“She is more fair than any in the land, and, indeed, she is the apple of the King’s eye.” Her voice was gruff with emotion, but, suddenly becoming very aware that she was talking to a strange young gentleman who might scoff, she seemed to choke and put her hand over her mouth.
Brocades for dresses, perfumes, gloves, oranges, and even another netted purse of green silk holding gold had continued to be brought to their chamber ever since Privy Seal had signed the warrant, and, it being about the new year, these ordinary vails and perquisites of a Maid of Honour made a show. Margot believed very sincerely that these things came direct from the King’s hands, since they were formally announced as coming of his Highness’ great bounty.
She reported to young Pewtress, “And even now she is with the Lord Privy Seal, who brought her to Court.”
“He will go poaching among our Howards now,” Pewtress said. He stood considering with an air of gloom that the Norfolk servants imitated from their master, along with such sayings as that the times were very evil, and that no true man’s neck was safe on his shoulders. “Pray you, Sweetlips, tell no one this for a day until I have told my master. It may get me some crowns.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I will be your sweetheart, pretty.”
“Nay, I am provided with a good one,” Margot said seriously.
“You cannot have too many in this place. Take me for when the other’s in gaol and another for when I am hung, as all good men are like to be.” He turned away lightly and loosened one of his jewelled garters, so that his stockings should hang in slovenly folds to prove that he was a man and despised niceness in his dress.
“I would that you be not too cheap to these gentry,” her brother said, with his eyes on Pewtress.
“I did naught,” she answered. “If a gentleman will kiss one, it is uncourtly to turn away the cheek.”
“There is a way of not lending the lip,” he lectured her. “I shall school you. A kiss here, a kiss there, I grant you. But consider that you be a gentleman’s child, and ask who a man is.”
“He was well enough favoured,” she remonstrated.
“In these changing days many upstarts are come about the Court,” he went on with his lesson. “Such were not here in the old days. Crummock hath wrought this. Seek advancement; pleasure your mistress, who can advance you; smile upon the magister, who, being advanced, can advance you. Speak courteous and fair words to any great lords that shall observe you. So we can rise in the world.”
“I will observe thy words,” she said submissively, for he seemed to her great and learned; “but I like not that thou call’st me ‘you.’ ”
“Why, these be grave matters,” he replied, “and ‘you’ is graver than ‘thou.’ But I love thee well. I will take thee a walk if the sun shine tomorrow.” He tightened his belt and took his pike from the corner. “As for your lady; those that made these lies are lowsels. I could slay a score of them if they pressed upon you two.”
“I would not be so spoken of,” Margot answered.
“Then you must never rise in the world, as I am minded you shall,” he retorted, “for, you being in a high place, eyes will be upon you.”
Nevertheless, Katharine Howard heard no evil words shouted after her that day. Pikemen and servitors of Cromwell were too thick upon all the road to the Tower, where the courtiers took barge again. Cromwell made very good order that no insults should reach the ears of such of the Papist nobles as came to his feast; they would make use with the King of evil words if any such were shouted. Thus the more dangerous and the most foul-mouthed of that neighbourhood, when the Court went by, found hands pressed over their mouths or scarves suddenly tightened round their throats by stalwart men that squeezed behind them in the narrow ways, so that not many more than twenty heads on both sides were broken that day; and Margot Poins kept her mouth closed tight with a sort of rustic caution—a shyness of her mistress and a desire to spare her any pain. Thus it was not until long after that Katharine heard of these rumours.
Katharine was in high good spirits. She had no great reason, for Viridus had threatened her; the Queen had rolled her large eyes round when Katharine had made her courtesy, but no words intelligible to a Christian had come from the thick lips; and no lord or lady had noticed her with a word except that, late in the afternoon, her cousin Surrey, a young man with a sleepily insolent air and front teeth that resembled a rabbit’s, had suddenly planted himself in front of her as she sat on a stool against the hangings. He had begun to ask her where she was housed, when another young man caught him by the shoulder and pulled him away before he could do more than bid her sit there till he came again. She had been in no mood to do that for her cousin Surrey; besides, she would not be seen to speak much with a Papist henchman in that house. He could seek her if he wanted her company, so she went into another part of the hall, where they were all strangers.
Except for the mere prudence of pretending to obey Viridus until it should be safe to defy him and his master, she troubled little about what was going to happen to her. It was enough that she was away from the home where she had pined and been lonely. She sat on her stool, watched the many
