Cromwell watched the King's great back with an attentive smile. He
said, ironically, that he was her ladyship's servant.
'I would ye were,' she answered. 'They say you love not those that I
love.'
'I would have you not heed what men say,' he answered, grimly. 'I am
douce to those that be of good-will to his Highness. Those that hate
me are his ill-wishers.'
'Then the times are evil,' she said, 'for they are many.'
She added suddenly, as if she could not keep a prudent silence:
'I am for the Old Faith in the Old Way. You have hanged many dear
friends of mine whose souls I pray for.'
He looked at her attentively.
She had a supple, long body, a fair-tinted face, fair and reddish
hair, and eyes that had a glint of almond green--but her cheeks were
flushed and her eyes sparkled. She was so intent upon speaking her
mind that she had forgotten the pain of her arm. She thought that she
must have said enough to anger this brewer's son. But he answered
only:
'I think you have never been in the King's court'--and, from his
tranquil manner, she realised very suddenly that this man was not the
dirt beneath her feet.
She had never been in the King's court; she had never, indeed, been
out of the North parts. Her father had always been a very poor man,
with an ancient castle and a small estate that he had nearly always
neglected because it had not paid for the farming. Living men she had
never respected--for they seemed to her like wild beasts when she
compared them with such of the ancients as Brutus or as Seneca. She
had been made love to and threatened by such men as her cousin; she
had been made love to and taught Latin by her pedagogues. She was more
learned than any man she had ever met--and, thinking upon the heroes
of Plutarch, she found the present times despicable. She hardly owed
allegiance to the King. Now she had seen him and felt his
consciousness of his own power, she was less certain. But the King's
writs had hardly run in the Northern parts. Her men-folk and her
mother's people had hanged their own peasants when they thought fit.
She had seen bodies swinging from tree-tops when she rode hawking. All
that she had ever known of the King's power was when the convent by
their castle gates had been thrown out of doors, and then her
men-folk, cursing and raging, had sworn that it was the work of
Crummock. 'Knaves ruled about the King.'
If knaves ruled about him, the King was not a man that one need
trouble much over. Her own men-folk, she knew, had made and unmade
Kings. So that, when she thought of the hosts of saints and of the
blessed angels that hovered, wringing their hands and weeping above
England, she had wondered a little at times why they had never unmade
this King.
But to her all these things had seemed very far away. She had nothing
to do but to read books in the learned tongues, to imagine herself
holding disquisitions upon the spiritual republic of Plato, to ride,
to shoot with the bow, to do needlework, or to chide the maids. Her
cousin had loved her passionately; it was true that once, when she had
had nothing to her back, he had sold a farm to buy her a gown. But he
had menaced her with his knife till she was weary, and the ways of men
were troublesome to her; nevertheless she submitted to them with a
patient wisdom.
She submitted to the King; she submitted--though she hated him by
repute--to Cromwell's catechism as they followed the King at a decent
interval.
He walked beside her with his eyes on her face. He spoke of the King's
bounty in a voice that implied his own power. She was to be the Lady
Mary's woman. He had that lady especially in his good will, he saved
for her household ladies of egregious gifts, presence and attainments.
They received liberal honorariums, seven dresses by the year, vails,
presents, perfumes from the King's own still-rooms, and a parcel-gilt
chain at the New Year. The Lady Rochford, who ruled over these ladies,
was kind, courteous, free in her graces as in the liberties she
allowed the ladies under her easy charge.
He enlarged upon this picture as if it were a bribe that he alone
could offer or withhold. And something at once cautious and priestly
in his tone let her quick intuition know that he was both warning her
and sounding her, to see how far her mutinous spirit would carry her.
Once he said, 'There must be tranquillity in the kingdom. The times
are very evil!'
She had felt very quickly that insults to this man would be a useless
folly. He could not even feel them, and she kept her eyes on the
ground and listened to him.
He went on sounding her. It was part of his profession of kingcraft to
know the secret hearts of every person with whom he spoke.
'And your goodly cousin?' He paused. The King had commanded that a
place should be found for him. 'Should he be best at Calais? There
shall be blows struck there.'
She knew very well that he was trying to discover how much she loved
her cousin, and she answered in a low voice, 'I would have him stay
here. He is the sole friend I have in this place.'
Cromwell said, with a hidden and encouraging meaning, her cousin was
not her only friend there.
'Aye, but your lordship is not so old a friend as he.'
'Not me. Call me your good servant.'
'There is even then my uncle.'
'Little good of a friend you will have of Norfolk. 'Tis a bitter apple
and a very rotten plank to lean upon.'
She could not any longer miss his meaning. The King's scarlet and
immense figure was already in the grey shadow of the arch under the
tower. In walking, they had come near him, and while they waited he
stood for a minute, gazing back down the path with boding and pathetic
eyes; then he disappeared.
She looked at Cromwell and thanked him for the warning, '_quia spicula
praevisa minus laedunt_.'
'I would have you read it: _gaudia plus laetificant_,' he answered
gravely.
A man with a conch-shaped horn upturned was suddenly blowing beneath
the archway seven hollow and reverberating grunts of sound that
drowned his voice. A clear answering whistle came from the water-gate.
Cromwell stayed, listening attentively; another stood forward to blow
four blasts, another six, another three. Each time the whistle
answered. They were the great officers' signals for their barges that
the men blew, and the whistle signified that these lay at readiness in
the tideway. A bustle of men running, calling, and making pennons
ready, began beyond the archway in the quadrangle.
Cromwell's face grew calm and contented; the King was sending to meet
Anne of Cleves.
'Y' are well read?' he asked her slowly.
'I was brought up in the Latin tongue or ever I had the English,' she
answered. 'I had a good master, one that spoke the learned language
always.'
'Aye, Nicholas Udal,' Cromwell said.
'You know all men in the land,' she said, with fear and surprise.
'I had him to master for the Lady Mary, since he is well disposed.'
''Tis an arrant knave tho' the best of pedagogues,' she answered. 'He
was cast out of his mastership at Eton for being a rogue.'
'For that, the worshipful your father had him to master,' he said
ironically.
'No, for that he was a ruined man, and taught for his victuals. We
welly starved at home, my sisters and I.'
He said slowly:
'The better need that you should grow beloved here.'
Standing there, before the bushes where no ears could overhear, he put
to her more questions. She had some Greek, more than a little French,
she could judge a good song, she could turn a verse in Latin or the
vulgar tongue. She professed to be able to ride well, to be conversant
with the terms of venery, to shoot with the bow, and to have studied
the Fathers of the Church.
'These things are well liked in high places,' he said. 'His Highness'
self speaks five tongues, loveth a nimble answer, and is a noble
huntsman.' He surveyed her as if she were a horse he were pricing.
'But I doubt not you have appraised yourself passing well,' he
uttered.
'I have had some to make me pleasant speeches,' she answered, 'but too
many cannot be had.'
'See you,' he said slowly, 'these tuckets that they blow from the gate
signify that the new Queen cometh with a great state.' He bit his
under lip and looked at her meaningly. 'But a great state ensueth a
great heaviness to the head of the State. _Principis hymen, principium
gravitatis_.... 'Tis a small matter to me; you may make it a great one
to your ladyship's light fortunes.'
She knew that he awaited her saying:
'I do not take your lordship,' and she pulled the hood further over
her face because it was cold, and uttered the words with her eyes on
the ground.
'Why,' he said readily, 'you are a lady having gifts that are much in
favour in these days. Be careful to use those gifts and no others.
Meddle in nothing that does not concern you. So you may make a great
marriage with some lord in favour. But meddle in naught else!'
She would find many to set her an evil example. The other ladies
amongst whom she was going were a mutinous knot. Let her be careful!
If by her good behaviour she earned it, he would put the King in mind
to advance her. If by good speeches and good example--since she had
great store of learning--she could turn the hearts of these wicked
ladies; if she could report to him evil designs or plots, he would
speak to the King in such wise that His Highness should give her a
great dower and any lord would marry her. Or he would advance her
cousin so that he should become marriageable.
She said submissively:
'Your lordship would have me become a spy upon the ladies who shall be
my fellows?'
He waved his hand with a large and calming gesture.
'I would have you work for the good of the State as you find it,' he
said gravely. 'That, too, is a doctrine of the Ancients.' He cited the
case of Seneca, who supported the government of Nero, and she noted
that he twisted to suit his purpose Tacitus' account of the soldiers
of that same Prince.
Nevertheless, she made no comment. For she knew that it is the nature
of men calmly to ask hateful sacrifices of women. But her throat ached
with rage. And when she followed him along the corridors of the palace
she seemed to feel that each man, each woman that they passed hated
that lord with a hatred born of fear.
He walked in front of her arrogantly, as if she were a straw to be
drawn along in the wind of his progress. Doors flew open at a flick of
his finger.
Suddenly they were in a tall room, long, and dim because it faced the
north. It seemed an empty cavern, but there were in it many books upon
a long table and at the far end, so that they looked quite small, two
figures stood before a reading-pulpit. The voice of the serving man
who had thrown open the door made the words 'The Lord Privy Seal of
England' echo mournfully along the gilded and dim rafters of the
ceiling.
Cromwell hastened over the smooth, cold floor. The woman's figure in
black, the long tail of her hood falling almost to her feet like a
widow's veil, turned from the pulpit; a man remained bent down at his
reading.
'_Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum_,' Cromwell's voice uttered. The lady
stood, rigid and straight, her hands clasped before her. Her face,
pale so that not even a touch of red showed above the cheekbones and
hardly any in the tightly-pursed lips, was as if framed in her black
hood that fastened beneath the chin. The high, narrow forehead had the
hair tightly drawn back so that none was visible, and the coif that
showed beneath the hood was white, like a nun's; the temples were
hollowed so that she looked careworn inexpressibly, and her lips had
hard lines around them. Above her head all sounds in that dim room
seemed to whisper for a long time among the rafters as if here dwelt
something mysterious, sepulchral, a great grief or a great passion.
'I announce to you a master-joy,' Cromwell was saying. 'I bring your
La'ship a damsel of great erudition and knowledge of good letters.'
His voice was playful and full; his back was bent supply. His face lit
up with a debonnaire and pleasant smile. The lady's eyes turned upon
the girl, forbidding and suspicious; she remained motionless, even her
lips did not move. Cromwell said that this was a Katharine of the
Howards, and one fit to aid her Ladyship and Magister Udal with their
erudite commentary of Plautus his works.
The man at the reading desk looked round and then back at his book.
His pen scratched upon the margin of a great volume. Katharine Howard
was upon her knees grasping at the lady's hand to kiss it. But it was
snatched roughly away.
'This is a folly,' the voice came harshly from the pursed lips. 'Get
up, wench.' Katharine remained kneeling. For this was the Lady Mary of
England--a martyr for whom she had prayed nightly since she could
pray.
'Get up, fool,' the voice said above her head. 'It is proclaimed
treason to kneel to me. This is to risk your neck to act thus before
Privy Seal.'
The hard words were aimed straight at the face of Cromwell.
'Your ladyship knows well I would fain have it otherwise,' he answered
softly.
'I do not ask it,' she answered.
He maintained a gentle smile of deprecation, beckoning a little with
his head and with his eyes, begging her for private conversation. She
lifted Katharine roughly to her feet and followed him to a distant
window. She seemed as if she were an automaton without will or
independent motions of her own, so small were her steps and her feet
so hidden beneath her stiff black skirts. He began talking to her in a
voice of which only the persuasive higher notes came into the room.
At that time she was still proclaimed bastard, and her name was erased
from the list of those it was lawful to pray for in the churches. At
times she endured great hardships, even to going short of food, for
she suffered from a wasting complaint that made her a great eater. But
starvation could not make her submit to the King, her father, or to
the Lord Cromwell who was ruler in the land. Sometimes they gave her a
great train, strove to make her dress herself richly, and dragged her
to such festivals as this of the marriage with Anne of Cleves. This
was done when the Lord Privy Seal dangled her before the eyes of the
Emperor of France as a match; then it was necessary to increase the
appearance of her worth in England. But sometimes the King, out of a
warm and generous feeling of satisfaction with his young son, was
moved to behave bountifully to his daughter, and, seeking to dazzle
her with his munificence, gave her golden crosses and learned books
annotated with his own hand, richly jewelled and with embroidered
covers. Or when the Emperor, her cousin, interceded that she should be
treated more kindly, she was threatened with the block. Of late
Cromwell had set himself to gain her heart with his intrigue that he
could make so smooth and with his air that could be so gentle--that
the King found so lovable. But nothing moved her to set her hand to a
deed countenancing her dead mother's disgrace; to smile upon her
father and his minister, who had devised the means for casting down
her mother; or to consent to relinquish her right to the throne. So
that at times, when the cloud of the Church abroad, and of the
rebellions all over the extremities of the kingdoms, threatened very
greatly, the King was driven to agonies of fear and rage lest his
enemies or his subjects should displace him who was excommunicated and
set her, whom all Catholics regarded as undergoing a martyrdom, on
his throne. He feared her sometimes so much that it was only Cromwell
that saved her from death. Cromwell would spend hours of his busy days
in the long window of her work room, urging her to submission,
dilating upon the powers that might be hers, studying her tastes to
devise bribes for her. It was with that aim, because her whole days in
her solitude were given to the learned writers, that he had sought out
for her Magister Udal as a companion and preceptor who might both
please her with his erudition and induce her to look kindly upon the
New Learning and a more lax habit of mind. But she never thanked
Cromwell. Whilst he talked she remained frozen and silent. At times,
under the spur of a cold rage, she said harsh things of himself and
her father, calling upon the memory of her mother and the wrongs her
Church had suffered--and, on his departing, before he had even left
the room she would return, frigidly and without change of face, to the
book upon her desk.
So the Privy Seal talked to her by the window for the fiftieth time.
Katharine Howard saw, before the high reading pulpit, the back of a
man in the long robes of a Master of Arts. He held a pen in his hand
and turned over his shoulder at her a face thin, brown, humorous and
deprecatory, as if he were used to bearing chiding with philosophy.
'Magister Udal!' she uttered.
He motioned with his mouth for her to be silent, but pointed with the
feather of his quill to a line of a little book that lay upon the
pulpit near his elbow. She came closer to read:
'_Circumspectatrix cum oculis emisitiis!_' and written above it in a
minute hand: 'A spie with eyes that peer about and stick out.'
He pointed over his shoulder at the Lord Privy Seal.
'How poor this room is, for a King's daughter!' she said, without much
dropping her voice.
He hissed: 'Hush! hush!' with an appearance of terror, and whispered,
forming the words with his lips rather than uttering them: 'How fared
you and your house in the nonce?'
'I have read in many texts,' she answered, 'to pass the heavy hours.'
He spoke then, aloud and with an admonitory air:
'Never say the heavy hours--for what hours are heavy that can be spent
with the ancient writers for companions?'
She avoided his reproachful eyes with:
'My father's house was burnt last month; my cousin Culpepper is in the
courts below. Dear Nick Ardham, with his lute, is dead an outlaw
beyond sea, and Sir Ferris was hanged at Doncaster--both after last
year's rising, pray all good men that God assail them!'
Udal muttered:
'Hush, for God's dear sake. That is treason here. There is a listener
behind the hangings.'
He began to scrawl hastily with a dry pen that he had not time to dip
in the well of ink. The shadow of the Lord Cromwell's silent return
was cast upon them both, and Katharine shivered.
He said harshly to the magister:
'I will that you write me an interlude in the vulgar tongue in three
days' time. Such a piece as being spoken by skilful players may make a
sad man laugh.'