The Boleyn Inheritance Part 23

"But why? Is he so very ill? " I ask her quietly, so that Agnes and the rest of them can't hear. Sometimes I wish, indeed, that I had never allowed them all to join me. They were good enough for the maids' chamber at Lambeth, but really, I don't think they always behave as proper ladies at the queen's court. I am sure Queen Anne never had a rowdy ladies' room like mine. Her ladies were better behaved by far. We would never have dared to speak to her as my ladies speak to me.

"The wound on his leg has closed up again, " Lady Rochford says. "Surely you were listening when the physician explained it? "

"I didn't understand, " I say. "I started listening, but then I didn't understand. I just stopped hearing the words. "

She frowns. "Years ago, the king took a dreadful injury in his leg. The wound has never healed. You know that much, at least. "

"Yes, " I say sulkily. "Everyone knows that much. "

"The wound has gone bad and has to be drained; every day the pus from the flesh has to be drained away. "

"I know that, " I say. "Don't talk about it. "

"Well, the wound has closed, " she says.

"That's a good thing, isn't it? It has healed? He is better. "

"The wound closes over the top, but it is still bad underneath, " she explains. "The poison cannot get away; it mounts to his belly, to his heart. "

"No! " I am quite shocked.

"Last time this happened we feared that we might lose him, " she says most seriously. "His face went black as a poisoned corpse; he lay like a dead man until they opened the wound again and drained off the poison. "

"How do they open it? " I ask. "You know, this is really disgusting. "

"They cut into it and then they hold it open, " she says. "They wedge it open with little chips of gold. They have to push the chips into the wound to keep it raw, otherwise it will close over. He has to bear the pain of an open wound all the time, and they will have to do it again. Cut into his leg and then cut again. "

"Then he will be well again? " I ask brightly; I really want her to stop telling me these things.

"No, " she says. "Then he will be as he was, lame and in pain, and being poisoned by it. The pain makes him angry, and, worse than that, it makes him feel old and weary. The lameness means he cannot be the man he was. You helped him to feel young again, but now the wound reminds him that he is an old man. "

"He can't really have thought he was young. He can't have thought he was young and handsome. Not even he can have thought that. "

She looks at me seriously. "Oh, Katherine, he did think he was young and in love. He has to be made to think that again. "

"But what can I do? " I can feel myself pouting. "I cannot put ideas in his head. Besides, he d"s not come to my bed while he is ill. "

"You will have to go to him, " she says. "Go to him and make something up that will make him feel young and in love again. Make him feel like a young man, filled with l.u.s.t. "

I frown. "I don't know how. "

"What would you do if he were a young man? "

"I could tell him that one of the young men of the court is in love with me, " I suggest. "I could make him jealous. There are young men here, " I am thinking of Thomas Culpepper, "that I know I could really, truly desire. "

"Never, " she says urgently. "Never do that. You don't know how dangerous it is to do that. "

"Yes, but you said * "

"Can you not think of a way that would make him feel in love again without putting your neck on the block? " she demands irritably.

"Really! " I exclaim. "I only thought * "

"Think again, " she says, quite rudely.

I say nothing. I am not thinking; I am purposely not speaking to show her that she has been rude, and I will not have it.

"Tell him that you are afraid he wants to go back to the d.u.c.h.ess of Cleves, " she says.

This is so surprising that I forget to sulk, and I look at her in astonishment. "But that is just what Agnes was saying, and you told her not to distress me. "

"Exactly, " she says. "That is why it is such a clever lie. Because it is all but true. Half the court is saying it behind their hands; Agnes Restwold says it to your face. If you ever thought for a moment about anything but yourself and your looks and your jewels, you would indeed be anxious and distressed. And, best of all, if you go to him and you behave anxiously and distressed, then he will feel that two women have been fighting over him and will regain confidence in his own charm again. If you do it well, it might get him back into your bed before Lent. "

I hesitate. "I want him to be happy, of course, " I say carefully. "But if he d"s not come to my bed before Lent, then it d"s not much matter . "

"It d"s matter. This is not about your pleasure or even his, " she says gravely. "He has to get a son on you. You seem to keep forgetting it is not about dancing or music or even jewels or land. You do not earn your place as queen by being the woman he dotes on; you earn your place as queen by being the mother of his son. Until you give him a son, I don't think he will even have you crowned. "

"I must be crowned, " I protest.

"Then you must get him into your bed to give you a child, " she says. "Anything else is too dangerous even to think about. "

"I'll go. " I sigh a great hard-done-by sigh, so she can see that I am not frightened by her threats, but on the contrary I am wearily going to do my duty. "I'll go and tell him I am unhappy. "

By luck, when I get there, the outer presence chamber is unusually empty, so many people have gone home. So Thomas Culpepper is almost alone, playing at dice, right hand against left, in the window seat.

"Are you winning? " I ask him, trying to speak lightly.

He leaps to his feet as he sees me, and bows.

"I always win, Your Grace, " he says. His smile makes my heart skip a beat. It really d"s, it truly d"s; when he tosses his head like that and smiles, I can hear my heart go thud-thud.

"That is not a great skill if you are playing alone, " I say aloud; and to myself I say, And that's not very witty.

"I win at dice and I win at cards, but I am hopeless at love, " he says very quietly.

I glance behind me; Katherine Tylney has stopped to talk to the Duke of Hertford's kinsman and is not listening, for once. Catherine Carey is at a discreet distance, looking out of the window.

"You are in love? " I ask.

"You must know it, " he says in a whisper.

I hardly dare think. He must mean me; he must be about to declare his love for me. But I swear if he is talking about someone else I shall just die. I can't bear him to want someone else. But I keep my voice light.

"Why should I know it? "

"You must know who I love, " he says. "You, of all people in the world. "

This conversation is so delicious I can feel my t"s curling up inside my new slippers. I feel hot; I am certain I am blushing and he will be able to see.

"Must I? "

"The king will see you now, " announces the idiot Dr. b.u.t.t, and I jump and start away from Thomas Culpepper, for I had utterly forgotten that I was there to see the king and to make him love me again. "I'll come in a minute, " I say over my shoulder.

Thomas gives a little snort of laughter, and I have to clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself giggling, too. "No, you must go, " he reminds me quietly. "You can't keep the king waiting. I'll be here when you come out. "

"Of course I am going at once, " I say, remembering that I have to seem upset at the king's neglect, and I turn away from him in a hurry and dash into the king's room, where he is lying on his bed like a great ship stranded in dry dock, his leg stuck up into the air on embroidered cushions and his big round face all wan and self-pitiful. I walk slowly toward his big bed and try to look anxious for his love.

Jane Boleyn, Hampton Court, March 1541 The king is sliding into some kind of melancholy; he insists on being alone, shut away like some old dying smelly dog, and Katherine's attempts to make him turn to her are doomed since she cannot sustain an interest in anyone but herself for more than half a day. She has gone to his room again, but this time he would not even let her in; instead of showing concern, she tossed her pretty head and said that if he would not let her in, she would not visit again.

But she lingered long enough to meet Thomas Culpepper, and he took her walking in the garden. I sent Catherine Carey after her with a shawl and another well-behaved maid to give them the appearance of decorum, but from the way the queen was holding his arm, and chattering and laughing, anybody could see that she was happy in his company and had forgotten all about her husband lying in silence in a darkened room.

My lord duke gives me a long, hard look at dinner but says nothing, and I know that he expects me to get our little b.i.t.c.h serviced and in pup. A son would raise the king from his melancholy and secure the crown for the Howard family forever. We have to do it this time. We have to manage it. No other family in the world has had two attempts at such a prize. We cannot fail twice.

In her pique Katherine summons musicians to the ladies' chamber and dances with her women and the people of her household. It isn't very merry, and two of the wilder girls, Joan and Agnes, run down to the dining hall and invite some men from the court. When I see they have done this, I send a page for Thomas Culpepper to see if he will be fool enough to come. He is.

I see her face as he comes into the room, the rise of her color, and then how quickly she turns away and speaks to little Catherine Carey at her side. Plainly, she is quite besotted with him, and for a moment I remember that she is not just a p.a.w.n in our game, but a girl, a young girl, and she is falling in love for the first time in her life. To see little Kitty Howard at a loss, stumbling in her speech, blushing like a rose, thinking of someone else and not herself is to see a girl become a woman. It would be very endearing if she were not Queen of England and a Howard with work to do.

Thomas Culpepper joins the set of dancers and places himself so that he will partner the queen when the couples pair off. She looks down at the ground to hide her smile of pleasure and to affect modesty, but when the dance brings them together and she takes his hand, her eyes come up to him and they gaze at each other with absolute longing.

I glance round; n.o.body else seems to have noticed, and, indeed, half the queen's ladies are making sheep's eyes at one young man or another. I glance across at Lady Rutland and raise my eyebrows; she nods and g"s to the queen and speaks quietly in her ear. Katherine scowls like a disappointed child, then turns to the musicians. "This must be the last dance, " she says sulkily. But she turns and her hand g"s out, almost without her volition, to Thomas Culpepper.

Katherine, Hampton Court, March 1541 Every day I see him, and every day we are a little bolder with each other. The king still has not come out from his rooms, and his circle of physicians and doctors and the old men who advise him hardly ever come to my rooms, so it is as if we are free in these days *just us young people together. The court is quiet with no dancing and no entertainment, since it is Lent. I cannot even have dancing privately in my rooms anymore. We cannot hunt, or boat on the river, or play games, or do anything amusing. But we are allowed to walk in the gardens, or by the river after Ma.s.s, and when I am walking, Thomas Culpepper walks beside me, and I would rather walk with him than dance dressed in my best with a prince.

"Are you cold? " he says.

Hardly, I am buried in my sables, but I look up at him and say: "A little. "

"Let me warm your hand, " he says, and tucks it under his arm so that it is pressed against his jacket. I have such a longing to open the front of his jacket and put both my hands inside. His belly would be smooth and hard, I think. His chest may be covered with light hair. I don't know; it is so thrilling that I don't know. I know the scent of him, at least, I can recognize it now. He has a warm smell, like good-quality candles. It burns me up.

"Is that better? " he asks, pressing my hand to his side.

"Much better, " I say.

We are walking beside the river, and a boatman g"s past and shouts something at the two of us. With only a handful of ladies and courtiers before and behind us, n.o.body knows that I am the queen.

"I wish we were just a boy and a girl walking out together. "

"Do you wish you were not queen? "

"No, I like being queen *and of course I love His Majesty the king with all my heart and soul *but if we were just a girl and a boy we could be strolling to an inn for some dinner and dancing, and that would be fun. "

"If we were a girl and a boy I would take you to a special house I know, " he says.

"Would you? Why? " I can hear the entranced giggle in my own voice, but I cannot help myself.

"It has a private dining room and a very good cook. I would give you the finest of dinners, and then I would court you, " he says.

I give a little gasp of pretend shock. "Master Culpepper! "

"I would not stop till I had a kiss, " he says outrageously. "And then I would go on. "

"My grandmother would box your ears, " I threaten him.

"It would be worth it. " He smiles, and I can feel my heart thudding. I want to laugh out loud for the sheer joy of him.

"Perhaps I would kiss you back, " I whisper.

"I am quite sure you would, " he says, and ignores my delighted gasp. "I have never in all my life kissed a girl and not had her kiss me back. I am quite sure you would kiss me, and I think you would say, Oh, Thomas!' "

"Then you are very sure of yourself indeed, Master Culpepper. "

"Call me Thomas. "

"I will not! "

"Call me Thomas when we are alone like this. "

"Oh, Thomas! "

"There you are, you said it, and I have not even kissed you yet. "

"You must not talk to me of kissing when anyone else is near. "

"I know that. I should never let any danger come to you. I shall guard you as my life itself. "

"The king knows everything, " I warn him. "Everything we say, perhaps even everything we think. He has spies everywhere, and he knows what is in people's very hearts. "

"My love is hidden deep, " he says.

"Your love? " I can hardly breathe for this.

"My love, " he repeats.

Lady Rochford comes up beside me. "We have to go in, " she says. "It is going to rain. "

At once Thomas Culpepper turns around and leads me back toward the palace. "I don't want to go in, " I say stubbornly.

"Go in, and say you want to change your gown, and then slip down the garden stairs from your privy chamber. I will wait for you in the doorway, " he says very quietly.

"You didn't meet me last time we agreed. "

He chuckles. "You must forgive me for that; it was months ago. I shall meet you without fail this time. There is something very special that I want to do. "

"And what is that? "

"I want to see if I can make you say, Oh, Thomas,' again. "

Anne, Richmond Palace, March 1541 Amba.s.sador Harst has come to tell me the news from court. He has placed a young man as a servant in the king's rooms, and the boy says that the physicians attend the king every day and are struggling to keep the wound open so that the poison can drain from his leg. They are putting pellets of gold into the wound so that it cannot close, and they are tying the edges back with string. They are pulling at the poor man's living flesh as if they were making a pudding.