Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (74 page)

F
IVE DAYS AFTER
Nan’s interview with Anthony Denny, on the tenth of June, she heard of the arrest of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex. No one was quite sure what he had done to incur the king’s wrath, except that he had been instrumental in arranging His Grace’s marriage to Anna of Cleves.

The news made Nan think of young Wat Hungerford. He had wanted to speak with her shortly before her stepfather’s arrest. She wondered what he’d wanted, and what had happened to him now that both his master and his father were in the Tower. She knew Lord Hungerford’s lands had been seized. Wat had no home to retreat to.

One more person to worry about, she thought, when fretting did no one any good. She was glad she had her duties as a maid of honor to keep her busy. But only two weeks later, Queen Anna and her entire household were abruptly banished from court, sent to live at Richmond Palace while the king stayed behind.

Stout yeomen hauled traveling trunks into the maidens’ chamber, setting off a flurry of activity. Constance at once began to pack Nan’s belongings. She had outgrown her youthful awkwardness in the last year and developed into a sturdy young woman accustomed to physical labor. She did everything from beating the dust out of her mistress’s clothing to hauling water to the maids’ dormitory for baths.

“I am not going to Richmond,” Kate Stradling announced.

“But you must,” Nan said. “All the maids of hon—”

“Not Catherine Howard. She has already left for the old dowager Duchess of Norfolk’s house at Lambeth.”

Nan folded a pair of sleeves to give herself something to do with her hands. As impossible as it had seemed a few months earlier, the king was going to rid himself of his wife in order to marry Mistress Howard. “We know why Catherine has abandoned Queen Anna,” she said to her cousin, “but what incentive have you to stay behind? You’ll have no place at court.”

“My place will be with my husband.”

“You’ve married Sir Thomas Palmer?” Lucy Somerset exclaimed in surprise. Along with every other woman in the room, her gaze fixed on Kate. Sir Thomas Palmer had been courting Kate for some time, but Nan had always suspected that her cousin thought she could do better. Sir Thomas had a goodly estate but was also fourteen years Kate’s senior and had several grown children from an earlier marriage.

“I will be his wife just as soon as Thomas can obtain a special license.” Kate looked well pleased with herself. At twenty-eight, she could no longer afford to be choosy, especially now that it was obvious Queen Anna was to be put aside.

“I wish you well,” Nan said, embracing her cousin. But what she felt most strongly was a sense of relief. Kate knew too many of Nan’s secrets.

“Everything is packed,” Constance said, closing the heavy trunk lid with a thunk. The finality of the sound made Nan shiver. So much seemed uncertain. Richmond Palace was a beautiful place, but she had no desire to spend the rest of her life entombed there.

“P
OOR
Q
UEEN
A
NNA
,” Cat Bassett said, fanning herself. In spite of the breeze that occasionally blew up off the Thames, Richmond Palace was stifling. “She refuses to believe that the king will annul their marriage. Lady Rutland says Her Grace is convinced there are no grounds to dissolve their union.”

Nan was too hot and uncomfortable to twit her sister for quoting
Lady Rutland. The weather had been abnormally warm and dry since the beginning of June and it was now the tenth of July. Even the most accommodating of individuals felt irritable. Those with little self-control lost their tempers at the drop of a hat.

“Lady Rutland fears for the queen’s life,” Cat continued. “If she opposes the king’s wishes—”

“She could end up like the last Queen Anne!” Nan snapped. “If she cannot see the way the wind blows, she deserves that fate.”

“How can you be so hard hearted?” Cat took a handful of caraway seeds dipped in sugar from an ornate little box and nibbled them.

“I feel sorry for the woman, just as you do. But if the queen fights to hold her place, as Catherine of Aragon did when King Henry put her aside, she will be fortunate to keep her head.”

“It is not her fault that neither her mother nor any of her senior ladies explained to her what constitutes the duties of a wife. She went to her marriage bed in total ignorance. She truly believed, until Lady Rochford bluntly told her otherwise, that the king had consummated their marriage simply by kissing her and spending part of the night in her bed.” The king, by common report, had never been able to force himself to couple with the queen.

“There is nothing you or I can do for her,” Nan said. “There is nothing we can do for anyone, not even our own kin.” She had never felt so helpless. She turned away from her sister to stare out the nearest window. The view might have been soothing had the drought not turned the grass brown and withered the leaves on vines and flowers.

When Nan looked her sister’s way again, Cat was calmly embroidering a sleeve with tiny rosebuds. Nan was too restless to settle. She prowled Lady Rutland’s chamber, picking up various of the countess’s possessions and putting them down again without registering what they were.

“Everything is Mary’s fault.” Nan knew the accusation was unfair as soon as she muttered the words, since Mary had nothing to do with King Henry’s dislike of his queen.

“She fell in love,” Cat said.

“That is no excuse for behaving like a fool. Her actions made everything worse. His Grace believes she knowingly destroyed evidence of treason.”

“And so she did, since her betrothal was exactly that, but it was clever of her to think of throwing those love letters into the privy. They should have been lost forever. Who would have thought that the Earl of Sussex would order his men to search through the offal and pick out all the bits that could still be read?”

“Go on,” Nan said irritably. She was perspiring again. She hated to sweat. “Take her side. What do you care? You will continue just as you are, in service as Lady Rutland’s lapdog.”

Cat refused to quarrel. “You can always return to Cousin Mary’s household.”

“She pretends she has forgiven me for moving out, but she will never invite me back.”

“Then go to Jane Mewtas or Joan Denny.”

“They only took me in to please the king. What advantage can I bring them now? And do not suggest that I return to Calais, or to France! If Queen Anna’s household is dispersed, I’ll have nowhere to go.”

Cat kept stitching. “John and Frances have property in the West Country.”

“The ends of the earth!” Nan stopped in front of Lady Rutland’s looking glass. She stared at her regular features, her blue eyes, her flawless skin. She was pretty, but who was here to see? Her hopes of finding a wealthy nobleman to marry grew dimmer by the day.

“Nan?” Cat’s voice was tentative. “Did you ever meet Sir Gregory Botolph?”

“Why?”

Cat kept her head down. “I heard a rumor. It is terrible the things people will say. Vicious, untrue things.”

“What did you hear?”

“That Mother was Botolph’s mistress. And that she turned traitor for his sake.”

The idea was so preposterous that Nan laughed aloud. “What nonsense. I know people call him Gregory Sweet-lips, but Mother would never be taken in by honeyed words. Neither she nor our stepfather had any part in the conspiracy.”

Nan was also sure Ned Corbett was innocent.

Always, just at the back of her mind, ready to leap out and squeeze her heart if she let down her guard, was her anguish at Ned’s peril. She did not believe he had been involved in Botolph’s scheme, but these days a careless word or a thoughtless act was enough to condemn a man.

A fearful image suddenly filled her mind: Ned hanged, drawn, and quartered—a traitor’s death. She jumped, a shriek caught in her throat, when the door suddenly creaked open.

The Earl of Rutland stood in the opening, his attention on Cat. “Where is my wife?”

“With the queen, my lord. In Her Grace’s presence chamber.”

“Good.” His gaze shifted to Nan. “What are you doing here? You should be in attendance on Her Grace, as well.”

“Queen Anna prefers the company of the two young women she brought with her from Cleves, especially Gertrude. She scarce notices what the rest of us do.”

“Come with me, Mistress Nan. All the queen’s ladies and maids of honor must stand witness to what I have to say.” Shooing Nan in front of him, he set off for the presence chamber at a brisk pace.

Nan did not argue. As the queen’s lord chamberlain, Rutland was responsible for dealing with all the details of daily life in her household.

When they reached the presence chamber, Nan went to stand with Lucy Somerset, Mary Norris, Dorothy Bray, and the two maids of honor from Cleves. Sensing that something important was about to happen, Nan toyed nervously with her pomander ball.

“My lord of Rutland—you have something to say to me?” Queen Anna spoke English but it was heavily accented.

“Your Grace,” Rutland said in a carrying voice, “you have been ordered to sign your consent to the annulment of your marriage to the
king.” He produced a sheaf of papers and presented it to her with a flourish.

A secretary translated his words, although Nan suspected that Queen Anna understood precisely what was afoot. Her Grace took the pages, which she could not read, and stared at them for a long moment. Without warning, she burst into tears.

No one seemed to know what to do. Impatient with protocol, Nan stepped forward and offered the queen a handkerchief. For just an instant, their eyes met. The queen’s conveyed gratitude, but Nan saw something else in them, as well. Calculation?

When more senior ladies took over, Nan was glad to step back. The Earl of Rutland, through his interpreter, attempted to calm the queen. The murmuring went on for some time, but in the end the earl went away without the queen’s signature.

The next morning, the Earl of Rutland made another attempt to persuade the queen to end her marriage. This time he offered a much better bargain. Anna of Cleves would be allowed to remain in England. If she would agree to become the king’s “sister,” she would have an income of £4,000 a year. Richmond Palace and other properties would be given to her. All she had to do was admit that there had been an irregularity in the marriage—that she had been betrothed to someone else before she wed King Henry and that this precontract, although Anna herself had not, at the time, been aware of it, had been binding.

Even Nan could see gaps in the logic of this explanation, but she was not foolish enough to point them out. No one else did, either. Anna of Cleves signed the papers and freed King Henry to marry for the fifth time.

“L
ORD
C
ROMWELL AND
Lord Hungerford were executed last Wednesday,” Cat Bassett told her sister on Saturday, the thirty-first day of July.

Nan was in the maid’s dormitory at Richmond, once again staring out a window at the bleak landscape. The heat wave continued unabated.
There had been no rain for weeks. Nan had her partlet open at the throat and her skirts kilted up. Neither measure did much good. Sweat pooled between her breasts where her bodice shoved them up and together.

As Cat’s words sank in, Nan turned to face her sister. “Were there … others who were executed?”

“No one we know. But on the same day, so Lord Rutland says, the king married Catherine Howard. They will not make an official announcement yet. Lady Rutland says they first plan to remain at Oatlands in Surrey for another week.”

“Are more executions scheduled?” Nan asked.

“None that I’ve heard about, but the general pardon the king issued after Parliament adjourned specifically exempted Mother and Lord Lisle and those men from Calais who were charged with treason.” Cat frowned. “And yet, the Calais men who were being held in the Fleet have been released by the lord chancellor.”

Nan had not known there were Calais men confined in that London prison. “Were they accused of conspiring with Botolph?”

“No, only of heresy.” She shrugged. “According to the Earl of Rutland, the lord chancellor told them they were free at His Grace’s pleasure. A pity that pleasure does not extend to members of our family.” She gave Nan a pointed look.

“These days His Grace’s pleasure is Catherine Howard. I doubt he remembers that any other woman exists.”

Long after Cat had returned to Lady Rutland’s chamber, Nan stayed where she was, mulling over what her sister had said. If the king had no objection to letting some prisoners go free, even some of those who had been exempted from the general pardon, then he might not object to freeing more of them.

An audacious idea occurred to her. At first she told herself it would never work. She’d end up in prison herself if she attempted it. But she could not stop thinking about it.

She did not want Ned Corbett to die. He had done nothing worse than befriend a deceitful priest. Ned, who had been her first
lover, who was the father of her child, even if he did not know Jamie existed, deserved his freedom just as much as those men in the Fleet did.

For another week, the king would not be interested in anything but Catherine Howard. And while His Grace was occupied with his new bride, he would pay no attention to what Nan Bassett did. If she was very careful and very clever, she should have just time enough to save Ned’s life.

This year, the fourth day of August … Clement Philpott, gentleman, late of Calais, and servant to the Lord Lisle … with six persons more, were hanged, drawn, and quartered.

—Charles Wriothesley, Windsor Herald,
Chronicle,
4 August 1540

13

My lord of Rutland,” Nan said, dipping her head, “a word with you?”

His frown told her she’d caught him in the middle of some important business. “Be brief, if you will, Mistress Nan.”

“The queen … the Lady Anna has little need of my services, my lord.”

“You wish to leave her household?”

“No, my lord. I beg leave to travel to London to visit my stepfather.”

“Ah. Hmmm.” He tugged at his beard as he considered her request. “I suppose there is no harm in it. Did you wish to take your sister with you?”