The Story of Katharine Howard - Ford Madox Ford

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to see!’

      In his rage Norfolk blurted out:

      ‘Privy Seal hath his friends, too — these Lutherans. What man could have foreseen how insolent they be grown, for joy at welcoming a Queen of their faith,’ he repeated hotly. ‘No man could have foreseen. My bands are curtailed.’

      Cromwell said:

      ‘Aye, men are needed to keep down the Papists of your North parts.’

      The two men faced each other. It had been part of the Duke’s plan — and Cromwell knew it very well — that the City men should meet with the Lutherans there in the King’s own park. It would show the insolence of the heretics upon whom the Privy Seal relied, and it might prove, too, the strength of the Old Faith in the stronghold of the City.

      Henry rated violently. It put him to shame, he repeated many times. ‘Brawling beneath my face, cries in my ears, and the smell of bloodshed in my nose.’

      Norfolk repeated dully that the Protestants were wondrous insolent. But Cromwell pointed out with a genial amusement: ‘My Lord Duke should have housed the City men within the palace. Cat will fight with dog the world over if you set them together.’

      The Duke answered malignantly:

      ‘It was fitting the citizens should wait to enter. I would not cumber his Highness’ courtyards. We know not yet that this Lady cometh to be welcomed Queen.’

      ‘Body of God,’ the King said with a new violence: ‘do ye prate of these matters?’ His heavy jaws threatened like a dog’s. ‘Hast thou set lousy knaves debating of these?’

      Norfolk answered darkly that it had been treated of in the Council last night.

      ‘My Council! My Council!’ The King seemed to bay out the words. ‘There shall some mothers’ sons rue this!’

      Norfolk muttered that he had spoken of it with no man not a Councillor. The King’s Highness’ self had moved first in this.

      Henry suddenly waved both hands at the sky.

      ‘Take you good order,’ he said heavily into the lean and yellow face of the Duke. ‘Marshal these ceremonies fitly from henceforth. Let nothing lack. Get you gone.’ An end must be made of talk and gossip. The rumour of last night’s Council must appear an idle tale, a falsehood of despairing Papists. ‘The Queen cometh,’ he said.

      With the droop of the Duke’s long arms his hat seemed to brush the stones, his head fell on his chest. It was finished.

      He had seen so many things go that he loved. And now this old woman with her Germans, her heresies — her children doubtless — meant the final downfall of the Old Order in his day. It would return, but he would never see it. And under Cromwell’s sardonic gaze his head hung limply, and his eyes filled with hot and blinding drops. His face trembled like that of a very old man.

      The King had thrust his hand through Cromwell’s arm, and, with a heavy familiarity as if he would make him forget the Council of last night, he was drawing him away towards the water-gate. He turned his head over his shoulder and repeated balefully:

      ‘The Queen cometh.’

      As he did so his eye fell upon a man tugging at the bridle of a mule that had a woman on its back. He passed on with his minister.

      V

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      In turning, Norfolk came against them at the very end of the path. The man’s green coat was spotted with filth, one of his sleeves was torn off and dangled about his heel. The mule’s knees were cut, and the woman trembled with her hidden face and shrinking figure.

      They made him choke with rage and fear. Some other procession might have come against these vagabonds, and the blame would have been his. It disgusted him that they were within a yard of himself.

      ‘Are there no side paths?’ he asked harshly.

      Culpepper blazed round upon him:

      ‘How might I know? Why sent you no guide?’ His vivid red beard was matted into tails, his face pallid and as if blazing with rage. The porter had turned them loose into the empty garden.

      ‘Kat is sore hurt,’ he mumbled, half in tears. ‘Her arm is welly broken.’ He glared at the Duke. ‘Care you no more for your own blood and kin?’

      Norfolk asked:

      ‘Who is your Kat? Can I know all the Howards?’

      Culpepper snarled:

      ‘Aye, we may trust you not to succour your brother’s children.’

      The Duke said:

      ‘Why, she shall back to the palace. They shall comfort her.’

      ‘That shall she not,’ Culpepper flustered. ‘Sh’ath her father’s commands to hasten to Dover.’

      The Duke caught her eyes in the fur hood that hid her face like a Moorish woman’s veil. They were large, grey and arresting beneath the pallor of her forehead. They looked at him, questioning and judging.

      ‘Wilt not come to my lodging?’ he asked.

      ‘Aye, will I,’ came a little muffled by the fur.

      ‘That shall she not,’ Culpepper repeated.

      The Duke looked at him with gloomy and inquisitive surprise.

      ‘Aye, I am her mother’s cousin,’ he said. ‘I fend for her, which you have never done. Her father’s house is burnt by rioters, and her men are joined in the pillaging. But I’ll warrant you knew it not.’

      Katharine Howard with her sound hand was trying to unfasten her hood, hastily and eagerly.

      ‘Wilt come?’ the Duke asked hurriedly. ‘This must be determined.’

      Culpepper hissed: ‘By the bones of St. Nairn she shall not.’ She lifted her maimed hand involuntarily, and, at the sear of pain, her eyes closed. Immediately Culpepper was beside her knees, supporting her with his arms and muttering sounds of endearment and despair.

      The Duke, hearing behind him the swish pad of heavy soft shoes, as if a bear were coming over the pavement, faced the King.

      ‘This is my brother’s child,’ he said. ‘She is sore hurt. I would not leave her like a dog,’ and he asked the King’s pardon.

      ‘Why, God forbid,’ the King said. ‘Your Grace shall succour her.’ Culpepper had his back to them, caring nothing for either in his passion. Henry said: ‘Aye, take good care for her,’ and passed on with Privy Seal on his arm.

      The Duke heaved a sigh of relief. But he remembered again that Anne of Cleves was coming, and his black anger that Cromwell should thus once again have the King thrown back to him came out in his haughty and forbidding tone to Culpepper:

      ‘Take thou my niece to the water-gate. I shall send women to her.’ He hastened frostily up the path to be gone before Henry should return again.

      Culpepper resolved that he would take barge before ever the Duke could send. But the mule slewed right across the terrace; his cousin grasped the brute’s neck and her loosened hood began to fall back from her head.

      The King, standing twenty yards away, with his hand shaking Cromwell’s shoulder, was saying:

      ‘See you how grey I grow.’

      The words came hot into a long harangue. He had been urging that he must have more money for his works at Calais. He was agitated because a French chalk pit outside the English lines had been closed to his workmen. They must bring chalk from Dover at a heavy cost for barges and balingers. This was what it was to quarrel with France.

      Cromwell had his mind upon widening

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