I did not know what to say. My feelings were so mixed. I … to be the Queen! Honored throughout the Court! It was such a dazzling prospect that it was as though it blinded me. All those who had been faintly contemptuous of me would now bow the knee and call me Majesty. It made me want to laugh. That was hysteria, I imagined. And Thomas? Oh, Thomas, I thought, we should have been so happy at Hollingbourne. I could see clearly that there was no choice for me. This glittering and powerful King had decided my fate. And so had my uncle. They had done it between them. I could see that I should never marry Thomas.

The King was smiling at me very kindly. There must be great kindness in him, for he had never shown anything else to me. I was aware of that immense power in him. For some extraordinary reason, after dignified Catherine, dazzling Anne, pretty Jane, and unwanted Anne of Cleves, he had chosen me to be his fifth Queen.

I was not the sort of person who could make things happen the way I wanted them to—although those like my uncle could. I must just let events carry me along.

For a moment I felt trapped. It was not my will, but theirs. I had no recourse but to obey. They had decided my fate, and I was trapped—a golden cage it might be, surrounded by treasure, but I had no means of escaping from it.

Mine was a serene nature. I was not clever enough to devise plans for escape, and I was not sure, when I realized what all this would mean, whether I wanted to.

I was at least wise enough to know that if I did escape from this fate, I should bring the wrath of my family down upon me and would never be allowed to marry Thomas Culpepper.

“You do not speak,” said the King. “I will tell you why. You do not know what to say. Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.

He took my hand and drew me near to him. He looked closely at me and put out a hand to touch my cheek.

“You are beautiful,” he said. “I never saw one that pleased me more than you do. And that pleases you, does it not?”

I nodded.

He drew me even closer. I could feel the warmth of his flesh against mine. He kissed me gently on the forehead.

“Always remain as you are at this moment and you will please me,” he said.

“I … I will try, Your Majesty.”

He gave that rather loud laugh of his.

“You will always please me, I know,” he said. “At last I have found you. I have looked so long. You are like a rose. My favorite flower, Katherine. The flower of England … most beautiful of all flowers. But roses have thorns.” His face darkened, and there was a certain petulant droop to his lips. For a moment he looked angry, then he was smiling again. “And you are my rose without a thorn. That is how I see you, Katherine. Do you wonder that I want to keep you at my side forever?”

I was sitting on his knee now, his arm round me, holding me tightly against him. The ruby on his coat touched my skin, it was so close to me. I wondered about his leg and thought of what Thomas had told me of it. I was about to ask him if it were better but, innocent as I might be about matters of importance, some natural instinct told me that this was not a time to remind him of his infirmities.

“I am blessed in you, sweet Katherine,” he said. “I believe that, through you, the curse which Heaven has put upon me is about to be lifted.”

I wondered how even Heaven would have dared put a curse on such a powerful person, but again I said nothing.

“I am a simple man,” he went on, and I almost showed my amazement at such a statement. “I ask but little. Just to live in peace with a wife who will care for me as I care for her. Katherine, my sweet child, that joy has, till now, been denied me. What have I done that God should punish me, eh?”

Another of those unanswerable questions—and one I had heard before. Fortunately, he supplied the answer, and as I cast down my eyes he continued: “I will tell you. Through no fault of mine, I went through a form of marriage with my brother’s widow. That was no true marriage, and for years I lived in a state of sin with a woman who was not my wife in the eyes of Heaven.”

“Oh no, Your Majesty,” I murmured.

His arm tightened about me: and then his face hardened.

“And then … I married a witch …”

Visions of my beautiful cousin came to me. He had broken with Rome for her sake, and now he said she was a witch.

“Then Jane … she was a gentle creature, but she died and, though she gave me a son, he is not strong. And now … this woman from Flanders. You see what I tell you is truth. But you have come to me and you are going to give me all that I ask. The curse is lifted and so, Katherine, I shall make you my Queen.”

His expression had undergone many changes as he was speaking. He had looked both forlorn and angry. At times he reminded me of a little boy, and then seconds later his face was so twisted in anger that he was like a cruel tyrant.

I felt suddenly sorry for him, and I realized at once what a pretentious attitude that was. On impulse, I put my arms round his neck and kissed his cheek.

The effect of my action was immediate. His eyes filled with tears; his expression was soft and sentimental.

“Sweet Katherine,” he murmured and held me close against him.

And in that moment I was reconciled to whatever lay before me.

The Queen

THE WHOLE COUNTRY was now aware that Anne of Cleves was no longer the Queen and that the King and she had come to an amicable agreement. The King had made her his sister and Parliament had obsequiously begged him graciously to consider marrying again for the sake of the nation.

The marriage was secretly arranged. There was to be no grand ceremony and coronation, as there had been for my predecessors. Whether the King considered these would follow too closely after those of his fourth marriage, or whether they would prove too costly, I was not sure.

I felt as though I were being hurried along in a fantastic dream. I could not say that I was unhappy. I had always loved excitement and I certainly had my share of it at that time.

There was a quiet ceremony with only a few people present, including my uncle, the Duke, who was clearly pleased that we had progressed so far, and I had the rare sight of recognizing the approval in his face for me. I had to admit I enjoyed that.

My grandmother was present, her eyes full of pride as they rested on me, and perhaps I did detect the faintest apprehension.

I realized afresh the immense power of this man who had chosen to be my husband. Yet I was not afraid of him. How could I be? Nothing but the warmest affection had he ever bestowed on me. His hand constantly reached out to touch mine; there was a caress in his very smile. I knew, of course, what lay before me. I was indeed no innocent child.

The King had given me several jewels on our wedding-day when he told me that the happiest man in the country was the King.

I know now that I am one of those women who must have physical love. It was something I had greatly missed when Francis Derham went away. Now I could indulge legitimately, and I need have no qualms of conscience. Thomas and I had always been afraid to give way to our desires, lest we might jeopardize our future. Derham and I had deceived ourselves into insisting that we were in truth married. But this was different. This was duty. This was my husband, and there was no need for guilt. Did it add to the excitement? Perhaps that was due to the fact that this was the King. I believe that power is a strong element in the attraction of the male to the female. The man is all-conquering; the woman submissive. Henry was the most powerful man in the country. I had been of no consequence until he had singled me out for his approval.

I had an uneasy moment or two when he seemed to show surprise at my ready responses. He had been expecting an entirely innocent girl. That was something I could not feign, and I was never good at pretending. My grandmother had insisted that I must be natural, and I found it difficult to act otherwise than my impulses directed. If he had expected a reluctant child, who must be carefully initiated into the mysteries of the senses, he was mistaken. This was one sphere in which I was not ignorant, as I seemed to be in all others. But I think Henry attributed my reaction to a delight in the great honor which was being bestowed on me, and it seemed to add to his pleasure.

He said I was the perfect wife—the Rose without a Thorn.


* * *

We were at Hampton Court—one of the King’s favorite palaces, presented to him by Cardinal Wolsey in an attempt to regain his favor. It held many memories for me—later less pleasant ones—but at that time I shared the King’s pleasure in it.

Cardinal Wolsey had made it one of the most desirable residences in the country. I had heard that there were 1,500 rooms, and so lavish had been the Cardinal’s hospitality that at times all these rooms were in use; and the fireplaces in the kitchen were each large enough to roast the whole of an ox. I had not seen proof of this, but I believed it to be true.

It was a pity that the palace for me was haunted by Wolsey—only now and then, of course. I used to think of him there at the height of his glory, no doubt imagining it would always be thus for him. But he loved power too much for his own safety: he loved pomp and splendor and surrounded himself with it, so that people used to sing: “Why come ye not to Court?” “To which Court? To the King’s Court or to Hampton Court?” That was his downfall. A subject should not seek to rival his King. It was small wonder that the King asked if it were meet and proper for a subject to outdo the King in his manner of living. There was nothing Wolsey could do then but offer Hampton Court to the King, yet even that did not save him. So I was a little saddened thinking of him during those days.