“Oh God!” cried Anne. “It has come. It has come then.” She kept staring at the paper; she longed to tell herself that her eyes had deceived her, that fear and anger had made her see what was not there. But she knew that her eyes were not deceived. She cried out angrily: “Wriothesley has done this. He… and Gardiner. I would it were in my power to kill them!”
“But it is not in your power,” said Katharine wildly. “It is they who have the power. It is they who plan to kill me.”
“Nan saw this mandate for your arrest. She has endangered her life by bringing it to you. There are many who love you, Kate. Remember that. Remember it, dearest sister. Wriothesley was on his way to the King. He would have done his best to persuade His Majesty to sign.”
Katharine’s laughter seemed to fill the apartment. “Did you not see then? Did you not see it, Anne?”
Anne stared at her sister.
“The King!” cried Katharine wildly. “The King
Katharine walked to the window and looked out over the gardens where the red and white roses were lifting their faces to the hot sunshine.
She whispered: “I shall go down to the river. I shall take boat to the Tower. I shall enter by the Traitors’ Gate. That which I have dreaded so long is about to take place. Can aught prevent it? Oh, Thomas…we could have been happy together, you and I. But ’t was not to be so. I might not be your wife, for I must be a Queen. Often I have wondered about those who went before me, who enjoyed royal favor and who suffered royal displeasure. I have no need to wonder now.” She turned to her sister. “Do not weep for me, Anne. The shadow has grown large above me. I have seen it grow. Sweet sister, I am no lighthearted girl to imagine that the way which was so thorny for some would be smooth for me.”
“Katharine…perchance this is not the end.”
The Queen shook her head slowly. “This much I know: You spoke truth when you said that the King put a ring of doom about me when he placed the nuptial ring on my finger. None may share the throne of Henry of England and escape disaster. Mine closes in upon me now.”
Anne Herbert watched the Queen with wide and terrified eyes. That calmness would break, she knew; and then what would happen?
“Save her,” prayed Anne. “Save her. Death should not come to her so soon. She is young; she is sweet and kind and has never willingly harmed any. Oh God, let her live. Let her have a chance of happiness. She is not meant for death… not yet, dear Lord, not yet.”
And the Queen stood long at the window, looking out on the white and red roses of York and Lancaster blooming side by side within the Tudor fence.
THE QUEEN LAY on her bed. Her ladies had drawn the curtains, but the sound of her unrestrained sobbing could be heard even in the adjoining apartments.
A familiar sound within these walls—a Queen’s sobbing! The gallery was haunted by the sound of another Queen’s cries—those of the fifth Queen. How could the sixth Queen hope to evade the fate of the others?
“What means it?” asked the gentlemen of the King’s bedchamber when they heard the sound of the Queen’s distress.
“What has happened? Something of which we have not yet heard?”
They could guess what was about to happen. Had it not happened to others?
How far would this go? Would this mean the end of others besides the Queen? The Seymours seemed strong, but would the downfall of the Queen mean the downfall of their party? Those with Protestant leanings would have to take care, for if the King had decided to rid himself of the Queen, he must show less favor to her party. The King’s physical needs had always in some measure dictated his state policy. He was a ruthless ruler with voracious appetites.
Speculation was rife. And all through the day the Queen’s hysterical sobbing could be heard, and many thought that she was on the point of losing her reason.
Lady Herbert and Nan sat together in the anteschamber. Between those two was a great bond: their devotion to the Queen.
“I fear she will die,” said Anne Herbert.
“A terrible thing has come upon us,” said Nan, the tears streaming down her checks. “It is like a wild storm that sweeps through the forest. It will blow down the little plants with the big trees.”
“I trust not. I trust not, Nan. I will not give up hope.”
“It breaks my heart to hear her,” said Nan.
“I fear for her reason. I cannot believe that this is Kate, my calm sister Kate.”
“It is the nearness of the ax, my lady. It would drive me mad, I fear, to know the ax was so close. Throughout the palace men and women speak in hushed whispers. I dreamed last night that I was walking ’twixt two halberdiers, and one carried an ax whose blade was turned toward me.”
“You should not set such store by dreams, Nan.”
“I awoke with tears on my face. Oh, my lady, I heard the Duchess of Suffolk spoken of with great respect this day. It seems that many do her honor already.”
“I cannot think any envy her, Nan. Would she be the seventh? Would she come to this… this near madness, this closeness to the ax?”
“Some would do anything, my lady, anything for one short hour of fame.”
“Not after this. And if the King will rid himself of the Queen for what he calls heresy, how can he take my lady of Suffolk who could also be accused of the same?”
