Katharine Parr, the Sixth Wife, page 16
John bowed and Katharine curtseyed. The Duke raised his eyebrows at the sight of her. He had a flat, dour face with a prominent nose, thin lips, and world-weary, heavy-lidded eyes.
“My Lord Latimer,” he said, his voice gruff. “And your good lady, I believe.”
“Your Grace, I brought my wife to see you, as she can tell you what we have suffered because of the rebels.”
The Duke indicated two chairs. “Pray be seated. Well, my lady?”
“Your Grace,” Katharine said, determined to show herself a brave, loyal subject, “when my lord was away on the King’s business, a band of rebels came to our castle and occupied it.” She related the whole appalling tale, stressing that John had been forced to join the rising in the first place, and how terrified she had been when the pilgrims had threatened to kill her and the children if he abandoned them.
Norfolk listened, his impassive face giving little away. “And they left without protest when you demanded it?” he asked John.
“Yes, your Grace. But they’ve since been putting tales about that my steward, Walter Rawlinson, joined them of his own accord, which is a lie. I’ve known him and his family all my life and there is not a treacherous soul among them.”
Norfolk nodded.
“Walter was very angry when they forced their way in,” Katharine said.
The Duke shifted some papers on the table and picked up a letter.
“I heed what you both say, but I’ve been hearing things about you, Latimer. His Majesty and Master Cromwell want me to establish whether you were a prisoner of the rebels last year, or if you joined them willingly.”
“He was forced! I saw it,” Katharine leaped in. John laid his hand on her arm.
“My wife speaks truth,” he told the Duke. “I had no intention of joining them. My first loyalty is to the King, whose favor means much to me.”
“And yet,” Norfolk said, steepling his fingers in front of his face, “you cling to the old ways in religion.”
John hesitated. “I have sworn the Oath of Supremacy.”
The Duke leaned forward. “Listen, man, you and I are of one accord in these matters. I like the old ways too. In my view, there are those who want to push things too far, like our friend Master Cromwell. Don’t think I don’t sympathize with those wretches I’ve had to punish. But ours is not to question what the King decrees. We must be obedient subjects. I don’t hold with all this book-learning that leads people to challenge Holy Writ, but that’s another matter. The question is, what is to be done about you?”
“All I ask is to establish my unwavering loyalty to his Majesty and his laws,” John declared.
“Very well. Know, then, that the King has instructed me to ask you to condemn that villain Aske and submit to his Grace’s clemency.”
“Condemn?” John echoed. “Surely he is judged by now?”
“A public condemnation by you will go a long way toward settling the King’s mind.”
Do it, Katharine was praying. Do it. Aske knows you were constrained, and nothing can help him now.
John did not pause. “I will do it. I do condemn him. He rose unlawfully against the King and incited his Majesty’s subjects to rebel against him.”
“Write that down,” Norfolk instructed a clerk. When the man had finished, John signed the document.
“Now, my lord,” the Duke said. “You shall go to London to explain yourself to the King. I have little doubt that he will receive you back into favor, for I shall write to Master Cromwell and tell him that I cannot discover any evidence against you other than that you were forced and that no man could have been in more danger of losing his life.” His long face broke at last into a smile.
“Thank you, your Grace!” John exclaimed, rising and bowing low.
“Thank you,” Katharine echoed, and swept a deep curtsey.
* * *
—
The moment they were outside in the open air, she linked her arm in John’s and squeezed it. “He’s not such a martinet as he looks,” she said. “There’s a good heart in there somewhere. He believed you.”
“More to the point, he believed you. But we’re not out of the woods yet, lass. I’ve yet to see the King.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem with the King,” she told him. “Don’t forget, we have friends at court who will help us. The priority now is to get to London as soon as possible.”
“We could go directly south from here,” John said. “We have changes of raiment in the York house; we can take those. I’ll send a groom to Snape to tell them what we’re doing.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage without us for a while,” Katharine said, eager to be away to London.
On the way south, she thought about what she could do to ease John’s path to the King’s forgiveness. Norfolk’s report would hopefully predispose his Majesty to mercy. Will was still in the north, but Uncle William was back at court and in high favor, and he would surely be in a position to speak for John. Sir William FitzWilliam might also be willing to intervene.
When they approached the barbican at Bootham Bar, the northern gateway to York, a sentry held up his hand.
“Your business here, my Lord Latimer?” There was hostility in his tone. He was probably a supporter of the pilgrims and, naturally, would see John as a rebel.
Katharine could sense her husband bristling. “I am for London, on my lord of Norfolk’s business. We are lodging here tonight, in my own house.”
The sentry grunted and waved them through. Katharine was sickened to see that, here too, there were bodies hanging from trees.
“Oh, my God,” John muttered as they turned their horses into Stonegate. “It’s Jonas the bookseller. And that’s the sexton from Holy Trinity. Good men, both of them. Such a waste of life.”
It was the same in other places on the Great North Road. There was no escaping the gruesome sights. Katharine was relieved when they were past Lincolnshire and traveling through shires untouched by the rising.
At Peterborough, they stopped a while, so that she could visit the abbey and the tomb of old Queen Katherine, who had died last year. Mother would have wanted Katharine to pay her respects. As she knelt by the sepulchre, she reflected sadly on how the Queen had died alone, exiled from the court, far from the husband and daughter she adored. It pained her to read the epitaph, which described her as the Princess Dowager. Even in death, they would not call her queen.
Leaving the abbey to join John, who was waiting on the green outside, she overheard some monks talking about Queen Jane being with child. It was a ray of sunlight in a world overcast by strife and tragedy. Katharine offered up a silent prayer that the child would be a prince. Perhaps the King, in his joy, would be a kinder father to his subjects.
* * *
—
When they neared London, she began to feel some trepidation. What if John was walking into a trap, or was under surveillance? She had heard it bruited that Cromwell had an army of spies. She resolved to be vigilant, just in case. She held her breath when they entered the City of London by the Barbican, but they were not challenged.
No one responded to John’s request for an audience with the King. He kept going to the court and haunted its galleries with crowds of other petitioners, hoping that his Majesty would notice him while walking past in procession, but he waited in vain. Uncle William was away on his estates and John could not find Sir William FitzWilliam anywhere. He fretted that he had become invisible and grew daily more disheartened. Most people he spoke to urged him to go home, or abroad, for safety’s sake.
They had been at Charterhouse Square for an anxious month when he began seriously to consider this. Then, to his and Katharine’s surprise, Will was announced. It was so good to see him again.
“But I thought you were in the north?” Katharine cried, hugging him.
“I got back two days ago, sister,” he said, as they plied him with drinks and sweetmeats. “I’ll have to go back at some stage to sit on the commissions trying the rebels. But I’m relishing this furlough.”
“You will stay to dinner?” she urged.
“Nothing could give me greater pleasure. To be honest, I had thought to find you gone.”
Katharine shivered. “We were thinking of leaving. You must have heard that John is under suspicion of treason.”
Will’s smile faded. “There was talk of it up north among the rebels we arrested.”
“They think him a traitor to them,” Katharine explained.
“They told me that the King was displeased with him. He too may think him a traitor. That’s why I hastened back after witnessing the executions of Master Aske and Sir Robert Constable. Master Cromwell has commended me for that, so I am in good credit with him and can probably help you. I stopped at Rye House on my way south to alert Uncle William, who is on his way to London now.” He reached out and took Kate’s hand, his eyes full of sympathy. “Believe me, sister, he and I have several times made suit to the King for John, and others have spoken up for him too. I will try to see Master Cromwell tomorrow. Sir William FitzWilliam should be at court later this week. He will assuredly help.”
This all sounded very encouraging.
“His Grace of Norfolk said he would inform his Majesty that John had committed no crime,” Katharine said.
“And I am hoping to see the King soon, so that I can explain what happened,” John added.
“Then you have nothing to worry about, I am sure.” Will smiled.
Katharine could see John visibly relaxing and resolved to set her fears aside and enjoy the dinner.
Over their meat, they spoke of family matters. Katharine thought it odder than ever that Will did not mention his wife. As far as she knew, they had still not begun living together. It was now ten years since their wedding, and Ann Bourchier must be twenty, more than old enough to be bedded.
“How is Ann?” she asked tentatively.
“Well, I suppose. I haven’t seen her for ages,” Will said. He did not sound particularly interested.
“You never speak of her,” she said gently, patting his arm. “She is your wife.”
“Tell her that,” he retorted, his voice bitter. “She bursts into tears every time someone says we should start living together. Her father keeps insisting, but she knows how to wheedle her way around him. I’ve said that I’ll give her until next year, when I’m done in the north. If she still makes a fuss, I will be applying for an annulment. A man needs an heir. I’m twenty-four and don’t want to waste time.”
“I’m sorry to hear this,” Katharine said. “What’s wrong with her? Have you tried wooing her with kindness?”
“I have! Flowers and gifts and sweet words…I’ve tried them all. I’m beginning to think that she just doesn’t like men or the duties of marriage.”
“Go and see her again, Will. Talk to her. Be patient and ask her why she is reluctant. Say you want to help her. Go gently.”
He smiled ruefully. “All right, Kate. I’ll do as you suggest.”
“My wife is not to be gainsaid.” John grinned. They all laughed.
As they talked, it became plain that Will knew how to negotiate the quagmire of intrigue that was the court. He seemed to have many friends there, which was understandable given his easy charm and amiability. The cut and quality of his clothing and his appreciation of fine food and wine proclaimed him a man of taste. He was cultivated too, numbering among his friends Sir Thomas Wyatt and Norfolk’s son, the Earl of Surrey, both notable poets.
“You should invite them to supper,” he said. “I can assure you of good company. There is never a dull moment with Surrey, and Wyatt is more his amusing self now, after getting over the events of last year.”
“Last year?” Katharine and John looked at each other blankly.
“The fall of the Queen. He loved her, you know. He and the King were rivals for her in the early days. He never got over her. He was a mess when it happened. They put him in the Tower too, but here’s a strange thing. Cromwell immediately wrote to tell his father that he would be set free—and he was. So was Sir Richard Page. Yet the other men were executed. It seems to me that their arrest and release was a sham intended to convince people that the others were really guilty.”
Katharine had long wondered about that. “But they were, surely?”
“Some think that they, and the Queen, were innocent.”
“Surely the King would not knowingly send six guiltless people to their deaths?” John asked incredulously.
“Wyatt has his own theory about that; don’t forget, he is friends with Cromwell. He thinks the King did believe them to be guilty. All I will say is that Master Cromwell is a clever and determined man. Ruthless too.”
Katharine felt a chill run down her spine. That a minister could be so audacious, unscrupulous—and cruel! It brought home to her, like a punch, how dangerous a place the court could be.
“But why?”
Will laid down his knife and took a swig from his goblet. “The Queen was out to bring Cromwell down, so he preempted her and got rid of those who would have supported her too.”
“Queen Jane ought to be shaking in her shoes, if this is what can happen to queens in our time.”
Will frowned. “I think she was involved in the conspiracy against the Queen. She had the most to gain. And now she is with child, and no one, not even our friend Cromwell, can touch her, especially if she bears the King a son.”
“Hearing all this makes me glad not to be a courtier,” Katharine said. “Is there anyone of integrity and honesty among them?”
“The higher you go, the less evident those virtues are,” John observed.
* * *
—
John never got to see the King, but he received his pardon, thanks to the combined efforts of the three Williams. Yet it came at a high price.
“I am forgiven, but it seems I am still under suspicion, and I fear I always will be,” he muttered, when he showed Katharine the document signed and sealed by the King.
“Why?” she asked, nonplussed. A pardon was a pardon, wasn’t it?
“I was summoned to see Master Cromwell,” he said, stumping through to the parlor. “I am dismissed from the Council of the North. And I am to pay Cromwell an annual consideration—in reward for his part in securing my pardon, he says. It’s extortion, pure and simple, and I will have to sell some property to meet the cost. I’ll have to lease out this house for a start. Kate, it looks as if, from now on, I am to live my life always looking over my shoulder. I will be watched, make no bones about it. I will always be looking at my servants and my friends and wondering who has been ordered to spy on me.”
She went to him and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his. “Count your blessings, John. You still have Snape and other estates. And you are alive and free of the fear of prosecution! That’s more important than anything. And, really, it won’t be hard to live the upright, normal life you have always lived. Soon, any spy will see that and realize they are watching you in vain, and Master Cromwell might conclude that it just isn’t worth the money to have you under surveillance. If he really intends to do that.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. He’s a slippery, blackmailing upstart.”
“Forget about him. Let us get on with our lives.”
* * *
—
It was unjust, unlawful, and plain wrong, she raged inwardly, although she kept a smile on her face for John’s sake. There were worse things, she reflected later, as she sat in her bedchamber and her maid combed her hair. Only that morning, she had received a pleading letter from Sir Thomas Burgh’s wife Elizabeth. She had borne him a son and heir, but the appalling Lord Borough had taken one look at the child’s sallow complexion and declared that it could not possibly be of his blood. As soon as Elizabeth had risen from childbed, he ordered her out of his house, raging that she was a whore and an adulteress. In vain had her husband tried to keep her, but his father had been implacable.
Please help me, dear sister, Elizabeth had written. I am living in a nunnery that is soon to be closed down.
Katharine decided to send her some money. Before she went to bed, she scribbled words of comfort in a letter, adding, with a mischievous grimace, I do urge you to appeal to Master Cromwell. If Elizabeth took her advice, Lord Borough was going to have some explaining to do!
* * *
—
After leasing the Charterhouse Square house to Lord Russell, John and Katharine left London to stay at his brother William’s manor of Wyke, near Pershore in Worcestershire, John being reluctant to return to Snape until the last rumblings of rebellion and retribution had died down in the north. But he felt uncomfortable at Wyke, since William was as strange and unpredictable as ever, so they moved to a manor house at Stowe Nine Churches, not far from Northampton, which John had inherited on the death of one of his Neville great-aunts. Before too long, Walter escorted the children south to join them.
Katharine enjoyed creating a comfortable home at Stowe. She loved the rolling Northamptonshire hills that surrounded the village, the mellow stone cottages, and the church with a high square tower that local folk told her had been built before William the Conqueror invaded England. The climate here was kinder than in Yorkshire. But the best thing about Stowe was that less than a day’s ride away was Burton Latimer, where John had another manor house. This was in close proximity to Orlingbury Hall, where Katharine’s cousin, Magdalen Parr, Lady Lane, lived, and Harrowden, the residence of Elizabeth Cheyney, Lady Vaux. Katharine and Margaret rode over to Burton one fine September day and stayed for a week, during which time they made surprise calls on Magdalen and Elizabeth, and enjoyed very happy reunions and long discussions about religious reform.
“My Lord Latimer,” he said, his voice gruff. “And your good lady, I believe.”
“Your Grace, I brought my wife to see you, as she can tell you what we have suffered because of the rebels.”
The Duke indicated two chairs. “Pray be seated. Well, my lady?”
“Your Grace,” Katharine said, determined to show herself a brave, loyal subject, “when my lord was away on the King’s business, a band of rebels came to our castle and occupied it.” She related the whole appalling tale, stressing that John had been forced to join the rising in the first place, and how terrified she had been when the pilgrims had threatened to kill her and the children if he abandoned them.
Norfolk listened, his impassive face giving little away. “And they left without protest when you demanded it?” he asked John.
“Yes, your Grace. But they’ve since been putting tales about that my steward, Walter Rawlinson, joined them of his own accord, which is a lie. I’ve known him and his family all my life and there is not a treacherous soul among them.”
Norfolk nodded.
“Walter was very angry when they forced their way in,” Katharine said.
The Duke shifted some papers on the table and picked up a letter.
“I heed what you both say, but I’ve been hearing things about you, Latimer. His Majesty and Master Cromwell want me to establish whether you were a prisoner of the rebels last year, or if you joined them willingly.”
“He was forced! I saw it,” Katharine leaped in. John laid his hand on her arm.
“My wife speaks truth,” he told the Duke. “I had no intention of joining them. My first loyalty is to the King, whose favor means much to me.”
“And yet,” Norfolk said, steepling his fingers in front of his face, “you cling to the old ways in religion.”
John hesitated. “I have sworn the Oath of Supremacy.”
The Duke leaned forward. “Listen, man, you and I are of one accord in these matters. I like the old ways too. In my view, there are those who want to push things too far, like our friend Master Cromwell. Don’t think I don’t sympathize with those wretches I’ve had to punish. But ours is not to question what the King decrees. We must be obedient subjects. I don’t hold with all this book-learning that leads people to challenge Holy Writ, but that’s another matter. The question is, what is to be done about you?”
“All I ask is to establish my unwavering loyalty to his Majesty and his laws,” John declared.
“Very well. Know, then, that the King has instructed me to ask you to condemn that villain Aske and submit to his Grace’s clemency.”
“Condemn?” John echoed. “Surely he is judged by now?”
“A public condemnation by you will go a long way toward settling the King’s mind.”
Do it, Katharine was praying. Do it. Aske knows you were constrained, and nothing can help him now.
John did not pause. “I will do it. I do condemn him. He rose unlawfully against the King and incited his Majesty’s subjects to rebel against him.”
“Write that down,” Norfolk instructed a clerk. When the man had finished, John signed the document.
“Now, my lord,” the Duke said. “You shall go to London to explain yourself to the King. I have little doubt that he will receive you back into favor, for I shall write to Master Cromwell and tell him that I cannot discover any evidence against you other than that you were forced and that no man could have been in more danger of losing his life.” His long face broke at last into a smile.
“Thank you, your Grace!” John exclaimed, rising and bowing low.
“Thank you,” Katharine echoed, and swept a deep curtsey.
* * *
—
The moment they were outside in the open air, she linked her arm in John’s and squeezed it. “He’s not such a martinet as he looks,” she said. “There’s a good heart in there somewhere. He believed you.”
“More to the point, he believed you. But we’re not out of the woods yet, lass. I’ve yet to see the King.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem with the King,” she told him. “Don’t forget, we have friends at court who will help us. The priority now is to get to London as soon as possible.”
“We could go directly south from here,” John said. “We have changes of raiment in the York house; we can take those. I’ll send a groom to Snape to tell them what we’re doing.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage without us for a while,” Katharine said, eager to be away to London.
On the way south, she thought about what she could do to ease John’s path to the King’s forgiveness. Norfolk’s report would hopefully predispose his Majesty to mercy. Will was still in the north, but Uncle William was back at court and in high favor, and he would surely be in a position to speak for John. Sir William FitzWilliam might also be willing to intervene.
When they approached the barbican at Bootham Bar, the northern gateway to York, a sentry held up his hand.
“Your business here, my Lord Latimer?” There was hostility in his tone. He was probably a supporter of the pilgrims and, naturally, would see John as a rebel.
Katharine could sense her husband bristling. “I am for London, on my lord of Norfolk’s business. We are lodging here tonight, in my own house.”
The sentry grunted and waved them through. Katharine was sickened to see that, here too, there were bodies hanging from trees.
“Oh, my God,” John muttered as they turned their horses into Stonegate. “It’s Jonas the bookseller. And that’s the sexton from Holy Trinity. Good men, both of them. Such a waste of life.”
It was the same in other places on the Great North Road. There was no escaping the gruesome sights. Katharine was relieved when they were past Lincolnshire and traveling through shires untouched by the rising.
At Peterborough, they stopped a while, so that she could visit the abbey and the tomb of old Queen Katherine, who had died last year. Mother would have wanted Katharine to pay her respects. As she knelt by the sepulchre, she reflected sadly on how the Queen had died alone, exiled from the court, far from the husband and daughter she adored. It pained her to read the epitaph, which described her as the Princess Dowager. Even in death, they would not call her queen.
Leaving the abbey to join John, who was waiting on the green outside, she overheard some monks talking about Queen Jane being with child. It was a ray of sunlight in a world overcast by strife and tragedy. Katharine offered up a silent prayer that the child would be a prince. Perhaps the King, in his joy, would be a kinder father to his subjects.
* * *
—
When they neared London, she began to feel some trepidation. What if John was walking into a trap, or was under surveillance? She had heard it bruited that Cromwell had an army of spies. She resolved to be vigilant, just in case. She held her breath when they entered the City of London by the Barbican, but they were not challenged.
No one responded to John’s request for an audience with the King. He kept going to the court and haunted its galleries with crowds of other petitioners, hoping that his Majesty would notice him while walking past in procession, but he waited in vain. Uncle William was away on his estates and John could not find Sir William FitzWilliam anywhere. He fretted that he had become invisible and grew daily more disheartened. Most people he spoke to urged him to go home, or abroad, for safety’s sake.
They had been at Charterhouse Square for an anxious month when he began seriously to consider this. Then, to his and Katharine’s surprise, Will was announced. It was so good to see him again.
“But I thought you were in the north?” Katharine cried, hugging him.
“I got back two days ago, sister,” he said, as they plied him with drinks and sweetmeats. “I’ll have to go back at some stage to sit on the commissions trying the rebels. But I’m relishing this furlough.”
“You will stay to dinner?” she urged.
“Nothing could give me greater pleasure. To be honest, I had thought to find you gone.”
Katharine shivered. “We were thinking of leaving. You must have heard that John is under suspicion of treason.”
Will’s smile faded. “There was talk of it up north among the rebels we arrested.”
“They think him a traitor to them,” Katharine explained.
“They told me that the King was displeased with him. He too may think him a traitor. That’s why I hastened back after witnessing the executions of Master Aske and Sir Robert Constable. Master Cromwell has commended me for that, so I am in good credit with him and can probably help you. I stopped at Rye House on my way south to alert Uncle William, who is on his way to London now.” He reached out and took Kate’s hand, his eyes full of sympathy. “Believe me, sister, he and I have several times made suit to the King for John, and others have spoken up for him too. I will try to see Master Cromwell tomorrow. Sir William FitzWilliam should be at court later this week. He will assuredly help.”
This all sounded very encouraging.
“His Grace of Norfolk said he would inform his Majesty that John had committed no crime,” Katharine said.
“And I am hoping to see the King soon, so that I can explain what happened,” John added.
“Then you have nothing to worry about, I am sure.” Will smiled.
Katharine could see John visibly relaxing and resolved to set her fears aside and enjoy the dinner.
Over their meat, they spoke of family matters. Katharine thought it odder than ever that Will did not mention his wife. As far as she knew, they had still not begun living together. It was now ten years since their wedding, and Ann Bourchier must be twenty, more than old enough to be bedded.
“How is Ann?” she asked tentatively.
“Well, I suppose. I haven’t seen her for ages,” Will said. He did not sound particularly interested.
“You never speak of her,” she said gently, patting his arm. “She is your wife.”
“Tell her that,” he retorted, his voice bitter. “She bursts into tears every time someone says we should start living together. Her father keeps insisting, but she knows how to wheedle her way around him. I’ve said that I’ll give her until next year, when I’m done in the north. If she still makes a fuss, I will be applying for an annulment. A man needs an heir. I’m twenty-four and don’t want to waste time.”
“I’m sorry to hear this,” Katharine said. “What’s wrong with her? Have you tried wooing her with kindness?”
“I have! Flowers and gifts and sweet words…I’ve tried them all. I’m beginning to think that she just doesn’t like men or the duties of marriage.”
“Go and see her again, Will. Talk to her. Be patient and ask her why she is reluctant. Say you want to help her. Go gently.”
He smiled ruefully. “All right, Kate. I’ll do as you suggest.”
“My wife is not to be gainsaid.” John grinned. They all laughed.
As they talked, it became plain that Will knew how to negotiate the quagmire of intrigue that was the court. He seemed to have many friends there, which was understandable given his easy charm and amiability. The cut and quality of his clothing and his appreciation of fine food and wine proclaimed him a man of taste. He was cultivated too, numbering among his friends Sir Thomas Wyatt and Norfolk’s son, the Earl of Surrey, both notable poets.
“You should invite them to supper,” he said. “I can assure you of good company. There is never a dull moment with Surrey, and Wyatt is more his amusing self now, after getting over the events of last year.”
“Last year?” Katharine and John looked at each other blankly.
“The fall of the Queen. He loved her, you know. He and the King were rivals for her in the early days. He never got over her. He was a mess when it happened. They put him in the Tower too, but here’s a strange thing. Cromwell immediately wrote to tell his father that he would be set free—and he was. So was Sir Richard Page. Yet the other men were executed. It seems to me that their arrest and release was a sham intended to convince people that the others were really guilty.”
Katharine had long wondered about that. “But they were, surely?”
“Some think that they, and the Queen, were innocent.”
“Surely the King would not knowingly send six guiltless people to their deaths?” John asked incredulously.
“Wyatt has his own theory about that; don’t forget, he is friends with Cromwell. He thinks the King did believe them to be guilty. All I will say is that Master Cromwell is a clever and determined man. Ruthless too.”
Katharine felt a chill run down her spine. That a minister could be so audacious, unscrupulous—and cruel! It brought home to her, like a punch, how dangerous a place the court could be.
“But why?”
Will laid down his knife and took a swig from his goblet. “The Queen was out to bring Cromwell down, so he preempted her and got rid of those who would have supported her too.”
“Queen Jane ought to be shaking in her shoes, if this is what can happen to queens in our time.”
Will frowned. “I think she was involved in the conspiracy against the Queen. She had the most to gain. And now she is with child, and no one, not even our friend Cromwell, can touch her, especially if she bears the King a son.”
“Hearing all this makes me glad not to be a courtier,” Katharine said. “Is there anyone of integrity and honesty among them?”
“The higher you go, the less evident those virtues are,” John observed.
* * *
—
John never got to see the King, but he received his pardon, thanks to the combined efforts of the three Williams. Yet it came at a high price.
“I am forgiven, but it seems I am still under suspicion, and I fear I always will be,” he muttered, when he showed Katharine the document signed and sealed by the King.
“Why?” she asked, nonplussed. A pardon was a pardon, wasn’t it?
“I was summoned to see Master Cromwell,” he said, stumping through to the parlor. “I am dismissed from the Council of the North. And I am to pay Cromwell an annual consideration—in reward for his part in securing my pardon, he says. It’s extortion, pure and simple, and I will have to sell some property to meet the cost. I’ll have to lease out this house for a start. Kate, it looks as if, from now on, I am to live my life always looking over my shoulder. I will be watched, make no bones about it. I will always be looking at my servants and my friends and wondering who has been ordered to spy on me.”
She went to him and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his. “Count your blessings, John. You still have Snape and other estates. And you are alive and free of the fear of prosecution! That’s more important than anything. And, really, it won’t be hard to live the upright, normal life you have always lived. Soon, any spy will see that and realize they are watching you in vain, and Master Cromwell might conclude that it just isn’t worth the money to have you under surveillance. If he really intends to do that.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. He’s a slippery, blackmailing upstart.”
“Forget about him. Let us get on with our lives.”
* * *
—
It was unjust, unlawful, and plain wrong, she raged inwardly, although she kept a smile on her face for John’s sake. There were worse things, she reflected later, as she sat in her bedchamber and her maid combed her hair. Only that morning, she had received a pleading letter from Sir Thomas Burgh’s wife Elizabeth. She had borne him a son and heir, but the appalling Lord Borough had taken one look at the child’s sallow complexion and declared that it could not possibly be of his blood. As soon as Elizabeth had risen from childbed, he ordered her out of his house, raging that she was a whore and an adulteress. In vain had her husband tried to keep her, but his father had been implacable.
Please help me, dear sister, Elizabeth had written. I am living in a nunnery that is soon to be closed down.
Katharine decided to send her some money. Before she went to bed, she scribbled words of comfort in a letter, adding, with a mischievous grimace, I do urge you to appeal to Master Cromwell. If Elizabeth took her advice, Lord Borough was going to have some explaining to do!
* * *
—
After leasing the Charterhouse Square house to Lord Russell, John and Katharine left London to stay at his brother William’s manor of Wyke, near Pershore in Worcestershire, John being reluctant to return to Snape until the last rumblings of rebellion and retribution had died down in the north. But he felt uncomfortable at Wyke, since William was as strange and unpredictable as ever, so they moved to a manor house at Stowe Nine Churches, not far from Northampton, which John had inherited on the death of one of his Neville great-aunts. Before too long, Walter escorted the children south to join them.
Katharine enjoyed creating a comfortable home at Stowe. She loved the rolling Northamptonshire hills that surrounded the village, the mellow stone cottages, and the church with a high square tower that local folk told her had been built before William the Conqueror invaded England. The climate here was kinder than in Yorkshire. But the best thing about Stowe was that less than a day’s ride away was Burton Latimer, where John had another manor house. This was in close proximity to Orlingbury Hall, where Katharine’s cousin, Magdalen Parr, Lady Lane, lived, and Harrowden, the residence of Elizabeth Cheyney, Lady Vaux. Katharine and Margaret rode over to Burton one fine September day and stayed for a week, during which time they made surprise calls on Magdalen and Elizabeth, and enjoyed very happy reunions and long discussions about religious reform.
