“What a morning you have made of this!” Katharine threw at the bishop. The Lady Mary shrugged her shoulders to her ears and turned away. Gardiner said:
“Anan?”
“Oh, well your Holiness knows,” Katharine said. “You might have come within an ace of having Cromwell down.”
His eyes flashed, and he swallowed with a bitter delight.
“I have him at my feet,” he said. “He shall do public reparation to me. You have heard the King say so.”
There were tears of vexation in Katharine’s eyes.
“Well I know how it is that this brewer’s son has king’d it so long!” she said. “An I had been a man it had been his head or mine.”
Gardiner shook himself like a dog that is newly out of the water.
“Madam Howard,” he said, “you are mighty high. I have observed how the King spoke all his words for your ear. His passions are beyond words and beyond shame.”
The Lady Mary was almost out of the room, and he came close enough to speak in Katharine’s ears.
“But be you certain that his Highness’ passions are not beyond the reverse of passion, which is jealousy. You have a cousin at Calais. …”
Katharine moved away from him.
“Why, God help you, priest,” she said. “Do you think you are the only man that knows that?”
He laughed melodiously, with a great anger.
“But I am the man that knoweth best how to use my knowledge. Therefore you shall do my will.”
Katharine Howard laughed back at him:
“Where your lordship’s will marches with mine I will do it,” she said. “But I am main weary of your lordship’s threats. You know the words of Artemidorus?”
Gardiner contained his rage.
“You will write the letter we have asked you to write?”
She laughed again, and faced him, radiant, fair and flushed in the cheeks.
“In so far as you beg me to write a letter praying the King of France and the Emperor to abstain from war upon this land, I will write the letter. But, in so far as that helps forward the plotting of you and a knave called Throckmorton, I am main sorry that I must write it.”
The bishop drew back, and uttered:
“Madam Howard, ye are forward.”
“Why, God help your lordship,” she said. “Where I see little course for respect I show little. You see I am friends with the King—therefore leave you my cousin be. Because I am friends with the King, who is a man among wolves, I will pray my mistress to indite a letter that shall save this King some troubles. But, if you threaten me with my cousin, or my cousin with me, I will use my friendship with the King as well against you as against any other.”
Gardiner swallowed in his throat, winked his eyes, and muttered:
“Why, so you do what we will, it matters little in what spirit you shall do it.”
“So you and my uncle and Throckmorton keep your feet from my paths, you may have my leavings,” she said. “And they will be the larger part, since I ask little for myself.”
He gave her his episcopal blessing as she followed the Lady Mary to her rooms.
Her mind was made up—and she knew that it had been made up hastily, but she was never one to give much time to doubting. She wished these men to leave her out of their plots—but four men are stronger than one woman. Yet, as her philosophy had it, you may make a woman your tool, but she will bend in your hand and strike where she will, for all that. Therefore she must plot, but not with them.
As soon as she could she found the Lady Mary alone, and, setting her valour up against the other’s dark and rigid figure, she spoke rapidly:
She would have her lady write to her friends across the sea that, if Cromwell were ever to fall, they must now stay their hands against the King: they must diminish their bands, discontinue their fortifyings and feign even to quarrel amongst themselves. Otherwise the King must rest firm in his alliance with Cleves, to counterbalance them.
The Lady Mary raised her eyebrows with a show of insolent astonishment that was for all the world like the King’s.
“You affect my father!” she said. “Is it not a dainty plan?”
Katharine brushed past her words with:
“It matters little who affects what thing. The main is that Privy Seal must be cast down.”
“Carthage must be destroyed, O Cato,” the Lady Mary sneered. “Ye are peremptory.”
“I am as God made me,” Katharine answered. “I am for God’s Church. …” She had a sharp spasm of impatience. “Here is a thing to do, and the one and the other snarl like dogs, each for his separate ends.”
“Oh, la, la,” the Lady Mary laughed.
“A Howard is as good as any man,” Katharine said. Her ingenuous face flushed, and she moved her hand to her throat. “God help me: it is true that I swore to be your woman. But it is the true province of your woman to lead you to work for justice and the truth.”
A black malignancy settled upon the face of the princess.
“I have been called bastard,” she said. “My mother was done to death.”
“No true man believes you misbegotten,” Katharine answered hotly.
“Well, it is proclaimed treason, to speak thus,” the Lady Mary sneered.
“Neither can you give your sainted mother her life again.” Katharine ignored her words. “But these actions were not your father’s. It was an ill man forced him to them. The saints be good to you; is it not time to forgive a sad man that would make amends? I would have you to write this letter.”
The Lady Mary’s lips moved into the curves of a tormenting smile.
“You plead your lover’s cause main well,” she uttered.
Katharine had another motion of impatience.
“Your cause I plead main better,” she said. “It is certain that, this man once down, your bastardy
