The Fifth Queen Crowned
'Say then to the Queen,' she said, '"_Domina Maria_--the Lady
Mary--_ridet nunquam_--smileth never--_quod_--because--_timoris
ratio_--the reason of my fear--_bona et satis_--is good and
sufficient."'
He held his little head upon one side.
'The Queen did bid me say,' he uttered with his brave little voice,
'"Holy Writ hath it: _Ecce quam bonum et dignum est fratres--fratres----_"'
He faltered without embarrassment and added, 'I ha' forgot the words.'
'Aye!' she said, 'they ha' been long forgotten in these places; I deem
it is overlate to call them to mind.'
She looked upon him coldly for a long time. Then she stretched out her
hand for his paper.
'Your Highness, I will set you a copy.'
She took his paper and wrote--
'_Malo malo mala._'
He held it in his chubby fist, his head on one side.
'I cannot conster it,' he said.
'Why, think upon it,' she answered. 'When I was thy age I knew it
already two years. But I was better beaten than thou.'
He rubbed his little arm.
'I am beaten enow,' he said.
'Knowest not what a swingeing is,' she answered.
'Then thou hadst a bitter childhood,' he brought out.
'I had a good mother,' she cut him short.
She turned her face to her writing again; it was bitter and set. The
little prince climbed slowly into the chair on the dais. He moved
sturdily and curled himself up on the cushion, studying the words on the
paper all the while with a little frown upon his brows. Then, shrugging
his shoulders, he set the paper upon his knee and began to write.
At that date the Lady Mary was still called a bastard, though most men
thought that that hardship would soon be reversed. It was said that
great honours had been shown her, and that was apparent in the
furnishing of her rooms, the fineness of her gear, the increase in the
number of the women that waited on her, and the store of sweet things
that was provided for her to eat. A great many men noted the chair with
a dais that was set up always where she might be, in her principal room,
and though her ladies said that she never sat in it, most men believed
that she had made a pact with the King to do him honour and so to be
reinstated in the estate in which she held her own. It was considered,
too, that she no longer plotted with the King's enemies inside or out of
the realm; it was at least certain that she no longer had men set to
spy upon her, though it was noted that the Archbishop's gentleman,
Lascelles, nosed about her quarters and her maids. But he was always
spying somewhere and, as the Archbishop's days were thought to be
numbered, he was accounted of little weight. Indeed, since the fall of
Thomas Cromwell there seemed to be few spies about the Court, or almost
none at all. It was known that gentlemen wrote accounts of what passed
to Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester. But Gardiner was gone back into
his see and appeared to have little favour, though it was claimed for
him that he had done much to advance the new Queen. So that, upon the
whole, men breathed much more freely--and women too--than in the days
before the fall of Privy Seal. The Queen had made little change, and
seemed to have it in mind to make little more. Her relatives had, nearly
none of them, been advanced. There were few Protestants oppressed,
though many Catholics had been loosed from the gaols, most notably him
whom the Archbishop Cranmer had taken to be his chaplain and confessor,
and others that other lords had taken out of prison to be about them.
All in all the months that had passed since Cromwell's fall had gone
quietly. The King and Queen had gone very often to mass since Katharine
had been shown for Queen in the gardens at Hampton Court, and saints'
days and the feasts of the life of our Lady had been very carefully
observed, along with fasts such as had used to be observed. The King,
however, was mightily fond with his new Queen, and those that knew her
well, or knew her servants well, expected great changes. Some were much
encouraged, some feared very much, but nearly all were heartily glad of
that summer of breathing space; and the weather was mostly good, so that
the corn ripened well and there was little plague or ague abroad.
Thus most men had been heartily glad to see the new Queen upon her
journey there to the north parts. She had ridden upon a white horse with
the King at her side; she had asked the names of several that had come
to see her; she had been fair to look at; and the King had pardoned
many felons, so that men's wives and mothers had been made glad; and
most old men said that the good times were come again, with the price of
malt fallen and twenty-six to the score of herrings. It was reported,
too, that a cider press in Herefordshire had let down a dozen firkins of
cider without any apples being set in it, and this was accounted an omen
of great plenty, whilst many sheep had died, so that men who had set
their fields down in grass talked of giving them to the plough again,
and upon St Swithin's Day no rain had fallen. All these things gave a
great contentment, and many that in the hard days had thought to become
Lutheran in search of betterment, now looked in byres and hidden valleys
to find priests of the old faith. For if a man could plough he might
eat, and if he might eat he could praise God after his father's manner
as well as in a new way.
Thus, around the Lady Mary, whilst she wrote, the people of the land
breathed more peace. And even she could not but be conscious of a new
softness, if it was only in the warmth that came from having her
window-leads properly mended. She had hardly ever before known what it
was to have warm hands when she wrote, and in most days of the year she
had worn fur next her skin, indoors as well as out. But now the sun beat
on her new windows, and in that warmth she could wear fine lawn, so
that, in spite of herself, she took pleasure and was softened, though,
since she spoke to no man save the Magister Udal, and to him only about
the works of Plautus or the game of cards that they played together, few
knew of any change in her.
Nevertheless, on that day she had one of her more ill moods and,
presently, having written a little more, she rang a small silver bell
that was shaped like a Dutch woman with wide skirts.
'The Prince annoys me,' she said to her woman; 'send for his lady
governess.'
The woman, dressed all in black, like her mistress, and with a little
frill of white cambric over her temples as if she were a nun, stood in
the open doorway that was just level with the Lady Mary's chair, so that
the stone wall of the passage caught the light from the window. She
folded her hands before her.
'Alack, Madam,' she said, 'your Madamship knows that at this hour his
Highness' lady governess taketh ever the air.'
The little boy in the chair looked over his paper at his sister.
'Send for his physician then,' Mary said.
'Alack, sister,' the little Prince said before the woman could move, 'my
physician is ill. _Jacet_--He lieth--_in cubiculo_--in his bed.'
The Lady Mary would not look round on him.
'Get thee, then,' she uttered coldly, 'to thine own apartments, Prince.'
'Alack, sister,' he answered,'thou knowest that I may not walk along the
corridors alone for fear some slay me. Nor yet may I be anywhere save
with the Queen, or thee, or with my uncles, or my lady governess, or my
physicians, for fear some poison me.'
He spoke with a clear and shrill voice, and the woman cast down her
eyes, trembling a little, partly to hear such a small, weary child speak
such a long speech as if by wizardry--for it was reported among the
serving maids that he had been overlooked--and partly for fear of the
black humour that she perceived to be upon her mistress.
'Send me then my Magister to lay out cards with me,' the Lady Mary said.
'I cannot make my studies with this Prince in my rooms.'
'Alack, Madam,' the girl said. She was high coloured and with dark eyes,
but when she faltered then the colour died from her cheeks. The Lady
Mary surveyed her coldly, for she was in the mood to give pain. She
uttered no words.
'Alack, alack----' the maid whimpered. She was full of fear lest the
Lady Mary should order her to receive short rations or many stripes; she
was filled with consternation and grief since her sweetheart, a server,
had told her that he must leave her. For it was rumoured that the
Magister had been cast into gaol for sweethearting, and that the King
had said that all sweethearts should be gaoled from thenceforth. 'The
Magister is gaoled,' she said.
'Wherefore?' the Lady uttered the one expressionless word.
'I do not know,' the maid wailed; 'I do not know.'
The form of the Archbishop's gentleman glided noiselessly behind her
back. His eyes shot one sharp, sideways glance in at the door, and, like
a russet fox, he was gone. He was so like a fox that the Lady Mary, when
she spoke, used the words--
'Catch me that gentleman.'
He was brought to the doorsill by the panting maid, for he had walked
away very fast. He stood there, blinking his eyes and stroking his
fox-coloured beard. When the Lady Mary beckoned him into the room he
pulled off his cap and fell to his thin knees. He expected her to bid
him rise, but she left him there.
'Wherefore is my secretary gaoled?' she asked cruelly.
He ran his finger round the rim of his cap where it lay on the floor
beside him.
'That he is gaoled, I know,' he said; 'but the wherefore of it, not.'
He looked down at the floor and she down at his drooped eyelids.
'God help you,' she uttered scornfully. 'You are a spy and yet know no
more than a Queen's daughter.'
'God help me,' he repeated gravely and touched his eyelid with one
finger. 'What passed, passed between the King and him. I know no more
than common report.'
'Common report?' she said. 'I warrant thee thou wast slinking around the
terrace. I warrant thee thou heardst words of the King's mouth. I
warrant thee thou followedst here to hear at my doorhole how I might
take this adventure.'
One of his eyelids moved delicately, but he said no word. The Lady Mary
turned her back on him and he expected her order to be gone. But she
turned again--
'Common report?' she uttered once more. 'I do bid you give me the common
report upon this, that the Queen sends to me every day this little
Prince to be alone with me two hours.'
He winced with his eyebrows again.
'Out with the common report,' she said.
'Madam,' he uttered, 'it is usually commended that the Queen should seek
to bring sister and Prince-brother together.'
She shrugged her stiff shoulders up to her ears.
'What a poor liar for a spy,' she said. 'It is more usually
reported'--and she turned upon the little Prince--'that the Queen sends
thee here that I may work thee a mischief so that thou die and her child
reign after the King thy father.'
The little Prince looked at her with pensive eyes. At that moment
Katharine Howard came to the room door and looked in.
'Body of God,' the Lady Mary said; 'here you spy out a spy committing
treason. For it is still treason to kneel to me. I am of illegal birth
and not of the blood royal.'
Katharine essayed her smile upon the black-avised girl.
'Give me leave,' she said.
'Your Grace's poor room,' Mary said, 'is open ever to your Grace's
entry. _Ubi venis ibi tibi._'
The Queen bade her waiting women go. She entered the room and looked at
Lascelles.
'I think I know thy face,' she said.
'I am the Archbishop's poor gentleman,' he answered. 'I think you have
seen me.'
'No. It is not that,' she said. 'It was long ago.'
She crossed the room to smell at the pinks in the window.
'How late the flowers grow,' she said. 'It is August, yet here are still
vernal perfumes.'