* * *

THE QUEEN’S BARGE SAILED from Greenwich to Richmond, and all along the banks the people stood cheering her as she passed. The Princess Mary was with Katharine; she could scarcely bear the girl to be out of her sight, and her greatest fear was that they would be separated.

“God bless the Queen!” shouted the people. “God bless the Princess Mary!”

Katharine acknowledged their greetings and the Princess did the same. It was comforting to go among these people, for everywhere they showed their pleasure in her. Henry might talk in hushed tones of his Secret Matter, but he was the only one who believed it was a secret, and the King’s desire for a divorce was discussed in every tavern along the river. Almost without exception the people were on the side of the Queen. The women were fierce in championing her cause.

“A pretty state of affairs,” they grumbled, “when a man tires of his wife and says she is not his wife that he may be free to choose a younger woman. If this is marriage, then save us from it!”

Since Queen Katharine had come to England, the English had felt the Spaniards to be their friends, and their natural enemies the French; some believed the latter to be a species of monkey and that many of them had tails which their fine clothes hid.

And the villain behind it all was the Cardinal. They had always hated the Cardinal. “Who was the Cardinal?” they had often asked each other. “No better than you or I. Did you know his father was a butcher?”

Who imposed taxes to fight wars which no one wanted? The Cardinal.

Who lived like a king although he was the son of a butcher? Who made treaties with France because France paid him well to do so? Who was responsible for all the poverty in the country? Who chopped off the head of the noble Duke of Buckingham because he had thrown dirty water over his shoes? The answer to all these questions was Wolsey.

They thought of him as they had seen him so many times, riding through the streets on his mule which was caparisoned in scarlet and gold, sniffing his orange as though he disdained them and feared contamination with them.

The King has been led astray by him. The King was jovial, fond of sport; the King was young and easily led. Wolsey had wanted to make an alliance with the French, so he had made the King doubt the validity of his marriage to Katharine of Aragon; and the Princess Mary—the dear little Princess Mary—was proclaimed a bastard!

“Long live Queen Katharine!” cried the people. “Queen Katharine for ever!”

To the barge came the sound of singing and Katharine took heart as she heard it, for it proclaimed the love of the people for the Princess Mary whom they regarded as the heir to the throne.

“Yea, a Princess whom to describe


It were hard for an orator.


She is but a child in age,


And yet she is both wise and sage—


And beautiful in flavor.


Perfectly doth she represent


The singular graces excellent


Both of her father and mother.


Howbeit, this disregarding,


The carter of York is meddling


For to divorce them asunder.”

In that song was not only their love of their Princess and their determination to support Katharine’s cause but their hatred of Wolsey, Archbishop of York, whom they sometimes referred to as a carter, sometimes a butcher.

“Long live the Princess Mary!” cried the people; and Mary lifted a hand in acknowledgment of the greeting and smiled in her eager but dignified way which never failed to please them.

And so they came to the oddly shaped turrets of Richmond which glowed in the sunshine like inverted pears.

In the quiet of her apartments Bishop Fisher was waiting for Katharine who had summoned him thither.

“My lord,” she said, when they were alone, “it pleases me that you have come. I have need of your counsel.”

“I pray Your Grace to calm yourself. Wolsey visited me on his way to the coast. He told me how distressed you were after your interview with the King.”

“I fear I lost control.”

“We must pray for greater control.”

“Sometimes I could hope that death would come to me.”

“When we die, Your Grace, is a matter for God to decide.”

“I know it is wrong of me, but there are times when I feel that life is too bitter to be borne.”

“And you pray that this cup might pass from you,” murmured the Bishop. “There is one, Your Grace, who needs you now. You must not forget that this matter concerns your daughter.”

“It is that which breaks my heart.”

“We are not defeated yet.”

“My lord, you say we. Does that mean that you will stand beside me?”

“I will pray with you and for you.”

She looked at him searchingly. “I have always felt you to be my friend as well as my confessor. I know you to be a good man. But I am well acquainted with the King’s nature. He is a boy at heart, but boys can be selfish, my lord Bishop. They stretch out greedy hands for that which they want, and because they are boys, lacking the experience of suffering, they do not think what pain may be caused to those who stand in their way.”

The Bishop looked at her sadly. He believed she did not understand her husband if she thought of him merely as a boy who had been led into temptation. The Bishop had looked at the King and seen the cruelty behind the jovial mask. He prayed that this gentle woman would never be forced to see her husband in a different light from the one in which she saw him now.

“You will need courage,” said the Bishop. “Let us pray for courage.”

They prayed and when they rose from their knees the Queen said: “I shall not go into a convent. That is what they are trying to force me to do.”

“It is what they hope you will do.”

“I know. But I shall never do it. There is my daughter to fight for; and let me tell you this, my lord Bishop: I shall never agree to be put aside, and the reason is that, if I did so, they would brand my daughter with bastardy. That is something I shall never allow to happen.”

John Fisher bowed his head. He believed that the Queen’s decision was the right one and a brave one. He had seen the vicious determination in the King’s face; he had seen the shrewd cunning in Wolsey’s. Could this gentle woman defend herself against them; and what would be the result to herself…and to those who supported her?

She had made her choice and he knew that she would not diverge from it. John Fisher too made his choice.

She would not have many friends when the King abandoned her; but he, John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, would be one of them.


* * *

THE QUEEN WAS DELIGHTED when Mendoza brought her the news.

“Felipez did his work well,” he said. “I have heard from the Emperor, and he sends notes for you and for the King. I know that His Grace was not pleased with his, as it reproved him for his treatment of you and expressed shock and indignation.”

The Queen clasped her hands together. “I knew I could trust Charles,” she cried. “He is immersed in his wars, but when a matter of vital importance arises, such as this, he would always stand by his family. His support will make all the difference in the world.”

“I am in agreement with Your Grace,” said Mendoza. “And we should not forget that the Pope, without whom the marriage cannot be declared invalid, is at your nephew’s mercy. Here is the letter he sends to you.”

Katharine took it eagerly and as she read it a smile of triumph touched her lips.

Charles was horrified; he was shocked beyond measure. It would seem that the King of England had forgotten, so long had his wife been in England, that she was a daughter of the House of Spain. He was sending Cardinal Quiñones, the General of the Franciscans, to Rome with all speed; he would look after her affairs there; and she could trust her nephew to watch over her cause and help her. Clement VII, still in Castel Sant’ Angelo, was too wise a man to flout the wishes of the Emperor.

Katharine put her lips to the letter. “God bless you, Charles,” she murmured. “Families should stand together always.”

She felt the tears touch her eyes, for she was reminded suddenly of Charles’s mother, running wildly round the nursery in the days when they were children, trying to quarrel with her sisters and brother; and their mother drawing the rebellious child to her and explaining that sisters and brothers should never quarrel; they must always stand together against the rest of the world if need be.

Oh to be a child again! thought Katharine. Oh to be back there in Madrid, in Granada, in Valladolid…under the loving wing of that best and wisest of mothers…never to grow up, never to leave the nest!

Then she thought of her own daughter. Had she remained a child herself she would never have had Mary.

She laughed at her folly. She should feel exultant because Charles had answered her cry for help.


* * *

THE CARDINAL had returned to England, and, hearing that the King was in residence at Greenwich, he sent his messenger to the Palace to tell Henry of his arrival and ask where His Grace would wish to receive him.

Henry was in good spirits when the messenger arrived; a pageant was being enacted before him and it had been the work of Anne Boleyn, her brother George and some of the bright young poets who were members of their set. Henry was finding these young people far more to his taste than the older men and women. Moreover Anne was the leader of the group, and where Anne was, there Henry wished to be.