Jean Plaidy - The Sixth Wife: The Story of Katherine Parr

Her prayer for courage, it seemed, did not go unanswered, for as the days passed her fears diminished and she felt that a new sense was developing within her which would make her aware of encroaching danger and give her the calm she would need to face it.

Some might have loathed the task which was thrust upon them. Each day it was her duty now to bathe the leg, to listen to his cries of rage when he was in pain; but oddly enough, instead of nauseating her, this filled her with pity for him. To see this man—this all-powerful King—such a prey to his hideous infirmity, was a sorry sight. Once when he looked at her he had seen her eyes filled with tears. He had softened immediately.

“Tears, Kate? Tears?”

“You suffer so.”

Then those little eyes, which could be so cruel, also filled with tears, and the fat hand which was heavy with flashing jewels came down to pat her shoulders.

“You’re a good woman, Kate,” he said. “Methinks I made a good choice when I took you to wife.”

She had asked that her sister Anne, Lady Herbert, might be a lady of her bedchamber, and that Margaret Neville, the only daughter of Lord Latimer, be one of her maids of honor.

“Do as you will, Kate,” said the King when she had made the request. “You’re a good woman and a wise one, and you’ll surround yourself with others of your kind.”

Yes, the King was pleased. This marriage had not begun with one of those burning infatuations such as he had felt for Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard. That was all to the good. This, he assured himself, was a wise choice, a choice made while the judgment was cool and sober.

Then there were the children. He had made it clear to her that he wished her to take a stepmotherly interest in them, and for thisshe was grateful. It had been one of her deepest regrets that she had no children of her own, and that her strong maternal nature had always to be placated with stepchildren. Well, it had been so before, and never had she found anything but joy in mothering the children of those other women.

The royal children were as responsive as had been those of her other marriages. How happy she was to be so obviously welcome in their apartments! Poor children, they had known so many different stepmothers and they were accustomed to such changes.

When, as their stepmother, she paid them her first visit, they were all ceremoniously assembled to greet her.

Little Edward looked so puny that she wanted to take him in her arms and weep over him. Yet while he moved her with pity, he filled her with dread. This was the only male heir, and the King wished for others.

He put his hand in hers and, on sudden impulse, dispensing with that ceremony due to the heir to the throne, she knelt and kissed him, and, following her lead, he put his arms about her neck.

“Welcome, dear Mother,” he said; and in his voice was all the yearning of a little boy who has never known a mother and always longed for one, and whose childish pleasures had been overlaid by the great duties demanded of an heir to the throne.

“We are going to love each other,” she said.

“I am glad you are to be our stepmother,” he answered.

The Lady Mary knelt before her. Poor Mary, who was almost as unhealthy as Edward. She never dispensed with what she considered the right formalities, and this was a solemn occasion for Mary—the greeting of the new Queen of England. Previously it had been Lady Latimer who must kneel to the Lady Mary; now the position was reversed, and although there had been warm friendship between them, Mary never forgot the demands of etiquette.

“Rise, dear Mary,” said Katharine; and she kissed the slightly younger woman.

“Welcome, dear Mother,” said Mary. “I am glad to welcome you.”

And then Elizabeth came forward, dropping a pretty curtsy and lifting her sparkling eyes to her stepmother’s face.

“I, too, am pleased,” she said; and when she had received her stepmother’s kiss, as though on sudden impulse, she followed her brother’s example and, putting her arms about Katharine’s neck, kissed her.

Little Jane Grey, who was waiting with her sister Katharine to welcome the Queen, thought that Elizabeth seemed more pleased than any of them. Little Jane noted a good deal more than people guessed, for she never spoke, even to her beloved Edward, of all that she saw. She did not believe that Elizabeth was really half as pleased as Edward or Mary, although she was not displeased. (Who could be to welcome such a gentle and charming lady as the new Queen?) It was merely that Elizabeth could show great pleasure or great sorrow as she wished, and the more easily than others because she did not feel these emotions deeply and could remain in control of herself.

Now Elizabeth stood back that the Queen might greet the little Greys, and while Jane knelt before the Queen and was kissed by her, she was thinking that Elizabeth was not really so pleased because the King had married a good lady, but because this lady would be easy to persuade; and Elizabeth would know how to persuade her to ask the King to give her what she most needed; and what Elizabeth needed was that position which she considered hers by right. She wished to be received at court, not as the Lady Elizabeth, the bastard, but as a Princess; and she wished to have an income that she might buy beautiful clothes; she wished to have jewels with which to adorn her person. Jane felt sure that that was what Elizabeth was thinking as she greeted Katharine Parr.

And yet, when they had dispensed with ceremony as far as Mary would allow them, and were all gay and happy together, Jane noticed that it was Elizabeth’s gay chatter which most charmed the Queen.

Edward kept close to Jane, and now and then held her hand and looked at her with fresh tenderness. He was thinking that his father must be very happy to have this new stepmother for a wife, and that a wife could be a great help to a King.

Then he felt suddenly happy because of Jane, who was quiet and gentle and very clever—she was not unlike the new stepmother in these things—for Edward knew that Queen Katharine was quiet, gentle and learned.

While Elizabeth was talking to their stepmother, Edward said to Jane: “It is a good thing to have a wife, Jane. If a king loves her dearly and she is good and kind and clever, that is a very good thing. You are kind, Jane, and good and clever. You are beautiful too.”

Then he and Jane smiled at each other, because there was such accord between them that they did not always have to put their thoughts into words, and Jane knew that Edward meant that he wished he might have her for his Queen when he grew up.

The King too visited his son’s apartment on that day, for he wished to see how his wife was faring with his children.

His approach was heralded as he came slowly to those apartments.

“The King comes this way!”

Waiting women and ushers, guards and gentlemen-at-arms were alert, terrified that he might glance their way and find some fault, hoping that he would give them a nod of approval.

And into the room he hobbled, beside him one of his gentlemen on whom he might lean. His doublet was of crimson velvet, striped and slashed with white satin. About his neck was a gold collar from which hung a magnificent and very large pearl. His cloak was of purple velvet; and on his left leg he wore the Garter. He glittered with jewels; they adorned his cap, his doublet and his cloak; they sparkled on the pouch of cloth of gold which hung at his side and which hid from view the dagger with the jeweled hilt. The color of his face almost matched that of his cloak, so purple was it with the exertion of walking; but at the moment its expression was one of beaming kindliness. It pleased him to see his new wife and his children together.

As he entered the room all fell to their knees.

He surveyed them with contentment, until he examined more closely the face of his little son. The boy was wan and there were dark shadows under his eyes. That tutor of his was letting him work too hard; he would have a word with the fellow.

“Rise,” he commanded; and they rose and stood before him in awe and fearful admiration.

He limped to the Prince. The boy tried not to shrink, but found it difficult, for in the presence of his dazzling father he felt himself to be more insignificant than usual. It always seemed to Edward that he shrank to a smaller size under that scrutiny; his headaches seemed worse, and his palpitations returned with violence; he was aware of the new rash which had broken out on his right cheek. The King would notice it and blame someone for it—perhaps dear Mrs. Penn, his beloved nurse. Edward was always terrified that Mrs. Penn might be taken from him.

From the boy the King turned his gaze on Mary. He felt an almost active dislike toward her, for she was a continual reproach to him. She ought to have been married, but what royal Prince wanted a bastard for his wife, even if she was a King’s bastard? And how could he declare her legitimate and still insist that he was right to put her mother away? No wonder the sight of her depressed him.

Then Elizabeth. She grows more like me every day, he was thinking. That hair is as mine was; once I had such a fair and glowing skin. Perhaps you didn’t make a cuckold of me with Norris after all, Anne.

He wanted to dislike Elizabeth, but he found that impossible, since to do so would be tantamount to disliking himself.

“Well… fostering friendship?” he asked.

Katharine spoke. “We were friends already, Your Majesty.”

“It pleases me to hear that.” He smiled, reminding his conscience that he was above all things a benign parent who had chosen a wife, not for carnal pleasures, but because he wished to benefit his children. He gazed at her and was pleased with what he saw. Her bodice of cloth of gold was a pleasant change after her widow’s black. The bodice fitted tightly, showing her neat but womanly figure, and at her throat glowed the great ruby which he had given her.

A comely Queen! he reflected. A good stepmother into the bargain. Not too old to have sons of her own. She was a healthy woman, small but sturdy. She would have sons. And he would be looking to her to provide him with one very soon.

He signed for his chair, and one of the attendants hurried to place it for him. He made his son come to him and he questioned the boy as to his studies. He placed his great hand on the small head.

“You must be healthy,” he said. “When I was your age I was twice your size.”

“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon for my size,” said the boy. “I ride every day, as did Your Majesty at my age, and I jump and run.”

“You’re a good boy,” said Henry. “But I should like to see you grow somewhat faster.”

He would like to hear the boy read to him in French and Latin, he said; and books were brought; but while the Prince stood at his father’s knee and read aloud, the King was watching the others, who stood, without speaking, in his presence.

This boy is all I have, he reflected sorrowfully. Oh Jane, why did you not live to give me more? And healthy ones too. His breathing’s bad, and he’s too thin. I’ll see his cook this very day. He shall be made to eat. He shall be made to grow strong and lusty.

This boy and two girls…a pretty state of affairs! He remembered his son, Richmond, and the delight he had felt when that boy had been born, proclaiming his father’s manhood to the world; for he had feared, before the birth of Richmond, that he could not beget a son. Then Richmond had died that horrible, lingering death.

Henry was afraid that the small child at his knee might go the way of Richmond. Mary had managed to cling to life, but he felt that that had been something like a miracle. Elizabeth alone seemed capable of living to the normal span. He wished there was some magician at his court who could change the sex of the girl. Ha! What an achievement that would be. If Elizabeth could be changed to a boy he would make her heir to the throne, by God he would!

But there was no one who could perform such a miracle, and he felt that it was cruel that it must be Anne’s girl who should claim his attention, whom he should long to make his successor. He had always believed that Anne might have the power to mock him from the grave.

Then he contemplated his Queen again. He had a good wife. She was small and dainty and he would like her better when her body broadened with his child. Well, it was early yet, but perhaps this time next year there would be another Tudor Prince to delight his heart.

“Have done,” he said to Edward. “Have done. Your reading’s good. I’ll compliment your tutor instead of berating him. And how do you like your new mother, eh?”

“Sire, I love her dearly.”

“That is well.” He touched the boy’s cheek with his sparkling forefinger. “More spots, eh?”

“They came only today,” explained the Prince apologetically. “I feel in very good health, Sire.”

“That is well.”

He rose painfully and Katharine came forward to help him. “Good Kate. I rejoice to see you here. Now help me back to my apartment.”

He took her arm and leaned alternately on her and on his stick.

When they were in the royal apartments he said: “The Prince looks poorly. My only son. I would I had a dozen more to follow him.” He pinched her cheek. “We’ll get ourselves a son, eh? We’ll get ourselves a son, Kate, my little pig.”

This, she brooded, is the height of royal favor. The King calls me his “pig” and asks for sons. If I provide them I shall continue to be his pig. If not…?

Why should she not have a child? She longed for a child. Some of the wise women said that those who longed for children most easily conceived them. And yet how those unfortunate Queens must have longed for sons!

She refused to be depressed. She had her friends about her—her dearest sister Anne and her beloved stepdaughter, Margaret Neville. She had her dear Nan with her, and Nan would serve her faithfully as long as they lived. And she had her new stepchildren, who had received her with warmth; and at the moment she was the King’s little pig.

“My lord,” she said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

He surveyed her benignly. He wished her to know that, being pleased with her, he was in the mood to grant favors.

“Well, Kate, speak up. What is this favor?”

“It concerns your daughters. It is one of my dearest wishes to see them reinstated at court. My lord, I cannot help but feel that it is wrong that they should not be recognized as royal Princesses.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know what I suffered through their mothers. Mary’s a bastard. You know that. And so is Elizabeth.”

“But were you not married to the Lady Elizabeth’s mother?”

“Nay. You meddle in things you do not understand. I never liked meddling women, Kate.” He caught her cheek between his thumb and finger and pinched it. “Mind you, Kate, I know your motives. You meddle for them and not for your own gain. I like you for it. The form of marriage I went through with Elizabeth’s mother was no true marriage. She was precontracted to Northumberland. That made our marriage void, and her girl a bastard. They’re both bastards, I tell you.”

“Yet they are your daughters. And how like you is the Lady Elizabeth! My lord, could you not have them brought back to the position they enjoyed when you believed yourself to be married to their mothers?”