Page 28 of Love, Remember Me

CHAPTER 5

INthe early spring of 1540 the abbeys of Canterbury, Christchurch, Rochester, and Waltham were finally surrendered to the king's majesty. Thomas Cromwell had completed his dissolution of the monasteries. His great usefulness to Henry Tudor was almost at an end. Much of the wealth that had belonged to these abbeys was funneled directly into the king's treasury, but some of it was distributed to those nobles loyal to the crown. It was a ploy to draw these men even closer to their sovereign. They would certainly not oppose the religious reforms being put in place while profiting from them.

The French ambassador, Charles de Marillac, wrote to his king that Thomas Cromwell was tottering. Yet Henry Tudor suddenly created his chancellor Earl of Essex. The king was possessed of a mean streak that was even now exhibiting itself.

When the Duke of Norfolk discreetly sounded the king out as to the honor bestowed on Cromwell, the king smiled wolfishly and said, "I but soothe poor Crum's fears, Thomas. A frightened man does not think clearly, and right now we need old Crum's cleverness if I am to be completely and unequivocally free of this unfortunate misalliance in which he has entangled me. I think it only fair that having arranged this royal marriage, he dissolve it."

"Then there is no hope?" the duke said.

"For my marriage?" the king demanded. "It has been but a marriage in name only. Not that the lady Anne isn't a good woman. She is. But she is no wife to me. And never has been. Nor will she ever be."

"What of the Duke of Cleves, my lord?" Thomas Howard said. "Will he not be offended that you cast his sister off and sent her packing home to Cleves? She is, after all, a princess."

"The lady Anne will be treated generously, Norfolk. You need not concern yourself. As for Cleves, can it stand against the might of England? I think not. It has served its purpose for us. France and the Holy Roman Empire are both seeking our friendship once again." The king grinned at the Duke of Norfolk. "I'll have me another bonnie English rose like my sweet Jane, eh Thomas?"

"Would not a princess be a better choice, Your Grace?" the duke murmured softly. "A simple English woman lacks prestige, think you not?"

"Lacks prestige? You're a snob, Thomas, and you always have been. There isn't an English lass who would not outshine the most perfect of foreign princesses. No more royalty! I want a flesh and blood woman to love. A good bedmate. A mother for my children. And as God is my witness," the king said, his voice rising, "I shall have her!"

"And has any particular lady taken your majesty's fancy?" the duke inquired.

The king bellowed with laughter, and poked the duke in his ribs with a fat finger. "You'd like to be the first to know, you old slyboots, wouldn't you?" he chortled, tears of mirth running down his face. "Well, I've not quite made up my mind yet. So, you'll not know before I know, my lord, and that's an end to it!"

But the Duke of Norfolk, like everyone else at court, had seen the king's eyes upon his niece, Catherine, and upon the Wyndham girl, Nyssa. Thomas Howard had spoken to young Catherine the same day he had had his conversation in the maze with Bishop Gardiner. As he had a spy in the queen's household, he knew his niece had free time that afternoon, and he had sent for the girl. She came, looking particularly lovely in a velvet gown of light yellow-green. It suited her coloring, and he complimented her.

"It is a gift from my friend, Nyssa Wyndham. She says it does not become her, and she has too many dresses. I think she is just being kind to me because I am poor, Uncle. Still, it is good to have such a friend, is it not?"

"How would you like to never have to worry about having enough gowns again, my child?" he asked her. "How would you like to have all the pretty gowns and beautiful jewelry that your little heart desires?"

Her blue eyes grew wide. "I do not understand, Uncle," she said.

"I have a marriage in mind for you, Catherine. But first you must promise me that you will not discuss with anyone, even your friend, Nyssa, what I am about to reveal to you. Do you promise me?" His cold eyes bored into her.

She nodded solemnly, her rising excitement evident. Thomas Howard was almost as powerful as the king himself.

"I mean it, Catherine," he warned her. "This is a deep secret between us. Should you reveal it, it might mean your very life. You do understand me, do you not?" He looked hard at her.

Her pretty mouth made a little O, and then she said, "I will do whatever you want me to do, Uncle, and no one shall know of our conversation. What is the marriage you propose for me?"

"How would you like to be the Queen of England, Catherine?" he questioned her. "Think on it, my child.Queen!"

"Then I should have to marry the king," Catherine Howard said slowly, "and he already has a wife. How could such a thing be, Uncle?"

"The lady Anne will soon no longer be the queen," Thomas Howard told his niece. When her pretty face registered deep distress, he reassured her. "No harm will come to the lady Anne, my child, I swear it, but the king is seeking an annulment. You know, as does everyone at court, that he has not had the stomach to consummate his marriage to this lady. England needs more legitimate heirs. The king must have a young wife who can give him those children. He looks upon you with great favor, Catherine. I think you can be the one to make him a happy bridegroom, and a devoted husband. What think you of this?"

She pondered for a long, long moment, thoughts racing through her head. Henry Tudor was old enough to be her father. He was fat, and the thought of him touching her turned her stomach, for she was a fastidious girl and loved beautiful things. His abscessed leg, when it flared up, stank and ran pus,but he was the King of EnglandWhat were her chances for another good marriage? She was one of six children, the eldest of three daughters. Both of her parents were deceased. She depended upon the charity of this powerful uncle of hers for her very bread. He was a tight-fisted man, and would not dower her to any suitor save a rich one. Rich men did not marry poor girls no matter their powerful connections. A convent was no longer an option. She could become a rich man's mistress, or . . . What choice did she really have?

"I am afraid, Uncle," she told him honestly.

"Why?" he demanded fiercely. "You are a Howard, Catherine!"

"My cousin Anne Boleyn was a Howard. She lost her head on Tower Green. The king is easily displeased, and only the lady Jane ever really satisfied him. I wonder had she lived if she would have continued to satisfy him, or if he would have grown bored with her too? His grace has wed four women. One has died, one he divorced, one he executed, and now he wishes to annul this latest marriage. You ask me would I like having beautiful clothing, and jewelry. I tell you, aye, I would! But how long will I keep them before the king finds an excuse to rid himself of me, Uncle? This is why I am afraid."

Thomas Howard then did something he rarely did. He softened his attitude toward his niece, and actually put an arm around her. "If you will do exactly as I tell you, Catherine, you will never bore the king so much that he wishes to be rid of you. More is involved here, my girl, than just finding the king a good wife. The king, though Catholic in his own worship, allows the Lutheran element more and more freedom within the Church. Archbishop Cranmer, of course, is behind it. We must stop it. The key to stopping it is selecting a wife for the king who follows the old traditions, and who will be guided by those wiser than she. It has been decided, Catherine, that you are that girl; and our cause is helped by the king himself, who shows you obvious favor." He dropped his arm from about her slender shoulders and demanded, "I ask you once again, niece, would you like to be queen?"

"Aye, Uncle," she said low, telling him what she knew he wanted to hear. What other options did she really have? These were powerful men dealing in matters far too complicated for her to understand. She was just a helpless girl. At least the king was clever, and he loved music as she did, and when his leg was not paining him, he was an excellent dancer. She must concentrate upon the positive elements of this matter. Perhaps if she could learn to soothe and dress his leg when it pained him, she would endear herself to Henry Tudor. She could not be squeamish about it, no matter her own delicate sensibilities.

"I am pleased with you, Catherine," the Duke of Norfolk told her. "I am going to teach you how to ingratiate yourself with the king. You must be a bit more helpless with him, yet always gay and amusing. Defer to his judgment both publicly and privately, for it will please him. Most important of all, my child, is that you keep his lust at bay until he has put his wedding ring upon your finger. If he can have what he wants of you without that ring, you are as ruined as any maid who lets the stable boy fumble her in a dark barn. Do you understand me? A chaste kiss, a tiny cuddle,but nothing more, Catherine, even if he begs it of you, or grows angry with your refusal. Fall back upon tears then. You are a virtuous maid. Remind the king of that when he importunes you for more than you are willing to give him. Your virginity is the only real dowry you have to bring him."

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