Виктория Холт - The Shadow of the Pomegranate

“You did not ask our permission to send her there.”

“I did not think Your Grace would wish to be bothered with a family matter.”

The King flushed hotly; he was holding fast to his rising temper. The situation was delicate. He was wondering how much of this had reached the Queen’s ears and hoping that he could give vent to his anger in such a manner that Katharine would never hear of it.

“I am always interested in the welfare of my subjects,” he grumbled.

“Her husband thought she was in need of what the convent could give her.”

“I could order her to be brought back to Court, you know.”

“Your Grace is, by God’s mercy, King of this realm. But Your Grace is a wise man, and knows the scandal which would be bruited about the Court and the country itself, if a woman who had been sent by her husband into a convent should be ordered out by her King.”

Henry wanted to stamp his feet in rage. Buckingham was older than he was and he knew how to trap him. How dared he stand there, insolent and arrogant! Did he forget he was talking to his King?

For a few moments Henry told himself that he would send for Anne; he would blatantly make her his mistress and the whole Court—ay, and all his subjects too—must understand that he was the King, and when he ordered a man or woman to some duty they must obey him.

But such conduct would not fit the man his subjects believed him to be. He was uncertain. Always he thought of the cheering crowds who had come to life when he appeared; he remembered the sullen looks which had been thrown his father’s way. He remembered too the stories he had heard of his father’s struggle to take the throne. If he displeased the people they might remember that the Tudor ancestry was not as clean as it might be—and that there were other men who might be considered worthy to be Kings.

No. He would remain the public idol—perfect King and husband; but at the same time he would not allow any subject of his to dictate to him what should be done.

“My lord Buckingham,” he said, “you will leave Court. And you will not present yourself to me until I give you leave to do so.”

Buckingham bowed.

“You may go,” went on the King. “There is nothing more I have to say to you. I should advise you to be gone in an hour, for if I find you lingering after that I might not be so lenient.”

Buckingham retired, and the King paced up and down like a lion in a cage.

He summoned one of his pages to him and said: “Send for Lady Fitzwalter, I would have immediate speech with her.”

The page rushed to do his bidding and soon returned with Elizabeth Fitzwalter.

She looked disturbed, Henry was pleased to notice. A prim woman, he thought, with none of her sister’s voluptuousness. The sight of her reminded him of Anne, and he was furious once more to contemplate what he had lost.

“Lady Fitzwalter,” he said, “you are, I believe, one of the Queen’s women.”

She was bewildered. Surely he knew. He had seen her so often when he was in the Queen’s company.

“Did I say you are one of Her Grace’s women? It was a mistake, Lady Fitzwalter. I should have said you were .”

“Your Grace, have I offended…?”

“We do not discuss why we banish from our Court those who do not please us, Lady Fitzwalter. We merely banish.”

“Your Grace, I beg to…”

“You waste your time. You would beg in vain. Go back to your apartment and make all haste to leave Court. It is our wish that you are gone within the hour.”

The startled Lady Fitzwalter curtseyed and retired.

Henry stared at the door for a few minutes. He thought of voluptuous Anne and realized suddenly how urgently he desired a change, a new woman who was as different from his wife as could be.

Then he began to pace up and down again…a lion, not sure of his strength, but aware of the cage which enclosed him. The bars were strong, but his strength was growing. One day, he knew, he would break out of the cage. Then there would be nothing—no person on Earth to restrain him.

ELIZABETH FITZWALTER came unceremoniously into the apartment where the Queen sat sewing with Maria de Salinas.

Katharine looked with surprise at her lady-in-waiting, and when she saw how distraught Elizabeth was she rose quickly and went to her side.

“What has happened to disturb you so?” she asked.

“Your Grace, I am dismissed from the Court.”

“You, dismissed! But this is impossible! None has the authority to dismiss you but myself. Why…,” Katharine paused and a look of horror spread across her face. There was one other who had the power, of course.

Elizabeth met Katharine’s gaze, and Katharine read the truth there.

“But why?” demanded the Queen. “On what grounds? Why should the King dismiss you?”

“I find it hard to say, Your Grace. I am to leave at once. I have been told to make ready and go within the hour. I pray you give me leave to make ready.”

“But surely the King gave you a reason. What of your brother?”

“He has already gone, Your Grace; and my sister also.”

“So the King is displeased with all your family. I will go to see him. I will ask him what this means. He will keep nothing from me.”

Maria de Salinas, who loved Katharine sincerely and with a disinterested devotion, laid her hand on the Queen’s arm.

“Well, Maria?”

Maria looked helplessly at Elizabeth as though asking for permission to speak.

“What is it?” asked Katharine. “If it is something I should know, it is your duty to tell me.”

Neither of the women spoke, and it was as though each was waiting for the other to do so.

“I will go to the King,” said Katharine. “I will ask him what this means, for I see that you both know something which you believe you should keep from me.”

Maria said: “I must tell Her Grace. I think she should know.”

Katharine interrupted sternly: “Come Maria, enough of this. Tell me at once.”

“The Countess of Huntingdon has been taken away from Court by her husband and brother because they…they feared the King’s friendship.”

Katharine had grown pale. She was almost certain now that she was with child and had been wondering whether she could tell the King. She had looked forward to his pleasure and had told herself how thankful she should be to have such a faithful husband.

She looked from Maria to Elizabeth and her gaze was bewildered. The King’s friendship for a woman could surely mean only one thing.

But they must be mistaken. They had been listening to gossip. It was not true. He had always been faithful to her. He had firm notions on the sanctity of marriage: he had often told her so.

She said quietly: “Pray go on.”

“Sir William Compton acted as His Grace’s emissary in the matter,” said Elizabeth. “Francesca Carceres discovered what was happening and warned me. I told my brother and, as a result, my sister has been sent to a convent. But the King was displeased with my brother and myself.”

“I cannot believe this to be true.”

“Your Grace, pray sit down,” whispered Maria. “This has been a shock.”

“Yes,” said the Queen, “it has been a shock, a shock that such rumors can exist. I believe it all to be lies…lies.…”

Maria looked frightened. Elizabeth whispered: “Your Grace, give me leave to retire. I have to prepare with all speed to leave Court.”

“You shall not go, Elizabeth,” said Katharine. “I will speak to the King myself. There has been some terrible mistake. What you believe has happened is…an impossibility. I will go to him now. You will see, he will give me the explanation. I will tell him that I wish you to remain. That will suffice.”