The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr

FOUR

Spring and Early Summer: Year of Our Lord 1543

The Palace at Whitehall

Hampton Court Palace

Nearly every day after the masque an invitation came to Kate from the king. He might invite her to a hunt or to join him at cards or request her presence in his dining chamber. She oft reciprocated, as she knew she must, with an invitation to join her in like manner. One night she invited His Majesty and his men to dine with her maidens and ladies, which still numbered few, in her chambers.

The king arrived last, as was fitting, and none could depart thereafter till he gave them leave. We knew that our gowns and persons must please the king’s eye, which was ever drawn toward all that was beguiling. Kate had asked me to lightly sugar the claret whilst she talked with the king. Discussion turned toward the laws Parliament was about to pass, on the king’s behalf, banning certain books and Bible translations that we all knew to be dear to Kate. As her voice grew more strident the room grew more still.

“Your Majesty has done much good in this realm, the most good done of any king ever, truth be told,” Kate said with sincerity.

The king’s face warmed quickly. “We are well pleased with your opinion of us, Kate.”

I glanced at Dorothy. She’d caught it too. “Lady Latimer” had been replaced with “Kate.”

“We’ve insisted that anything hinting at heresy shall be made illegal. Tyndale and Coverdale’s translations of holy writ will soon no longer be allowed, only the Great Bible, and we have made changes in our own hand on the Necessary Doctrine and Erudition for Christian Men. Luther’s repugnant thoughts have been refused.”

He then clapped his hands together for more wine and Kate nodded to me to serve him, as his cupbearer, Edward Askew, was not present. I approached him carefully. I stood close and could hear him breathing heavily, ignoring the faint but pungent scent of a rotted tooth. I smiled down at him and he smiled back at me but just as quickly turned back to Kate, who was speaking.

“And yet, Your Grace has himself instituted great reform,” Kate said rather bluntly. “Turning the realm away from all things of a superstitious manner and allowing prayers to be said in the mother tongue of your subjects, by your subjects, great and mean.” I stepped back and Lady Herbert grimaced. But the king seemed delighted that Kate could hold her own in conversation with him.

“And we shall continue to determine the boundaries as is our place as Defender of the Faith. We expect our subjects of every rank and station to bring themselves unto strict obedience to the new law, as is meet.” The king had brought the conversation to a close.

Kate opened her mouth to speak again but I saw her sister shake her head slightly. Kate instead turned the conversation to the merrier topics and insisted on playing dice. She beat him handily and he seemed glad of it. “This is one debt we shall be glad to pay,” he said, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips. Before he took his leave that evening he drew her into his arms and kissed her on both cheeks. “You are sweet and pure, Kate,” he said. “Your very goodness exudes from within.” He still maintained his courtly manners and indeed showed interest in all present in some small capacity or another, a warm touch, even to those of lower status. This was more than could be said for many men of lesser rank.

One afternoon a week hence, Kate returned from dining in his apartments and drew her ladies together.

“The king has extended his hand to me in marriage. He has given me some time to think upon the matter, though he made no secret of what his earnest desire would be.”

I looked at Dorothy and she looked back at me—we were both horrified. His earnest desire! Enforced with the point of a sword? Mayhap not, but the king was hard to resist; none had ever done so that I could tell. Many former queens had sought his favor but, once they’d captured it, rather found that it was like taming a tiger. Kate had neither sought nor wanted his attentions, I knew.

I gave Dorothy a meaningful look, and though we both held our tongues and kept our peace, I knew we’d discuss this in detail later in our chamber. I determined, if I could, to speak of my fears to my lady, to reassure myself, if not to inform her of anything new.

Some of Kate’s greater ladies gathered round her to offer solemn congratulations, but shortly thereafter Sir Thomas Seymour and many of his household, though not Jamie, arrived to play cards. Kate dismissed most of her household, but Lady Margaret Neville and I remained to assist in putting away the cards and dice that would no longer be needed. She then drew Sir Thomas aside.

Dorothy looked at Sir Thomas and Kate, and then me, with a knowing glance before she took her leave. While I was glad to have been chosen to help Lady Margaret Neville, I grew irritated at Dorothy. She is jealous, I told myself. I had to wonder why the questioning of Sir Thomas made me behave with uncharacteristic rashness. And why did Dorothy insist on so easily questioning Sir Thomas when she knew him to be my patron and my father’s friend?

Kate and Sir Thomas spoke softly by the fire and we took care not to draw too close, but I was young and my hearing was sharp. I knew Margaret Neville’s was too.

“I will have none but you, Kate,” he said.

“I wish none but you, Tom,” she said. “It is my fondest wish and desire to marry you. But it cannot be.”

“It need not remain so, but can indeed become a fact.” Seymour took her hand in his and slowly kissed each fingertip and then the inside of her palm. I turned away from the intimacy of it and withdrew to her dressing chamber with Margaret Neville. I wondered what Lady Margaret Neville thought of this, only months after her own father’s death. But she had always remained resolutely loyal to Kate.

When we returned to the room, Seymour was about to take his leave. As he did, the king appeared with his men at the door to Kate’s chambers.

“Tom,” the king said, a look of surprise upon his face. Lady Margaret, Kate’s ladies, and I attempted to make it clear that Kate had not been in the room alone.

“Your Majesty,” Sir Thomas said with a deep bow from the waist. He withdrew and the king took Kate’s hand in his own, although he still looked faintly bewildered.

“We bring glad tidings,” he said. “In addition to those I have already imparted earlier.” His eyes gleamed at the apparent memory of his proposal of marriage.

Kate welcomed the king into her receiving chamber. We withdrew to a suitable distance.

“We have decided to raise your beloved brother William to Knight of the Garter,” he said. “And thereupon make him lord warden and keeper of the Western March. With all its attendant responsibilities and privileges, incomes, and rooms at court.”

Margaret and I looked at one another wide eyed.

“Thank you, Majesty,” Kate said in her sweet, moderated voice.

“But that is not all,” the king continued. “We have also decided to dispense various favors and privileges upon your sister’s husband, Lord Herbert. In Wales.”

“You are too kind, sire,” Kate said. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“We shall take our leave,” he said. “We know you have much to think upon and shall need quiet. But we shall not stop thinking upon you in your absence,” he said, his voice filled with affection. “And shall pray for Godspeed in your decision.”

Kate spent some time conferring with her brother and sister over the matter of the king’s proposal, and I was sure that they knew of her affections for Sir Thomas. In spite of her misgivings, Kate’s siblings were strongly in favor of the king’s suit and spent the week encouraging her in that direction. In case she wanted of a push, the king sent that promised girdle of gold and rubies, which she immediately fastened about her waist. He knew she loved rubies above all other gems.

One morning in early May we gathered in Kate’s chambers, and after some stitching and gossip Kate indicated that she wanted us to read for a while. Her friends were women with preferences similar to her own: reading, debate, reformed religious discussion. It was not that we didn’t enjoy dancing and music, gowns and jewelry, and discussing men; we did that too. Excepting perhaps the Countess of Sussex, who rarely made small talk. I could think of no one who liked her husband the earl. He had a back as firm as a thin leather lash and a tongue to match it; though she were sharply spoken sometimes as well, her back was of oak. ’Twas hard to believe she was but a few years older than Kate.

“Shall you read to us this morning, Juliana?” Kate asked. Dorothy had read, beautifully, the morning before, so it was not unexpected that it might be my turn. I chose Tyndale’s translation of holy writ, as I had been spending time reading it in my own chamber and felt most confident with and affectionate toward the material. I opened to a passage in the Epistle of Saint Paul unto the Galatians, and began reading in the sixth chapter. I had just finished the section which ended with, “Let us not be weary of welldoing. For when the time is come, we shall reap without weariness. While we have therefore time, let us do good unto all men, and specially unto them which are of the household of faith.”

At that moment, the Countess of Sussex entered the room with Lady Tyrwhitt, Tristram’s aunt and Kate’s dear friend. Kate indicated for me to stop reading.

Lady Tyrwhitt began. “Parliament has just passed a law barring Tyndale’s translation as a ‘crafty, false, and untrue translation.’ It also forbids nearly all religious commentary, and indeed, practically every book published with the exception of a very few approved by His Majesty.”

The countess snorted. “His Majesty’s Great Bible is so alike Tyndale’s ‘crafty, false, and untrue’ one as to be cut of the same cloth.”

Lady Tyrwhitt continued. “All lower classes and servants are forbidden from reading holy writ either publicly or privately. And whilst highborn women are allowed to read the king’s Great Bible privately to themselves, they are not allowed to read it to their ladies or servants. Only licensed men may read it aloud or publicly.”

All expected me, I knew, to close Tyndale’s “crafty” and now forbidden translation and for a moment I felt the weight of the king’s new law. Then Matthias’s father’s smug face leered at me from a memory, and my father risking himself to transport it responded in my mind, so I pressed on, courageously and not foolishly, I hoped, nervously turning back a few pages before reading out in a strong voice.

“‘Now is there no Jew neither gentile: there is neither bond nor free: there is neither man nor woman: but ye are all one thing in Christ Jesus.”

I closed the book with a flourish. Holy writ itself contradicted the king’s new decree. The room remained still. For a moment, I repented of the choice. Had I gone too far? Misjudged the tone of the room? I held my face steady and prayed that I had not overstepped.

And then Kate laughed, and Dorothy next, then the others; I was glad of it and joined in, feeling truly welcome and among my own for the first time in my life.

Later that afternoon Kate sat writing letters, and when she was done, she handed one to Lady Margaret Neville, whom I knew she considered her daughter though she were born of Lord Latimer and his first wife. “Please deliver this to Sir Thomas,” she said. Margaret dipped a short curtsey and took her leave.

Dorothy put the books away and I cleared Kate’s desk. As I did, next to the draft of the book she was writing, I saw a piece of letter parchment that she had discarded after blotting it with ink. Upon it she’d written,

God withstood my will therein most vehemently for a time. Through His grace and goodness, He made that possible which seemed to me impossible: that was, made me renounce utterly mine own will and to follow His most willingly. It were too long to write all the process of this matter. If I live, I shall declare it to you myself. But I will marry the king.

I looked up to find her standing over my shoulder and grew red with shame. “I am heartily sorry.”

“For reading my private correspondence or for the decision I’ve made?”

“Both, lady, as I have great love for you and wish only joy for you and not the great calamity I fear, and feel, lies ahead,” I pled. I had not had a prophetic vision that warned of this, and yet that spiritual sense inside me reverberated.

She took the paper from me and then took my cold hands in her own warm ones and led me to some nearby chairs. “Come, dear heart.”

Unexpectedly, tears filled my eyes. My own mother had never referred to me with such a term of endearment, and I had never heard Kate use one with any save Margaret Neville. Until that moment I had not realized that I so long craved that kind of affection and love, as a deer pants for water.

“It was not my desire, as you are well aware, to set Sir Thomas aside and marry the king. And yet as I have written to Sir Thomas, our Lord has overcome my will with His own. It became clear to me after the new laws that the realm is going in the wrong direction, perfectly backward to the gains that have been made. And, of course, the prince’s tutors are likely to influence his thoughts upon the reform, and the direction the realm will take whilst in his care, so their continuing sympathetic selection is imperative. As is a mother’s love. I feel a call to persuade in the way only a wife can, the most intimate of influences. Queen Anne Boleyn herself strongly influenced the beginning of reform thusly.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady.” I knelt before her, having felt that same mother’s love from her and not wanting to lose it, for her sake, and for mine. Fear rose at the mention of the name of beheaded Queen Anne. “But that queen did not meet with a seemly end in spite of the king’s deep affections for her.”

If I live, Kate had written to Sir Thomas. She well knew the risks. I was not entirely sure I wished for her to marry Sir Thomas either, as his presence in my vision still unsettled me. But the risks of Sir Thomas were nothing when compared with the risks of marrying His Majesty.

And yet, did she truly have the choice to reject the king?

“You’ve heard how soft a tone the king uses with me,” Kate continued. “And the king has his son, Prince Edward, now; ’twas lack of a son more than forthright speech that undid Queen Anne.”

“Perhaps you shall give the king another son.” That alone would have saved Queen Anne; perhaps that would save Kate. Since she was set upon this course, I reached to whatever comfort I could offer her and myself, though it was a weak tonic.

Kate’s eyes misted over. “There is nothing so desirous within me as to bear a child of my own. I pray that God will bring it to pass, but I doubt that it will, because I have twice married with no quickening of child.” She took my hand and lifted me off of the floor. “You, Mistress St. John, shall stay on in my household as a maid of honor, if your mother wills it.”

“Oh, she shall!” I exclaimed. “I mean, I hope she will agree.”

Kate laughed with me.

“What does a maid of honor do, lady?”

“She helps, like all the queen’s other ladies, as you have been doing, except my household will become much bigger and have many more responsibilities. Gowning and ungowning when the ladies require assistance, assisting with the care of all the wardrobe and jewels, fetching physics and other things as I require in my pursuit to be useful. Maids of honor provide companionship as well as partnering at cards and dance, delivering or fetching messages for me, and reading—for which you are specially well suited. My ladies in waiting will pack and unpack as we travel and you can assist. And,” she finished, “the queen’s ladies of all rank are to be her friends and her protectors, because court is a treacherous and cunning place.”

I nodded. “Thank you, my lady. I shall endeavor to be useful in all I do.” As I said it, a certain peace and heaviness quickened within me, a certainty that this promise to her, so readily spoken, would be bigger, fuller, harder and would require more than I could yet imagine. My prophecies, those seen and yet unseen, and perhaps my very life would be demanded. The arc of her life was somehow, now, fused with mine.

As I gazed upon her face and basked in her unwavering affection, I knew that whatever was required of me I would do.

Kate smiled. “That is an excellent motto, Juliana, to be useful in all I do. I shall adopt it for one of my own. It rings of your earlier reading today, does it not, to not grow weary of well-doing?”

I delightedly made my way back to my chamber, restraining myself from childishly skipping down the elegant hallway. I rather fancied being a maid of honor!

Within the week the king sent Sir Thomas Seymour to the Netherlands for an extended diplomatic discussion. I was not privy to their good-byes, but I know Kate mourned deeply from the sleeplessness her face revealed, which we powdered over, and the sighs she could not withhold.

Soon thereafter, just four months after my Lord Latimer’s passing, the king gathered together a few dozen of those most important in the realm to Hampton Court Palace for the wedding. Straddling one bank of the river Thames, the palace was hugged with lush green lawns of July and trees that were heavy with leaves. The king’s gardeners ensured that flowers thrived, and the best and brightest of them bloomed as if at royal command under the welcomed English sun.

Two dozen men were there to support the king, as well as some of Kate’s family and friends. Thomas Seymour’s brother Edward was there, though of course Thomas was not. Henry was fond of them both, as uncles to his son and brothers to his beloved wife Jane, who’d died afore Henry had a chance to grow tired of her. But Henry had sniffed out Thomas’s interest in Kate and sent him away.

I accompanied all of Kate’s ladies to the Queen’s Closet, which was next to the royal chapel, but did not remain in the exalted company of attendants. The closet was small. Kate, I knew, was hesitant. Although Cranmer had issued the license, Bishop Gardiner, who all knew yearned for the church in England to return to Rome, would preside over the marriage ceremonies.

“Does Bishop Gardiner know of your sympathies?” Lady Seymour had asked her once when there had been but few of us in her chamber.

“Nay,” she’d said. “My Lord Latimer was a faithful Catholic till the day he died. Gardiner likely assumes the same of me. When he finds out I am not, he shall become my enemy.”

“It seems to me that the king oft plays divide and conquer with his churchmen,” I’d said. “Mayhap to keep them off balance.”

Kate dropped her brush and looked around the room before speaking sharply to me. “You must become temperate in your speech, mistress, and learn when to hold your tongue. The time for naive girlhood is over. Now.”

“Forgive me, my lady.” I was deeply remorseful.

Kate nodded. “An astute person does not let her talk become a menace to those around her.”

“Yes, madam.” It was a maternal reproof but offered with love. I knew, too, by the eddies swirling around the court, that while all were happy to see a woman of her kindness and learning become queen, none knew what to expect from His Majesty. His cycle of affection seemed to shorten with each bride.

I am to be a friend and protector. Useful in all I do. I shall learn to hold my tongue.

We maidens left her there in the Queen’s Closet shortly afore the ceremony with the unreasonably merry guests, among whom were relatives of Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, and Catherine Howard. On the return to my chamber I walked the long gallery and as I did, I recalled to mind that only a year and a half had passed since Queen Catherine Howard had run shrieking down this very hallway, begging for her life from the king, who’d refused, as was his habit, to see her afore sending her to her death. It made me very cold indeed with concern for my lady.

That evening there was a small but sumptuous dinner. ’Twas held in the great hall, of which Henry was proud, and rightly so. The king’s minstrels played marvelously well, the strings groaning and the flute whispering breathily as I imagined lovers might, which was only fit for this eve.

“Kate eats lightly,” I pointed out to Dorothy, who sat beside me.

“’Tis her wedding night,” she giggled, and raised her eyebrows. “Of course.”

“I noticed that the king is not as disinclined toward the table.” I spoke softly.

Dorothy laughed and drew near me. “Imagine waiting in your marriage bed and seeing His Majesty coming toward you.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Much like a barge making its way down the Thames. I fancy a rather different kind of wedding night,” I replied with a grin. I wanted to tease with her but did have a caution toward idle chatter, due to Kate’s earlier rebuke.

“I too,” Dorothy said before taking her leave to talk with another friend. I wondered whether Dorothy had a young man waiting for her in her home shire, someone her father had picked out for her, a spoken or even an unwelcome but seemingly unavoidable understanding, as I had with Matthias. In all our time together it had been a topic she’d never raised and assiduously avoided when I had.

Lady Margaret Neville slid alongside me. She looked rather wan, and I urged her to retire to her chamber early as Lady Herbert would serve the queen this night.

“I may,” she said, looking off toward the corner and then nodding. “As I can see I’ll leave you in welcome company.”

She smiled in the way of a true friend, and when I saw upon whom she trained her gaze, James Hart, I blushed. My affections had been made plain enough that Lady Margaret Neville had guessed my feelings, and then I grew white with the shock that he was there at all.

“You seem surprised to see me, mistress,” he said as he took my arm and did not release it but used it to draw me near. A most welcome gesture. “You mistook me for a ghost?”

“’Tis unlikely any would mistake you for a ghost,” I said. Then I repented of it because I did not want him to think I was looking upon his figure.

“Why is that?” he teased, clearly knowing my thoughts.

“I thought you had left with Sir Thomas.” I neatly turned the subject, which he gallantly allowed.

“I leave to join him soon, after returning to Ireland with my brother Oliver to meet with some who will contract with us for shipping. Have you partaken of enough strawberries?” He waved over one of the king’s servers and requested more. When they arrived, he handed the platter to me and I plucked the finest one and held it out to him.

“I am already overfond of strawberries,” he said, his voice quiet but rough as he cupped my hand with one of his own before plucking out the berry with the other. “I must have a care ’ere I become overfond of their bearer as well.”

I ducked my head to hide the coming pink flush. James laughed.

“I do have a small trunk for Her Grace,” he said, looking at Kate.

Ah yes, I must recall to style her that from now on.

“May I give it to you in her stead? It’s from Sir Thomas.”

“What is it?” I asked. I was not about to take delivery of something that would put her at risk, and while I knew Kate loved Sir Thomas, I was not altogether certain that he might not bedevil her in some unwitting way.

“Books,” he said softly. “From the ship that put into harbor late. She expects them.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I shall keep them in my chamber until I can place them in her locked cupboard.”

I told him where to find my chamber and he said he would arrive there presently with the books. I quickly made my way down the long galleries, past the courtyard, and to my room.

It wasn’t but a few minutes later when James’s knock came to my door.

I pinched my cheeks for color, smoothed back my hair, and opened the chamber door. “Come in,” I said.

“Here they are.” He handed a small case of books to me. I’d look over the titles later; Kate would surely not mind. He took one off of the top, though. “May I take a seat?”

“Oh, of course,” I said, sorry that I had forgotten my manners. We pulled the two small chairs next to the fire. He handed the book to me.

“This one is for you.”

I opened my eyes wide, and then my mouth, and then shut them both. I tried to speak but nothing came out.

“You make a fine imitation of a puppet,” James teased.

I looked down upon the book. It was leather bound, and on the top, in gilt, was written Saint George and the Dragon. Brilliant colors and finely wrought drawings completed the magnificent cover. I drew it close to me. “Oh, thank you, James. But you needn’t have.”

“Of course I needn’t have,” he said. “But I was carrying books for a client who oft asks me what I’d like for myself. Normally I take nothing. This time I said I’d like this book, as I knew someone who would appreciate it.”

“Oh, yes, yes, I will. I mean I do. I mean, thank you!”

He grinned. “’Tis not every day I get to please a pretty mistress.”

“Don’t ruin the gift with a mistruth,” I advised. At that, he laughed before standing up and growing sober.

“I’d best take my leave,” he said. “We sail with the tide.”

I stood and walked him to the door of my chamber. “How can I thank you? I do not like to receive a gift without giving one in return.”

He pretended to think afore answering. “A kiss …?”

I nodded. He bent near and did not press his advantage in an ungentlemanly way, but kissed me softly on the lips; for a moment, though, I heard and felt his breath quicken and sensed he would have liked to have made the kiss longer.

I wished it too. My thoughts were dismissed and emotions summoned forth and I felt faint and alive both at once.

It didn’t seem enough, one kiss for a book, a wonderful book, the book that reminded me of my sweet father. I decided I could offer him something further. Hope. And belief in him.

“’Till we meet again, Sir James Hart.”

“I shall do my best to earn that knighthood, Juliana,” he said softly. He turned to walk away and then turned back toward me. “Thank you,” he said with emotion I’d not heard in his voice before.