At these words, it was as if the court expelled a collective breath. Here was Catherine stating that they had lost children through no fault of her own. Was she daring to suggest, wondered Thomasin, that the fault might lie in Henry himself? No one else would dare question the king’s virility.
The queen kept her eyes fixed on Henry, who could hardly bear to meet them. “And when ye had me at the first, I take God to be my judge, I was a true maid without touch of man; and whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience.”
Everyone turned from her to look at Henry at this point.
“If there be any just cause by the law that ye can allege against me, either of dishonesty or any other impediment to banish and put me from you, I am well content to depart, to my great shame and dishonour; and if there be none, then here I most lowly beseech you let me remain in my former estate, and receive justice at your princely hand. The king your father was in the time of his reign of such estimation through the world for his excellent wisdom, that he was accounted and called of all men the second Solomon; and my father Ferdinand, King of Spain, who was esteemed to be one of the wittiest princes that reigned in Spain many years before, were both wise and excellent kings in wisdom and princely behaviour. It is not therefore tobe doubted, but that they were elected and gathered as wise counsellors about them as to their high discretions was thought meet. Also, as me seems there was in those days as wise, as well-learned men, and men of good judgement as be present in both realms, who thought then the marriage between you and me good and lawful.”
At the side, Thomasin saw More nodding to himself, and many others joining in, regardless of the king’s presence.
Catherine continued, “Therefore is it a wonder to me what new inventions are now invented against me, that never intended but honesty. And cause me to stand to the order and judgment of this new court, wherein ye may do me much wrong, if ye intend any cruelty; for ye may condemn me for lack of sufficient answer, having no indifferent counsel, but such as be assigned me, with whose wisdom and learning I am not acquainted. Ye must consider that they cannot be indifferent counsellors for my part which be your subjects, and taken out of your own council before, wherein they be made privy, and dare not, for your displeasure, disobey your will and intent, being once made privy thereto. Therefore, I most humbly require you, in the way of charity, and for the love of God, who is the just judge, to spare the extremity of this new court, until I may be advertised what way and order my friends in Spain will advise me to take. And if ye will not extend to me so much indifferent favour, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and to God I commit my case!”
For a moment there was silence. Then, applause broke out among her followers, timidly at first, then growing in momentum as more hands and voices joined the chorus.
Catherine rose to her feet, so Thomasin and the others hurriedly followed suit. Campeggio began to speak, but his words were lost amid the din. Turning swiftly on her heel, head held high, the queen walked out of the chamber, despite the clerk calling her back.
“Catherine, Queen of England, come into the court!”
She paused and half-turned. “It makes no difference, for it is no indifferent court to me; therefore, I will not stay.”
In her wake, Thomasin felt a rush of exhilaration at having witnessed what had probably been the bravest performance of Catherine’s life. They kept walking, without stopping or speaking, all the way back through the courtyards, across the bridge and up the steps until they reached the safety of the queen’s apartments.
With the doors closed firmly behind them, Catherine sank exhausted into a chair.
“My lady, that was indeed remarkable,” began Maria. “Such a triumph, you had the room at your command.”
“I did, didn’t I?” The queen smiled weakly.
“Wine,” said Mary, gesturing to the guards, “bring wine and sustenance.”
“It was all you could have hoped for,” Ellen added.
“The best possible advocacy for your case,” Thomasin agreed.
Catherine sighed. “The shame of it, that I should have to speak those words before such a crowd. Words that are not fit for the ears of half the people in that chamber. But it is done and I can do no more today. I can only trust in God’s will.” A smile crept across her face. “Tomorrow, though, I will file my complaint to Rome at such an insult to my queenship.”
“It would be very well done, my lady,” said Maria, “very well done.”
“And the name of that blackguard Cromwell shall be at the very top.”
Thomasin thought at once of her father. For a brief while, she had forgotten about Sir Richard languishing in the Tower, and waves of guilt rushed over her. Perhaps, after the queen had rested, she might find a quiet moment to ask permission to visit him.
EIGHTEEN
It was late afternoon by the time Thomasin was able to leave the queen’s apartments. Catherine was preparing to travel the short distance downriver to Baynard’s Castle, and although there were dresses and jewels and books to be packed away, she insisted that Thomasin take a few hours, with her blessing, to be about her important task.
Thomasin had gathered a few necessaries in a basket to ease her father’s suffering: wine, cheese, a venison pie, warming spices, and a jar of preserved oranges from Catherine’s own supply. As she crossed the inner garden, anxiety seized her heart: what should she expect from such a place as the Tower of London? In what condition would she find her father? She hurried through the green space, alive with plants and scents, towards the gateway in the wall that led round the side and down to the riverbank. But a figure was waiting there, appearing from behind the bushes, where he had been in conversation with a servant. For a moment, she hoped it was Giles, waiting to accompany her, but the sun glinted in a pair of chestnut eyes and lit up a head of black hair.
The sight of Rafe drew Thomasin up short. He looked weary, with dark circles under his eyes, his skin sallow and dull, far from the sparkling, vibrant figure he had once been. Her annoyance was replaced by concern, which swiftly melted. She had no time to stop and argue with him: her father was waiting in his cell.
“Excuse me, please. I must get to the river.”
“No time even to greet me now? Not a single kind word for your betrothed?”
“I am about a matter of the utmost urgency, and I do not think your recent conduct warrants any kind of greeting from me, nor do you merit the title of betrothed. Now please, let me pass.”
“So cold, Thomasin. Is this really you? Has that Giles turned your head so far that you see me now as only an inconvenience?”
At once her temper was roused. The words came out like daggers. “I loved you. I would have married you, but your behaviour has repelled me. We will not be married. You will never be happy, nor will any woman in your life, while you remain eaten away by such bitter insecurity and jealousy. Now, let me pass!”
