Katherine the Queen: The Remarkable Life of Katherine Parr
Read Katherine the Queen: The Remarkable Life of Katherine Parr Online
Authors: Linda Porter
INDA
P
ORTER
The Remarkable Life of Katherine Parr
MACMILLAN
For Anna
To be useful in all I do
Katherine Parr’s motto as queen
T
HE
N
ORTHERN
I
NHERITANCE
, 1512–1529
One
– The Courtiers of the White Rose
Seven
– The Queen and Her Court
W
HITEHALL
P
ALACE
, 28 J
ANUARY
1547
The queen did not detect any difference in the atmosphere of the palace when she awoke in her apartments on a cold winter’s morning. The days were just beginning to lengthen slightly, with the promise that the dreariest part of the season was passing. But still she had not seen her husband. Almost two months had gone by. It was early December when they parted, after the autumn hunting. He told her there was urgent business to attend to, but she could see the severity of his illness and sensed that he was keeping her at a distance while he prepared for the government that would come after him.
So, for the first time since her marriage, Katherine and the court spent Christmas at Greenwich without the king. Mary, her elder stepdaughter, accompanied her and they tried to make the best of the seasonal diversions – music, song and play-acting. Henry’s absence, though, was keenly felt. It was hard to be merry when kept in ignorance of what was really happening. The king’s determination to exclude the two women affected Katherine more than it did Mary. The eldest of the king’s children knew, far better than the queen, what it was like to be put aside. She had spent three years in disgrace and banishment. Long since, she had learned to accept, if not approve, her father’s actions. But Mary, like Katherine, was well aware that a great change was
coming. It was not one she particularly feared, since it would bring her freedom, or so she hoped.
But for Katherine this anxious time was only the culmination of a difficult and unnerving year. The halcyon early days of her marriage had begun to seem far behind her in the summer of 1546, when she was afraid that she had lost the affection of her husband and might be in great danger. There were those among his ministers who whispered against her, quite prepared to sacrifice her in the struggle between the supporters of the old and new religious ideas. Henry’s health declined dramatically at that time, and he became more cunning and unpredictable. Almost too late, she realized that he disapproved heartily of her writing, was irritated by her conversation and opinions, disappointed (as was she) by her childlessness. She had been too confident in her influence over him. All that was over now. They had kissed and made up. His indulgence and generosity returned and, as if to recompense her for her demotion to being merely his consort, no longer his close adviser, he filled her wardrobes and jewel-caskets with all the finest things that money could buy. Katherine was reassured, at least for her personal safety, but she was not fooled.
She was relieved to be allowed to return to Whitehall in the second week of January, knowing that at least she would be in the same palace as her husband. But he did not send for her; her enquiries were politely but firmly turned aside. And yet, given her positive and outgoing nature, hope had never entirely gone away. She knew that her period as regent in 1544 had been a success and she still expected to be appointed to that role for her young stepson when the unmentionable did finally happen and Henry left this life. Edward would need her greatly then, to protect him from the greedy and ambitious men raised up by his father, who all looked, in one way or another, to improve their position. She believed the boy would trust her, since she was the only mother he had ever known. The other marriages were so brief that her predecessors had not established any place in the child’s affections, while she was secure in his devotion, at least.
They exchanged letters regularly, but her most recent one to him, while reminding him of his father’s virtues, made no mention of the king’s physical condition. Edward was at Hertford Castle with Elizabeth, and Katherine knew better than to raise alarm.
The worries, though, remained. She was not the prince’s natural mother and the Seymour brothers, his uncles, were clearly manoeuvring for power. The elder, Edward, earl of Hertford, was said to be closeted almost permanently with the king, the chief of the coterie that had made an impenetrable ring around her husband. They ensured that access to the king was closely controlled, and she was not included in their counsel. She knew all these men, of course, and their wives. Sitting in her own apartments were the ladies of her court whose husbands would, in all probability, decide her future. She would not reveal anything to them and, besides, she doubted that they knew anything of material importance. Except, perhaps, for Anne Seymour, who was finding it hard to conceal a very slight air of triumphant satisfaction. Katherine did not like this over-confident woman – few did, except for Mary – and she sensed that the countess expected further elevation for her husband. But these things were never discussed in the open. The household’s daily routine of morning prayers, scripture reading, needlework and musical entertainment continued as smoothly as ever. Katherine was queen of England and attended as such. Even if some thought her days as Henry’s wife would soon be past, nothing was said. Only to the women of her immediate family, her sister and cousin, could she give vent to her dissatisfaction and frustration. Their constant advice was to be patient and she could not disagree.
Sometimes, she thought of Thomas Seymour, Hertford’s younger brother, the suitor she had been required to abandon when the king made his own intentions plain. Tom was still unmarried, despite the renewed attempt last summer to forge a marital alliance between the Seymours and the Howards. Would he renew his wooing when she herself was once more a widow,
and, if so, how might she respond? As queen regent, she could probably not afford to indulge her own desires, though he might be a useful ally as well as a handsome bedfellow.
In Katherine’s more optimistic moments, with her dogs at her feet beside the hearth, she did not abandon the belief that Henry would, yet again, keep death at bay for a while. The summons would come at last and she would, once more, be enfolded in that massive bulk, his beloved Kate, as she had been that July day in 1543 when she became his sixth wife. Despite her anguish and misgivings when she succumbed to family pressures and accepted the king’s proposal – for who, as had been made quite clear to her, could refuse their sovereign? – she was bound to acknowledge to herself that she enjoyed being Henry VIII’s queen. His loss would diminish her status unless she secured the regency immediately. The uncertainty over her position once the old king was gone would not go away, however brave a face she presented to her ladies.
After she had risen and dressed, then worshipped and breakfasted, she learned of a rumour that Dr Cranmer had been summoned to see the king late the previous night from his house south of London. It crossed her mind to send for Cranmer, on the pretext of discussing religion, but he was her husband’s servant first, not hers, and she knew Cranmer well enough to realize that she would get no confidence out of him that touched on secret matters of state. Meanwhile, everything, so it appeared, continued as normal in the functioning of the king’s Privy Chamber. His advisers came and went, and meals were still being taken in and out at the appointed hour, with due fanfare and ceremony. Yet something told her that the tidings she so dreaded to hear could not be long delayed.
