Surrey thought of the endless strife Bess had caused between his parents. Was life worth the trouble it brought? he wondered.
He doubted it.
His sister came into the room and, throwing aside his lute, he rose to greet her.
“You have something to say to me, brother?”
“You grow more beautiful every day. Sit beside me, sister, and I will sing you my latest verses which I have set to music.”
Mary Howard, Duchess of Richmond, looked at him with sly amusement. She knew he had not asked her to visit him merely to hear his verses.
“I have a new poem,” he said. “Even the King has not heard it yet.”
She listened, but she was paying little attention to the words.
She could think of nothing but a certain handsome gentleman who dominated her thoughts and desires. It was long since Richmond had died that lingering death, and she wanted a husband. She had been fond of the young Duke—such a fine, handsome man, and the image of the King—until disease had claimed him. But what was her feeling for the Duke of Richmond compared with this passion which now obsessed her?
Her father had started it. He had said to her: “These Seymours are our enemies. Who are they, these upstart gentlemen? Miserable squires, claiming kinship with the King. Daughter, we cannot fight these mighty rivals, but we could link ourselves with them.”
“By marriage?” she had asked.
And then a great excitement had been hers, for there were only two brothers and the elder was married. It was the younger, the swaggering sailor, whom her father had in mind.
Sir Thomas! The merry twinkling eyes, the jaunty beard, the charm of the man! No sooner had her father spoken those words than she could think of nothing but marriage with Sir Thomas, and he had continued to dominate her thoughts.
Surrey dismissed his attendants.
“Well?” she said. “Your news?”
He smiled at her idly. “Sister, you are very beautiful.”
“So you have already said. There is no need to repeat it, though a compliment from a brother is to be cherished, as there is often plain speaking in families. What do you want of me?”
“I? Nothing. I have had thoughts.”
“And those thoughts?”
“They have taken Anne Askew to the Tower.”
“I know. She is a heretic. What has that to do with me?”
“I saw her… this very afternoon. She was sitting in the barge, her arms folded across her breast. She looked a veritable martyr, which I doubt not she will be ere long. Sister, what does this mean? Have you thought of that?”
“That another heretic is to pay the price of her folly and her treason to the King.”
“She is a great friend of the Queen’s, and yet they have dared to take her. Gardiner and the Chancellor are behind this, depend upon it. They would not dare to take the Queen’s great friend if they did not think her Majesty was out of favor with the King.”
“And what of this? We know what favor she enjoys. If he were his old self he would have had her head off by now, and doubtless that of some other lady who had been unfortunate enough to share his throne after her. But he is sick and she is a good nurse. So he keeps her beside him.”
“He is not always so sick. I have seen his eyes grow misty and his voice gruff with desire when a beautiful woman passes before him.”
“He is too old for such pleasures.”
“He will never believe he is too old. He has indulged in them too freely. There will always be his thoughts, his desires, his belief that his powers are not yet past.”
“And what would you say to me? Have you brought me here to tell me what the court knows already and has always known?”
“Nay. The Queen’s days are numbered. Poor Katharine Parr! I am sorry for her. She will go the way of others.” He smiled. “We should not be saddened. It is the fate that threatens us all. We should look on it stoically, for if it comes not today, then it may come tomorrow. The Queen’s place will be taken by another lady. Why not you, my sister?”
She was hot with anger. “You are asking me to be the seventh? To prepare myself for the ax?”
“Nay. Be not the seventh. Be the honored mistress. Smile on his Grace and do not say, ‘Your mistress I cannot be!’ as poor deluded fools have said before you. Say this: ‘Your mistress I will be.’ Thus you will keep alive his desire. You will rule him and bring our house back to the favor it once enjoyed.”
“How dare you talk to me in this manner! You shame me. You insult me. And the King…my own father-in- law!”
Surrey shrugged his shoulders. “You were the wife of his bastard son. There is no true relationship to him in that. Moreover it will not be necessary to get a dispensation from the Pope, for his Holiness no longer carries weight in this realm. The King would get dispensation from the King, and that should be an easy matter. The royal conscience would no doubt be appeased with the greatest ease, for I doubt not that though the King’s conscience is the master of the King’s desires, the King’s desires are so subtle that they will once more deceive the conscience.”
