At any rate, she was showing an appropriate concern for her younger step-daughter, which she also expressed by giving Elizabeth little presents of jewellery alongside her more substantial gifts to Mary.
35
Catherine's intervention had the desired effect of fully normalising relations among Henry's offspring and at New Year 1543 all three of his children, apparently for the first time, exchanged New Year's gifts.
36
* * *
But Catherine's indiscriminate good nature had other, less desirable, consequences. She might be indifferent to the broader Howard political agenda. But she felt strong loyalty to those who had brought her up. She was also eager to do what she could for her former fellow inmates in the Duchess's Household.
The result was that the plums of patronage fell in some otherwise unlikely places. Lord William Howard replaced Wallop as ambassador to France, on her nomination. Katherine Tilney, who had shared her bed at Horsham, was made one of her women. And she even gave a position in her Household to Francis Dereham, who had returned some time previously from a short, self-imposed exile in Ireland and was in London kicking his heels once more.
Now, it is important here to be clear about Catherine's behaviour. It was
not
, as almost all modern historians agree, improper and irresponsible to the point of lunacy. On the contrary. Looking after one's own was a moral imperative in the sixteenth century and long remained so. Which is why other powerful figures in the Dowager's entourage also involved themselves in fixing Dereham's Court appointment. 'Lady Bridgewater and Lady Howard [Lord William's wife]', the Dowager recalled, 'sued to her to speak to the Queen for Dereham.' And, though the evidence is unclear, the Duchess herself may have given her blessing to the arrangement by bringing Dereham to Court and formally presenting him to the Queen.
37
There
was
a danger nonetheless.
For Catherine's whole position as Queen depended on drawing a veil of decent obscurity over her days at Horsham and Lambeth. This does not seem to have been too difficult. Many, even most, Tudor girls (if we believe Chapuys's jaundiced verdict on English womanhood) had similarly murky pasts. So it was in no one's interest to dig too deep. Least of all was it in Henry's. Wildly in love, he had, it seems, asked no questions and had been told no lies.
38
It was a happy arrangement.
Nevertheless, it depended on everybody observing certain rules. The first and most important was to distinguish sharply time past from time present. For in the Tudor Court, as in the future Soviet Union, individuals and moments were air-brushed out of history. In the past Catherine had been a maid and Anne of Cleves a Queen. In the past, too, Catherine and Dereham had been lovers, perhaps, as it would appear, consummated lovers. But the present required them all to forget these earlier selves. Anne of Cleves survived because she showed herself willing to do so. Catherine had a fair stab at it. But would Dereham?
The signs were not good. He quickly quarrelled, for instance, with
Mr Johns, one of the Queen's Gentlemen Ushers. The occasion was Dereham's habit of lingering over his dinner or supper. This was a privilege reserved for the Queen's Council, as the senior members of the Household were known, and not for riffraff like Dereham. Outraged by his presumption, Johns sent him a messenger to know 'whether he were of the Queen's Council?' Dereham was unabashed. 'Go to Mr Johns', he ordered the messenger, 'and tell him I was of the Queen's Council before he knew her and shall be when she hath forgotten him.'
39
The reply was magnificent. But it was not wise. For it provoked a whole series of questions. What did Dereham mean when he said he had been 'of Council' with the Queen? Did he really mean that he had been a friend and adviser of 'Mrs Catherine Howard'
before
she married Henry? If so, just what relationship between them did this suggest?
The proper answer to any of these questions would have destroyed Catherine. But still her luck held, and thoughts turned to the summer Progress.
* * *
The Progress to the north, first planned in 1536, had been postponed on one ground or another ever since. But now Henry resolved to make it a reality. He had a mixture of motives. Another abortive Yorkshire rising had been nipped in the bud in the spring. There was the prospect of meeting at York with his nephew, James V of Scotland. But, above all, he would make the Progress with a Howard Queen at his side. And the name of Howard counted for as much in the north as that of Tudor.
The planning got seriously underway in May 1541. And Chapuys was clearly surprised by the scale of the preparations. Henry intended, he reported, 'to repair to the Northern counties in pompous array, followed by at least 5,000 horse'.
40
The King and Queen left London, according to plan, at the end of June. But then the problems began. James of Scotland played hard to get. The weather was as unseasonably wet that summer as it had been dry the previous one with the result, Marillac reported, that 'the roads leading to the North . . . have been flooded and the carts and baggage could not proceed without great difficulty'. And Catherine herself fell ill.
41
In the face of these accumulated difficulties, the Court lingered damply in Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire for most of July and the whole thing, Marillac heard, was nearly called off once more. But this time too much had been invested in the preparations and too many hopes had been raised for cancellation to be a feasible option. Finally, in the third week of July, and about a month late, the Court left Northampton on the first leg of its journey to the north of England – that third of his kingdom which Henry had never previously visited and which he knew much less well than his titular realm of France.
The Progress was to be the crowning glory of Catherine's reign – and its undoing.
* * *
After spending four or five days at Collyweston, the great country palace of Henry's grandmother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, the King and Queen crossed into Lincolnshire. The county had been the seat of the first of the northern rebellions of 1536. Both the rebellion and its suppression had been traumatic, and relations between the locality and the crown had not yet recovered. The Progress was intended to be the moment of healing. It would bury the lingering resentment, on one side, and the mistrust, on the other, and knit up King and subjects into a unity once more.
42
By and large, it was successful. There were processional
entrées
into Stamford and Boston and, on 9 August, into Lincoln, the regional capital. The royal tents were set up at Temple Bruer, seven miles to the southeast of the city, where Henry and Catherine had a picnic dinner. Then they were greeted by three distinct groups: the gentry and their servants of the Parts of Lindsey (one of the three administrative divisions of the county), the mayor and citizens of Lincoln and the clergy of the Cathedral. Each group had played a part in the revolt and each now made amends. First, a representative of the clergy made a speech and offered a gift, to be followed in turn by spokesmen for the gentry and citizens who did likewise. The King handed the copy of the Recorder's speech to the Duke of Norfolk and gentlemen and citizens knelt and cried: 'Jesus save your Grace'.
By this time Henry and Catherine had changed into more sumptuous dress: his of cloth of gold, hers of cloth of silver. The heralds put on their tabards, the Gentlemen Pensioners presented their battle axes, Lord Hastings carried the sword of state, and the Masters of the Horse led the two magnificently caparisoned 'horses of estate' after the King and Queen. In this order, and preceded by the gentry and citizens, Henry and Catherine made their entry into the city. At the west doors of Lincoln Cathedral there was a carpet with cushions and faldstools. The King and Queen knelt down, and kissed the crucifix, which was presented to them by the bishop in cope and mitre. He 'censed' them and, through the clouds of incense, they entered the Cathedral to pray at the reserved sacrament while the choir sang the
Te Deum
.
Then, at the end of a long day, the couple withdrew to their lodgings at Lincoln Castle.
43
* * *
Henry was quickly asleep. But there were light and movement in the Queen's apartments till far into the small hours. Even more strangely, the door to the backstairs, which led directly to Catherine's bedchamber, was left ajar. The watchman, doing his rounds with his light, noticed the open door. He pulled it to, locked it from the outside and continued on his way. Shortly after, two figures approached and, after fumbling with the lock, somehow got the door opened. One remained on guard outside; the other entered.
44
Was he a thief? Or was he aiming to steal something more precious even than the Queen's jewels?
* * *
From Lincoln, the route of the Progress turned inland towards Yorkshire. Just across the border lay the teeming hunting grounds of Hatfield Chase. Here Henry took an extended holiday from the political side of the Progress. He and Catherine stayed in magnificent tents and pavilions which were, in reality, fully equipped portable palaces. And they spent their days in hunting and their nights in feasting.
The French ambassador, Marillac, who accompanied the Court on the Progress, described one such day. A large area of the Chase was enclosed; it contained ponds and marshes as well as scrub and woodland. The latter was rich in game, the former in fish and wild fowl. Hunters and fishers in boats went on to the water, while bowmen stood on the land. The result was an extraordinary mixed bag of flesh, fish and fowl: two hundred stags and deer, 'a great quantity of young swans, two boats full of river birds and as much of great pikes and other fish'.
It was a scene of pastoral bliss from a hunting tapestry. Almost, indeed, the Garden of Eden. Nature gave with a prodigal hand, and deer grazed near the tents as tame 'as if they had been domestic cattle'. Proudly, Henry pointed them out to Marillac who was supping with him in his tent.
45
In this Garden of Eden, there was also an Eve. For it was at Hatfield that '[Catherine] looked out of her Privy Chamber window on Mr Culpepper'. It was a look of desire and her women remembered it.
46
* * *
Henry then moved to Pontefract, which was 'one of the finest castles in England', as Marillac admiringly noted, for another extended visit. Here the King received the submission of Yorkshire. The ceremonies were almost as curious as the hunt at Hatfield Chase and they were described by Marillac with the same minute interest. The gentry and other notables were divided into two groups: the sheep and the goats. 'Those who in the rebellion remained faithful were ranked apart', the ambassador reported, 'and graciously received by the King and praised for their fidelity.' 'The others', he continued, 'who were of the conspiracy, among whom appeared the Archbishop of York, were a little further off on their knees.' As in Lincolnshire, a spokesman then made their submission. 'One of them', Marillac wrote, 'speaking for all, made a long harangue confessing their treason in marching against their sovereign and his Council, thanking him for pardoning so great an offence and begging that if any relics of indignation remained he would dismiss them.' 'They then', Marillac concluded, 'delivered several bulky submissions in writing.'
47
One survives. 'We your humble servants, the inhabitants of this your Grace's county of York', it begins, 'confess that we wretches . . . have most grievously, heinously and wantonly offended your . . . Majesty.' They promise henceforward to be good subjects and to pray for the preservation of King Henry, Queen Catherine and Prince Edward.
And no doubt Catherine lent her prayers to theirs. They received 'a benign answer'. It was like the pardons of Wyatt and Wallop writ large.
48
At Pontefract, there was another odd incident. Denny, sent as usual from the King to the Queen, 'one night found [her bedchamber door] bolted'.
49
But, with his usual discretion, he said nothing about it. At the time.
* * *
From Pontefract the Progress moved to York, by easy stages and with a major detour to inspect the fortifications at Hull. At York, Henry lingered much longer than the pre-published programme of the Progress envisaged. Marillac was puzzled. Twelve hundred or a thousand workmen were labouring night and day to complete the refurbishment of the dissolved Abbey of St Mary's into a new northern palace for the King. Henry had also, the ambassador noted, 'brought from London his richest tapestry, plate and dress, both for himself and his archers, pages and gentlemen, with marvellous provision of victuals from all parts'.
50
Were the preparations, the ambassador wondered, for the meeting with James V of Scotland? Or were they for Catherine's coronation in the Minster which would follow the birth of the Duke of York?
51
* * *
In the event, neither the King of Scots nor the Duke of York appeared, and the Court began its slow return journey southwards.
The Court arrived at Hampton Court on 29 October, just in time for the celebrations of the great Feasts of All Saints Day on 1 November and All Souls Day on the 2nd. Henry, who had noticed nothing of the strange goings-on in the Queen's apartments during his visit to the north, and had not been told about them either, was in a genial and expansive mood. The Progress, despite James V's failure to keep the rendezvous at York, had been a political success. The King had also enjoyed himself and was happy.
For at last, he thought, he had found the right wife.
His feelings were reported a little later in a letter from the Council.