I did get some new clothes but I think that may have been due to the intervention of my sister Mary. She was twenty years of age at that time, which seemed very old to me. She was pleasant-looking and very serious, spending a great deal of time on her knees. An example to me, said Lady Bryan, for I was far less dedicated to my religious studies than Mary had been as a child. (Lady Bryan had been her governess, too, so she could speak with conviction.) I was interested in so many things and asked too many questions, I was told. “There are matters which must be accepted without question,” said Lady Bryan. “One's faith for one, loyalty to the King for another.” Even at that stage I was beginning to have doubts of sustaining either.

Lady Mary's mother, Katharine of Aragon, had died a few months before my own, and my sister was stricken with grief because they had been especially devoted to each other. Before her mother's death Mary had not liked me at all. On the rare occasions when we had met, young as I was, I had sensed that my presence angered her. Now it was different. We had both lost our mothers; both had died outside the King's favor; we were both branded bastards. It was because of her uncertain position that Mary was not married, and it was strange for a King's daughter to reach the age of twenty without having a husband found for her. But now she was quite tender toward me and since I tried to please her we were becoming friends. When one has no mother and one's father is a king whom one rarely sees, it is very pleasant to have a sister. I hoped Mary felt this too.

I was very sad when Mary left Hunsdon but she was delighted to go, for Queen Jane had asked for her to go to Court. Much of this I learned later. Because of my extreme youth I must have been very much in the dark at this time. It was when Katharine Champernowne came to be my governess that I made my discoveries through her. Katharine—I was soon calling her Kat— was the most indiscreet and delightful person I had ever known and I grew to love her dearly.

It appeared that the King could deny his new wife nothing; fair where my mother was dark, docile where she was vivacious, Queen Jane was the greatest possible contrast to Queen Anne for whom out of the white heat of his passion had grown a burning hatred. Moreover Jane was almost immediately pregnant after her marriage, which took place, most shamefully, ten days after my mother's death by the sword.

Queen Jane, it seemed, asked the King if Mary could come to Court and be with her during her pregnancy.

“She shall come to thee, darling,” Kat told me he said; and so gladly Mary went.

I missed her, but like everyone else I wanted to hear of the birth of the child.

When Lady Bryan took me to her own private chamber, I knew I was going to learn something important. She put her arms round me and drew me close to her.

“The Queen has given birth to a son,” she said. “The King and the whole country are very happy.”

I felt my face go hard as it did when I was angry. Lady Bryan had told me of it many times. “A bad habit,” she said, “and one which can bring you no good.” I tried to curb it but on this occasion it was difficult, for how could I prevent the resentment which rose in me when I heard another than my mother called the Queen? Moreover this new Jane had given birth to a boy—the son which I should have been.

“The bells are ringing all over the country,” said Lady Bryan. “The King is so happy. This little boy will one day be King though, God willing, not for a very long time. His Grace the King has sent word to Mr Shelton and to me that you are to have the very special honor of carrying the chrisom at the christening. There! What do you think of that?”

I thought very well of it. At last I was going to Court.

How happy I was on that October day when I sailed along the river to Hampton Court, most sumptuously attired as befitted one who was to take part in such an important ceremony.

There lay the palace, majestically beautiful seen from the river. Small wonder that my father had said when it had belonged to Cardinal Wolsey that it was too fine a residence for a subject and had taken it for his own. I was enchanted by its enormous gatehouse, its privy gardens, its tennis courts and its fireplaces, each of them large enough to roast an ox. It was in settings such as this that I belonged.

I was delighted by the respect shown to me and I deluded myself into thinking that this might be the beginning of a change for me, and I wondered whether the pallid Queen who had replaced my mother was responsible for it.

Looking back it is not easy to say whether I remember the details of that ceremony or whether they were related to me afterward. I was only four years old but I do remember how happy I was—contented rather—to be among those powerful and important people. The King was not present in the chapel. He had remained with the Queen in her bedchamber for it was reported that she was very weak indeed. But several important people were there. The Duke of Suffolk, the Marquis of Exeter, the Earl of Arundel and Lord William Howard held the canopy over the baby who was carried by the Marchioness of Exeter. I heard that among the nobles was my grandfather Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire, with a wax taper in his hand and a towel about his neck, playing his part in the ceremony. I did not see him and I was glad I did not, for it occurred to me later that it was somewhat contemptible of him to take part in such a ceremony since his own daughter had been murdered by the King in order that the mother of this child might replace her. At the time I was completely happy. I was part of all this splendor, and the gloriously appareled infant who was the reason for the ceremony was my brother.

Because of my youth and the length of the proceedings I was carried in the arms of Edward Seymour, brother of Queen Jane. This was my first encounter with the family who later on were to play an important part in my life. Their elevation through the King's marriage to their sister had been swift. A few days after the christening Edward Seymour was created Earl of Hertford.

My sister Mary, who was godmother to the little Prince, gave me an encouraging smile when Edward Seymour set me down at the font. I returned it gratefully and eagerly watched while the little boy was wrapped in the christening robe and his state proclaimed.

“God, in His almighty and infinite grace, grant long life to the right high, right excellent and noble Prince, Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Chester, most dear and entirely beloved son of our most dread and gracious lord, Henry VIII.”

In spite of all the excitement I was feeling a little sleepy as the ceremony had lasted three hours and it was nearly midnight. My sister Mary must have seen this; as Lady Herbert picked up the train of my magnificent gown, Mary took my hand so that I did not stumble. I noticed how happy she looked. It was because she was at least back at Court and had the high honor of being godmother to this important Prince, our brother. I loved him already. He was the reason for my being here. His coming had so pleased my father that he was even ready to smile on my sister Mary and me who had committed the unpardonable error of being born girls.

Queen Jane lay in her bed, propped up by cushions, in a beautiful bedgown, but her pallor and sunken eyes proclaimed how exhausted she was.

As we entered the bedchamber the trumpets sounded so loudly that I who must have been half asleep started with terror, which made Mary smile.

Our father was there. He looked splendid, glittering with jewels, and he seemed a head taller than other men. How genial he looked, a great beneficent god—very different from the man I had seen in the courtyard! My father, I thought, is the greatest man in the world. His eyes were very small and so was his mouth, but perhaps they seemed so because his face was so large; and as I looked at him I could not help thinking of my mother, and fascinated as I was, admiring him as I did, I was afraid of him.

The Prince was placed in his mother's arms and she gave him her blessing.

The ceremony was over and we went back to Hunsdon.


* * *

THERE WAS GREAT CHANGE in the next few years.

The King, having got his son, was more benign. He rejoiced in Edward even though he had cost Queen Jane her life, for, poor pale creature, she died about a week after that ceremony in her bedroom.

To me the event of great importance was the coming of Katharine Champernowne.

Lady Bryan had become Lady Mistress of my little brother's household because she was considered to have proved her abilities in bringing up my sister Mary and me; and of course this position in the household of the heir to the throne was a great honor. She was in the royal nurseries at Hampton Court for a while and afterward was removed temporarily to Ashridge and later to Hatfield. To my great joy, when I was there, I shared my brother's nursery and even though he was so young he showed an immediate fondness for me.

But the big change in my life was wrought by Katharine—my Kat as I called her. She must have been in her mid teens at that time and from the moment I saw her I knew I was going to love her dearly. She was well educated—otherwise she would not have been appointed as my governess—but certainly she bore her scholarship lightly; she was inclined to be frivolous, but it was her gaiety and warmheartedness which endeared her to me. She supplied something which up to that time I had sadly missed without realizing the lack.

So Kat came, dear indiscreet Kat, who told me so much that had been kept from me and to whom I should be grateful all the days of my life.