The Sixth Wife_ The Story of Katherine P - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,49

to the little Prince, he would certainly blame the consort who had so far failed to provide him with another boy. Moreover, if the heir to the throne died, it would seem imperative that the King find a wife who could supply an heir.

What can I do? Katharine asked herself. Get him out of London to the country, or stay here? Which would be the greater risk?

Lady Jane Grey was watching her. The child was always watching her.

“What is it, Jane?” asked the Queen, laying her hands on the soft curls.

The little girl said: “Your Majesty is uneasy. I would I could do something to help.”

Katharine bent and kissed the pretty head. “You do much to help me with your presence,” she told Jane. “You are like my own child. I wish to God you were.”

“Is that what ails Your Majesty… that you have no children?”

Katharine did not answer. She bent swiftly and kissed the child again.

The wise little creature had struck right at the root of her fears. If she had a child, if she had a son, she would have no need to be continually in fear of losing her life. If Princess Elizabeth had been a boy, it might well have happened that Anne Boleyn would still be alive and on the throne.

Yes, that was the very root of her troubles. It was the old cry of “Sons!”

“Have you seen the Prince today, Jane?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And how was he?”

“He had the pain in his head and he was tired.”

Then Katharine made up her mind suddenly.

“Go to the Prince, Jane. Tell him we are leaving for the country. We leave this very day. Go, my dear, quickly. I wish to leave as soon as possible.”

KATHARINE WAS PROVED to be right in the action she had taken. The plague had died down with the passing of the hot weather, and the little Prince’s health was no worse than it had been before his father left England.

Katharine had been fortunate during those months of the regency. Might it not be that fortune had decided to favor her? She was full of hope.

The King came home not altogether displeased with the way affairs had gone abroad. He had taken Boulogne; but it was not long before he and Charles had fallen out. They had been uneasy allies. The enemy was a common one, but the motives of the two allies were quite different. Henry wished to force the French to abandon Scotland to the might of England; Charles wished François to give up his claim to Milan and his help to the German Princes. The Emperor, convinced that Henry’s possession of the town of Boulogne would satisfy him, and that having achieved it he would desert his ally, made a secret peace with the French. Henry was furious. The French and the Spaniards were now allies, and England was their enemy. It was necessary for him to return to England, for there was a possibility that the French might attempt an invasion of his island. This he did, leaving Boulogne heavily fortified. Yet, he was not displeased. He had set out to capture Boulogne and he had captured the town; he swore to keep it, no matter at what cost.

There had been great rejoicing at the capture of Boulogne all through the country, and the King returned, a conquering hero.

The journey across the water had not improved his health. The sores on his leg were spreading; the other leg had become infected; and both were so swollen that it was difficult for him to move about his apartments. A chair on wheels was made for him, and this had to be pushed about by his attendants and carried up staircases.

All this did not improve the royal temper; yet again Katharine realized that his infirmity made her more important to him, and her position seemed less precarious than it had before he left the country. She was once more his sweetheart and his little pig; as he told her, none could dress his legs as she could.

“We missed you on our journeyings,” he said. “None but clumsy oafs to bandage me! I said: ‘I’ll not stray far from my Queen again!’ And I meant it, sweetheart. Aye! I meant it.”

Then would come those days when he would feel better and could walk with the aid of a stick. It was the well-remembered routine. There would be feasting and music; and the King would grow mellow and glance with appreciation at the more