The Sixth Wife_ The Story of Katherine P - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,19
was grateful by nature; and when he was King of England he would be very kind to his favorite uncle.
When he took leave of them all, he whispered to Elizabeth: “I would like to see green emeralds adorning that head. But in place of green emeralds, green ribands might serve.”
Now she would know, when she received the ribands, from her brother, who had supplied the money with which to buy them. The sly creature knew of most things that went on at court and would know, of course, that his uncle supplied the Prince with money now and then.
He was thoughtful as he went back to his apartments. He saw himself as the favored of the gods. He had been endowed with all the graces and it was so easy for him to win the love of his nephew. He was indeed fond of children. Ambitious as he was, ready to be unscrupulous, he could yet find great pleasure in the society of the young. He loved them all, Jane, Edward and Elizabeth…Elizabeth most of all. He was in love with Elizabeth. He was in love with Katharine. He was fond of the Prince and Jane. When he spoke honeyed words to Kate he meant them; when his eyes shone with silent admiration of Elizabeth he sincerely felt that admiration. When he curried favor with the boy who would one day be King, he was sharing amusement, delighting himself as well as the boy.
It seemed to him that he was the darling of the gods and that they intended him for greatness. He was certain of ultimate success with the Princess Elizabeth; he felt sure she would one day be Queen of England and he saw no reason why the man who married her should not be the King.
Stranger things had happened. Look how Fate had pointed a finger at his shy sister Jane and made a Queen of her!
Fortune was undoubtedly smiling on the Seymours. If it had denied him the warm and cozy comfort he might have found with Kate, perhaps that was merely because it was saving for him a more exciting life to be shared with the Princess.
While Seymour pondered thus, Elizabeth’s thoughts were of Seymour.
THE KING FELT sleepily content. He had dined well on good roast beef, venison, and pies of various sorts; he had drunk deeply; he had listened to music and felt temporarily at peace.
His leg pained him less on this day and he was ready to believe that the new remedies would prove efficacious, although common sense reminded him that he had been trying new remedies for years without avail. There were times when the pain in his leg was so acute that his face became purple, then gray, and he could not suppress his cries of agony.
But now the bandages seemed less irksome and consequently he was less exhausted. He had hobbled into the musicroom to hear some verses of Surrey’s, and he was determined not to like them even before that arrogant young man had opened his mouth to recite them. He did not care for anything Surrey wrote, for Surrey himself was a source of anxiety to him.
By God, he mused, as he watched him now, a little more of the fellow’s arrogance and I’ll have him clapped into the Tower. What airs! What manners! And some would doubtless say: What beauty! Have I not suffered enough from these Howards? Anne was connected with them; that witch, that sorceress who deceived me into believing she could give me a son—and deceived me with others too! Then…young Catharine…
But he could not bear to think of Catharine. That affair was too recent and he had not had time to grow out of love with her. But nevertheless she also was a Howard. She had belonged to that accursed line.
He must not get overheated. His doctors had told him that. If he did, it would be necessary to apply the leeches again. No! He must think of pleasanter things than the Howards. There was Lady Latimer, looking fair enough, but sitting too far away from him.
He roared: “Bring Lady Latimer’s chair closer to mine. I would talk with her.”
She came slowly behind the men who had carried her chair. She drew it slightly back before she said: “Have I Your Majesty’s permission to sit?”
“You have it,” he answered, reaching for the chair and bringing it closer. “You must not be overawed, Lady Latimer, because we like to talk to you.”