Wolman fell to his knees. He was thinking: This is a plan of the Cardinal’s to ruin me. What a fool I was to allow myself to be persuaded. This is the end of my career at Court, perhaps on Earth.

“I crave Your Grace’s pardon. I spoke carelessly. If Your Grace will overlook…”

“Silence!” thundered the King. Then his voice softened suddenly. “If my chaplain has a criticism of my conduct I am not the man to turn a deaf ear to that criticism.”

“It was presumptuous of me, Your Grace. I pray you forget…”

“Alas, I cannot forget. How could I forget a matter which for so long has given me many troublous thoughts?”

Great relief swept over Wolman. This was no trick. In coming here and making the accusation he had served the King and the Cardinal as they wished to be served.

“Get up,” went on Henry. “Now you have spoken, and right glad I am to have this matter brought into the light of day. I married a woman who was my brother’s wife, and in the Book of Leviticus we are told that this is a sin in the eyes of God. I have been shown God’s displeasure. I have been denied a male heir. What are you and your ecclesiastics prepared to do in this matter?”

Wolman, completely restored to confidence, began to outline Wolsey’s plan. “Your Grace will know that I have talked of this matter with His Eminence the Cardinal.”

Good Thomas, thought Henry. Acquisitive, avaricious he might be, but he could be relied upon to work out a plan of action which would bring the King his desires.

“The Cardinal feels it will be necessary to summon Your Grace before a Council led by himself and the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

The King nodded. He could rely on Thomas; as for Archbishop Warham, he was a timid fellow and could be trusted to do as his King commanded.

“There,” went on Wolman, “the matter would be discussed, and if the Council found that Your Grace had never in truth been married…”

The King interrupted: “I should then be free to marry.”

“It would be necessary doubtless to have the matter confirmed in Rome.”

The King nodded. Clement was a good friend to him and Wolsey. He felt jubilant.

He clapped his hand on Wolman’s shoulder. “You have been bold,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, “thus to accuse me. But we ever like bold men even when they upbraid us for our sins.”


* * *

GABRIEL DE GRAMMONT, Bishop of Tarbes, led his train into the King’s apartment, where Henry, with Wolsey, Warham and several of his most eminent ministers, was waiting to receive them.

Wolsey was delighted because he felt that at last the alliance with France was secure. This would mean war with the Emperor. Wolsey visualized a Europe rising in unison against that young man. Henry had recently received an appeal from Clement who implored him to stand against the Emperor; if he did not, declared the Pope, Charles would shortly be the universal monarch. The Italian countryside had been devastated by his troops, and there was only one course of action: England, France, and the Vatican must stand against the conqueror. The letter had come at an opportune moment and Henry had been deeply impressed by it. And when Wolsey had pointed out: “We must stand by Clement now, for it may be that shortly we shall wish him to stand by us” Henry understood, and was as eager as his Cardinal for the French alliance.

So they had helped the Pope by sending Sir John Russell to Rome with money which would enable Clement to pay his troops and assist in the garrisoning of the City. His Holiness, when he heard English help was on the way, had called a blessing on the English King and Cardinal, and had said that their friendly action had restored him from death to life.

The moment was certainly ripe to apply to him for the Bull which would confirm that the marriage between the King of England and the Emperor’s aunt was not valid and that therefore the King of England was free to marry where he wished.

Henry listened to the French Ambassadors outlining the terms of the new alliance which would mean certain war with the Emperor. François was not the man who would sit down under defeat; he would want to regain all that he had lost; he was waiting for his turn to impose harsh terms on Charles.

Henry nodded shrewdly. He knew that his people had always regarded the French as their natural enemies; and that since the coming of Katharine to England they favored the Spanish alliance. Katharine had contrived to endear herself to the people, because they thought her serious and virtuous and there were many who had profited from her charities. Henry was a little disturbed that she had made such a good impression, but the people must be forced to understand the desirability of getting a male heir. When they realized that the important men of the Church, backed by the Pope himself, considered the King’s marriage unlawful, they would be as eager as he was to accept it as no marriage at all. They would look forward to the pageantry a royal marriage would mean.

Henry pictured it: His bride beside him in the Palace of the Tower of London where she would come before her Coronation; he saw the glittering crown on her head; he saw her sitting beside him in the tiltyard, all haughtiness gone, only gratitude and love for him who had lifted her to such eminence. And the face he saw beneath the crown, the eyes that smiled at him with a faint hint of mockery, were not those of some stranger from France but a well-known young lady, a well-loved one, one who had haunted him ever since he had first seen her at Court and who had beguiled him in the gardens of her father’s castle of Hever.

“By God!” he whispered to himself. “Why not?”

He could hear her voice, high-pitched and imperious: “Your wife I cannot be, both in respect of mine own unworthiness and because you have a queen already. Your mistress I will not be.”

And, strangely enough, he who had never been humble was so before this girl; he, who had looked upon the gratification of his desires as his Divine right, was content to wait and plead.

He had to rouse himself from his reverie to listen to the Frenchmen; and when he did so the words of Grammont startled him.

“There is one point which I feel compelled to raise at this time,” he was saying. “Rumors are circulating concerning the King’s marriage. My master would wish to know whether it is certain that the Princess Mary is the legitimate daughter of the King.”

Sudden anger flamed in Henry’s eyes to be replaced by immediate exultation.

If the legitimacy of the Princess Mary was in question, who could blame him for his determination to have the circumstances of his marriage examined?

He forced a look of intense sadness into his face and glanced towards Wolsey, who said quietly: “We heed the Bishop’s words. Little good can come of discussing that matter further at this stage.”


* * *

KATHARINE WATCHED her daughter riding into the Palace of Richmond and she thought: This is one of the happiest moments of my life.

How radiant the child looked! How she had grown! Was she as happy as her mother was by this reunion?

Mary came forward ceremoniously, her eyes lowered. It is because she fears her emotions, Katharine decided. What a Queen she will make when her time comes.

With Mary came her governess, Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, and Margaret’s son Reginald, both good friends of the Queen. So here was further cause for rejoicing.

Now her daughter knelt before her, and Katharine, who could stand on ceremony no longer, raised her up and embraced her.

“My dearest daughter…”

“Oh Mother, it has been so long.”

“Soon we shall be alone, my darling, and able to talk freely to each other.”

“That will be wonderful, Mother.”

She has not changed towards me, thought Katharine exultantly. How foolish of me to fear that she would.

She turned reluctantly from her daughter to greet Margaret. “I thank you for the good care you have taken of my daughter.”

“To serve Your Grace and Her Highness is my pleasure,” answered Margaret formally, but the gleam in her eyes was certainly not formal.

“And your son is here too.” She smiled at Reginald. “That gives me great pleasure.”

So they entered the Palace, and as soon as possible Katharine took her daughter to her private apartments that they might be alone.

“I have longed for this,” she told Mary.

“Oh, Mother, if you could only know how much I longed to see you. I used to kneel in the turret watching for a party of riders which would be you and your suite on the way to the Castle.”

“My dear child…and I never came!”

“No, but I always hoped. I never knew before how important hope is. One goes on being disappointed and loses it for a while, and then…there it is again.”

“You have learned an important lesson, my dearest.”

“And one day, Mother, Reginald came. That was a consolation.”

“Ah, I noticed that there was friendship between you.”

“Is he not wonderful, Mother? He is so clever and yet so kind. I think he is the gentlest man I ever knew.”

Katharine smiled. “And you liked his gentleness?”

“So much, Mother. With him I felt at peace. And after he had been with us a short time the message came that I was to return to you. We shall not be parted again.”

Katharine did not answer. It was her duty to prepare her daughter to receive the French ambassadors who would carry news of her beauty, accomplishments and deportment to the King of France.

And if this marriage were to take place within a year…or very little longer…Mary would be sent to France, for there could be no excuse for keeping her at home any longer. Katharine felt she could not endure another separation.