Page 107 of Love, Remember Me

Before Nyssa might answer, the block was brought into the queen's chambers and set down in the center of the floor. Catherine Howard stared at it. Upon that piece of wood she would end her life. Bending, she ran her hand over it. It was smooth, and cold. She shivered, then turned about. "Lady Baynton and Lady de Winter will personally attend me tomorrow morning. Kate, Bessie, though you must come, I will not burden you with this task, though I know if I asked, you would gladly serve me in my final moments." She then looked to her two chosen ladies. "Help me to practice now," she said.

They helped her to kneel before the block. Catherine Howard lay her neck upon it for the first time. It was really not so terrible, and it would be over in a moment's time. She raised herself up and then leaned forward again. She did this several times, and then, seemingly satisfied, she arose to her feet. "I want beef for my supper," she said. "And a pear tartlet with Devon cream, and the best wine the king's cellars have to offer me. Send to Sir John and tell him so!"

The meal brought to the former queen that night was simple: prawns poached in white wine, a capon in a lemon-ginger sauce, the beef she had requested, artichokes braised with butter and lemon, bread, butter, and cheese. The tartlet was large, and the clotted cream sweet. Despite all the cups of wine they drank, they could not seem to get drunk. Instead they sat about telling tales of when they were maids of honor to Anne of Cleves, making Lady Baynton laugh until she was weak.

The night passed too quickly, and suddenly it was six o'clock of the morning. The serving woman brought the queen her tub, and Cat bathed. She was then helped into her undergarments and the black velvet gown with its black and gold satin brocade underskirt. The standing collar on her gown was carefully removed. Catherine Howard's lovely auburn curls were carefully pinned atop her little head. She slipped her feet into a pair of round-toed shoes. She wore no jewelry.

Her women were as somberly dressed, each in a black velvet gown with a slightly decorative underskirt. Lady Baynton wore a French cap, encrusted with pearls and gold, but Bessie and Kate elected to wear small flat velvet caps edged in pearls with small egret tips. Nyssa, however, put her hair in a golden caul because Cat had always liked it that way.

The queen's confessor came and heard Catherine Howard's final confession. They closeted themselves in the queen's bedchamber, but they were not there for very long. Finally there was a ceremonious knocking upon the door. Nyssa opened it slowly to find the king's Privy Council, minus the Duke of Suffolk, who had been taken ill in the night, and the Duke of Norfolk, who later admitted he could not bear to be present at the execution of Catherine Howard.

"It is time, madame," the Earl of Southampton said.

Nyssa felt her heartbeat accelerate, but Cat simply nodded, saying, "I am ready." Escorted by the Privy Council, her four women, and her confessor, the queen then went out onto Tower Green.

Lady Rochford was already there, and they were shocked by her appearance. She was disheveled and unkempt. Her dark eyes were wild, and she was babbling nonsense. The king had ordered a special act passed by the Parliament, allowing him to execute an insane person.

Catherine Howard was asked if she had a final statement to make, and she said in a clear, young voice, "I ask all Christian people to take regard unto my worthy and just punishment with death, for my offenses against God heinously from my youth upward in breaking all of His commandments, and also against the King's Royal Majesty very dangerously.

"I have been justy condemned," Catherine continued. "I merit a hundred deaths. I require that you look to me as an example, and amend your ungodly lives, obeying the king in all things. I pray for his grace, our sovereign lord, Henry Tudor, and beg that you all do so as well. Having done so, I commend my soul to God, and His infinite mercy," she concluded.

Catherine's two chosen women helped her to mount the gallows where the block, so lately in her chamber, now waited, set amid a pile of straw. There the hooded headsman awaited the queen, leaning upon his great ax. Nyssa wondered what the face beneath the hood looked like, and whether he felt any remorse in doing his duty.

Catherine Howard smiled quietly at the man and said, "I forgive you, sir." Then, as custom also demanded, she pressed a gold piece into his hand, in effect paying her own death tax. Turning to the two women who had escorted her up to the gallows, she thanked them for their faithful service, taking time to bid Kate and Bessie, already weeping below her, a tender farewell. Holding out her arms to Nyssa, she embraced her. "Do not forget that love remembered you in spite of it all, Nyssa Wyndham. Be good to Varian, and do not think too harshly of Duke Thomas." She kissed her friend's cheek, and then turning, said to the headsman, "I am ready, sir."

Lady Baynton and the Countess of March helped the queen to kneel down before the block. Catherine Howard looked heavenward, her lips murmuring a soft prayer, then crossing herself, she leaned forward, her arms gracefully outstretched. The headsman struck swiftly and mercifully, the thunk of his ax severing the queen's head neatly and burying itself for a moment in the block below.

Nyssa had not been able to tear her eyes away from the horror. It had taken no time at all, and yet the ax had seemed to hover above its victim for an eternity before descending downward. In one moment Catherine Howard's life had been snuffed out. The sound of her voice still echoed in the icy morning air. Disoriented for a moment, Nyssa looked about her. The day was gray and somber. Lady Baynton, her hand shaking, slipped her arm through Nyssa's, and together the two women descended the gallows while the queen's remains were wrapped in a black blanket and laid in a coffin.

At the bottom of the gallows Lady Baynton tenderly gathered the sobbing Kate Carey and Bessie FitzGerald to her motherly bosom. Nyssa looked about her again, this time her eyes focusing upon the scene. There was the Privy Council, Sir John Gage, and a detachment of Yeomen of the Guard. A small huddled group of people she did not recognize, legal witnesses, obviously, stood upon Tower Green. The ground beneath her feet was hard and, she saw, covered in frost. Jane Rochford was now led past them up to the gallows to be executed. Nyssa was past caring. The sound of the ax told her the deed was done.

Four of the guards brought the queen's coffin down from the gallows, and following the weeping women, they brought it into the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, where a place for Catherine Howard had been made near to her cousin, Anne Boleyn. They stood quietly in the dim chapel as Cat's confessor said the prayers for the dead. Then together the four women left the chapel, passing the coffin of Jane Rochford, which was being brought in to be interred in a far, dark corner. Outside, the four stood confused for a moment in the gray and sunless morning, not quite knowing what to do now. Then Lord Baynton was by their side.

He put an arm about his wife and said to them, "Come, my dears. It is time for us all to go home now. I have a barge waiting." Then he smiled at Nyssa. "Not you, however, Lady de Winter. There is a gentleman over there who wishes to speak with you." He pointed.

Nyssa turned to look, and her heart leapt in her chest. For a long moment her voice would not cooperate, and then she managed to say, "Varian!" forcing her legs forward until she was running into his outstretched arms. He was pale. He looked haggard. But he was alive, and he was running toward her also!

He wrapped his strong arms about her, their lips met in a kiss, and she was weeping. To her amazement, he was too. "I thought never to see you again, sweeting," Varian de Winter told his wife honestly. "Yet I am free! Free to go home with you to Winterhaven again, Nyssa. Home to our son and our daughter!"

"How can this be?" she sobbed into his doublet.

"I do not know," he said. "For two months I have been kept in a filthy cell, told I was guilty of concealing treason, and that my estates were forfeit for my crime. Then this morning Sir John Gage came to me and told me that the king had decided an error had been made in my case. That I was a de Winter and not a Howard. I was to be released, and my estates restored immediately. The only requirement to my release was that I must be a witness to the queen's execution. After that I was free to go. There is a barge waiting for us at the Water Stairs."

The archbishop. Somehow Nyssa knew that Thomas Cranmer was responsible for her husband's release. He was a just man, and she realized that he had somehow convinced the king of the inequity in allowing the arrest of the Earl of March.

Putting her arm through her husband's, she hurried with him from the Tower to where their barge was waiting. Tillie was already in it with Toby, smiling broadly. They were rowed to Whitehall. Within the hour their carriages were packed and ready to depart.

As they made ready to leave the apartments of Duke Thomas, he appeared before them and asked Nyssa politely, "Did she make a good end, madame?"

"You would have been proud of her, my lord," Nyssa said. "I could not have been half as brave as Catherine Howard was."

"You will not be back to court," he said. It was a statement.

"Never again," his grandson answered him, "but should you need me, Grandfather, I will come to you. Do not be so overweening proud, Thomas Howard, that you do not ask."

The duke nodded in the affirmative. Like the king, his age was showing now. He looked at Nyssa. "And will you come if I call you, madame?" he asked her.

She waited a long moment before answering him, but then she said, "Aye,Grandfather, I will come."

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