There was a macabre story about something which had happened just before his burial. Kat told me this hesitatingly, pretending she could not tell and having to be forced to do so.

“People are whispering about it,” she said. “I cannot say that it is true, but there are those who saw—”

“Come on, Kat,” I said more imperiously than ever for was I not a potential heiress to a throne? “I command you to tell me.”

Kat raised her eyes to the ceiling, a frequent gesture.

“And I dare not disobey my lady's command. On the way to Windsor the cortége broke its journey at Sion House and there the body rested in the chapel. It was at Sion House, remember, that poor Katharine Howard stayed when they were taking her to the Tower. Poor child, they say she was almost mad with fear, for did she not have the example of her cousin to remind her of what lay in store for her? Well, the coffin burst, for the King's body was too great for its fragile wood, and the King's blood was spilt on the chapel floor. Now this is the shocking part. Are you sure you want me to go on? Very well. A dog was seen to run forward and lick the blood clean and although they tried to draw him away he snarled and refused to budge until there was not a speck of blood on the floor.”

“Kat, where did you hear such a tale?”

“My dear lady, it is being whispered throughout the land. You do not know of this because you were not then born but when the King was thinking of ridding himself of his first Queen, one Friar Peyto who cared nothing for what might befall him stood in his pulpit and declared that the King was as Ahab and that the dogs in like manner would lick his blood.”

“What a terrible story!”

“Tis terrible times we live in, sweet lady. The Lady of Aragon suffered greatly and was there any one of the King's wives who did not? Your own beautiful mother so desperate… And we saw the terror of the last Queen for ourselves, you and I.”

“Kat, how dare you talk so about my great father!”

“Only because commanded to do so by one who may well herself be mistress of us all one day.”

Kat was smiling at me, and because she was Kat and said such words I could forgive her anything.

I told her she was the most indiscreet person I knew and I hoped she did not chatter to others as she did to me. She was as excited as I was about my prospects and being less thoughtful and logical than I, she believed that I was almost on the throne.

“The little King is very sickly,” she said. “He won't make old bones. And as for Mary, I sometimes think she does not enjoy good health. Whereas you, my precious one, are full of vigor. I said to John Ashley only the other day, ‘Our girl is destined for greatness. I feel it in my bones.'”

“You are the most foolish creature I ever knew and I wonder that I love you. If any heard you express such sentiments, what do you think they would say of you? You would be accused of ill-wishing the King and you know I love Edward dearly.”

“I don't think John Ashley wants to be rid of me yet,” said Kat flippantly, “so he won't betray me. Nor will you, my lady, for I cannot see you ever reaching that stage when you would not want your Kat there to look after you—throne or not.”

“Oh Kat, do have a care,” I said, laughing.

She would take no heed. It was not long before she was talking about a marriage for me.

“Well, 'tis a merry state and one necessary to a woman.”

“All women?” I asked.

“All women, my clever lady.”

“I am not so sure. What of my mother? Do you think she thought what a blessed state it was when she was on her way to Tower Green? Did Katharine Howard think it so when she ran screaming through the gallery? And what of Katharine Parr when she was confined to her bed in mortal peril? Do you believe they thought it then?”

“You are talking of queens.”

“Queens—or those who may be queens—must surely take special care before they embark on matrimony.”

“Marriages are usually made for queens, dear lady.”

“I have a fancy that I shall make my own, if indeed I ever decide to make one.”

“I know one who would be very happy to take you.”

“Who is that?”

She was conspiratorial and her voice had sunk to a whisper. She put her lips to my ear.

I flushed. I could not pretend that I had not noticed him and that I did not think him one of the most exciting men I had ever seen. He was tall, extremely good-looking and more than that had an air of gallantry and indefinable charm. There was only one man at Court who could fit that description: Thomas Seymour.

“Ah, my lady,” went on the incorrigible Kat, “I see that you are inclined to look with favor on this very desirable gentleman.”

“You see much which is not there, Kat Ashley,” I reprimanded her. “And how do you know he might have plans regarding me?”

“Because I have eyes, my lady, and I have seen his own linger on you with much affection.”

Was it so? And how did Thomas Seymour regard me? When he looked at me with that affection which Kat had perceived, did he see me wearing a crown? Was he, brother to that very Jane who had supplanted my mother, uncle to the frail King, looking out for his future?

“If he asked for your hand, Princess, would you take him?”

“You are impertinent, Kat Ashley,” I said and I slapped her face.

She put her hand to her cheek. “And you, my lady, are hasty with your hands,” she said.

I put my arms round her and kissed her. “I'm sorry I did that, but you can be very aggravating sometimes. I do not want to hear any more about Thomas Seymour.”

“Do you not?” said Kat. “Shall we then discuss the weather or the new blue silk you have…or your embroidery?”

“You would be safer talking of such things.”

She laughed and I laughed with her and she went on to tell me that Sir Thomas Seymour had been created Baron of Sudeley and made Lord High Admiral. “The late King left him two hundred pounds in his will and I verily believe, my lady, that had His Majesty lived there would have been the honor of marriage into the King's family for him. The King loved Thomas Seymour … and who would not love such a fine, witty and handsome gentleman?”

“I believe there are some who do not love him.”

“Oh, that brother of his—the Duke of Somerset if you please now. He is the big man. He has the King in his charge. They say Thomas is a little jealous of his brother.”

“They say, Kat? It seems to me that it is Kat Ashley who says this and that, and she is the very mistress of gossip throughout this land.”

“And who profits from what I discover more than my lady?”

That was how we talked and there was hardly a day when Thomas Seymour's name was not mentioned between us.

I had to admit I was thinking a great deal of him. I had known for some time that he was interested in me… even before my father's death. He was my brother's favorite uncle. I believed that Edward was not very fond of the elder Seymour. Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset to give him his newly acquired title, was a man of immense ambition and extreme ruthlessness. Now that my father was dead, he had become Protector of England and was in a position of complete authority. It was natural that Thomas, the younger brother and favorite uncle of the young King, could not happily accept a subordinate position.

However the Seymours were the important family in the country now. They had nothing to fear from the Howards. Surrey had been beheaded and the Duke, his father, was still in the Tower; his death warrant was to have been signed on the night before the King died, but the King being too weak to add his signature to the documents, the execution had been waived, though Norfolk continued a prisoner.

Almost immediately after that conversation with Kat, a letter arrived through her from Thomas Seymour. She brought it to me with an air of intrigue, and when I opened it and saw from whom it came, my hands trembled.

It was brief and to the point. The Admiral had long admired me. He was a little older than I but age was unimportant when love reigned. He admired my beauty more than that of any other and was asking me to give him my hand in marriage.

I was overcome with emotion. I had to admit I had been a little fascinated by the Admiral. He was the most attractive man at Court and, having been a person of little importance for so long, I was very susceptible to admiration. I was not beautiful enough to be sure of my attractions. I had youth, of course, and a fine clear skin, milk-white and fair; I had good reddish hair, the same color as my father's, and I resembled him in my appearance. He was a handsome man but what is handsome in a man is not necessarily attractive in a woman. I had lively tawny eyes to match my hair but my eyelashes were too fair; my nose was long rather than short, but I was thankful that I had not inherited my father's mouth, which was small and cruel and had been really the most expressive of his features. I wished I had inherited my mother's appearance with the attributes of my father—not all, of course—but the best, those qualities which had made him a good sovereign. I think I had to some extent, but how I wished I had my mother's ravishing and singular beauty! Perhaps because of a certain lack of assurance as far as my personal charms were concerned I always wanted to hear them proclaimed. So with Thomas Seymour's letter before me I tried to convince myself that I was loved for myself and that his affections had nothing to do with the fact that I was the King's daughter who might one day inherit a crown.

Kat was in a state of twittering excitement and tried to get me to reveal the contents of the letter. I would not, but she guessed. She went on and on talking of the good looks of the Admiral, how my father had singled him out for favor, and how she was sure that had the King lived he would have betrothed me to him by now.