“The King would do anything that pleased him.”
“You must not speak of the King. Oh God, did you hear that? Poor soul! Poor Kate! What torment!”
“She will be heard in the courtyards. There seems to be a quiet everywhere, as though people wait and listen.”
“Ah, my sweet sister!” cried Lady Herbert, herself beginning to weep. “What did she ever do that was not kind? And what cares that… that lecher… but to satisfy his desires?”
“Hush, hush, my lady. We know not who may listen.”
“Nan… dear good Nan, I will say this: You may be near death, Katharine Parr, but in your goodness you have made many love you.”
“My lady, I have heard it said that if Catharine Howard could have spoken to the King she would have saved herself.”
“But, dear Nan, this is not quite the same. The pattern changes a little. He was deeply enamored of Catharine Howard. There was no lady of Suffolk waiting for him then.”
“Oh my lady, I think I hear someone at the door.”
“Go … go quickly and see. It may be that we have been overheard.”
Even as she spoke there was a loud rapping on the door.
“Let no one in!” whispered Lady Herbert. “Say that the Queen is sick to death and can see no one.”
With terrified eyes, Anne Herbert stared at the door. Nan had opened it and closed it behind her. From the Queen’s bedchamber came the sound of her sobbing.
Nan came back, shut the door and stood against it. Her eyes were wide with terror.
“Who is it, Nan?”
“Sir Thomas Seymour.”
“What does he want?”
“A word with her Grace the Queen.”
“Then he has gone mad.”
“He says it is most important. He is in great haste. He says, for pity’s sake let him in quickly, an you love the Queen.”
“Bring him here, Nan. Quickly.”
Lady Herbert rose and met Thomas at the door.
“My lord,” she cried, “you are mad…to come thus to the Queen’s chamber.”
“None saw me come,” said Seymour, shutting the door quickly. “How fares the Queen?”
“Sick… sick unto death.”
“There is yet a hope. I came to warn her. The King has heard her cries.”
“And what of that?”
“He comes this way. He comes to see the Queen.”
“Then why do you come here? Go at once, my lord, and for the love of God, be quick. Were you found here…”
“He will be some minutes yet. He is himself indisposed. He cannot set foot to ground. He will be wheeled here, and that will take time. Tell the Queen that he comes. Prepare her. Impress upon her that if she will fight with all her might there may be a chance. That chance, which was denied to others may be hers.”
“Go. Go at once. I will prepare her.”
By force of habit he bowed over her hand.
“Please… please,” she begged. “No ceremony. I will go to her. I will go at once.”
He smiled his reckless smile, but there was a touch of anguish in it. Did he then care for Katharine after all? wondered Anne. He must in some measure, for he had come to her apartments at some peril.
She shut the door and ran to the Queen’s chamber.
“Kate… Kate… rouse yourself, my dearest. Gather your thoughts together, sweet sister. All is not lost.”
The Queen sat up, pushing the hair from her hot face. She had changed in the last few days; she was unlike the calm, pleasant-faced woman whom the court knew as Queen Katharine Parr.
“What means this?” she asked listlessly.
“The King comes this way. He has heard of your distress and is coming to see you.”
Katharine laughed wildly.
“No, no,” cried her sister. “Be calm. Be calm. Everything depends on the next few minutes. Let me braid your hair. Let me wipe the tears from your face. The King comes, I tell you. He is being carried here in his chair, for he cannot walk…yet he comes to see you.”
Katharine had roused herself, but the deep depression had not left her face. If it had changed at all, it had changed to resignation. It seemed to Anne that the listlessness indicated that if she had done with tears it was because she no longer cared whether she lived or died.
