Jean Plaidy - The Sixth Wife: The Story of Katherine Parr Страница 18

The question was not whether my lady of Richmond would take Sir Thomas Seymour, but whether Sir Thomas would take her.

He liked her. He liked all beautiful women; but a woman must have more than her beauty to offer an ambitious man. “And, my dear Mary Howard,” he murmured, “there are others who have more to offer me than you have.”

The spring air was like a glass of wine; he could smell the scents of the earth. Life was good; and would be better.

There were four women now whom he must consider before he took the final step. A duchess, a Queen, the kinswoman of a King, and a King’s daughter.

There was no doubt on whom his choice would fall, were it possible for him to make the choice. For the Queen he had a great tenderness; he loved Kate and there would be great happiness with such as she was. But she could not be his wife until she was a Dowager Queen; whereas the Princess might one day be a Queen in her own right.

He could love the woman for her sweet nature, but he longed for the redheaded Princess. Ambition and desire could mingle so pleasantly.

He left the rose gardens and strolled toward that new pond garden of his master’s. How beautiful it was! How quiet! What perfect peace there was in such a garden, with its lily pond, its statues and terraces. Already it was gay with spring flowers and the blossoming shrubs.

He looked into the future—a future in which the King would be dead, and he and his brother would rule; but his brother was a man who would wish to take first place, and it seemed to Thomas that since Edward lacked his own superior personal charms, people thought he must be the more astute statesman. Edward was sly; Edward was clever; and he had an ambitious wife. Those two would wish to rule without the help of Thomas.

Marriage was, therefore, of the utmost importance to the Admiral; but it must be the right marriage.

A movement in the gardens caught his eyes, and his lips curved into a smile of deep satisfaction as a small figure rose from the grass, a figure in crimson velvet, her red hair just visible under her pearltrimmed hood.

Seymour lost no time in approaching the Princess Elizabeth.

He bowed and took her hand.

“I was admiring the flowers,” he said; “then I saw that I wasted my admiration on them.”

“It rejoices me that you realized the wastage in good time,” she said, “for I know you are a man who does not care to waste his talents. It grows chilly.”

“Then I must fain give you my cloak. We cannot allow the Lady Elizabeth to be cold.”

“My walk back to the Palace will doubtless warm me.”

“I hoped that you would tarry and talk awhile.”

“Your hopes, Sir Thomas, I doubt not are always high. Perhaps too high.”

“Hopes can never be too high, my lady. If we hope for much, we achieve a little. But to hope for nothing is too achieve nothing. That, you will agree, is folly.”

“You are too clever for me, my lord.”

“Nay. There are times when it saddens me to think that I am not clever enough.”

“You speak in riddles and I must leave you to them. My lord …” She curtsied, and would have walked past him; but he had no intention of letting her go.

“Could we not dispense with ceremony now that we are alone?”

“Alone! Who is ever alone at court? Such as you and I, my lord Admiral, are never alone, for there will always be eyes to watch us when we do not see them, and ears to listen. There will always be those who treasure your simplest utterances—and mine—and mayhap use them against us.”

“Elizabeth… most beauteous Princess….”

She flushed. Clever as she was, she was susceptible to flattery, even as was her royal father; and she lacked his experience in hiding this fact. Important as she knew herself to be in the affairs of state politics since she had been reinstated at court, and much as she enjoyed her new position, she was more pleased at hearing herself called beautiful than she would have been by any reference to her importance in the realm.

Seymour kept his advantage. “Give me this pleasure…give me this pleasure of gazing upon you.”

“I have heard the ladies of the court say that it is not wise to take too seriously the compliments of the Lord High Admiral.”

“The ladies of the court?” He shrugged his shoulders. “They are apart. You are as different from them as the sun from the moon.”

“The moon,” she retorted, “is very beautiful, but it hurts the eyes to look at the sun.”

“When I look at you I feel myself scorched with the passion within me.”

Her laughter rang out clear and loud.

“I hear talk of your marriage, my lord. May I congratulate you?”

“I would welcome congratulations, only if I might announce my coming marriage to one particular lady.”

“And can you not make the announcement? I have heard that there is no man at court more likely to sue successfully for a lady’s favor.”

“She whom I would marry is far above me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do I hear aright? Is the Lord High Admiral losing his belief in himself?”

“Elizabeth…my beautiful Elizabeth….”

She eluded him and ran from him; she paused to look back, artful and alluring, urging him on, yet forbidding him to come.

She was aware of the Palace windows. Much as she would have enjoyed a flirtation with this man, who fascinated her more than any person ever had, she did not wish to endanger her new position at court.

If Seymour had his dreams and ambitions, the Lady Elizabeth had hers no less. Indeed, they soared higher even than those of Seymour; and if they were more glorious, they were more dangerous.

He would have followed her, but she had suddenly become haughty.

“I wish to be alone,” she said coldly, and she walked from the garden, forcing herself to conquer her desire to stay with him, to invite his warm glances and perhaps the caresses which he longed to give and she would not have been averse to receiving.

Coquettish as she was, she longed for admiration. Flirtation was an amusing pastime, yet beyond the love of light pleasures was her abiding ambition.

As he watched her, Seymour had no doubt that she was the woman for him.

NAN CREPT SILENTLY out of the Palace of Greenwich. She was covered from head to foot in a dark cloak, under which she wore many thick petticoats which she would not be wearing when, and if, she were fortunate enough to return to the Palace that night.

It was not the first time she had made this journey, carrying food and warm clothing with her, but each time she made it she was filled with fears, for it was a dangerous journey.

Lady Herbert had said to her: “If you should be detained, on no account must it be known who sent you.”

“No, my lady.”

“And Nan…be strong… and brave.”

They both knew that if she were caught she would be recognized as a lady from the Queen’s household. But on no account, Nan assured herself, would she let them know that the Queen had played a part in this mission.

“God help me to be brave” was Nan’s continual prayer.

The faint light of a waning moon shone on the river, and in the shadow cast by the bushes she made out the barge which was waiting for her.

The boatman greeted her in that manner which had been arranged. “Hello, there! Come you from my lady?”

“Yes,” whispered Nan. “From my lady.”

She stepped into the boat which began to slip along only too slowly. Nan listened to the sound of the oars and continued to pray for courage.

The boatman sang softly to himself as he rowed. Not that he felt like singing. He must be almost as nervous as Nan; but he, like her, must wear an air of calm, for it must not be suspected that she came from the Queen, and that she was on her way to visit one who must surely be the most important prisoner in the Tower.

“Are you ready?” whispered the boatman at length.

“I am ready.”

She scrambled out on to the slippery bank; it seemed very cold under the shadow of the gray walls which loomed before her.

A man was waiting for her and she followed him without a word. He unlocked a door; Nan shivered as she stepped inside the great fortress of the Tower of London. This man held his lantern high, and she saw the damp walls and the pits at the bottom of which was the muddy water of the river; rats scuttled under her feet. She did not cry out, great as was the temptation to do so.

“Hurry,” whispered the man with the lantern. “You must be gone before the guard comes this way.”

He unlocked a door, and Nan stepped into the cell.

In spite of the intense cold, the closeness of the atmosphere, the smell of dirt and decay, sickened her. It was some seconds before her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, for the man with the lantern had shut and locked the door; in a short while he would return; she would hear the key in the lock and he would let her out.

She could vaguely see the shape on the straw.

“Mistress Askew?” she whispered.

“Nan! Is it you?”

“Yes, Mistress. I have brought food and clothes. You are bidden to be of good cheer.”

“You are a good and brave woman to come to me thus,” said Anne. “Have you a message for me?”

“Only that all that can be done for you will be done.”

“Thank you.”

Nan could see the emaciated face; it looked ghostly in the dimness of the cell.

“Take a message for me,” said Anne. “Tell those who sent you that they should not endanger themselves by sending food and clothing for me. I can face hunger; I can face cold and discomfort.”

“It is our delight to help you, to let you know that although you are a prisoner and others are free, they do not forget you.”

“I thank them,” said Anne, and in spite of her brave words, she fell upon the food which Nan had brought, and ate it ravenously. Nan was taking off the petticoats as she talked, and Anne went on eating as she put them on.

Anne’s hands were icy and her teeth chattered. There was hardly any flesh on her bones to keep her warm.

Ah, thought Nan, it is an easy matter to wish to be a martyr; but how eagerly she eats and how grateful she is for a little warmth!

Already the man was unlocking the door.

“Hasten, Mistress,” he said. “There must be no delay. I have not seen the guard at his usual post. Hasten, I say. If we are followed, remember, I know nothing of you and how you came here.”

“I will remember,” said Nan.

Hastily he locked the door of the cell, and Nan picked her way through the dark passages, trying not to brush against the slimy walls, praying that she might not step on the rats.

She felt exhausted when she lay, at length, in the boat, listening to the sound of the oars as she was carried away from the grim fortress of the Tower of London back to Greenwich.

THE MAN WITH THE lantern reentered the Tower and had scarcely taken three steps inside the building when two men took their stand on either side of him.

“Where go you, sir jailor?” asked one.

“Where go I?” blustered the man, and he felt as though cold water were dripping down his back, although he was sweating with fear. “Where go I? To my post, of course.”

“Who was the fair lady to whom you have just bade farewell?” enquired the other man.

“Fair lady…? I…?”

“You conducted her to a certain cell, did you not?”

“You are mistaken.”

The lantern was suddenly taken from his hand, and he was pinioned.

“This way,” said one of his captors. “We have questions to ask you.”

They pushed him roughly along through the gloomy passages. Terror walked with him. A short while ago the Tower had been to him merely the prison of others; now it was his prison.

“I…I havedone… nothing.”

“Later, later,” said a soft voice in his ear. “You shall speak for yourself later.”

They were taking him into unfamiliar byways. He could hear the fierce chorus of rats as they fought with their human victims; he could hear the piercing screams for help from those miserable prisoners who were chained to the walls and who, when they heard footsteps coming their way, shouted for help without any hope that it would be given to them. They took him past the pits in which men were chained, the dirty water up to their knees; the lantern showed him their faces, wildeyed and unkempt, faces that had lost their human aspect, as they fought the hungry pests which could not wait for them to die.

“Whither… whither are you taking me?”

“Patience, friend, patience!” said the voice in his ear.

Now he was in a chamber, and although he had never seen it before, he knew what it was. He had heard much of this chamber. The dim light from the lamp which hung from the ceiling confirmed his horrible fear.

He smelled blood and vinegar, and he knew them for the mingling odors of the torture chambers; and when his eyes were able to see through the mist of fear, he picked out a man at a table with writing materials before him. Much as he desired to, he could no longer doubt that he was in the torture chamber.

The man at the table had risen; he came forward as though to greet the jailor in friendship. There was a smile on this man’s face, and the jailor guessed from his clothes that he was a personage of some importance. He knew that he himself had been a fool to take a bribe and get himself involved with the kind of people who would be interested in Anne Askew. A jailor was subject to bribery. You took a little here, a little there. But he wished he had never meddled in the case of Anne Askew.

“You know why you are here, my friend,” said the personage.

“Yes…yes, my lord. But I have done nothing.”

“You have nothing to fear. You have only to answer a few questions.”

God in Heaven! thought the sweating jailor. That is what they are all told. “You have merely to answer a few questions!”

“Allow me to show you round the chamber,” said the jailor’s host. “You see here the gauntlets, the thumbscrews, the Spanish collar… the Scavenger’s Daughter. You, who serve the King as one of his jailors, know the uses to which these toys may be put, I doubt not.”

“I do, my lord. But I have done nothing.”

“And here is the rack. The most interesting of them all. My friend, a man is a fool who lets his limbs be stretched on that instrument. There is no need for it. No wise man need let his limbs be broken on the rack. You look pale. Are you going to faint? They deal well with fainting here. The vinegar is a quick restorative…so they tell me.”

“What… what do you want of me?”

The man gripped his arm.

“Answer my questions and go back to your work. That is all I ask of you. Give me truth and I’ll give you freedom.”

“I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“That is well. I knew you were a sensible man. Sit here…here on this stool. Now … have you recovered? Let us be quick; and the quicker the better, say you; for when you have given the simple answers to these questions you will go back to your work and never, I trust, enter this place again.”

“Ask me,” pleaded the jailor. “Ask me now.”

“You are ready?”