“You are sad, Mother,” said Mary. “Is it this marriage they are arranging for me which makes you so?”

The Queen nodded. “But we will not think of unpleasant things. It could not happen for a very long time. I will tell you this: I will do everything in my power to postpone, nay prevent it.”

Mary threw herself into her mother’s arms and cried passionately: “Yes, please do. Do not let them send me away from you again. Why could I not marry in my own country?”

Katharine stroked her daughter’s hair.

“Because, my darling, you would have to marry someone who is as royal as yourself.”

“There are people here who are as royal as I am.”

Katharine felt a twinge of alarm. Such words, when applied to one of the King’s subjects, could be dangerous. Buckingham had used them too often.

“Edward IV was Reginald’s ancestor and mine also. So Reginald is as royal as I am.”

The Queen was silent, thinking: Then has she thought of Reginald as a husband?

The idea excited Katharine. And why not? It was true Reginald Pole had Plantagenet blood in his veins. Surely it was a better policy to arrange marriages rather than executions for those whose royalty could be a threat to the crown.

If Mary married Reginald Pole, she could remain in England. Katharine visualized a happy future with her daughter never far from her side. She pictured herself with Mary’s children who would take the place in her heart of those she had never had. If only it could be. If only she could prevent this French alliance!

“Yes,” she said slowly, “Reginald Pole has royal blood in his veins. I am glad that you feel affection for him because I know him to be a good man, and his mother is one of my dearest friends.”

Mary was astute enough to read the promise in those words. She embraced her mother in sudden ecstasy as though, thought Katharine, she believes me to be all-powerful.

But let her think that, because it makes her happy; and we must be happy in these hours of reunion.


* * *

LATER KATHARINE sat with her dear friend Margaret Pole and they were alone together, which gave pleasure to them both.

Katharine was saying: “This is one of the happiest days of my life. I have dreamed of it ever since Mary went away.”

“As she has too,” added Margaret.

“It pleases me that she and Reginald should be drawn to each other.”

“They have indeed become good friends. The Princess is such a serious child that the difference in their ages is scarcely noticeable. My son considers her to be one of the most highly educated ladies it has been his pleasure to meet.”

“Your son has not taken Holy Orders?”

“No, he has not done so yet.”

“Does he intend to?”

“I think he is eager to study more before he does so. That is why he is going to the Carthusians at Sheen.”

The Queen smiled and a thought came to Margaret which she had had before; then it had seemed a wild dream, but it did not seem so now because she believed she read the Queen’s thoughts correctly.

Katharine went on: “The French marriage does not please me.”

“But the King and the Cardinal…”

“Oh yes, the Cardinal leads the King the way he wishes him to go.”

Margaret was surprised that the Queen should speak so frankly; then she realized that Katharine did so because the bond between them was a little closer even than it had been before.

“I shall not allow Mary to receive the French ambassadors tomorrow,” went on the Queen. “I shall make the excuse that she is too weary after her long journey from Ludlow. Depend upon it, I shall do all in my power to prevent this proposed marriage. Nor do I despair of so doing. Monarchs are fickle, and François more fickle than most. Mary was betrothed to this boy once before, you remember. There was great enthusiasm…even a ceremony…and then a few years later it was as though that ceremony had never taken place.”

“The Princess is sensitive. One does not care to think of her in a foreign court. And I believe that that of the French is the most licentious in the world.”

The Queen shuddered. “How I should like to make a match nearer home for her. There are more worthy men in England than across the seas.”

The two women had drawn closer together; they were not Queen and subject merely, not only lifelong friends; they were two mothers discussing the future of the children who meant everything in the world to them.


* * *

WHILE THE QUEEN sat with Margaret Pole, Iñigo de Mendoza called at the Palace and asked for an interview with her. It was imperative, he declared, that he see Her Grace without delay.

When the message was brought to the Queen, Margaret, without being bidden to do so, left her presence and Mendoza was ushered in.

Katharine saw from his expression that he was extremely agitated, and his first words told her why.

“The Cardinal is working to separate you and the King; he has called together certain bishops and lawyers that they may secretly declare the marriage to be null.”

Katharine could not speak. She knew that the King no longer desired her; that his disappointment at the lack of a male child continued to rankle. But to cast her off as a woman who had been living with him all these years outside the sanctity of marriage, was unthinkable. Such a thing could not happen to a daughter of Spain.

“I fear I have given you a great shock,” said the ambassador. “But it is a matter which must be faced quickly. This must not be allowed to happen.”

“It is the Cardinal who has done this,” said the Queen. “He has long been my enemy.”

“He could not have done it without the King’s consent,” the ambassador reminded her.

“The King is a careless boy at heart. He is tired of me…so he allows Wolsey to persuade him that he should be rid of me.”

“Your Grace, we must act immediately.”

“What can we do if the King has decided to rid himself of me?”

“We can do our best to prevent him.”

“You do not know the King. All that he desires comes to him. He takes it as his Divine right.”

“He may have his will with his own subjects, but Your Grace is of the House of Spain. Have you forgotten that the Emperor is the son of your sister?”

“They care little for the Emperor here now,” said Katharine wearily.

“Your Grace,” the ambassador replied almost sternly, “they will have to care.”

Katharine covered her eyes with her hand. “So this is the end,” she said.

“The end! Indeed it is not. Your Grace, if you will not fight for yourself, you must fight for your daughter.”

“Mary! Of course…she is involved in this.” The Queen had dropped her hand, and the ambassador saw how her eyes flashed. “Are they saying that Mary is a bastard?”

“If the marriage were declared null, that is what I fear she would be called, Your Grace.”

“That shall never be,” said the Queen firmly.

“I knew Your Grace would say that. I beg of you, be as calm as you can, for it is calmness we need if we are to outwit those who work against us. It would be helpful, I am sure, if you could behave as though you know nothing of this which is being called the King’s Secret Matter. The only help we can hope for must be from the Emperor and in view of existing relations our task is made difficult. I beg Your Grace to speak of this matter to no one until we have found a means of conveying the news to my master, your nephew.”

“This we must do without delay.”

“Your Grace is right. But to send a letter might be to act rashly. I feel sure that everything that leaves my hands is in danger of falling into those of the Cardinal’s spies. We must find a messenger who will go to the Emperor with nothing written down, who will tell him by word of mouth what is happening here in England. Let us discover such a man, who must be humble enough not to excite suspicion, yet loyal enough to keep his secrets until he arrives in Spain.”

The Queen, knowing that the ambassador spoke wisely, agreed.

“I will call on you tomorrow,” he told her. “By then I hope to have some plan. In the meantime I trust Your Grace will give no sign that we have wind of the King’s Secret Matter.”

When Mendoza left her, Katharine sat for a long time, very still, an expression of melancholy amplifying the lines on her face.

Such a short while ago she had felt so happy because her daughter was returned to her. Now her happiness had been shattered, for she knew that the greatest calamity which could befall her was threateningly near.

“There are times,” she murmured, “when I think God has deserted me.”


* * *

AS HENRY PREPARED to set out for the Cardinal’s Palace of York Place, a complacent smile played about his mouth, and his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction in which humour mingled.

It was an amusing situation when a King was summoned to appear before a court, charged with immorality. He believed that those lawyers and men of the Church must be telling themselves that here was the most tolerant King on Earth. He might have had them all clapped into the Tower for their presumption. But what had he done? Meekly accepted the summons to appear before them and hear his case thrown from the prosecuting to the defending counsels like a ball in a game.

He was certain that the outcome of the case would be that he was found guilty, after which there would be nothing to do but his penance for his sins, receive absolution and marry again that he might do his duty to his country and give it a male heir. The Pope would be called in to have the dispensation, which Julius II had given, declared invalid, but he need have no qualms about that; Clement was the friend of England. It had been a clever stroke to answer his appeal for help against the Emperor. Wolsey was to be commended for his far-sightedness.