The Fifth Queen (39 page)

‘It is too good hearing,’ Katharine said gravely. ‘This is my tale—’

Once before she had trembled in this man’s presence, and still she had a catching in the throat as her eyes measured his face. She was mad to do right and to right wrongs, yet in his presence the doing of the right, the righting of wrongs, seemed less easy than when she stood before any other man. ‘Sir,’ she uttered, ‘I have thought ye have done ill afore now. I am nowise certain that ye thought your ill-doing an evil. I beseech you for a patient hearing.’

But, though she told her story well—and it was an old story that she had learned by heart—she could not be rid of the feeling that this was a less easy matter than it had seemed to her, to call Cromwell accursed. She had a moving tale of wrongs done by Cromwell’s servant, Dr Barnes, a visitor of a church in Lincolnshire near where her home had been. For the lands had been taken from a little priory upon an excuse that the nuns lived a lewd life; and so well had she known the nuns, going in and out of the convent every week-day, that well she knew the falseness of Cromwell’s servant’s tale.

‘Sir,’ she said to Cromwell, ‘mine own foster-sister had the veil there; mine own mother’s sister was there the abbess.’ She stretched out a hand. ‘Sir, they dwelled there simply and godly, withdrawn from the world; succouring the poor; weaving of fine linens, for much flax grew upon those lands by there; and praying God and the saints that blessings fall upon this land.’

Wriothesley spoke to her slowly and heavily:

‘Such little abbeys ate up the substance of this land in the old days. Well have we prospered since they were done away who ate up the fatness of this realm. Now husbandmen till their idle soil and cattle are in their buildings.’

‘Gentleman whose name I know not,’ she turned upon him, ‘more wealth and prosperity God granted us in answer to their prayers than could be won by all the husbandmen of Arcadia and all the kine of Cacus. God standeth above all men’s labours.’ But Cromwell’s servants had sworn away the lands of the small abbey, and now the abbess and her nuns lay in gaol accused—and falsely—of having secreted an image of Saint Hugh to pray against the King’s fortunes.

‘Before God,’ she said, ‘and as Christ is my Saviour, I saw and make deposition that these poor simple women did no such thing but loved the King as he had been their good father. I have seen them at their prayers. Before God, I say to you that they were as folk astonished and dismayed; knowing so little of the world that ne one ne other knew whence came the word that had bared them to the skies. I have seen them—I.’

‘Where went they?’ Wriothesley said; ‘what worked they?’

‘Gentleman,’ she answered; ‘being cast out of their houses and their veils, they knew nowhither to go; homes they had none; they lived with their own hinds in hovels, like frightened lambs, the saints their pastors being driven from their folds.’

‘Aye,’ Wriothesley said grimly, ‘they cumbered the ground; they did meet in knots for mutinies.’

‘God had appointed them the duty of prayer,’ Katharine answered him. ‘They met and prayed in sheds and lodges of the house that had been theirs, poor ghosts revisiting and bewailing their earthly homes. I have prayed with them.’

‘Ye have done a treason in that day,’ Wriothesley answered.

‘I have done the best that ever I did for this land,’ she met him fully. ‘I prayed naught against the King and the republic. I have prayed you and your like might be cast down. So do I
still. I stand here to avow it. But they never did, and they do lie in gaol.’ She turned again upon Cromwell and spoke piteously from her full throat. ‘My lord,’ she cried. ‘Soften your heart and let the wax in your ears melt so that ye hear. Your servants swore falsely when they said these women lived lewdly; your men swore falsely when they said that these women prayed treasonably. For the one count they took their lands and houses; for the other they lay them in the gaols. Sir, my lord, your servants go up and down this land; sir, my lord, they ride rich men with boots of steel and do strangle the poor with gloves of iron. I do think ye know they do it; I do pray ye know not. But, sir, if ye will right this wrong I will kiss your hands; if you will set up again these homes of prayer I will take a veil, and in one of them spend my days praying that good befall you and yours.’ She paused in her speaking and then began again: ‘Before I came here I had made me a fair speech. I have forgot it, and words come haltingly to me. Sirs, ye think I seek mine own aggrandisement; ye think I do wish ye cast down. Before God, I wish ye were cast down if ye continue in these ways; but I have prayed to God who sent the Pentecostal fires, to give me the gift of tongues that shall soften your hearts—’

Cromwell interrupted her, smiling that Venus, who made her so fair, gave her no need of a gift of tongues, and Minerva, who made her so learned, gave her no need of fairness. For the sake of the one and the other, he would very diligently enquire into these women’s courses. If they ha been guiltless, they should be richly repaid; if they ha been guilty, they should be pardoned.

Katharine flushed with a hot anger.

‘Ye are a very craven lord,’ she said. ‘If you may find them guilty, you shall have my head. But if you do find them innocent and shield them not, I swear I will strive to have thine.’ Anger made her blue eyes dilate. ‘Have you no bowels of compassion for the right? Ye treat me as a fair woman—but I speak
as a messenger of the King’s, that is God’s, to men who too long have hardened their hearts.’

Throckmorton laid back his head and laughed suddenly at the ceiling; Cranmer crossed himself; Wriothesley beat his heel upon the floor and shrugged his shoulders bitterly—but Lascelles, the Archbishop’s spy, kept his eyes upon Throckmorton’s face with a puzzled scrutiny.

‘Why now does that man laugh?’ he asked himself. For it seemed to him that by laughing Throckmorton applauded Katharine Howard. And indeed, Throckmorton applauded Katharine Howard. As policy her speech was neither here nor there, but as voicing a spirit, infectious and winning to men’s hearts, he saw that such speaking should carry her very far. And, if it should embroil her more than ever with Cromwell, it would the further serve his adventures. He was already conspiring to betray Cromwell, and he knew that, very soon now, Cromwell must pierce his mask of loyalty; and the more Katharine should have cast down her glove to Cromwell, the more he could shelter behind her; and the more men she could have made her friends with her beauty and her fine speeches, the more friends he too should have to his back when the day of discovery came. In the meantime he had in his sleeve a trick that he would speedily play upon Cromwell, the most dangerous of any that he had played. For below the stairs he had Udal, with his news of the envoy from Cleves to France, and with his copies of the envoy’s letters. But, in her turn, Katharine played him, unwittingly enough, a trick that puzzled him.

‘Bones of St Nairn!’ he said; ‘she has him to herself. What mad prank will she play now?’

Katharine had drawn Cromwell to the very end of the gallery.

‘As I pray that Christ will listen to my pleas when at the last I come to Him for pardon and comfort,’ she said, ‘I swear that I will speak true words to you.’

He surveyed her, plump, alert, his lips moving one upon
the other. He brought one white soft hand from behind his back to play with the furs upon his chest.

‘Why, I believe you are a very earnest woman,’ he said.

‘Then, sir,’ she said, ‘understand that your sun is near its setting. We rise, we wane; our little days do run their course. But I do believe you love your King his cause more than most men.’

‘Madam Howard,’ he said, ‘you have been my foremost foe.’

‘Till five minutes agone I was,’ she said.

He wondered for a moment if she were minded to beg him to aid her in growing to be Queen; and he wondered too how that might serve his turn. But she spoke again:

‘You have very well served the King,’ she said. ‘You have made him rich and potent. I believe ye have none other desire so great as that desire to make him potent and high in this world’s gear.’

‘Madam Howard,’ he said calmly, ‘I desire that—and next to found for myself a great house that always shall serve the throne as well as I.’

She gave him the right to that with a lowering of her eyebrows.

‘I too would see him a most high prince,’ she said. ‘I would see him shed lustre upon his friends, terror upon his foes, and a great light upon this realm and age.’

She paused to touch him earnestly with one long hand, and to brush back a strand of her hair. Down the gallery she saw Lascelles moving to speak with Throckmorton and Wriothesley holding the Archbishop earnestly by the sleeve.

‘See,’ she said, ‘you are surrounded now by traitors that will bring you down. In foreign lands your cause wavers. I tell you, five minutes agone I wished you swept away.’

Cromwell raised his eyebrows.

‘Why, I knew that this was difficult fighting,’ he said. ‘But I know not what giveth me your good wishes.’

‘My lord,’ she answered, ‘it came to me in my mind: What
man is there in the land save Privy Seal that so loveth his master’s cause?’

Cromwell laughed.

‘How well do you love this King,’ he said.

‘I love this King; I love this land,’ she said, ‘as Cato loved Rome or Leonidas his realm of Sparta.’

Cromwell pondered, looking down at his foot; his lips moved furtively, he folded his hand inside his sleeves; and he shook his head when again she made to speak. He desired another minute for thought.

‘This I perceive to be the pact you have it in your mind to make,’ he said at last, ‘that if you come to sway the King towards Rome I shall still stay his man and yours?’

She looked at him, her lips parted with a slight surprise that he should so well have voiced thoughts that she had hardly put into words. Then her faith rose in her again and moved her to pitiful earnestness.

‘My lord,’ she uttered, and stretched out one hand. ‘Come over to us. ’Tis such great pity else—’tis such pity else.’

She looked again at Throckmorton, who, in the distance, was surveying the Archbishop’s spy with a sardonic amusement, and a great mournfulness went through her. For there was the traitor and here before her was the betrayed. Throckmorton had told her enough to know that he was conspiring against his master, and Cromwell trusted Throckmorton before any man in the land; and it was as if she saw one man with a dagger hovering behind another. With her woman’s instinct she felt that the man about to die was the better man, though he were her foe. She was minded—she was filled with a great desire to say: ‘Believe no word that Throckmorton shall tell you. The Duke of Cleves is now abandoning your cause.’ That much she had learnt from Udal five minutes before. But she could not bring herself to betray Throckmorton, who was a traitor for the sake of her cause. ‘ ’Tis such pity,’ she repeated again.

‘Good wench,’ Cromwell said, ‘you are indifferent honest;
but never while I am the King’s man shall the Bishop of Rome take toll again in the King’s land.’

She threw up her hands.

‘Alack!’ she said; ‘shall not God and His Son our Saviour have their part of the King’s glory?’

‘God is above us all,’ he answered. ‘But there is no room for two heads of a State, and in a State is room but for one army. I will have my King so strong that ne Pope ne priest ne noble ne people shall here have speech or power. So it is now; I have so made it, the King helping me. Before I came this was a distracted State; the King’s writ ran not in the east, not in the west, not in the north, and hardly in the south parts. Now no lord nor no bishop nor no Pope raises head against him here. And, God willing, in all the world no prince shall stand but by grace of this King’s Highness. This land shall have the wealth of all the world; this King shall guide this land. There shall be rich husbandmen paying no toll to priests, but to the King alone; there shall be wealthy merchants paying no tax to any prince nor emperor, but only to this King. The King’s court shall redress all wrongs; the King’s voice shall be omnipotent in the council of the princes.’

‘Ye speak no word of God,’ she said pitifully.

‘God is very far away,’ he answered.

‘Sir, my lord,’ she cried, and brushed again the tress from her forehead. ‘Ye have made this King rich with gear of the Church: if ye will be friends with me ye shall make this King a pauper to repay; ye have made this King stiffen his neck against God’s Vicegerent: if you and I shall work together ye shall make him re-humble himself. Christ the King of all the world was a pauper; Christ the Saviour of all mankind humbled Himself before God that was His Saviour.’

Cromwell said ‘Amen.’

‘Sir,’ she said again; ‘ye have made this King rich, but I will give to him again his power to sleep at night; ye have made this realm subject to this King, but, by the help of God, I will
make it subject again to God. You have set up here a great State, but oh, the children of God do weep since ye came. Where is a town where lamentation is not heard? where is a town where no orphan or widow bewails the day that saw your birth?’ She had sobs in her voice and she wrung her hands. ‘Sir,’ she cried, ‘I say you are as a dead man already—your day of pride is past, whether ye aid us or no. Set yourself then to redress as heartily as ye have set yourself in the past to make sad. That land is blest whose people are happy; that State is aggrandised whence there arise songs praising God for His blessings. You have built up a great city of groans; set yourself now to build a kingdom where “Praise God” shall be sung. It is a contented people that makes a State great; it is the love of God that maketh a people rich.’

Cromwell laughed mirthlessly:

‘There are forty thousand men like Wriothesley in England,’ he said. ‘God help you if you come against them; there are forty times forty thousand and forty times that that pray you not again to set disorder loose in this land. I have broken all stiff necks in this realm. See you that you come not against some yet.’ He stopped, and added: ‘Your greatest foes should be your own friends if I be a dead man as you say.’ And he smiled at her bewilderment when he had added: ‘I am your bulwark and your safeguard.’