The Sixth Wife: The Story of Katherine Parr

wife. We shall never seek to change her, Kate, while she is thus.”

“Her desire,” said Katharine, “is to please her lord in all things.”

“If she would but give me a son, I should have naught to complain of.” He sighed.

“Ah, my lord, those matters are with God.”

That had been a mistake, for his eyes had narrowed at once. But there must always be such mistakes. It was not possible always to avoid words which could conjure up pictures in his mind, pictures which it was unwise for him to see.

“I cannot understand why God should deny me a son,” he said; there was the faintest criticism in his voice, for the emphasized word was significant. He would never deny me a son, those words implied; although He denies you one.

But he was too pleased with her on this bright morning to dwell on that dismal subject; he would shelve it for a more appropriate time.

“I like to hear you say you are an obedient wife, Kate,” he said. “Forget it not.”

“Nay, my lord,” said Katharine with great earnestness. “I’ll not forget. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll not forget.”

“A hundred!” cried Henry boisterously. “Why, bless you, Kate, thou art many a long year from that great age. And, by my faith, I swear you look younger than you did the day I made you my Queen.”

He turned to her and kissed her; he fondled her throat and let his hands stray to her breasts and thighs.

“Your…Your Majesty is kind to me,” stammered Katharine.

“To be kind was ever a fault of ours, Kate.”

“A fault? I would not call it that. ’tis a virtue, and in one so great as your august self, doubly so.”

The lecher had now been succeeded by the sentimentalist. He took his hand from her thigh and laid it on her arm. “You speak sound truth, Kate. Yet it has been our kindness… our softness, which has led many to deceive us. We have been deceived again and again in our life. By those, mark you, who had the best reason to give us their loving regard. This garden doth remind me of another…. It was at Hever Castle. A garden of roses… walled thus…a pleasant place.”

Katharine heard the note of regret and longing, the selfpity which she had heard so many times.

“By God,” he cried suddenly, “if any try deceiving tricks on us, they shall pay. They shall pay with their blood.”

She drew away from him. His moods followed quickly on one another this morning.

“Who would dare deceive the King?” she soothed. “Who would dare deceive a wise and tender King?”

He mumbled: “That is what we would know.” He softened again and put an arm about her shoulders. “Thou art a good woman, Kate. Thy beauty is not of the devil; it is the beauty of meadow flowers, sweet and simple, and not to drive a man to torment.” He began to kiss her and his ringed fingers caught at the neck of her gown. “Thou and I have many a merry night before us, Kate. Old age? Who dares speak of it?”

“It is years away from us, my lord.”

“And we are here, and the sun doth shine. And you are a fair woman and I love you well. You are my wife, and we will get ourselves a son, eh?”

“I trust so. Indeed, I trust so. I care not that the sun doth shine. I care only that my lord’s content doth continue to shine on me.”

“It doth, Kate, and it shall. Thou mayest rest assured of that. Thou art good to kiss, and I am man enough to do the kissing.”

He had lifted his head from her throat and, with him, Katharine heard the sound of soldiers’ marching feet.

The King stood up and shouted, but the sound of his voice was lost in the noise made by the approaching guard.

Katharine stood beside him; she could see a company of the King’s guard, and at its head marched Sir Thomas Wriothesley.

“Halt!” cried the King. “Halt there, I say. What means this? Who dares disturb the King’s peace?”

“Your Majesty …” began the Queen.

“Wait there!” commanded Henry; and he hobbled toward the Chancellor and the forty members of the Guard who had halted at his command.

Over the morning air their words came distinctly to Katharine.

“Wriothesley, you knave, what means this?”

Wriothesley ingratiatingly replied: “My lord King, I have come on your orders with forty halberdiers.”

“What means this?” cried the King. “I understand you not.” His face was purple with fury. “How darest thou disturb our peace?”

“Sire, Your Majesty’s orders. I come with forty men to arrest the Queen, and take her to the Tower. My barge is at the privy stairs.”

“Fool! Knave!” cried Henry. “Get you gone, or ’t will be you who are clapped into the Tower.”

Wriothesley, pale with confusion, yet persisted: “Can Your Majesty have forgotten? You gave the order. Your Grace signed the mandate…. To arrest the Queen at this hour… wherever she might be.”