In the Shadow of the Crown - Plaidy Jean (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗
I said I would, and then the motherly soul turned her attention to me. She said I needed looking after. She would like to see a little color in my cheeks.
So it was rather pleasant to watch the children together—to note the tender affection of Edward and Jane; and Elizabeth watching them, making sure that she lost none of her influence over the pair.
I was recovering—and in due course I returned to Court.
The Queen was determined to persuade the King to give full recognition to his daughters and, emboldened by her success over Marbeck and knowing that the King was pleased with her, she attempted to do so.
Having nursed two husbands already, Katharine was experienced in the art. She had gentle hands which could be firm when necessary; she could dress his leg more quickly and less painfully than anyone else; he would often sit resting the leg on her lap, and that seemed to ease it considerably. He liked to talk to her of literature, music and theology; and providing she chose her words carefully he found the discourse to his liking.
He was happier than he had been for a long time. He was sure he had chosen wisely, and most would have agreed with him on that point.
In February of that year following his marriage, I was reinstated to my old position at Court. I was even included in the line of succession, but after Edward would come any daughter my father might have by the Queen or— ominous phrase—any succeeding wives. It was a great step forward—and Elizabeth was to come after me.
Elizabeth was full of high spirits during this time.
We owed a great deal to Katharine—but perhaps not all as far as I was concerned, for my father was eagerly seeking to renew his friendship with the Emperor, and it might well have been for this reason that he was treating me as he was.
But that would not account for Elizabeth's recognition, so I suppose we did owe a great deal to the Queen.
It was impossible not to be fond of her. She was determined to be a mother to us and took an especial interest in Edward and Elizabeth, on account of their youth, I think; and they both loved her. They were fond of Anne of Cleves too, and they had liked pretty Catharine Howard, but none had been the mother to them that the present Queen was proving to be. I think that Katharine had always longed for children of her own; it was sad that she had only stepchildren on whom to lavish her affection; and that she did with abandon. She really was a mother to those children—including Jane Grey, who was touchingly devoted to her.
She believed that my weakness and debility were due to a lack of interest in life. Like many people, she thought that I should have married. Perhaps she was right. I seemed to have withered. I had longed for children so much but I had come to the conclusion that I should never have them.
To give me an interest, Katharine suggested that I make a translation of Erasmus' Latin Paraphrase of St. John. It was a task which appealed to me, and I set about it with zest and found myself waking each morning with the urge to get on working at it.
When I had finished it, Katharine was loud in her praises; she said I must have it printed so that many could read it.
I was reluctant at first, wondering whether it was beneath the dignity of a princess—now recognized as such and in line for the throne—but Katharine said she would not rest until she had persuaded me.
Meanwhile I was becoming aware of danger.
Katharine and the King had been married for a year, and there was no sign of pregnancy. Was he beginning to be restless? The fact was that under her skilful hands he suffered less pain; indeed there were times when he was quite without it. It was ironic that Katharine, who had been the one who had brought about this relief, should be the one to suffer for it. It might have been my imagination, but did I see his eyes linger on some of the beauties of the Court? I had also seen a glimmer of anxiety when he looked at Edward. One son was all he had; he was feeling better; I could imagine his telling himself that he was still full of vigor. There were some tempting beauties at Court, and it must be Katharine's fault that there was no child.
It was amazing how those about him were aware of his feelings.
Then came what many believed was a definite sign that the Queen was losing her place in his affections.
Hans Holbein had been out of favor since he had brought back that deceiving picture of Anne of Cleves, representing her as a beauty and completely ignoring the fact that her skin was faintly pock-marked.
“But the fellow is a good painter,” said the King, “and I pay him a retainer of ?30 a year, so he may as well earn it.”
He wanted a portrait of the family—with his son and daughters and his Queen beside him.
Elizabeth was delighted to be included. She would have liked to be in the forefront of the picture; but this was not the King's intention.
He would be in the center, with Edward beside him and on the far left should be one of his daughters and the other on the far right. Still, we were in the picture. But the crux of the matter was that, when Katharine prepared to take her place beside the King, she was brusquely told that her presence would not be needed. My father wanted the artist to make a picture of Edward's mother, Jane Seymour, the only wife who had given him a son, and she should take the place of honor beside him.
The insult to Katharine was too marked to go unnoticed. She had been deeply hurt—and, more than that, she must have been overcome with alarm.
It was the sign for her enemies to prick up their ears, to ask themselves if the familiar pattern was emerging again? No sons … a barren wife … and so on. Even though he now had one son and two daughters, we did not give him great delight. Edward was too delicate, and Elizabeth and I were only girls.
Gardiner was waiting to step in. He already suspected Katharine of leaning toward the new religion; he was right in that. I had warned her to be careful, and she had been, but it was not easy for one who was constantly on the stage to keep out of danger.
It was not only the Queen they had their eyes on. Wolsey had fallen through Anne Boleyn, Cromwell through Anne of Cleves; they had decided that Cranmer should go with Katharine.
Very soon after that portrait had been painted, several people of the Queen's household were arrested and taken to the Tower.
Katharine was in a state of great anxiety, but fate was kind to her on this occasion for the King's ulcer was worse and nobody could dress it like the Queen. She managed to soothe it with her gentle fingers; he was pleased with her and turned angrily on those who were preparing to trap her.
He wanted to know what all this was about—arresting people in the Queen's household. What did it mean?
It meant, they told him, that writings had been found in the possession of these people, and they had been overheard to make certain remarks.
The King made it clear that he wanted no implications about the Queen, and by arresting people in her household they had cast a slur on her. The whole thing was a fabrication to annoy him, he declared, and he wanted to get at the truth of the matter.
The truth actually was that evidence had been forged. It would have been perfectly acceptable if—as they had calculated—the King wished to rid himself of his wife. But he certainly did not at this time. He grumbled that he was surrounded by clumsy oafs who handled him roughly. Only the Queen had gentleness in her hands.
Gardiner was berated as a fool who should have taken more care before flinging accusations at his betters.
Gardiner pleaded that his servants were over-zealous in their service to the King, but he was sent away with the King's abuse ringing in his ears.
But Katharine was left uneasy. She had escaped this time, but would she again? It had just been good luck that he had happened to need her attentions more than usual and that had made him realize her value to him; he was still hankering after another son, and there were several younger and very pretty women at the Court.
