“A man of his hath been here this very day,” Katharine said.
“Privy Seal learned whoremastering in Italy,” Gardiner cried triumphantly. “He saw signs that his Highness inclined to you. Have a care for your little soul.”
“Why, I think Privy Seal had no such vain imagination,” Katharine answered submissively. She would have laughed that the magister’s insane babblings should have raised such a coil; but Gardiner was a man esteemed very saintly, and she kept her eyes on the floor.
“Give thou ear to no doctrines of Privy Seal’s,” he answered swiftly. “Thy soul should burn: I will curse thee. If the King shall offer thee favours for thy friends come thou to me for spiritual guidance.”
She opened amazed and candid eyes upon him.
“But this is a folly,” she said. “A King may regard one for a minute, then it is past. Privy Seal would not bring me up against the King.”
He flashed his gloomy blue eyes at her, suspecting her, and still threatening.
“I know how Privy Seal will plot,” he said passionately. “Having failed with one woman he will bring another.”
He clenched his hands angrily and unclenched them: the wind moaned for a moment among the chimney stacks.
“So it is!” he cried, from deep down in his chest. “If it were not so, how is there all this clamour about his Highness and a woman?”
“Most Reverend,” she said, “there is no end to the inventions of Magister Udal.”
“There is none to the machinations of the fiend, and Udal is of his councils,” he said. “Be careful, I tell you, for your soul’s sake. Cromwell shall come to you offering you great bribes. Have a care I say!”
She attempted to say that Udal had no voice at all in Privy Seal’s councils, being a garrulous magpie that no sane man would trust. But Gardiner had crossed his arms and stood, immense and shadowy, in the firelight. He hissed irritably between his teeth when she spoke, as if she interrupted his meditation.
“All the world knows Udal for his spy,” he said, sombrely. “If Udal hath babbled, God be thanked. I say again: if Privy Seal bring thee to the King, come thou to me. But, by the Grace of Heaven, I will forestall Privy Seal with thee and the King!”
She forbore to contradict him any more; he had this maggot in his head, and was so wild to defeat Privy Seal with his own tool.
He muttered: “Think you Privy Seal knoweth not the King’s taste? I tell you he hath seen an inclination in him towards you. This is a plot, but I have sounded it!”
She let him talk, and asked, with a malice too fine for him to discern:
“I should not shun the King’s presence for my soul’s sake?”
“God forbid,” he answered. “I may use thee to bring down Privy Seal.”
He picked up a piece of bark from a faggot beside the fire and rolled it between his fingers. She stood looking at him intently, her lips a little parted, tall, graceful and submissive.
“You are more fair-skinned than any his Highness has favoured before,” he said in a meditative voice. “Yet Cromwell knows the King’s tastes better than any man.” He sank down into her tall-backed chair and suddenly tossed the piece of bark into the fire. “I would have you walk across the floor, elevating your arms as you were the goddess Flora.”
She tripped towards the door, held her arms above her head, turned her long body to right and left, bent very low in a courtesy to him, and let her hands fall restfully into her lap. The firelight shone upon the folds of her dress and in the white lining of her hood. He looked at her, leaning over the arm of the chair, his blue eyes hard with the strenuous rage of his new project.
“You could take a part in an Italian interlude? A masque?”
“I have a better memory of the French or Latin,” she answered.
“You do not turn pale? Your knees knock not together?”
“I think I blush most,” she said seriously.
He answered, “You will be the better of a little colour,” and began muffling his face with his cloak.
“See you, then,” his harsh voice commanded. “You shall see their Highnesses at Privy Seal’s house on the Saturday; but they shall see you at mine on the Tuesday. If you are good enough to serve the turn of Privy Seal, you may be good enough to serve mine. The King listens sometimes to the promptings of his women. I will teach you how you may bring this man down and set me in his place.”
She reflected for a moment. “I would well serve you,” she said. “But I do not believe this fable of the King, and I have no memory of Italian.” She talked of being the Lady Mary’s servant, or that she must get her lady’s leave.
His brows grew heavy, his eyes threatening and alarming beneath their heavy lids.
“Be you faithful to me,” he thundered. Even his thin and delicate hands seemed to menace her. “Retain your obedience to your Faith. Your duty is to that, and to no earthly lady before that.”
Her eyes were cast down, her lips did not move. He said, harshly, “It will go ill with you if it become known to Cromwell I have visited you. Keep this matter secret as you love your liberty. I will send you the words you shall say by a private bearer. After, maybe, his Highness shall safeguard you, I admonishing him. But the Lady Mary shall bid you obey me in all things.”
He opened the door and put his head out cautiously. Suddenly he drew it back and said in Latin, “Here is a spy.” He did not flinch, but advanced into the corridor, keeping his back to the servitor whom already Master Viridus had sent to keep her door. Gardiner fumbled in his robes and pulled out his missal. He turned the pages over, and, speaking
