III

It was in that way, however sorely against her liking, that Katharine

Howard came into a plot. It subdued her, it seemed to age her, it was

as if she had parted with some virtue. When again she spoke with the

King, who came to loll in his daughter's armed chair one day out of

every week, it troubled her to find that she could speak to him with

her old tranquillity. She was ashamed at feeling no shame, since all

the while these letters were passing behind his back. Once even he had

been talking to her of how they nailed pear trees against the walls in

her Lincolnshire home.

'Our garden man would say ...' she began a sentence. Her eye fell upon one

of these very crumpled balls of paper. It lay upon the table and it

confused her to think that it appeared like an apple. 'Would say ... would

say ...' she faltered.

He looked at her with enquiring eyes, round in his great head.

'It is too late,' she finished.

'Even too late for what?' he asked.

'Too late in the year to set the trees back,' she answered and her fit

of nervousness had passed. 'For there is a fluid in trees that runneth

upward in the spring of the year to greet the blessed sun.'

'Why, what a wise lady is this!' he said, half earnest. 'I would I had

such an adviser as thou hast,' he continued to his daughter.

He frowned for a moment, remembering that, being who he was, he should

stand in need of no advice.

'See you,' he said to Katharine. 'You have spoken of many things and

wisely, after a woman's fashion of book-learning. Now I am minded that

you should hear me speak upon the Word of God which is a man's matter

and a King's. This day sennight I am to have brought to my closet a

heretic, Dr Barnes. If ye will ye may hear me confound him with goodly

doctrines.'

He raised both his eyebrows heavily and looked first at the Lady Mary.

'You, I am minded, shall hear a word of true doctrine.'

And to Katharine, 'I would hear how you think that I can manage a

disputation. For the fellow is the sturdiest rogue with a yard of

tongue to wag.'

Katharine maintained a duteous silence; the Lady Mary stood with her

hands clasped before her. Upon Katharine he smiled suddenly and

heavily.

'I grow too old to be a match for thee in the learning of this world.

Thy tongue has outstripped me since I am become stale.... But hear me

in the other make of talk.'

'I ask no better,' Katharine said.

'Therefore,' he finished, 'I am minded that you, Mog, and your ladies

all, do move your residences from here to my house at Hampton. This is

an old and dark place; there you shall be better honoured.'

He lay back in his chair and was pleased with the care that he took of

his daughter. Katharine glided intently across the smooth bare floor

and took the ball of paper in her hand. His eyes followed her and he

moved his head round after her movements, heavily, and without any

motion of his great body. He was in a comfortable mood, having slept

well the night before, and having conversed agreeably in the bosom of

a family where pleasant conversation was a rare thing. For the Lady

Mary had forborne to utter biting speeches, since her eyes too had

been upon that ball of paper. The King did not stay for many minutes

after Katharine had gone.

She was excited, troubled and amused--and, indeed, the passing of

those letters held her thoughts in those few days. Thus it was easy to

give the paper to her maid Margot, and easy to give Margot the

directions. But she knew very well by what shift Margot persuaded her

scarlet-clothed springald of a brother to take the ball and to throw

it into the cookshop. For the young Poins was set upon advancement,

and Margot, buxom, substantial and honest-faced, stood before him and

said: 'Here is your chance for advancement made ...' if he could carry

these missives very secretly.

'For, brother Poins,' she said, 'thou knowest these great folks reward

greatly--and these things pass between folks very great. If I tell

thee no names it is because thou canst see more through a stone wall

than common folk.'

So the young Poins cocked his bonnet more jauntily, and, setting out

up river to Hampton, changed his scarlet clothes for a grey coat and

puritan hose, and in the dark did his errand very well. He carried a

large poke in which he put the larded capons and the round loaves that

the cook sold to him. Later, following a reed path along the river, he

came swiftly down to Isleworth with his bag on a cord and, in the

darkness from beneath the walls, he slung bag and cord in at Katharine

Howard's open window. For several times this happened before the Lady

Mary's court was moved to Hampton. At first, Katharine had her tremors

to put up with--and it was only when, each evening, with a thump and

swish, the bag, sweeping out of the darkness, sped across her

floor--it was only then that Katharine's heart ceased from pulsing

with a flutter. All the while the letters were out of her own hands

she moved on tiptoe, as if she were a hunter intent on surprising a

coy quarry. Nevertheless, it was impossible for her to believe that

this was a dangerous game; it was impossible to believe that the

heavy, unsuspicious and benevolent man who tried clumsily to gain his

daughter's love with bribes of cakes and kerchiefs--that this man

could be roused to order her to her death because she conveyed from

one place to another a ball of paper. It was more like a game of

passing a ring from hand to hand behind the players' backs, for kisses

for forfeits if the ring were caught. Nevertheless, this was

treason-felony; yet it was furthering the dear cause of the saints.

It was on the day on which her uncle Norfolk had sent for her that the

King had his interview with the heretical Dr Barnes--nicknamed

Antoninus Anglicanus.

The Lady Mary and Katharine Howard and her maid, Margot, were set in a

tiny closet in which there was, in a hole in the wall, a niche for the

King's confessor. The King's own chamber was empty when they passed

through, and they left the door between ajar. There came a burst of

voices, and swiftly the Bishop of Winchester himself entered their

closet. He lifted his black eyebrows at sight of them, and rubbed his

thin hands with satisfaction.

'Now we shall hear one of Crummock's henchmen swinged,' he whispered.

He raised a finger for them to lend ear and gazed through the crack of

the door. They heard a harsh voice, like a dog's bay, utter clearly:

'Now goodly goodman Doctor, thou hast spoken certain words at Paul's

Cross. They touched on Justification; thou shalt justify them to me

now.' There came a sound of a man who cleared his throat--and then

again the heavy voice:

'Why, be not cast down; we spoke as doctor to doctor. Without a doubt

thou art learned. Show then thy learning. Wast brave at Paul's Cross.

Justify now!'

Gardiner, turning from gazing through the door-crack, grinned at the

three women.

'He rated _me_ at Paul's Cross!' he said. 'He thumped me as I had been

a thrashing floor.' They missed the Doctor's voice--but the King's

came again.

'Why, this is a folly. I am Supreme Head, but I bid thee to speak.'

There was a long pause till they caught the words.

'Your Highness, I do surrender my learning to your Highness'.' Then,

indeed, there was a great roar:

'Unworthy knave; surrender thyself to none but God. He is above me as

above thee. To none but God.'

There was another long silence, and then the King's voice again:

'Why, get thee gone. Shalt to gaol for a craven....' And then came a

hissing sound of vexation, a dull thud, and other noises.

The King's bonnet lay on the floor, and the King himself alone was

padding down the room when they opened their door. His face was red

with rage.

'Why, what a clever fiend is this Cromwell!' the Lady Mary said; but

the Bishop of Winchester was laughing. He pushed Margot Poins from the

closet, but caught Katharine Howard tightly by the arm.

'Thou shalt write what thy uncle asked of thee!' he commanded in a low

voice, 'an thou do it not, thy cousin shall to gaol! I have a letter

thou didst write me.'

A black despair settled for a moment upon Katharine, but the King was

standing before her. He had walked with inaudible swiftness up from

the other end of the room.

'Didst not hear me argue!' he said, with the vexation of a great

child. 'That poxy knave out-marched me!'

'Why,' the Lady Mary sniggered at him, 'thy brewer's son is too many

for your Highness.'

Henry snarled round at her; but she folded her hands before her and

uttered:

'The brewer's son made your Highness Supreme Head of the Church.

Therefore, the brewer's son hath tied your Highness' tongue. For who

may argue with your Highness?'

He looked at her for a moment with a bemused face.

'Very well,' he said.

'The brewer's son should have made your Highness the lowest suppliant

at the Church doors. Then, if, for the astounding of certain

beholders, your Highness were minded to argue, your Highness should

find adversaries.'

The bitter irony of her words made Katharine Howard angry. This poor,

heavy man had other matters for misgiving than to be badgered by a

woman. But the irony was lost upon the King. He said very simply:

'Why, that is true. If I be the Head, the Tail shall fear to bandy

words with me.' He addressed himself again to Katharine: 'I am sorry

that you did not hear me argue. I am main good at these arguments.'

He looked reflectively at Gardiner and said: 'Friend Winchester, one

day I will cast a main at arguments with thee, and Kat Howard shall

hear. But I doubt thou art little skilled with thy tongue.'

'Why, I will make a better shift with my tongue than Privy Seal's men

dare,' the bishop said. He glanced under his brows at Henry, as if he

were measuring the ground for a leap.

'The Lady Mary is in the right,' he ventured.

The King, who was thinking out a speech to Katharine, said, 'Anan?'

and Gardiner ventured further:

'I hold it for true that this man held his peace, because Cromwell so

commanded it. He is Cromwell's creature, and Cromwell is minded to

escape from the business with a whole skin.'

The King bent him an attentive ear.

'It is to me, in the end, that Privy Seal owes amends,' Gardiner said

rancorously. 'Since it was at me that this man, by Cromwell's orders,

did hurl his foul words at Paul's Cross.'

The King said:

'Why, it is true that thou art more sound in doctrine than is Privy

Seal. What wouldst thou have?'

Gardiner made an immense gesture, as if he would have embraced the

whole world.

Katharine Howard trembled. Here they were, all the three of them

Cromwell's enemies. They were all alone with the King in a favouring

mood, and she was on the point of crying out:

'Give us Privy Seal's head.'

But, in this very moment of his opportunity, Gardiner faltered. Even

the blackness of his hatred could not make him bold.

'That he should make me amends in public for the foul words that knave

uttered. That they should both sue to me for pardon: that it should be

showed to the world what manner of man it is that they have dared to

flout.'

'Why, goodman Bishop, it shall be done,' the King said, and Katharine

groaned aloud. A clock with two quarter boys beside the large

fireplace chimed the hour of four.

'Aye!' the King commented to Katharine. 'I thought to have had a

pleasanter hour of it. Now you see what manner of life is mine: I must

go to a plaguing council!'

'An I were your Highness,' Katharine cried, 'I would be avenged on

them that marred my pleasures.'

He touched her benevolently upon the cheek.

'Sweetheart,' he said, 'an thou wert me thou'dst do great things.' He

rolled towards the door, heavy and mountainous: with the latch in his

hand, he cried over his shoulder: 'But thou shalt yet hear me argue!'

'What a morning you have made of this!' Katharine threw at the bishop.

The Lady Mary shrugged her shoulders to her ears and turned away.

Gardiner said:

'Anan?'

'Oh, well your Holiness knows,' Katharine said. 'You might have come

within an ace of having Cromwell down.'

His eyes flashed, and he swallowed with a bitter delight.

'I have him at my feet,' he said. 'He shall do public reparation to

me. You have heard the King say so.'

There were tears of vexation in Katharine's eyes.

'Well I know how it is that this brewer's son has king'd it so long!'

she said. 'An I had been a man it had been his head or mine.'

Gardiner shook himself like a dog that is newly out of the water.

'Madam Howard,' he said, 'you are mighty high. I have observed how the

King spoke all his words for your ear. His passions are beyond words

and beyond shame.'

The Lady Mary was almost out of the room, and he came close enough to

speak in Katharine's ears.

'But be you certain that his Highness' passions are not beyond the

reverse of passion, which is jealousy. You have a cousin at

Calais....'

Katharine moved away from him.

'Why, God help you, priest,' she said. 'Do you think you are the only

man that knows that?'

He laughed melodiously, with a great anger.

'But I am the man that knoweth best how to use my knowledge. Therefore

you shall do my will.'

Katharine Howard laughed back at him:

'Where your lordship's will marches with mine I will do it,' she said.

'But I am main weary of your lordship's threats. You know the words of

Artemidorus?'

Gardiner contained his rage.

'You will write the letter we have asked you to write?'

She laughed again, and faced him, radiant, fair and flushed in the

cheeks.

'In so far as you beg me to write a letter praying the King of France

and the Emperor to abstain from war upon this land, I will write the

letter. But, in so far as that helps forward the plotting of you and a

knave called Throckmorton, I am main sorry that I must write it.'

The bishop drew back, and uttered:

'Madam Howard, ye are forward.'

'Why, God help your lordship,' she said. 'Where I see little course

for respect I show little. You see I am friends with the

King--therefore leave you my cousin be. Because I am friends with the

King, who is a man among wolves, I will pray my mistress to indite a

letter that shall save this King some troubles. But, if you threaten

me with my cousin, or my cousin with me, I will use my friendship with

the King as well against you as against any other.'

Gardiner swallowed in his throat, winked his eyes, and muttered:

'Why, so you do what we will, it matters little in what spirit you

shall do it.'

'So you and my uncle and Throckmorton keep your feet from my paths,

you may have my leavings,' she said. 'And they will be the larger

part, since I ask little for myself.'

He gave her his episcopal blessing as she followed the Lady Mary to

her rooms.

* * * * *

Her mind was made up--and she knew that it had been made up hastily,

but she was never one to give much time to doubting. She wished these

men to leave her out of their plots--but four men are stronger than

one woman. Yet, as her philosophy had it, you may make a woman your

tool, but she will bend in your hand and strike where she will, for

all that. Therefore she must plot, but not with them.

As soon as she could she found the Lady Mary alone, and, setting her

valour up against the other's dark and rigid figure, she spoke

rapidly:

She would have her lady write to her friends across the sea that, if

Cromwell were ever to fall, they must now stay their hands against the

King: they must diminish their bands, discontinue their fortifyings

and feign even to quarrel amongst themselves. Otherwise the King must

rest firm in his alliance with Cleves, to counterbalance them.

The Lady Mary raised her eyebrows with a show of insolent astonishment

that was for all the world like the King's.

'You affect my father!' she said. 'Is it not a dainty plan?'

Katharine brushed past her words with:

'It matters little who affects what thing. The main is that Privy Seal

must be cast down.'

'Carthage must be destroyed, O Cato,' the Lady Mary sneered. 'Ye are

peremptory.'

'I am as God made me,' Katharine answered. 'I am for God's Church....'

She had a sharp spasm of impatience. 'Here is a thing to do, and the

one and the other snarl like dogs, each for his separate ends.'

'Oh, la, la,' the Lady Mary laughed.

'A Howard is as good as any man,' Katharine said. Her ingenuous face

flushed, and she moved her hand to her throat. 'God help me: it is

true that I swore to be your woman. But it is the true province of

your woman to lead you to work for justice and the truth.'

A black malignancy settled upon the face of the princess.

'I have been called bastard,' she said. 'My mother was done to

death.'

'No true man believes you misbegotten,' Katharine answered hotly.

'Well, it is proclaimed treason, to speak thus,' the Lady Mary

sneered.

'Neither can you give your sainted mother her life again.' Katharine

ignored her words. 'But these actions were not your father's. It was

an ill man forced him to them. The saints be good to you; is it not

time to forgive a sad man that would make amends? I would have you to

write this letter.'

The Lady Mary's lips moved into the curves of a tormenting smile.

'You plead your lover's cause main well,' she uttered.

Katharine had another motion of impatience.

'Your cause I plead main better,' she said. 'It is certain that, this

man once down, your bastardy should be reversed.'

'I do not ask it,' the Lady Mary said.

'But I ask that you give us peace here, so that the King may make

amends to many that he hath sorely wronged. Do you not see that the

King inclineth to the Church of God? Do you not see....'

'I see very plainly that I needs must thank you for better housing,'

Mary answered. 'It is certain that my father had never brought me from

that well at Isleworth, had it not been that he desireth converse with

thee at his ease.'

Katharine's lips parted with a hot anger, but before she could speak

the bitter girl said calmly:

'Oh, I have not said thou art his leman. I know my father. His blood

is not hot--but his ears crave tickling. Tickle them whilst thou

mayest. Have I stayed thee? Have I sent thee from my room when he did

come?'

Katharine cast back the purple hood from over her forehead, she

brushed her hand across her brow, and made herself calm.

'This is a trifling folly,' she said. 'In two words: will your

Highness write me this letter?'

'Then, in four words,' Mary answered, 'my Highness cares not.'

The mobile brows above Katharine's blue eyes made a hard straight

line.

'An you will not,' she brought out, 'I will leave your Highness'

service. I will get me away to Calais, where my father is.'

'Why, you will never do that,' the Lady Mary said; 'you have tasted

blood here.'

Katharine hung her head and meditated for a space.

'No, before God,' she said earnestly, 'I think you judge me wrong. I

think I am not as you think me. I think that I do seek no ends of my

own.'

The Lady Mary raised her eyebrows and snickered ironically.

'But of this I am very certain,' Katharine said. She spoke more

earnestly, seeming to plead: 'If I thought that I were grown a

self-seeker, by Mars who changed Alectryon to a cock, and by Pallas

Athene who changed Arachne to a spider--if I were so changed, I would

get me gone from this place. But here is a thing that I may do. If you

will aid me to do it I will stay. If you will not I will get me gone.'

'Good wench,' Mary answered, 'let us say for the sake of peace that

thou art honest.... Yet I have sworn by other gods than thine that

never will I do aught that shall be of aid, comfort or succour to my

father's cause.'

'Take back your oaths!' Katharine cried.

'For thee!' Mary said. 'Wench, thou hast brought me food: thou hast

served me in the matter of letters. I might only with great trouble

get another so to serve me. But, by Mars and Pallas and all the

constellation of the deities, thou mightest get thee to Hell's flames

or ever I would take back an oath.'

'Oh, madness,' Katharine cried out. 'Oh, mad frenzy of one whom the

gods would destroy.' Three times before she had reined in her anger:

now she stretched out her hands with her habitual gesture of pitiful

despair. Her eyes looked straight before her, and, as she inclined

her knees, the folds of her grey dress bent round her on the floor.

'Here I have pleaded with you, and you have gibed me with the love of

the King. Here I have been earnest with you, and you have mocked. God

help me!' she sobbed, with a catch in her throat. 'Here is rest, peace

and the blessing of God offered to this land. Here is a province that

is offered back to the Mother of God and the dear hosts of heaven.

Here might we bring an erring King back to the right way, a sinful man

back unto his God. But you, for a parcel of wrongs of your own....'

'Now hold thy peace,' Mary said, between anger and irony. 'Here is a

matter of a farthing or two. Be the letter written, and kiss upon it.'

Katharine stayed herself in the tremor of her emotions, and the Lady

Mary said drily:

'Be the letter written. But thou shalt write it. I have sworn that I

will do nothing to give this King ease.'

'But my writing....' Katharine began.

'Thou shalt write,' Mary interrupted her harshly. 'If thou wilt have

this King at peace for a space that Cromwell may fall, why I am at one

with thee. For this King is such a palterer that without this knave at

his back I might have had him down ten years ago. Therefore, thou

shalt write, and I will countersign the words.'

'That were to write thyself,' Katharine said.

'Good wench,' the Lady Mary said. 'I am thy slave: but take what thou

canst get.'

* * * * *

Towards six of the next day young Poins clambered in at Katharine

Howard's window and stood, pale, dripping with rain and his teeth

chattering, between Cicely Elliott and her old knight.

'The letter,' he said. 'They have taken thy letter. My advancement is

at an end!' And he fell upon the floor.

Going jauntily along the Hampton Street, he had been filled, that

afternoon, with visions of advancement. Drifts of rain hid the osiers

across the river and made the mud ooze in over the laces of his

shoes. The tall white and black house, where the Emperor's ambassador

had his lodgings, leaned in all its newness over the path, and the

water from its gutters fell right into the river, making a bridge

above a passer's head. The little cookshop, with its feet, as it were,

in the water, made a small hut nestling down beneath the shadow of the

great house. It was much used by Chapuys' grooms, trencher boys and

javelin men, because the cook was a Fleming, and had a comfortable

hand in stewing eels.

Ned Poins must pass the ambassador's house in his walk, but in under

the dark archway there stood four men sheltering, in grey cloaks that

reached to their feet. Stepping gingerly on the brick causeway that

led down to the barge-steps, they came and stood before the young man,

three being in a line together and one a little to the side. He hardly

looked at them because he was thinking: 'This afternoon I will say to

my sister Margot: "Fifteen letters I have carried for thy great

persons. I have carried them with secrecy and speed. Now, by Cock, I

will be advanced to ancient."' He had imagined his sister pleading

with him to be patient, and himself stamping with his foot and

swearing that he would be advanced instantly.

The solitary one of the four men barred his way, and said:

'No further! You go back with us!'

Poins swung his cape back and touched his sword-hilt.

'You will have your neck stretched if you stay me,' he said.

The other loosened his cloak which had covered him up to the nose. He

showed a mocking mouth, a long red beard that blew aside in a wild

gust of the weather, and displayed on his breast the lion badge of the

Lord Privy Seal.

'An you will not come you shall be carried!' he said.

'Nick Throckmorton,' Poins answered, 'I will slit thy weazand! I am on

a greater errand than thine.'

It was strong in his mind that he was bearing a letter for the King's

Highness. The other three laid hands swiftly upon him, and a wet

cloak flapped over his head. They had his elbows bound together behind

his back before his eyes again had the river and the muddy path to

look upon. Throckmorton grinned sardonically, and they forced him

along in the mud. The rain fell down; his cloak was gone. And then a

great dread entered into his simple mind. It kept running through his

head:

'I was carrying a letter for the King--I was carrying a letter for the

King!' but his addled brains would bear his thoughts no further until

he was cast loose in the very room of Privy Seal himself. They had

used him very roughly, and he staggered back against the wall, gasping

for breath and weeping with rage and fear.

Privy Seal stood before the fire; his eyes lifted a little but he said

nothing at all. Throckmorton took a dagger from the chain round his

neck, and cut the bag from the boy's girdle. Still smiling

sardonically, he placed it in Privy Seal's fat hands.

'Here is the great secret,' he said. 'I took it even in the gates of

Chapuys.'

Privy Seal started a little and cried, 'Ah!' The boy would have

spoken, but he feared even to cry out; his eyes were starting from his

head, and his breath came in great gusts that shook him. Privy Seal

sat down in a large chair by the fire and considered for a moment.

Then he slowly drew out the crumpled ball of paper. Here at last he

held the Lady Mary utterly in his power; here at last, at the eleventh

hour, he had a new opportunity to show to the King his vigilance, his

power, and how necessary he was to the safety of the realm. He had

been beginning to despair; Winchester was to confess the King that

night. Now he held them....

'I have been diligent,' Throckmorton said. 'I had had the Lady Mary

set in the room that has a spy-hole beside a rose in the ceiling. So I

saw the writing of this letter.'

Cromwell said, 'Ah!' He had pulled the paper apart, smoothed it across

his knee, and looked at it attentively. Then he held it close to the

fire, for no blank paper could trouble the Privy Seal. This was a

child's trick at best.

In the warmth faint lines became visible on the paper; they darkened

and darkened beneath his intent eyes. Behind his back Throckmorton,

with his immense beard and sardonic eyes, rubbed his hands and smiled.

Privy Seal's fingers trembled, but he gave no further sign.