IV

The King was pacing the long terrace on the river front. He had been

there since very early, for he could not sleep at nights, and had no

appetite for his breakfast. When a gentleman from the postern gate

asked permission for Culpepper and the mule to pass to the private

stairs, he said heavily:

'Let me not be elbowed by cripples,' and then: 'A' God's name let them

come,' changing his mind, as was his custom after a bad night, before

his first words had left his thick, heavy lips. His great brow was

furrowed, his enormous bulk of scarlet, with the great double dog-rose

embroidered across the broad chest, limped a little over his right

knee and the foot dragged. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy, his head

hung forward as though he were about to charge the world with his

forehead. From time to time his eyebrows lifted painfully, and he

swallowed with an effort as if he were choking.

Behind him the three hundred windows of the palace Placentia seemed to

peer at him like eyes, curious, hostile, lugubrious or amazed. He tore

violently at his collar and muttered: 'I stifle.' His great hand was

swollen by its glove, sewn with pearls, to an immense size.

The gentleman told him of the riot in the park, and narrated the

blasphemy of the German Lutheran, who had held up a putrid dog in

parody of the Holy Mass.

The face of the King grew suffused with purple blood.

'Let those men be cut down,' he said, and he conceived a sorting out

of all heresy, a cleansing of his land with blood. He looked swiftly

at the low sky as if a thunderbolt or a leprosy must descend upon his

head. He commanded swiftly, 'Let them be taken in scores. Bid the

gentlemen of my guard go, and armourers with shackles.'

The sharp pain of the ulcer in his leg gnawed up to his thigh, and he

stood, dejected, like a hunted man, with his head hanging on his

chest, so that his great bonnet pointed at the ground. He commanded

that both Privy Seal and the Duke of Norfolk should come to him there

upon the instant.

This grey and heavy King, who had been a great scholar, dreaded to

read in Latin now, for it brought the language of the Mass into his

mind; he had been a composer of music and a skilful player on the

lute, but no music and no voices could any more tickle his ears.

Women he had loved well in his day. Now, when he desired rest, music,

good converse and the love of women, he was forced to wed with a

creature whose face resembled that of a pig stuck with cloves. He had

raged over-night, but, with the morning, he had seen himself growing

old, on a tottering throne, assailed by all the forces of the Old

Faith in Christendom. Rebellions burst out like fires every day in all

the corners of his land. He had no men whom he could trust: if he

granted a boon to one party it held them only for a day, and the other

side rose up. Now he rested upon the Lutherans, whom he hated, and,

standing on that terrace, he had watched gloomily the great State

barges of the Ambassadors from the Empire and from France come with

majestic ostentation downstream abreast, to moor side by side against

the steps of his water-gate.

It was a parade of their new friendship. Six months ago their trains

could not have mingled without bloodshed.

At last there stood before him Thomas Cromwell, un-bonneted, smiling,

humorous, supple and confident for himself and for his master's cause,

a man whom his Prince might trust. And the long melancholy and

sinister figure of the Duke of Norfolk stalked stiffly down among the

yew trees powdered with frost. The furs from round his neck fluttered

about his knees like the wings of a crow, and he dug his Earl

Marshal's golden staff viciously into the ground. He waved his

jewelled cap and stood still at a little distance. Cromwell regarded

him with a sinister and watchful amusement; he looked back at Privy

Seal with a black malignancy that hardened his yellow features, his

hooked nose and pursed lips into the likeness of a mask representing

hatred.

This Norfolk was that Earl of Surrey who had won Flodden Field. They

all then esteemed him the greatest captain of his day--in the field a

commander sleepless, cunning, cautious, and, in striking, a Hotspur.

A dour and silent man, he was the head of all the Catholics, of all

the reaction of that day. But, in the long duel between himself and

Cromwell he had seemed fated to be driven from post to post, never

daring to proclaim himself openly the foe of the man he dreaded and

hated. Cranmer, with his tolerant spirit, he despised. Here was an

archbishop who might rack and burn for discipline's sake, and he did

nothing.... And all these New Learning men with their powers of

language, these dark bearded men with twinkling and sagacious eyes, he

detested. He went clean shaved, lean and yellow-faced, with a hooked

nose that seemed about to dig into his chin. It was he who said first:

'It was merry in England before this New Learning came in.'

The night before, the King had sworn that he would have Privy Seal's

head because Anne of Cleves resembled a pig stuck with cloves. And,

shaking and shivering with cold that penetrated his very inwards, with

a black pain on his brow and sparks dancing before his jaundiced eyes,

the Duke cursed himself for not having urged then the immediate arrest

of the Privy Seal. For here stood Cromwell, arrogantly by the King's

side with the King graciously commanding him to cover his head because

it was very cold and Cromwell was known to suffer with the earache.

'You are Earl Marshal,' the King's voice drowned Norfolk's morning

greeting. He veered upon the Duke with such violence that his enormous

red bulk seemed about to totter over upon the tall and bent figure. A

searing pain had shot up his side, and, as he gripped it, he appeared

to be furiously plucking at his dagger. He had imagined Chapuys and

Marillac, the Ambassadors, coming upon guards with broken heads and

sending to Paris letters over which Francis and his nephew should

snigger and chuckle.

'You are Earl Marshal. You have the ordering of these ceremonies, and

you let rebels and knaves break heads within my very park for all the

world to see!'

In his rage Norfolk blurted out:

'Privy Seal hath his friends, too--these Lutherans. What man could

have foreseen how insolent they be grown, for joy at welcoming a Queen

of their faith,' he repeated hotly. 'No man could have foreseen. My

bands are curtailed.'

Cromwell said:

'Aye, men are needed to keep down the Papists of your North parts.'

The two men faced each other. It had been part of the Duke's plan--and

Cromwell knew it very well--that the City men should meet with the

Lutherans there in the King's own park. It would show the insolence of

the heretics upon whom the Privy Seal relied, and it might prove, too,

the strength of the Old Faith in the stronghold of the City.

Henry rated violently. It put him to shame, he repeated many times.

'Brawling beneath my face, cries in my ears, and the smell of

bloodshed in my nose.'

Norfolk repeated dully that the Protestants were wondrous insolent.

But Cromwell pointed out with a genial amusement: 'My Lord Duke should

have housed the City men within the palace. Cat will fight with dog

the world over if you set them together.'

The Duke answered malignantly:

'It was fitting the citizens should wait to enter. I would not cumber

his Highness' courtyards. We know not yet that this Lady cometh to be

welcomed Queen.'

'Body of God,' the King said with a new violence: 'do ye prate of

these matters?' His heavy jaws threatened like a dog's. 'Hast thou set

lousy knaves debating of these?'

Norfolk answered darkly that it had been treated of in the Council

last night.

'My Council! My Council!' The King seemed to bay out the words. 'There

shall some mothers' sons rue this!'

Norfolk muttered that he had spoken of it with no man not a

Councillor. The King's Highness' self had moved first in this.

Henry suddenly waved both hands at the sky.

'Take you good order,' he said heavily into the lean and yellow face

of the Duke. 'Marshal these ceremonies fitly from henceforth. Let

nothing lack. Get you gone.' An end must be made of talk and gossip.

The rumour of last night's Council must appear an idle tale, a

falsehood of despairing Papists. 'The Queen cometh,' he said.

With the droop of the Duke's long arms his hat seemed to brush the

stones, his head fell on his chest. It was finished.

He had seen so many things go that he loved. And now this old woman

with her Germans, her heresies--her children doubtless--meant the

final downfall of the Old Order in his day. It would return, but he

would never see it. And under Cromwell's sardonic gaze his head hung

limply, and his eyes filled with hot and blinding drops. His face

trembled like that of a very old man.

The King had thrust his hand through Cromwell's arm, and, with a heavy

familiarity as if he would make him forget the Council of last night,

he was drawing him away towards the water-gate. He turned his head

over his shoulder and repeated balefully:

'The Queen cometh.'

As he did so his eye fell upon a man tugging at the bridle of a mule

that had a woman on its back. He passed on with his minister.

V

In turning, Norfolk came against them at the very end of the path. The

man's green coat was spotted with filth, one of his sleeves was torn

off and dangled about his heel. The mule's knees were cut, and the

woman trembled with her hidden face and shrinking figure.

They made him choke with rage and fear. Some other procession might

have come against these vagabonds, and the blame would have been his.

It disgusted him that they were within a yard of himself.

'Are there no side paths?' he asked harshly.

Culpepper blazed round upon him:

'How might I know? Why sent you no guide?' His vivid red beard was

matted into tails, his face pallid and as if blazing with rage. The

porter had turned them loose into the empty garden.

'Kat is sore hurt,' he mumbled, half in tears. 'Her arm is welly

broken.' He glared at the Duke. 'Care you no more for your own blood

and kin?'

Norfolk asked:

'Who is your Kat? Can I know all the Howards?'

Culpepper snarled:

'Aye, we may trust you not to succour your brother's children.'

The Duke said:

'Why, she shall back to the palace. They shall comfort her.'

'That shall she not,' Culpepper flustered. 'Sh'ath her father's

commands to hasten to Dover.'

The Duke caught her eyes in the fur hood that hid her face like a

Moorish woman's veil. They were large, grey and arresting beneath the

pallor of her forehead. They looked at him, questioning and judging.

'Wilt not come to my lodging?' he asked.

'Aye, will I,' came a little muffled by the fur.

'That shall she not,' Culpepper repeated.

The Duke looked at him with gloomy and inquisitive surprise.

'Aye, I am her mother's cousin,' he said. 'I fend for her, which you

have never done. Her father's house is burnt by rioters, and her men

are joined in the pillaging. But I'll warrant you knew it not.'

Katharine Howard with her sound hand was trying to unfasten her hood,

hastily and eagerly.

'Wilt come?' the Duke asked hurriedly. 'This must be determined.'

Culpepper hissed: 'By the bones of St. Nairn she shall not.' She

lifted her maimed hand involuntarily, and, at the sear of pain, her

eyes closed. Immediately Culpepper was beside her knees, supporting

her with his arms and muttering sounds of endearment and despair.

The Duke, hearing behind him the swish pad of heavy soft shoes, as if

a bear were coming over the pavement, faced the King.

'This is my brother's child,' he said. 'She is sore hurt. I would not

leave her like a dog,' and he asked the King's pardon.

'Why, God forbid,' the King said. 'Your Grace shall succour her.'

Culpepper had his back to them, caring nothing for either in his

passion. Henry said: 'Aye, take good care for her,' and passed on with

Privy Seal on his arm.

The Duke heaved a sigh of relief. But he remembered again that Anne of

Cleves was coming, and his black anger that Cromwell should thus once

again have the King thrown back to him came out in his haughty and

forbidding tone to Culpepper:

'Take thou my niece to the water-gate. I shall send women to her.' He

hastened frostily up the path to be gone before Henry should return

again.

Culpepper resolved that he would take barge before ever the Duke

could send. But the mule slewed right across the terrace; his cousin

grasped the brute's neck and her loosened hood began to fall back from

her head.

The King, standing twenty yards away, with his hand shaking Cromwell's

shoulder, was saying:

'See you how grey I grow.'

The words came hot into a long harangue. He had been urging that he

must have more money for his works at Calais. He was agitated because

a French chalk pit outside the English lines had been closed to his

workmen. They must bring chalk from Dover at a heavy cost for barges

and balingers. This was what it was to quarrel with France.

Cromwell had his mind upon widening the breach with France. He said

that a poll tax might be levied on the subjects of Charles and Francis

then in London. There were goldsmiths, woolstaplers, horse merchants,

whore-masters, painters, musicians and vintners....

The King's eyes had wandered to the grey river, and then from a deep

and moody abstraction he had blurted out those words.

Henry was very grey, and his face, inanimate and depressed, made him

seem worn and old enough. Cromwell was not set to deny it. The King

had his glass....

He sighed a little and began:

'The heavy years take their toll.'

Henry caught him up suddenly:

'Why, no. It is the heavy days, the endless nights. You can sleep,

you.' But him, the King, incessant work was killing.

'You see, you see, how this world will never let me rest.' In the

long, black nights he started from dozing. When he took time to dandle

his little son a panic would come over him because he remembered that

he lived among traitors and had no God he could pray to. He had no

mind to work....

Cromwell said that there was no man in England could outwork his

King.

'There is no man in England can love him.' His distracted eyes fell

upon the woman on the mule. 'Happy he whom a King never saw and who

never saw King,' he muttered.

The beast, inspired with a blind hatred of Culpepper, was jibbing

across the terrace, close at hand. Henry became abstractedly

interested in the struggle. The woman swayed forward over her knees.

'Your lady faints,' he called to Culpepper.

In his muddled fury the man began once again trying to hold her on the

animal. It was backing slowly towards a stone seat in the balustrade,

and man and woman swayed and tottered together.

The King said:

'Let her descend and rest upon the seat.'

His mind was swinging back already to his own heavy sorrows. On the

stone seat the woman's head lay back upon the balustrade, her eyes

were closed and her face livid to the sky. Culpepper, using his teeth

to the finger ends, tore the gloves from his hands.

Henry drew Cromwell towards the gatehouse. He had it dimly in his mind

to send one of his gentlemen to the assistance of that man and woman.

'Aye, teach me to sleep at night,' he said. 'It is you who make me

work.'

'It is for your Highness' dear sake.'

'Aye, for my sake,' the King said angrily. He burst into a sudden

invective: 'Thou hast murdered a many men ... for my sake. Thou hast

found out plots that were no plots: old men hate me, old mothers,

wives, maidens, harlots.... Why, if I be damned at the end thou shalt

escape, for what thou didst thou didst for my sake? Shall it be that?'

He breathed heavily. 'My sins are thy glory.'

They reached the long wall of the gatehouse and turned mechanically. A

barge at the river steps was disgorging musicians with lutes like half

melons set on staves, horns that opened bell mouths to the sky, and

cymbals that clanged in the rushing of the river. With his eyes upon

them Henry said: 'A common man may commonly choose his bedfellow.'

They had reminded him of the Queen for whose welcome they had been

commanded.

Cromwell swept his hand composedly round the half horizon that held

the palace, the grey river and the inlands.

'Your Highness may choose among ten thousand,' he answered.

The sound of a horn blown faintly to test it within the gatehouse, the

tinkle of a lutestring, brought to the King's lips: 'Aye. Bring me

music that shall charm my thoughts. You cannot do it.'

'A Queen is in the nature of a defence, a pledge, a cement, the

keystone of a bulwark,' Cromwell said. 'We know now our friends and

our foes. You may rest from this onwards.'

He spoke earnestly: This was the end of a long struggle. The King

should have his rest.

They moved back along the terrace. The woman's head still lay back,

her chin showed pointed and her neck, long, thin and supple. Culpepper

was bending over her, sprinkling water out of his cap upon her

upturned face.

The King said to Cromwell: 'Who is that wench?' and, in the same tone:

'Aye, you are a great comforter. We shall see how the cat jumps,' and

then, answering his own question, 'Norfolk's niece?'

His body automatically grew upright, the limp disappeared from his

gait and he moved sturdily and gently towards them.

Culpepper faced round like a wild cat from a piece of meat, but seeing

the great hulk, the intent and friendly eyes, the gold collar over the

chest, the heavy hands, and the great feet that appeared to hold down

the very stones of the terrace, he stood rigid in a pose of

disturbance.

'Why do ye travel?' the King asked. 'This shall be Katharine Howard?'

Culpepper's hushed but harsh voice answered that they came out of

Lincolnshire on the Norfolk border. This was the Lord Edmund's

daughter.

'I have never seen her,' the King said.

'Sh'ath never been in this town.'