In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,35

quote the scriptures. That cannot be ignored. I vow my desire is to tell them to hold their peace … to leave us … but I cannot do that, Kate. My conscience…it plagues me… night and day it asks me to stop and consider. I am committing a sin in the eyes of God.”

“Your conscience must have been troubling you for some time,” said my mother coldly, “regarding Bessie Blount and Mary Boleyn.”

“Oh come, come, such talk does no good. It was that fellow Tarbes… that monstrous suggestion about our daughter.”

“It is unforgivable.”

“Unforgivable… but is it true, Kate? Think of what has happened to us. We have been denied that which we most desire…a son, Kate. God has made it clear that He is displeased. Every time…every time…”

“We have our dear daughter.”

“Yes…yes… and none dearer…a cherished child, but a girl, Kate. A girl… when the country needs a man to follow me.”

“There have been worthy queens.”

“A queen cannot lead an army.”

“I was your regent while you were in France.”

“My mother did, and a good one, too. Ah, Kate, if only this man had not raised that question! It is too late now for us to get sons. My concern for your health…”

“And your desire for a new wife.”

“You joke. You know that is not my desire… though I could be forced to it… for the people, Kate, for the sake of the country… for the hope of a son.”

“And to satisfy your own desire.”

“For a son, Kate, only for a son. By God's Holy Blood, I would He had granted us a son… just one healthy son… and I would shake my fist at this Tarbes and anyone who dares raise such a question. I would not have it.”

“Yet you will,” said my mother softly.

“If I could quieten my conscience…if I could turn my face from the truth…I would be the happiest man on Earth.”

“You need not concern yourself, for it is lies. I was never Arthur's wife.”

“If I could but ease my conscience…”

I was almost on the point of dashing into the room and shouting at him, “Stop it. Stop talking of your conscience. We know too much. It is not your conscience you must appease but your desire for a new wife.”

I stood uncertain for a moment but I knew I must not betray my presence. I wondered what would happen if he knew that I had listened to their conversation, that I knew he was living a lie, that he wanted this divorce. He wanted to be rid of my mother even though I should be proclaimed illegitimate.

He was untrue to us and to himself.

I could not bear to hear him mention his conscience once more. I crept silently out of the ante-room and made my way to my bedchamber.

NOW THAT I SAW my father afresh, I placed myself firmly on my mother's side. My father had said they should no longer live together, for he feared it was sin in the eyes of Heaven. His talk about his conscience had seemed to me so blatantly insincere; and I had heard the whispers about Anne Boleyn. As she was at Court, one of my mother's women, I saw her now and then. She fascinated me. She scintillated and dazzled all those about her. She was surrounded by the wittiest of the young men, all the poets and the musicians; she planned the masques; laughter rang out round her; and the King wanted all the time to be close to her.

I was deeply aware of her blinding brilliance, her quick wits, her sharp, clever face. It frightened me. My tenderness for my mother was almost painful. I would sit and watch her sad, sad face and feel sick at heart. I longed beyond everything to comfort her.

Once she caught me looking at her and, taking my hand, she smiled at me.

“You must not grieve, dearest child,” she said. “It may not come to pass, you know. He cannot put me away from him. I am his true wife. Moreover I am the daughter of a great King and Queen. They are both dead now, it is true, but I am still a Princess of Spain as well as a Queen of England.”

“The Emperor would not allow it to happen,” I said confidently.

“I think you are right.”

“Does he know of it? It is called the King's Secret Matter, so it must be secret to some.”

“It is not easy to keep such secrets. The Court knows what is happening. In