He wanted to dislike Elizabeth, but he found that impossible, since to do so would be tantamount to disliking himself.
“Well… fostering friendship?” he asked.
Katharine spoke. “We were friends already, Your Majesty.”
“It pleases me to hear that.” He smiled, reminding his conscience that he was above all things a benign parent who had chosen a wife, not for carnal pleasures, but because he wished to benefit his children. He gazed at her and was pleased with what he saw. Her bodice of cloth of gold was a pleasant change after her widow’s black. The bodice fitted tightly, showing her neat but womanly figure, and at her throat glowed the great ruby which he had given her.
A comely Queen! he reflected. A good stepmother into the bargain. Not too old to have sons of her own. She was a healthy woman, small but sturdy. She would have sons. And he would be looking to her to provide him with one very soon.
He signed for his chair, and one of the attendants hurried to place it for him. He made his son come to him and he questioned the boy as to his studies. He placed his great hand on the small head.
“You must be healthy,” he said. “When I was your age I was twice your size.”
“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon for my size,” said the boy. “I ride every day, as did Your Majesty at my age, and I jump and run.”
“You’re a good boy,” said Henry. “But I should like to see you grow somewhat faster.”
He would like to hear the boy read to him in French and Latin, he said; and books were brought; but while the Prince stood at his father’s knee and read aloud, the King was watching the others, who stood, without speaking, in his presence.
This boy is all I have, he reflected sorrowfully. Oh Jane, why did you not live to give me more? And healthy ones too. His breathing’s bad, and he’s too thin. I’ll see his cook this very day. He shall be made to eat. He shall be made to grow strong and lusty.
This boy and two girls…a pretty state of affairs! He remembered his son, Richmond, and the delight he had felt when that boy had been born, proclaiming his father’s manhood to the world; for he had feared, before the birth of Richmond, that he could not beget a son. Then Richmond had died that horrible, lingering death.
Henry was afraid that the small child at his knee might go the way of Richmond. Mary had managed to cling to life, but he felt that that had been something like a miracle. Elizabeth alone seemed capable of living to the normal span. He wished there was some magician at his court who could change the sex of the girl. Ha! What an achievement that would be. If Elizabeth could be changed to a boy he would make her heir to the throne, by God he would!
But there was no one who could perform such a miracle, and he felt that it was cruel that it must be Anne’s girl who should claim his attention, whom he should long to make his successor. He had always believed that Anne might have the power to mock him from the grave.
Then he contemplated his Queen again. He had a good wife. She was small and dainty and he would like her better when her body broadened with his child. Well, it was early yet, but perhaps this time next year there would be another Tudor Prince to delight his heart.
“Have done,” he said to Edward. “Have done. Your reading’s good. I’ll compliment your tutor instead of berating him. And how do you like your new mother, eh?”
“Sire, I love her dearly.”
“That is well.” He touched the boy’s cheek with his sparkling forefinger. “More spots, eh?”
“They came only today,” explained the Prince apologetically. “I feel in very good health, Sire.”
“That is well.”
He rose painfully and Katharine came forward to help him. “Good Kate. I rejoice to see you here. Now help me back to my apartment.”
He took her arm and leaned alternately on her and on his stick.
When they were in the royal apartments he said: “The Prince looks poorly. My only son. I would I had a dozen more to follow him.” He pinched her cheek. “We’ll get ourselves a son, eh? We’ll get ourselves a son, Kate, my little pig.”
This, she brooded, is the height of royal favor. The King calls me his “pig” and asks for sons. If I provide them I shall continue to be his pig. If not…?
Why should she not have a child? She longed for a child. Some of the wise women said that those who longed for children most easily conceived them. And yet how those unfortunate Queens must have longed for sons!
She refused to be depressed. She had her friends about her—her dearest sister Anne and her beloved stepdaughter, Margaret Neville. She had her dear Nan with her, and Nan would serve her faithfully as long as they lived. And she had her new stepchildren, who had received her with warmth; and at the moment she was the King’s little pig.
“My lord,” she said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
He surveyed her benignly. He wished her to know that, being pleased with her, he was in the mood to grant favors.
“Well, Kate, speak up. What is this favor?”
“It concerns your daughters. It is one of my dearest wishes to see them reinstated at court. My lord, I cannot help but feel that it is wrong that they should not be recognized as royal Princesses.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know what I suffered through their mothers. Mary’s a bastard. You know that. And so is Elizabeth.”
“But were you not married to the Lady Elizabeth’s mother?”
