Love, Remember Me (45 page)

"You have children, madame. Remember them, should you be tempted to any foolish behavior," he warned her.

"Touch my babies," she snarled, her eyes blazing her hatred, "and I will kill you myself! If you would feel safe from me, then see Cat does not importune her husband to prevent our leaving court to go home. Remember, the king promised we could leave before Christmas." Then she left him to attend to his fallen companion.

Nyssa hurried back to where the faint lights of the encampment burned. With shaking fingers she fastened her bodice up. Her cloak? Oh, God! She had left her cloak behind, but she would not go back for it. Only Tillie would know it was missing, and then when the tiring woman helped her undress, she would also notice the torn chemise and her lack of drawers. Nyssa knew that Tillie would have to be told, and indeed warned about Tom Culpeper and Sir Cynric Vaughn, lest they try to reach her the next time through her maidservant. Dear heaven! Did the queen have any idea of the kind of man Culpeper was? Nyssa doubted it. All Cat could see was a handsome young lover with bonnie blue eyes.

T
HE
progress moved southward, passing through Collyweston and Amphill, arriving at Windsor on the twenty-sixth day of October.

Windsor Castle had been begun by William the Conqueror. Originally of earth and timber construction, it sat atop the ruins of an old Saxon hall. It had been erected to stand guard over the Thames River valley. Over the centuries, the English kings had favored it because of the good hunting in the vicinity. The wood defenses of the castle were redone in stone during the reign of Henry II. Henry III finished the stone walls and added towers. Edward III turned the castle into a magnificent residence, and there founded the Order of the Garter, which embodied the ideals of King Arthur's Round Table.

The original ancient chapel was tumbling down by the time Edward IV became king. He began its replacement, but it was Henry VII who saw that the nave was completed, and his son, Henry VIII, who built the choir. The king's beloved wife, Queen Jane, was buried in the chapel at Windsor. Henry himself intended to rest there by her side eventually. The king loved Windsor, and had loved it since his boyhood. The years had seen many changes since the young, handsome prince had come to Windsor to sport himself in all manner of athletic competitions. Still, at Windsor, particularly after a long and trying progress, Henry felt young again, despite the toll that time had taken on him. Many in the court watched amazed as the king's bed, eleven feet square, was brought into the castle. Henry himself could no longer manage the stairs easily, and used a rope and pulley system to haul himself up the steep steps.

At the banquet their second night at Windsor the Earl of March managed to gain the king's ear, and asked his permission to depart for his own home with his wife.

The king, mellow with good wine, and feeling particularly sentimental, said, "I know I promised Nyssa you might go before Christmas, but stay with us until Twelfth Night, my lord. Your wife loves to be at her beloved
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for the holidays, even as her mother did in her youth, but I realize that once I let you return, you will not come back to court again. Nyssa is a country mouse like Blaze was. It would seem that you, Varian de Winter, are every bit as much a country mouse as your wife. I could see it this summer on our progress. Your interest seemed to lie more in the species of sheep and cattle we traveled by, than in the deer we stalked." He chuckled. "I will not insist upon your coming again, but stay with us until Twelfth Night." Henry Tudor turned to his wife and asked, "You would like that, would you not, my precious sweetheart?" He placed a wet kiss upon her mouth.

"Aye, my lord," the queen said agreeably. "Please stay, cousin, and convince Nyssa not to fuss at me because I want her here awhile longer." Catherine Howard smiled sweetly at Varian, and he could see how easily the king was taken in by her. She looked so wholesome, and seemed so loving to him.

"Pray God she is not caught in her adultery until after we have left court," Nyssa said to her husband when he told her of his conversation with the monarch and his wife. She knew there was no use in railing to Varian that the king had broken his promise to her. One thing was certain. Cat obviously knew nothing of her lover's vicious attack upon her at Kettleby. Had the queen known, she would have not been so anxious for her to stay. At least Culpeper and Sin Vaughn had kept out of her way since that night. Sir Cynric had appeared the next morning sporting a rather nasty black and blue bruise about the size of a lemon just beneath his chin. He had, he claimed, fallen out of bed.

They hunted in the New Forest for the next few days. The king was in his element. There was nothing he loved better than being ahorse, chasing a stag. Each night the banquet hall rang with merriment as the court ate, drank, and danced. The lady Anne arrived from Richmond. Although she would have dearly loved to have gone on the progress, she had remained home in order that Catherine would not have to share the limelight.

She greeted Nyssa effusively, hugging her friend warmly. "Vas it a vunderful progress?" she demanded. "Ach! How I envy you."

"I would that you had been able to go in my place, dear madame," Nyssa told her former mistress. "I should have far preferred to remain at Winterhaven with my babies. When we left, they had each sprouted two little teeth on the bottom, and two top ones were beginning to come in as well. The king will not let us go home until after Twelfth Night. I shall miss Christmas at
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again. It will be the third year in a row." She sighed deeply.

"One Christmas you must haf your Mama ask me to
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," Anne said. "I am curious to experience this vunderful time you speak so happily of, Nyssa. But this year ve must content ourselves vith Christmas at Hampton Court. Last year no one knew quite vhat to do vith me. I am glad ve vill be together this year."

They would travel from Windsor to Hampton Court in barges upon the river. After four months on the road, everyone had spent more than enough time on horseback. Barge and living assignments were arranged by the king's household staff ahead of time so that everyone would know precisely where they were to go. To Nyssa's surprise, they found themselves traveling with the Duke of Norfolk.

As they entered his barge, he gave her a courtly bow and an amused smile. "I realize your antipathy toward me, madame, but I wish to visit with my grandson, and this opportunity cannot be overlooked. Besides, Hampton Court will be so crowded with courtiers that you will be forced to accept my hospitality there."

"After three months on the road, my lord, I should accept the devil's own hospitality," she said to him, knowing that he was really being very generous to them. Without him they might have ended up sleeping in a room with another couple, or separated into male and female dormitories.

"Are you certain, madame, that I am not the devil?" He chuckled.

"Nay, my lord, I am not," she replied pertly.

He laughed again, and his long face looked young again for a moment, free of all its cares. If he only knew what I know, Nyssa thought, but then he turned to speak with her husband. Nyssa settled herself comfortably back on the velvet bench with its high back, and watched the river go by. It was November first, and the day was gray and chill. Tillie and the other servants had gone overland to Hampton Court with the vehicles, leaving earlier that morning.

Nyssa smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her orange-tawny velvet gown. She had had to dress elegantly because the king had announced that as soon as everyone reached Hampton Court, they would be expected to join him in the chapel for a service of thanksgiving for their safe return, and for his wonderful queen. He had told them this the previous evening, and the queen had beamed proudly by his side. Nyssa would have felt better if she had known that the queen had ceased her adulterous activities, but she knew that Cat had not. Lady Rochford was always hovering about her mistress, whispering words to the queen that no one else could hear, which usually brought a blush to her fair cheeks.

Tom Culpeper, it seemed to Nyssa, was growing more arrogant with every passing day. The queen's secretary, Francis Dereham, a man with a very black, nasty temper, had twice gotten into a match of fisticuffs with the handsome courtier. Fortunately the king had not been about, for fighting before the king was a serious offense. The higher in the queen's favor that Culpeper's star rose, however, the more openly jealous Dereham became. Several of the queen's ladies were heard to remark on it, for Dereham treated Catherine Howard with more familiarity than he should have treated his queen.

It was obvious to Nyssa that Cat was still seriously involved with Tom Culpeper. She was beginning to wonder if anyone else suspected the queen's wicked little secret. Her eye wandered to the barge just ahead. It was the royal barge, and the king and queen had entered it this morning smiling and cooing at each other like newlyweds.

They were close enough that Nyssa could see them through the glass windows of the barge cabin. They had not bothered to draw the curtains to ensure their privacy. She could see the queen seated upon the king's lap, laughing into his face, and Nyssa flushed, wondering if they were doing what she thought they were doing. Remembering what the queen had told her, and seeing the lustful look on Henry Tudor's face, she knew she was correct. Catherine Howard was shameless. She truly believed that as long as she did not get caught with her lover, and pleased her husband, it was all right. Nyssa turned away. She sighed deeply. It would be another two months before they could leave court. She prayed the winter would not be severe, and that the roads to Winterhaven would be open to them.

Along the riverbanks people stood waving to the court as they passed by. How glamorous and how exciting it must look to those good souls, Nyssa thought. How excited she had once been to come to London and be a part of it all. Familiarity with the dark side of the court certainly had dimmed her enthusiasm.

CHAPTER 14

T
HOMAS
Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was known to be a gentle man. He had not, to his immense relief, been required to go upon the king's summer progress. The archbishop stood more with the Reformation than with orthodox Catholicism. The young queen and her family espoused orthodoxy. The archbishop had looked forward to a quiet summer of prayer, meditation, and visits to little Prince Edward, who had also been left behind. The king's heir was considered too tender to be exposed to so long a trip.

And the summer had gone exactly as the archbishop had anticipated. There were no crises. There was no king suffering from a troubled conscience, which usually meant he wanted to rid himself of a wife. It had been absolute bliss until his secretary announced one day that a John Lascelles sought an audience with the archbishop to discuss a most important matter.

Thomas Cranmer knew all about John Lascelles. He was a fanatic. A reformer. A man who had absolutely no fear of the heretic's fire because he believed his view of God and the Church was the correct one. The archbishop sensed that Lascelles's visit portended trouble, but God only knew what he would do or to whom he would go next if Thomas Cranmer did not see him. The king and the court would be back within a few weeks' time. Better to get this over with and send Lascelles back to obscurity.

The archbishop sighed deeply and said to his secretary, "Is he waiting outside, Robert?" Of course he was.

"Aye, Your Grace, he is," the young priest replied.

Another sigh. "Very well, then, I will see him now."

The archbishop's secretary smiled sympathetically at his master, saying, "I will bring him in, my lord."

Lascelles bustled in, filled with great self-importance. "My lord archbishop, I thank you for seeing me so quickly," he said, bowing.

The archbishop's secretary discreetly withdrew.

"Sit down, sir," Thomas Cranmer said, "and speak your peace."

Lascelles seated himself and began. "I have information of a most delicate and possibly dangerous nature, my lord. It concerns the queen." Lascelles paused to take a breath, for his words had come out in a great rush with his eagerness.

I do not want to hear this, the archbishop thought to himself. The king is happy. Whatever this man says will make the king unhappy. Have we not had enough difficulties with wives, dear Lord? Must Henry Tudor and England suffer further? He looked directly at Lascelles. "Say on, sir, but be advised if this is merely tittle-tattle, or idle gossip, I shall have you beaten from my palace. I know the direction in which you go. I have not time for foolishness."

"I regret, my lord," Lascelles said, "that what I have to say is truth." Master Lascelles went on to tell the archbishop a tale told him by his sister, Mistress Mary Hall, a chamberer in the household of the old dowager duchess of Norfolk. Mistress Hall had known Catherine Howard since she came into the care of the duke. She had been very involved in raising the girl, and was deeply fond of her. The picture Lascelles painted of the young queen's youth was not, however, a pretty one.

"Is your sister a woman given to gossip, Master Lascelles?" Thomas Cranmer asked sternly when his visitor had concluded his tale. The charges made by this man were very serious indeed.

"My sister is a good Christian woman, Your Grace. It is not in her nature to lie. Besides, there were others in the dowager's household, now members of the queen's household, who were also privy to the lady Catherine's bad behavior. If asked under oath, they would testify to my sister's veracity and the queen's youthful misbehavior."

"I will hear no more from you today, Master Lascelles. I wish to speak with your sister, Mistress Hall. You but repeat that which you say she has told you. She is the witness to the facts of this matter. Bring her to me tomorrow, and I will examine her," Thomas Cranmer said.

John Lascelles arose from his seat and bowed to the churchman. "I will bring Mary to you in the morning, my lord," he promised.