The Rose Without a Thorn (23 page)

“What I say. There must be no more talk of Culpepper. You must forget there was ever any mention of you and him. And …” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There was that other. Derham … Francis Derham. He is away. In Ireland, I believe. He must stay there and, Katherine Howard; you must forget you ever saw him.”

“I cannot forget as I will. I could never forget Francis Derham.”

“He came back …”

“I told him it was over between us.”

“It is not only over, it never happened. It must never be mentioned. You did not know Francis Derham. You did not make any
arrangement with Thomas Culpepper. Holy Mother of God, Culpepper is still in the King’s service.”

“But I cannot believe I did not know Francis Derham because I dare not speak of him. And I love Thomas Culpepper.”

“Be silent. You love none but the King. This is what he will demand. You are his subject, remember. He has singled you out for great honors. You must be worthy of them.” She drew me to her, half-pleading, half-threatening. “Katherine, you have come too far. You cannot go back now. The King has chosen you. What greater honor could there be than that? You must accept what life offers you. Think of all those who, were they in your position, would be rejoicing in their good fortune.”

I said slowly: “The Queen rejoiced to be free of him.”

“He did not love her. If he had, she would have been the happiest woman in the country. Now … that is for someone else.”

“I wish,” I began. “Oh, how I wish …”

“You will have nothing to fear. Think of it. Queen of England. The King’s much loved Queen, who only has to be as she is, and is sure to please him. You need have no fear. I shall be at hand to help you, and there is your uncle. He will tell you exactly what you have to do. So … as I say, there is nothing to fear … unless, of course, you play the fool and throw away good fortune by prattling of love for this and that one. Listen to me, Katherine. That did not happen. You must put all thought of it from your mind and do as you are told by your uncle and me … and so please the King. You cannot be blamed for what happened in the past.”

I kept thinking of Derham in the Maids’ Chamber, where we had rolled on the floor and made merry, until my grandmother had come in and found us.

There was so much of the past which I wanted to forget, and now I was overwhelmed by the confirmation of that which had haunted me for some time, and while evidence had pointed to the fact that there must be some truth in it, I could not entirely believe it.

The manner in which the King had noticed me should have made me realize the truth. I was not, as he believed, an inexperienced girl. I had seen the expression in his eyes, as I had in those of
others. It was merely because he was the King that I had not accepted what it really meant. I had thought of myself as insignificant Katherine Howard, accepted at Court because I was the niece of the Duke of Norfolk.

The glittering prospect was now revealed to me. The King—the much-married King—had chosen me.

I remembered all the excitement there had been when his desire had fallen on my cousin, and how it had brought our family into closer connection with royalty—which seemed to be the ambition of everyone at Court.

I was flattered, and on the other hand alarmed. I kept thinking of the poor Queen, who had fainted with fear when the King’s commissioners came to talk to her and then had nearly fainted again, this time with joy, because she discovered he wanted her to be his sister instead of his wife.

But he liked me. He liked my simple ways. He had never shown any anger toward me, not even that tetchiness which my uncle could sometimes arouse in him. He had smiled at my simplicity and liked me the better for it. He might frighten others, but he had always been very kind to me. And he was the King.

My grandmother was smiling at me now. “Your cheek is a little red,” she said.

“That is because you slapped it.”

“Ah, you are not the Queen yet, child, and I did it for your good. Never … never speak to the King of Thomas Culpepper … nor … that other.”

“I will not,” I said. “It is past and done with.”

“You cannot be blamed for what was done so long ago,” she said, frowning deeply, and I had the idea that she was trying to convince herself.

“Is this thing really true?” I said. “How can you be sure?”

“The King has spoken to your uncle.”

“But do you think he really means it?”

“Of course he means it, child. It is a serious matter. Let me tell you this. Your uncle is very pleased with you.”

“It will be the first time he ever has been.”

“He is proud of you. You must always remember to do what he tells you. Now, we must compose ourselves. The King will be here at any moment. I hear sounds from below. It means the barge will be at the privy stairs.”

There was brief pause while my grandmother studied me, patting my hair and looking anxiously at my cheek.

“You are flushed,” she said. “That is quite becoming. It hides the mark on your cheek. Now … remember. Be yourself. Ask for nothing. Be natural. Be surprised.”

“How can I, when you have already told me?”

“Heed that not. Show yourself overwhelmed by the honor.”

“I
am
overwhelmed,” I said.

The Duchess nodded, smiling.

My uncle came into the room. He looked at me with more affection than he had ever shown me before—or anyone for that matter I thought rather frivolously, which was strange at such a moment, except perhaps the laundress, Bess Holland. I supposed he was already seeing the crown on the head of another Howard.

“Well,” he said, “you have heard of the honor which is about to come to you.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“That is well. Indeed, you have pleased us all. I know you have little knowledge of worldly matters. That is in your favor. His Majesty will not want to be plagued with women’s arguments. All you have to do is to be as you are. It is this which has won his regard. Now he is impatient. I will conduct you to his presence.”

I followed him into one of the smaller rooms where the King was waiting. He was standing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked larger than ever in his padded surcoat; and there was a large ruby at his throat.

“My niece, Mistress Katherine Howard, Your Majesty,” said my uncle, pushing me ahead of him.

The King was smiling, his little eyes brilliant. He regarded me with fondness. I would have knelt, but he laid his hand on my shoulders and drew me toward him.

“You may leave us, Norfolk,” he said to my uncle, who immediately bowed and obeyed.

“You are not shy of the King, Katherine,” he said. “I think you care not as some would for the honors I am about to give you. I think perhaps you have more regard for my person than for those. Tell me, is that so?”

“Oh yes, Your Majesty.”

“You please me very much, Katherine. In fact, so much that I want you to be my Queen.”

I believed he was waiting for me to go down on my knees in an ecstasy of joy and thank him. That would be difficult for me to do, and I remembered the injunctions to be myself, so I murmured: “Your Majesty cannot…”

“Katherine, there is little the King cannot do if he sets his heart on it. And this I tell you. The matter I am here to speak of is my will, and I will allow none to gainsay me. Katherine, you have pleased me greatly, and I am going to make you my Queen.”

“But Your Majesty …” In spite of my grandmother’s warning, I was on the point of telling him of my betrothal to Thomas, but he had silenced me.

“No buts,” he said. “I will have none … not even from you, sweet Katherine. You are overwhelmed, I know. You did not think this could be so. Now tell me, did you?”

“No, Your Majesty. I …”

He laughed and said tenderly: “You are over-modest… as a maiden should be. You cannot believe this good fortune which has come to you. I like that. But let me tell you this: it shall be so.”

There was something in his demeanor which told me he would be very angry if I confessed my feelings and my proposed betrothal to Thomas, and that the anger might be directed not only against me but Thomas too.

“My dearest little Katherine,” he was saying, “think only on this. I shall raise you up to be my Queen.”

I did not know what to say. My feelings were so mixed. I … to be the Queen! Honored throughout the Court! It was such a
dazzling prospect that it was as though it blinded me. All those who had been faintly contemptuous of me would now bow the knee and call me Majesty. It made me want to laugh. That was hysteria, I imagined. And Thomas? Oh, Thomas, I thought, we should have been so happy at Hollingbourne. I could see clearly that there was no choice for me. This glittering and powerful King had decided my fate. And so had my uncle. They had done it between them. I could see that I should never marry Thomas.

The King was smiling at me very kindly. There must be great kindness in him, for he had never shown anything else to me. I was aware of that immense power in him. For some extraordinary reason, after dignified Catherine, dazzling Anne, pretty Jane, and unwanted Anne of Cleves, he had chosen me to be his fifth Queen.

I was not the sort of person who could make things happen the way I wanted them to—although those like my uncle could. I must just let events carry me along.

For a moment I felt trapped. It was not my will, but theirs. I had no recourse but to obey. They had decided my fate, and I was trapped—a golden cage it might be, surrounded by treasure, but I had no means of escaping from it.

Mine was a serene nature. I was not clever enough to devise plans for escape, and I was not sure, when I realized what all this would mean, whether I wanted to.

I was at least wise enough to know that if I did escape from this fate, I should bring the wrath of my family down upon me and would never be allowed to marry Thomas Culpepper.

“You do not speak,” said the King. “I will tell you why. You do not know what to say. Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.

He took my hand and drew me near to him. He looked closely at me and put out a hand to touch my cheek.

“You are beautiful,” he said. “I never saw one that pleased me more than you do. And that pleases
you
, does it not?”

I nodded.

He drew me even closer. I could feel the warmth of his flesh against mine. He kissed me gently on the forehead.

“Always remain as you are at this moment and you will please me,” he said.

“I … I will try, Your Majesty.”

He gave that rather loud laugh of his.

“You will always please me, I know,” he said. “At last I have found you. I have looked so long. You are like a rose. My favorite flower, Katherine. The flower of England … most beautiful of all flowers. But roses have thorns.” His face darkened, and there was a certain petulant droop to his lips. For a moment he looked angry, then he was smiling again. “And you are my rose without a thorn. That is how I see you, Katherine. Do you wonder that I want to keep you at my side forever?”

I was sitting on his knee now, his arm round me, holding me tightly against him. The ruby on his coat touched my skin, it was so close to me. I wondered about his leg and thought of what Thomas had told me of it. I was about to ask him if it were better but, innocent as I might be about matters of importance, some natural instinct told me that this was not a time to remind him of his infirmities.

“I am blessed in you, sweet Katherine,” he said. “I believe that, through you, the curse which Heaven has put upon me is about to be lifted.”

I wondered how even Heaven would have dared put a curse on such a powerful person, but again I said nothing.

“I am a simple man,” he went on, and I almost showed my amazement at such a statement. “I ask but little. Just to live in peace with a wife who will care for me as I care for her. Katherine, my sweet child, that joy has, till now, been denied me. What have I done that God should punish me, eh?”

Another of those unanswerable questions—and one I had heard before. Fortunately, he supplied the answer, and as I cast down my eyes he continued: “I will tell you. Through no fault of mine, I went through a form of marriage with my brother’s widow.
That was no true marriage, and for years I lived in a state of sin with a woman who was not my wife in the eyes of Heaven.”

“Oh no, Your Majesty,” I murmured.

His arm tightened about me: and then his face hardened.

“And then … I married a witch …”

Visions of my beautiful cousin came to me. He had broken with Rome for her sake, and now he said she was a witch.

“Then Jane … she was a gentle creature, but she died and, though she gave me a son, he is not strong. And now … this woman from Flanders. You see what I tell you is truth. But you have come to me and you are going to give me all that I ask. The curse is lifted and so, Katherine, I shall make you my Queen.”

His expression had undergone many changes as he was speaking. He had looked both forlorn and angry. At times he reminded me of a little boy, and then seconds later his face was so twisted in anger that he was like a cruel tyrant.

I felt suddenly sorry for him, and I realized at once what a pretentious attitude that was. On impulse, I put my arms round his neck and kissed his cheek.

The effect of my action was immediate. His eyes filled with tears; his expression was soft and sentimental.

“Sweet Katherine,” he murmured and held me close against him.

And in that moment I was reconciled to whatever lay before me.

The Queen