The Sixth Wife_ The Story of Katherine P - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,46

the King regretted his marriage. When Henry the Eighth started to regret a marriage he was already looking for a new wife.

Everyone at court now knew how the picture was being painted; all had heard of the spectral Queen.

Gardiner and Wriothesley congratulated each other. Now was surely the time to strike.

Cranmer and Hertford were watchful of Gardiner and Wriothesley. Katharine’s closest friends were nervous. As for Katharine herself, she thought constantly of her predecessors who had walked out to Tower Green and died there, for she felt her time was near.

The bells rang jubilantly: Sons… sons… sons….

And all through the court there was tension and a sense of waiting.

FATE, IN THE GUISE of War, distracted Henry’s attention.

There had for some months been trouble in Scotland. It was Henry’s dearest wish that his son should marry Mary, the baby Queen of Scots, and so bring Scotland and England under one crown. This the French King wished to oppose with all his might. François planned to remove the child and bring her up at his court as the future wife of his eldest son. He had sent ships and supplies to Scotland, and the Scots thereupon repudiated the promises they had made to Henry and began to negotiate with France.

Henry’s great ideal was a British Empire; he realized that a marriage between Scotland and France would make this impossible. He decided therefore that the only course open to him at this stage was a war on two fronts.

The Emperor Charles had been seeking England as an ally against France, and Henry decided to join forces with the Spaniard. He had sent troops to the north of France under Thomas Seymour and Sir John Wallop; he was sending his brother-in-law the Earl of Hertford to Scotland. Henry decided that he himself would go to France for the attack; he and the Emperor planned to meet triumphantly in Paris when that city fell to them.

Temporarily Henry had ceased to think of a seventh wife.

There must be a Regent in England, and if his wife had ceased to appeal to him as a bedfellow, nevertheless he could trust her to act in his name during his absence. With Cranmer and Hertford to help her, he decided he could safely leave England and cross with his Army to France.

Thus on a July day he set out for Dover and reached Calais in safety.

While deeply aware of the immense responsibility which now rested upon her, and aware also of what reward would be hers if she failed in her duty, Katharine could feel nothing but relief. After all, when one was married to a man who had murdered two wives and terrified and humiliated three others, one must be prepared for alarms; and it was possible, if not to feel contempt for death, to be less unnerved by the contemplation of it.

He had gone; and she was free, if only for a little while. She rejoiced in secret.

He had parted from her with loving assurances of his devotion, but before he had left he had given her a special charge with regard to Prince Edward.

“We cannot get ourselves another son,” he had said reproachfully, “so we must guard well him whom we have.”

When he had kissed her fondly she had known he was thinking: A whole year and no sign of a son! Doubtless, as he crossed the Channel under his sails of cloth of gold, he was telling himself that he was a patient man and that a year was a very long time to wait for the sign of a son.

One day when she was with the children, superintending their studies, word was brought to her that a lady had presented herself at court and, stating that she was a friend of the Queen, asked if an audience might be granted her.

Katharine bade the messenger say that as soon as she was free she would see the lady; and shortly afterward there was brought to her a young woman, tall and slender, a pale primrose of a woman, with golden hair, and deep blue eyes in which seemed to burn an emotion not of this world.

“Your dearest Majesty …” The young woman knelt before the Queen.

“Why, Anne! It is Anne Askew. Though I suppose I should call you Mistress Kyme now that you have married. Rise, my dear Anne. I would hear your news.”

“Pray call me Anne Askew, Your Majesty, as you did in the old days, for that is how I wish to be