Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey (7 page)

In March, I went back to Court. The new queen, Katheryn Parr, was everything Katherine Howard was not. Gracious and humble, she welcomed me into her household. While Katherine Howard would pay no great attention to religious matters, this new queen was well-versed. Her ladies were expected to read the Bible along with their sewing and cards. The king’s daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, had been restored to the succession earlier in the year and were now often at Court.

My main duty was to serve the Lady Elizabeth while she was at Court. It was during this time that I got to know the young lady who was called my cousin. Elizabeth enjoyed all the celebrations, music and dancing her father had to offer, but she was a studious young lady in the queen’s rooms. She spent much of her time buried in her Bible and translating pieces written by the queen and others into several different languages. Her Latin was impeccable.

One afternoon, with the sun streaming in through the windows, Elizabeth sat hunched over her desk writing furiously on a piece of parchment. Her face was flushed red with exertion, tendrils of fire-red hair slipped out from under her hood.

“My lady, may I ask at what you are labouring so?” I asked as I set a silver platter of sweet comfits down on her desk.

Elizabeth looked up at me, her dark eyes flashing, and for a moment I was reminded of her mother, my Aunt Anne. She sat back and said excitedly, “It is Calvin! His book
Institutes of the Christian Religion
. He has only just written it three years ago and I am translating it into English for my father. Do you think he shall be pleased?”

I looked at her thoughtfully. She was considered a bastard, but she was still a royal, so it would not be in good prudence to disagree with the child of the king. Alternatively, she was a novice at court intrigues and the fact that she was so taken with Calvin was not likely to be something that the king would be pleased with. He detested Lutherans and anyone associated with them. He would not consider John Calvin suitable reading for his daughter.

Looking at Elizabeth’s face was like looking beyond the grave. She had her father’s nose and red hair, but her eyes and lips were all Anne. Elizabeth and I shared blood and I could not let her suffer for her innocence. Finally, I replied cautiously. “My lady, I think Calvin may be a bit radical for your father’s tastes. Is there nothing else you can translate for him?”

Her pink tongue worked at the corner of her mouth while she contemplated this. Eventually, she set down her quill. “I suppose you are right. I had not thought of that in my excitement. Perhaps I should translate my lady the queen’s
Prayers and Meditations
. Do you think he would find that better suited?”

I had not read the queen’s work, but I knew her religious persuasion. It was likely that her work showed her Protestant tendencies, but I was certain that the king would have read it already and no harm had come to her, so I supposed that a much better alternative.

I gave Elizabeth a calming smile, “I think that would be perfect, my lady. Not only an excellent gift for your father, but I am certain the queen will be touched by your gesture.”

Elizabeth grinned, “I do hope you are right.”

She picked up the parchment and started to crumple it, but then she thought better of it. She laid it back down on the table and smoothed it with her hand, taking care not to smear the ink. She stared at it thoughtfully, then folded it and tucked it into one of her books.

I was stepping far beyond my place, but I took it upon myself after that day to watch out for Elizabeth. I advised her when it was prudent and listened closely for any words that were spoken against her. She was a very intelligent young lady and learned the ways of Court very quickly, but she had spent most of her life under the care of Lady Bryan far from the court at Hatfield. Being amongst her father’s councillors would be a lesson in discretion and I would do all that I could to protect her. She may not know it, but she was my sister and it was my duty.

The king had set up the court at Westminster to plot against the Scots. King James had been killed at Solway Moss in 1542 and his baby girl, Mary Stuart, was on the throne. My father, the king, ever keen to take advantage, tried and failed to convince the Scots to join Mary in marriage to little Prince Edward. In May, after being rebuffed, he sent the Earl of Hertford and Nan Basset’s brother, now Viscount Lisle, to Edinburgh to attack. “Mark my words,” said Francis, “this is just the beginning.”

Almost as soon as Hertford and Lisle were back from Scotland, the king was already itching to bring France to heel for their aid to his enemies. He spent the next month fortifying and preparing an army to set siege to Boulogne. In an act that had not been seen since his first wife Catherine of Aragon’s time, he made the queen regent in his absence. It seemed he had finally found a trustworthy queen.

The men departed on 11
th
July, taking my stepfather and husband with them. I tried in vain to withhold my sobbing the night before Francis left, but I was terrified. Not only could I lose the man I loved so wholeheartedly, but I would be at the mercy of the king if my husband was killed in battle. He comforted me and we spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms, holding on for dear life.

In the morning I knelt on the bed behind Francis and embraced him from behind. I could feel the heat from his naked back through my shift. I trailed light kisses along his freshly shaved jaw line. “I will be waiting for your swift return, my love,” I whispered in his ear.

He turned and kissed me full on the mouth pushing me back onto the bed. “I certainly hope so, Mistress Knollys,” he murmured into my hair. It was another hour before he attempted to leave again, but this time, he had to go. I bid him good luck and blew him a kiss goodbye. After the door shut behind him, I buried myself under the blanket and cried.

With the king on the battlefield, the queen felt it prudent to call Prince Edward to Court. He and his sisters lodged with us at Hampton Court. The queen took to her task with gusto. She met with the councillors late into the night and insisted they confer with her before making any decisions. The queen’s hand was in every detail of the king’s campaign, from musters and finances to making sure provisions were sent when needed. She issued royal proclamations and was in contact with Lord Shrewsbury in Wales, keeping apprised of the situation in Scotland.

The king returned in September after his victory in Boulogne to a stable kingdom and a queen much buffeted by self-confidence. Francis returned to find a wife greatly expanding with child. It seemed that with this pregnancy my belly was eager to show off. Shortly after my first missed courses I was having my skirts let out.

“Catherine, my lovely wife,” Francis called to me as he entered our rooms. “What a goodly belly you have made for me,” he said kneeling down to kiss my protruding stomach.

“Yes, we are quite the fertile pair!” I laughed, giving him my hand to rise up from the floor.

“Of course, just as I get home from campaign, you will be leaving me again,” he sighed, a twinkle in his eyes.

“As long as the weather stays fair, I think I would like to stay another month or so.”

Francis swept me into his arms and planted a kiss on my lips. “I think I should like that too.”

I arrived at Greys Court to find my children crowded into the hall to greet me. Little Harry had grown to my waist and was full of stories about his uncle Henry teaching him to ride the ponies. Mary, almost in her second year, tugged at my skirts. I bent over and picked her up. She buried her face in my neck, thumb in her mouth. Lettice, held in her nurse’s arms, shook her little fist and demanded more milk with a shrill cry. I let out a little laugh. “How wonderful to see you all, my little family.”

Henry nonchalantly wandered into the hall. He was eating an apple, little more than the core remained, but as he approached, he gave me a small nod. “Welcome home.”

I smiled and, with Mary in tow, wrapped him into a hug.

Harry and I spent the autumn months playing in the yellow and brown leaves and as the weather turned colder and the snow began to fall, we moved indoors and spent our days before the fire. Harry played with his wooden toys and I took turns rocking Mary and Lettice. I went into confinement in the first weeks of January. Francis had come home for Christmas celebrations but then headed back to Court to take up his new duties as master of the horse to the prince. He was delighted with his new appointment and I was filled with pride when he told me.

My pains came with the rain squalls in mid-March, and just two weeks before Easter I gave birth to our second son. Francis and I decided to name him William for William Carey and William Stafford. It was our fourth baby in as many years. Our marriage was proving to be a fruitful one.

“Welcome back to Court, Mistress Knollys,” the queen greeted me on my return to her service. She smiled brightly and gestured to the gathered ladies. “I trust you remember Ladies Herbert, Lane and Denny?”

They all three stepped out and gave me small nods. I smiled my assent.

“Yes, of course, Your Grace. I am pleased to see you all again.”

The queen nodded and turned, going back to her books and conversation.

Nan Bassett sidled up beside me, “What was that all about?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know. Are those her favourites now?”

“Looks like you are the next to be one.”

Nan and I exchanged nervous laughs and hugged. We made our way to the window embrasure to discuss my children and the events I had missed in my confinement.

Later that night I told Francis about the greeting I received from the queen and her ladies. His face reddened.

“That would have been my doing.”

I raised my brow and asked, “Any particular reason?”

Francis sat down heavily on the bed next to me and kicked off his boots.

“Those are the queen’s favourites and they are secret reformers. Their husbands and I are working together to help the Earl of Hertford’s cause. I wanted you to befriend them and learn all you can. The Duchess of Suffolk has been doing much to further the cause as well, even though her husband will never support it. We are on the rise and refuse to let the Bishop of Rome gain foothold in England again.”

I sat back against the pillows and out of habit, rested my hand on stomach. I felt it starting to churn. I had returned to a Court in full faction war. How long before this queen came to an end for her meddling in religious affairs?

Nan and I sat in the courtyard. I was mending shirts for Francis and she was quilting a counterpane for her sister, who was still at Richmond serving Anne of Cleves. As we chatted I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Nan stifled a smile. I turned to see my brother, Henry, standing behind me. I jumped up, dropping Francis’s shirt to the ground.

“Henry!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around him.

He awkwardly patted me on the back. “No need to shout, sister.”

I stepped back and looked him over. He had grown since I last saw him at my wedding. He was wearing matching burgundy doublet and hose in material finer than I had ever seen him in.

“You have gone formal on me,” I chided him, fingering the velvet of his doublet.

He gave a slight nod. “I am a married man now and serve the king with my stepfather and brother-in-law, I need to set a good example.”

I grinned. “Is your wife come to Court, Henry? When shall I meet her?

“She is settling in at Rochford Hall, making it our home.” Then he looked down at the ground. “It’s a fine manor, but I would give it back in a moment if it would bring Mother back.”

I reached out and rubbed his arm.

“Oh Henry, please do not feel guilty. We both miss her but she is reunited with our family.” I pinched his nose and leaned in to whisper, “And it is a far better place than this foul Court.”

Henry allowed a stiff smile, “Don’t let your father hear that or you will be following her.”

I replied boldly, “Let him try. So when will we expect some nieces and nephews?” I proudly patted my now flat stomach. “Is this new wife as fertile as I am?”

“Soon, sister. It has been wonderful to see you and I hope to spend more time with you now that I am at Court. I must take my leave now, the king will be expecting me.”

“Of course.” I gave him a slight bow and watched him walk away.

I turned to Nan. “He is so stiff now. He has always been serious, but never this much.”

Nan chuckled. “He has grown up now, Catherine. He is handsome too. Too bad he is already married.”

“Nan!” I exclaimed. She gave me a devious look. I shook my head, “You are insufferable. Your family had better find you a husband soon.”

I had not been at Court for a month when word came that the Duke of Suffolk had passed away. The king was inconsolable. Charles Brandon had been his best friend since before the king had been crowned. I knew it was only a matter of time before the king would follow him. He was becoming corpulent. Gone was the strident young man who could challenge anyone on the tennis courts or in the jousting lists. In his place was a man who had to be carried through the palace on a lift. He was no longer jovial or charming. Everyone came under suspicion. Our ‘Golden Prince’ was gone.

My stepfather, Stafford, was knighted that autumn for his services in Scotland. I was ecstatic for him. He looked so handsome and knightly at his creation and I wished that Mother had been there to see it.

At New Year, the Lady Elizabeth gave the king a translation of the queen’s book
Prayers and Meditations.
Her face looked so hopeful when she presented it to her father as a gift, but I could see his face redden as he flipped through the work. He looked sideways at the queen, but she just smiled serenely, hiding any fear she might have felt. It was becoming increasingly dangerous to have opinions on religion that did not come from His Majesty.

Then in February, a woman named Anne Askew was arrested as a heretic. Francis told me that during her interrogation she named the queen as a Protestant. The king ordered her tortured, but she refused to implicate the queen again. Tensions were high and I was relieved when the month came and went without my courses. I could go back to Greys Court and leave this tangled drama behind.