IV

Five men talked in the long gallery overlooking the River Thames. It

was in the Lord Cromwell's house, upon which the April showers fell

like handsful of peas, with a sifting sound, between showers of

sunshine that fell themselves like rain, so that at times all the long

empty gallery was gilded with light and at times it was all saddened

and frosty. They were talking all, and all with earnestness and

concern, as all the Court and the city were talking now, of Katharine

Howard whom the King loved.

The Archbishop leant against one side of a window, close beside him

his spy Lascelles; the Archbishop's face was round but worn, his large

eyes bore the trace of sleeplessness, his plump hands were a little

tremulous within his lawn sleeves.

'Sir,' he said, 'we must bow to the breeze. In time to come we may

stand straight enow.' His eyes seemed to plead with Privy Seal, who

paced the gallery in short, pursy strides, his plump hands hidden in

the furs behind his back. Lascelles, the Archbishop's spy, nodded his

head sagaciously; his yellow hair came from high on his crown and was

brushed forward towards his brows. He did not speak, being in such

high company, but looking at him, the Archbishop gained confidence

from the support of his nod.

'If we needs must go with the Lady Katharine towards Rome,' he pleaded

again, 'consider that it is but for a short time.' Cromwell passed him

in his pacing and, unsure of having caught his ear, Cranmer addressed

himself to Throckmorton and Wriothesley, the two men of forty who

stood gravely, side by side, fingering their long beards. 'For sure,'

Cranmer appealed to the three silent men, 'what we must avoid is

crossing the King's Highness. For his Highness, crossed, hath a swift

and sudden habit of action.' Wriothesley nodded, and: 'Very sudden,'

Lascelles allowed himself utterance, in a low voice. Throckmorton's

eyes alone danced and span; he neither nodded nor spoke, and, because

he was thought to have a great say in the councils of Privy Seal, it

was to him that Cranmer once more addressed himself urgently:

'Full-bodied men who are come upon failing years are very prone to

women. 'Tis a condition of the body, a humour, a malady that passeth.

But, while it lasteth, it must be bowed to.'

Cromwell, with his deaf face, passed once more before them. He

addressed himself in brief, sharp tones to Wriothesley:

'You say, in Paris an envoy from Cleves was come a week agone?' and

passed on.

'It must be bowed to,' Cranmer continued his speech. 'I do maintain

it. There is no way but to divorce the Queen.' Again Lascelles nodded;

it was Wriothesley this time who spoke.

'It is a lamentable thing!' and there was a heavy sincerity in his

utterance, his pose, with his foot weightily upon the ground, being

that of an honest man. 'But I do think you have the right of it. We,

and the new faith with us, are between Scylla and Charybdis. For

certain, our two paths do lie between divorcing the Queen and seeing

you, great lords, who so well defend us, cast down.'

Coming up behind him, Cromwell placed a hand upon his shoulder.

'Goodly knight,' he said, 'let us hear thy thoughts. His Grace's of

Canterbury we do know very well. He is for keeping a whole skin!'

Cranmer threw up his hands, and Lascelles looked at the ground.

Throckmorton's eyes were filled with admiration of this master of his

that he was betraying now. He muttered in his long, golden beard.

'Pity we must have thy head.'

Wriothesley cleared his throat, and having considered, spoke

earnestly.

'It is before all things expedient and necessary,' he said, 'that we

do keep you, my Lord Privy Seal, and you, my Lord of Canterbury, at

the head of the State.' That was above all necessary. For assuredly

this land, though these two had brought it to a great pitch of wealth,

clean living, true faith and prosperity, this land needed my Lord

Privy Seal before all men to shield it from the treason of the old

faith. There were many lands now, bringing wealth and commodity to

the republic, that should soon again revert towards and pay all their

fruits to Rome; there were many cleaned and whitened churches that

should again hear the old nasty songs and again be tricked with

gewgaws of the idolaters. Therefore, before all things, my Lord Privy

Seal must retain the love of the King's Highness---- Cromwell, who had

resumed his pacing, stayed for a moment to listen.

'Wherefore brought ye not news of why Cleves' envoy came to Paris

town?' he said pleasantly. 'All the door turneth upon that hinge.'

Wriothesley stuttered and reddened.

'What gold could purchase, I purchased of news,' he said. 'But this

envoy would not speak; his knaves took my gold and had no news. The

King of France's men----'

'Oh aye,' Cromwell continued; 'speak on about the other matter.'

Wriothesley turned his slow mind from his vexation in Paris, whence he

had come a special journey to report of the envoy from Cleves. He

spoke again swiftly, turning right round to Cromwell.

'Sir,' he said, 'study above all to please the King. For unless you

guide us we are lost indeed.'

Cromwell worked his lips one upon another and moved a hand.

'Aye,' Wriothesley continued; 'it can be done only by bringing the

King's Highness and the Lady Katharine to a marriage.'

'Only by that?' Cromwell asked enigmatically.

Throckmorton spoke at last:

'Your lordship jests,' he said; 'since the King is not a man, but a

high and beneficent prince with a noble stomach.'

Cromwell tapped him upon the cheek.

'That you do see through a millstone I know,' he said. 'But I was

minded to hear how these men do think. You and I do think alike.'

'Aye, my lord,' Throckmorton answered boldly. 'But in ten minutes I

must be with the Lady Katharine, and I am minded to hear the upshot of

this conference.'

Cromwell laughed at him sunnily:

'Go and do your message with the lady. An you hasten, you may return

ere ever this conference ends, since slow wits like ours need a store

of words to speak their minds with.'

Lascelles, the silent spy of the archbishop, devoured with envious

eyes Throckmorton's great back and golden beard. For his life he dared

not speak three words unbidden in this company. But Throckmorton being

gone the discussion renewed itself, Wriothesley speaking again.

He voiced always the same ideas, for the same motives: Cromwell must

maintain his place at the cost of all things, for the sake of all

these men who leaned upon him. And it was certain that the King loved

this lady. If he had sent her few gifts and given her no titles nor

farms, it was because--either of nature or to enhance the King's

appetite--she shewed a prudish disposition. But day by day and week in

week out the King went with his little son in his times of ease to the

rooms of the Lady Mary. And there he went, assuredly, not to see the

glum face of the daughter that hated him, but to converse in Latin

with his daughter's waiting-maid of honour. All the Court knew this.

Who there had not seen how the King smiled when he came new from the

Lady Mary's rooms? He was heavy enow at all other times. This fair

woman that hated alike the new faith and all its ways had utterly

bewitched and enslaved the King's eyes, ears and understanding. If the

King would have Katharine Howard his wife the King must have her. Anne

of Cleves must be sent back to Germany; Cromwell must sue for peace

with the Howard wench; a way must be found to bribe her till the King

tired of her; then Katharine must go in her turn, once more Cromwell

would have his own, and the Protestants be reinstated. Cromwell

retained his silence; at the last he uttered his unfailing words with

which he closed all these discussions:

'Well, it is a great matter.'

The gusts of rain and showers of sun pursued each other down the

river; the lights and shadows succeeded upon the cloaked and capped

shapes of the men who huddled their figures together in the tall

window. At last the Archbishop lost his patience and cried out:

'What will you _do_? What will you _do_?'

Cromwell swung his figure round before him.

'I will discover what Cleves will do in this matter,' he said. 'All

dependeth therefrom.'

'Nay; make a peace with Rome,' Cranmer uttered suddenly. 'I am weary

of these strivings.'

But Wriothesley clenched his fist.

'Before ye shall do that I will die, and twenty thousand others!'

Cranmer quailed.

'Sir,' he temporised. 'We will give back to the Bishop of Rome nothing

that we have taken of property. But the Bishop of Rome may have

Peter's Pence and the deciding of doctrines.'

'Canterbury,' Wriothesley said, 'I had rather Antichrist had his old

goods and gear in this realm than the handling of our faith.'

Cromwell drew in the air through his nostrils, and still smiled.

'Be sure the Bishop of Rome shall have no more gear and no more

guidance of this realm than his Highness and I need give,' he said.

'No stranger shall have any say in the councils of this realm.' He

smiled noiselessly again. 'Still and still, all turneth upon Cleves.'

For the first time Lascelles spoke:

'All turneth upon Cleves,' he said.

Cromwell surveyed him, narrowing his eyes.

'Speak you now of your wisdom,' he uttered with neither friendliness

nor contempt. Lascelles caressed his shaven chin and spoke:

'The King's Highness I have observed to be a man for women--a man who

will give all his goods and all his gear to a woman. Assuredly he will

not take this woman to his leman; his princely stomach revolteth

against an easy won mastership. He will pay dear, he will pay his

crown to win her. Yet the King would not give his policies. Neither

would he retrace his steps for a woman's sake unless Fate too cried

out that he must.'

Cromwell nodded his head. It pleased him that this young man set a

virtue sufficiently high upon his prince.

'Sirs,' he said, 'daily have I seen this King in ten years, and I do

tell ye no man knoweth how the King loves kingcraft as I know.' He

nodded again to Lascelles, whose small stature seemed to gain bulk,

whose thin voice seemed to gain volume from this approval and from his

'Speak on. About Cleves.'

'Sirs,' Lascelles spoke again, 'whiles there remains the shade of a

chance that Cleves' Duke shall lead the princes of Germany against the

Emperor and France, assuredly the King shall stay his longing for the

Lady Katharine. He shall stay firm in his marriage with the Queen.'

Again Cromwell nodded. 'Till then it booteth little to move towards a

divorce; but if that day should come, then our Lord Privy Seal must

bethink himself. That is in our lord's mind.'

'By Bacchus!' Cromwell said, 'your Grace of Canterbury hath a jewel in

your crony and helper. And again I say, we must wait upon Cleves.' He

seemed to pursue the sunbeams along the gallery, then returned to say:

'I know ye know I love little to speak my mind. What I think or how I

will act I keep to myself. But this I will tell you:' Cleves might

have two minds in sending to France an envoy. On the one hand, he

might be minded to abandon Henry and make submission to the Emperor

and to Rome. For, in the end, was not the Duke of Cleves a vassal of

the Emperor? It might be that. Or it might be that he was sending

merely to ask the King of France to intercede betwixt him and his

offended lord. The Emperor was preparing to wage war upon Cleves. That

was known. And doubtless Cleves, desiring to retain his friendship

with Henry, might have it in mind to keep friends with both. There

the matter hinged, Cromwell repeated. For, if Cleves remained loyal to

the King of England, Henry would hear nothing of divorcing Cleves'

sister, and would master his desire for Katharine.

'Believe me when I speak,' Cromwell added earnestly. 'Ye do wrong to

think of this King as a lecher after the common report. He is a man

very continent for a king. His kingcraft cometh before all women. If

the Duke of Cleves be firm friend to him, firm friend he will be to

the Duke's sister. The Lady Howard will be his friend, but the Lady

Howard will be neither his leman nor his guide to Rome. He will please

her if he may. But his kingcraft. Never!' He broke off and laughed

noiselessly at the Archbishop's face of dismay. 'Your Grace would make

a pact with Rome?' he asked.

'Why, these are very evil times,' Cranmer answered. 'And if the Bishop

of Rome will give way to us, why may we not give pence to the Bishop

of Rome?'

'Goodman,' Cromwell answered, 'these are evil times because we men are

evil.' He pulled a paper from his belt. 'Sirs,' he said, 'will ye know

what manner of woman this Katharine Howard is?' and to their murmurs

of assent: 'This lady hath asked to speak with me. Will ye hear her

speak? Then bide ye here. Throckmorton is gone to seek her.'

V

Katharine Howard sat in her own room; it had in it little of

sumptuousness, for all the King so much affected her. It was the room

she had first had at Hampton after coming to be maid to the King's

daughter, and it had the old, green hangings that had always been

round the walls, the long oak table, the box-bed set in the wall, the

high chair and the three stools round the fire. The only thing she had

taken of the King was a curtain in red cloth to hang on a rod before

the door where was a great draught, the leading of the windows being

rotted. She had lived so poor a life, her father having been a very

poor lord with many children--she was so attuned to flaws of the wind,

ill-feeding and harsh clothes, that such a tall room as she there had

seemed goodly enough for her. Barely three months ago she had come to

the palace of Greenwich riding upon a mule. Now accident, or maybe the

design of the dear saints, had set her so high in the King's esteem

that she might well try a fall with Privy Seal.

She sat there dressed, awaiting the summons to go to him. She wore a

long dress of red velvet, worked around the breast-lines with little

silver anchors and hearts, and her hood was of black lawn and fell

near to her hips behind. And she had read and learned by heart

passages from Plutarch, from Tacitus, from Diodorus Siculus, from

Seneca and from Tully, each one inculcating how salutary a thing in a

man was the love of justice. Therefore she felt herself well prepared

to try a fall with the chief enemy of her faith, and awaited with

impatience his summons to speak with him. For she was anxious, now at

last, to speak out her mind, and Privy Seal's agents had worked upon

the religious of a poor little convent near her father's house a wrong

so baleful that she could no longer contain herself. Either Privy Seal

must redress or she must go to the King for justice to these poor

women that had taught her the very elements of virtue and lay now in

gaol.

So she spoke to her two chief friends, her that had been Cicely

Elliott and her old husband Rochford, the knight of Bosworth Hedge.

They happened in upon her just after she was attired and had sent her

maid to fetch her dinner from the buttery.

'Three months agone,' she said, 'the King's Highness did bid me cease

from crying out upon Privy Seal; and not the King's Highness' self can

say that in that time I have spoken word against the Lord Cromwell.'

Cicely Elliott, who dressed, in spite of her new wedding, all in black

for the sake of some dead men, laughed round at her from her little

stool by the fire.

'God help you! that must have been hard, to keep thy tongue from the

flail of all Papists.'

The old knight, who was habited like Katharine, all in red, because at

that season the King favoured that colour, pulled nervously at his

little goat's beard, for all conversations that savoured of politics

and religion were to him very fearful. He stood back against the green

hangings and fidgeted with his feet.

But Katharine, who for the love of the King had been silent, was now

set to speak her mind.

'It is Seneca,' she said, 'who tells us to have a check upon our

tongues, but only till the moment approaches to speak.'

'Aye, goodman Seneca!' Cicely laughed round at her. Katharine smoothed

her hair, but her eyes gleamed deeply.

'The moment approaches,' she said; 'I do like my King, but better I

like my Church.' She swallowed in her throat. 'I had thought,' she

said, 'that Privy Seal would stay his harryings of the goodly nuns in

this land.' But now she had a petition, come that day from Lincoln

gaol. Cromwell's servants were more bitter still than ever against the

religious. Here was a false accusation of treason against her

foster-mother's self. 'I will soon end it or mend it, or lose mine own

head,' Katharine ended.

'Aye, pull down Cur Crummock,' Cicely said. 'I think the King shall

not long stay away from thy desires.'

The old knight burst in:

'I take it ill that ye speak of these things. I take it ill. I will

not have 'ee lose thy head in these quarrels.'

'Husband,' Cicely laughed round at him, 'three years ago Cur Crummock

had the heads of all my menfolk, having sworn they were traitors.'

'The more reason that he have not mine and thine now,' the old knight

answered grimly. 'I am not for these meddlings in things that concern

neither me nor thee.'

Cicely Elliott set her elbows upon her knees and her chin upon her

knuckles. She gazed into the fire and grew moody, as was her wont

when she had chanced to think of her menfolk that Cromwell had

executed.

'He might have had my head any day this four years,' she said. 'And

had you lost my head and me you might have had any other maid any day

that se'nnight.'

'Nay, I grow too old,' the knight answered. 'A week ago I dropped my

lance.'

Cicely continued to gaze at nothings in the fire.

'For thee,' she said scornfully to Katharine, 'it were better thou

hadst never been born than have meddled between kings and ministers

and faiths and nuns. You are not made for this world. You talk too

much. Get you across the seas to a nunnery.'

Katharine looked at her pitifully.

'Child,' she said, 'it was not I that spoke of thy menfolk.'

'Get thyself mewed up,' Cicely repeated more hotly; 'thou wilt set all

this world by the ears. This is no place for virtues learned from

learned books. This is an ill world where only evil men flourish.'

The old knight still fidgeted to be gone.

'Nay,' Katharine said seriously, 'ye think I will work mine own

advantage with the King. But I do swear to thee I have it not in my

mind.'

'Oh, swear not,' Cicely mumbled, 'all the world knoweth thee to be

that make of fool.'

'I would well to get me made a nun--but first I will bring nunneries

back from across the seas to this dear land.'

Cicely laughed again--for a long and strident while.

'You will come to no nunnery if you wait till then,' she said. 'Nuns

without their heads have no vocation.'

'When Cromwell is down, no woman again shall lose her head,' Katharine

answered hotly.

Cicely only laughed.

'No woman again!' Katharine repeated.

'Blood was tasted when first a queen fell on Tower Hill.' Cicely

pointed her little finger at her. 'And the taste of blood, even as the

taste of wine, ensureth a certain oblivion.'

'You miscall your King,' Katharine said.