”
“We’ll sleep in our cloaks in here, on the rushes,” Red Hair interrupted, “as I don’t expect my lady will be offering us the best bedchambers. Matthew, did you check the supplies?”
“Aye, Master,” said a puny youth with crooked teeth. “There’s plenty for all.”
“Those supplies have to last all winter,” Katharine protested.
“Well, lady, you’ll just have to tighten your belts like poor folks do,” sneered the Skeleton.
She realized they had bested her. There was nothing she could do.
“Come, Jack,” she said, and retreated upstairs.
“Listen well,” she muttered, pulling him into her bedchamber. “I know you’re angry, but don’t provoke them. Think of me and Margaret. I’m not sure that we can count on these rebels to act devoutly all the time. So far, they’ve not acted devoutly at all. Being women, your sister and I are especially vulnerable.” She shuddered, envisaging what they might do to her. “Promise me you will hold your tongue and stay out of sight as much as possible. I will be keeping to my room and making sure that Margaret does too, with the door bolted.”
Jack frowned. “I was going to slip away and fetch Father.”
“No! It would only make things worse for us. Now promise me, please!”
“All right.” He shrugged resentfully and slunk away.
* * *
—
She had resolved to stay in her bedchamber, but she was restless there. Dusk was falling and it would soon be time for supper. She really ought to go and give instructions to the kitchen servants, who would be wondering what they should be doing. After all, why should she not order her own house?
She opened the door quietly and crept to the top of the stairs. From there, she could see that the men had put the battered benches and stools back in their places and piled up the broken bits of furniture in a corner. They were sitting around, huddled in groups, cloaked against the cold, for a chill wind was blowing through the broken window.
“For God’s sake, stuff that with cloth,” Red Hair snarled at them. He was seated at a trestle table with the Skeleton and two other men, and one of his cronies was writing what looked like a letter—with her quill pen and her ink, if you please! “And fetch young Matthew. He can take this to Lord Latimer.”
