Page 86 of Love, Remember Me

The page, white-faced, nodded and ran off. The king's gentlemen looked questioningly at each other but said nothing. Henry Tudor retreated into his privy chamber, slamming the door behind him so hard that it shook upon its stout hinges. Pouring himself another great goblet of wine, he drank it down in hopes of calming his nerves. He had never in his life been so angry. Even when the first Katherine had been so difficult, he had not felt such anger. For anyone to foul the good name of his darling young queen was outrageous. This Lascelles would suffer for his slander. When he was finished with this fellow, he would wish he had never been born. Henry's fist slammed down onto the table again in a white hot fury.

Thomas Cranmer had known that the summons would quickly come. He followed the king's page through the corridors of Hampton Court Palace, his robes swaying just slightly, his hands folded neatly into his sleeves. The boy sent to fetch him was pasty with his obvious fear. The archbishop had calmed the lad with gentle words, and then allowed the boy to lead him back to the king. The king whirled about as the archbishop entered his privy chamber, his face a mask of outraged anger.

"This," the king snarled, shaking the parchment at his chief cleric, "this is filth! How could you pass it on to me? I want this Lascelles and his sister, Mistress Hall, arrested. It is treason to accuse the queen falsely, Cranmer.Treason!"

"There may be no treason, Your Grace," the archbishop said calmly. "Lascelles is a Protestant fanatic, 'tis true, but his sister, Mistress Hall, harbored a deep affection for the queen. She helped to raise her. Her brother nagged at her to seek a place with the queen, and she refused, for the queen's early behavior had disturbed her. She is a decent woman, my lord. She only told her brother of the queen's youthful indiscretions so that he would leave her in peace. She did not want the queen to feel she was pressuring her to take her into her household. 'Tis a pity others were not as scrupulous in their motives. At least four of the queen's women were with her at Lambeth. 'Tis curious, is it not?"

"This Dereham fellow arrived at Pontefract in August when we were there," the king told the archbishop. "Catherine made him her secretary. She said the old dowager sent him, and asked that we treat him with kindness. I let her have her way, although I did not like him."

"Hummmmm," the archbishop said with understatement.

"If it happened before we met, there is no treason, nor is there any adultery," Henry Tudor said slowly, "but get to the bottom of this pot, Thomas. I want no scandals later on. If the queen gives us a Duke of York, the boy's paternity should not be in doubt over such a thing as this. Find the truth, and then we will decide what to do."

"I will be most discreet, Your Grace," the archbishop said.

"Thomas," the king asked him, "why does God keep trying me like this? All those years to get a healthy son, and if the truth be known, the boy is not that strong. I came back to learn that he was ill. The doctors say he is too fat, and overprotected. I have ordered a regimen of exercise and simple meals for him. No sweets. He is better already. God's foot, Thomas! There wasn't even a window open in his apartment so the boy could get some fresh air. They were treating him like a little idol! Do I ask for a great deal, Thomas? I want sons. I want a good woman to wife. I am so happy with my Catherine. Is she to be taken from me?"

The king was beginning to feel sorry for himself, the archbishop saw, but then every man was entitled to wallow occasionally in self-pity. Not only had the king returned to news of his heir's illness, and now this disturbing and possible scandal over the queen; but he had just received word that his sister Margaret, the Dowager Queen of Scotland, had died. It was not that he and Margaret had been close. He had been far closer to his late sister Mary. Still, it was one more link with the past broken; a grim but firm reminder of his mortality.

"This business may be nothing more than a fuss over naught," the archbishop soothed his master. "Many maids are not quite what they seem to be when they marry. It is not the way I would have it, but it happens. If the lady Agnes was as lax in her guardianship, as it would certainly appear, it seems to me the fault lies with her, not with poor Queen Catherine, who was, after all, an unsophisticated girl. I will delve carefully into this business, learn the whole truth, and then as quickly inform your grace of my findings."

The king nodded. "Whatever you need, Thomas."

"I have your grace's permission to question certain individuals?"

"Aye. Do what you have to do. Ahh, God, I miss Crum!"

"God assoil his soul," the archbishop murmured piously.

"Thomas."

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"See that the queen is confined to her apartments until her good name is cleared. She may have only Lady Rochford to attend her. I shall not see her until this matter is settled in her favor."

"I will give the order, Your Grace," Thomas Cranmer said softly. He put a comforting hand on the king's shoulder. "Courage, Henry," he said. "God's will be done."

"Amen," the king answered, but he did not turn his face to the archbishop, else his friend see the anguish there, and not be able to do his duty. Thomas Cranmer could be trusted, and few others around him could be. They all looked to their own advantage.

The archbishop departed the king's privy chamber. In the anteroom outside, the king's gentlemen looked to him for some sort of explanation as he passed, but he gave them none. He simply raised his hand in blessing as he moved by them.

Nyssa was with the queen when the household guard arrived. She and the other ladies had been practicing a new dance just brought to court from France. The women were at first frightened by the armed men.

The captain of the guard stepped forward and bowed politely to the queen. "Madame, on the king's orders, you are to be confined to your apartments. Your women are all dismissed, and only Lady Rochford may remain with you."

"Captain," the queen said, her tone imperious, "what mean you coming to my chambers in such a fashion? Can you not see we are learning a new dance for the Christmas festivities?"

"Madame," the captain replied, "there is no more time to dance." Then without another word he began shooing her servants from the apartments. The queen's ladies needed no further encouragement. Picking up their skirts, they fled their mistress, each eager to be the first to spread the news that something terrible was about to happen.

"Nyssa!" Catherine Howard's tone was suddenly frightened. "Do not leave me! I am afraid."

"I am afraid for all of us, Cat," Nyssa replied. Then she lowered her voice and whispered to the queen, "Say nothing, Cat, until you learn what they know; and precisely what this is all about." She then curtsied to her and departed after the other women.

"Captain," the queen said. "Why am I being confined like this? Can I not see the king?"

"Madame, I regret that I do not know," the man replied honestly.

"I will go and speak with his grace, dear madame," Lady Rochford told the frightened young woman. "I will ask him why you are imprisoned." She moved to the doors of the apartment, but the captain blocked her way.

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