The Boleyn Inheritance Part 30

"What will you do? " I demand. "This can't go on. "

"I'll try to keep clear of this, " he says bleakly. "I hoped to see her with her wits about her today. I was going to advise her to plead guilty to Dereham and deny Culpepper, then she has done nothing worse than marry with a precontract in place, as Anne of Cleves. She might have got away with that. He might even have taken her back. But at this rate she will kill herself before the axeman gets her. "

"Keep clear? " I demand. "And what about me? "

His face is like a flint. "What about you? "

"I'll take the French count, " I say to him rapidly. "Whatever the contract is, I'll take him. I'll live with him in France for a few years *wherever he likes. I'll lie low until the king has recovered from this, I can't go back into exile, I can't go back to Blickling. I can't stand it. I can't go through it all again. I really can't. I'll take the French count even without a good settlement. Even if he is old and ugly, even if he's deformed. I'll take the French count. "

The duke shouts with sudden laughter like a baited bear, bellowing in my face. I recoil, but his amus.e.m.e.nt is horribly sincere. In these terrible rooms filled with women crying to Katherine to compose herself and her awful, high-pitched wailing, and the archbishop praying loudly over the noise, the duke roars out his merriment. "A French count! " he bellows. "A French count! Are you mad? Are you run as mad as my niece? "

"What? " I demand, quite baffled. "What are you laughing at? Hush, my lord. Hush. There's nothing to laugh at. "

"Nothing to laugh at? " He cannot contain himself. "There never was a French count. There never could have been a French count. There never would be a French count or an English earl or an English baron. There would never be a Spanish don, or an Italian prince. No man in the world would ever have you. Are you such a fool that you don't know that? "

"But you said * "

"I said anything to keep you at work for me, as you would say anything to suit your own cause. But I never thought you really believed me. Don't you know what men think of you? "

I can feel my legs starting to tremble; it is like the time before, when I knew that I would have to betray them. When I knew that I would have to hide my falseness from my own face. "I don't know, " I say. "I don't want to know. "

His hard hands come down on my shoulders, and he drags me to one of the queen's expensive gilt-edged looking gla.s.ses. In the soft silver reflection I see my own wide eyes looking back at me, and his face as hard as the face of Death himself. "Look, " he says. "Look at yourself and know what you are: you liar, you false wife. There is not a man in the world who would marry you. You are known the length and breadth of Europe as the woman who sent her husband and her sister-in-law to the axeman. You are known in every court in Europe as a woman so vile that she sent her husband to be hanged " *he gives me a shake * "to be cut down while still living, in his p.i.s.s-wet breeches " *he shakes me again * "to be slit from c.o.c.k to throat, to see his belly and his liver and his lights pulled out and shown to him, to bleed to death while they burned his liver and his heart and his belly and his lungs before his face " *he shakes me once more * "and then finally to be sliced up like a beast on the butcher's block, the head, the arms, the legs. "

"They didn't do that to him, " I whisper, but my lips barely move in the reflection.

"No thanks to you, " he says. "That's what people remember. The king, his worst enemy, spared him the torture that you had sent him to. The king let him be beheaded, but you sent him to be disemboweled. You, on the witness stand, swearing that he and Anne had been lovers, that he had mounted his own sister, that he was a sodomite, a b.u.g.g.e.r, with half the court, swearing that they had plotted the king's death, swearing his life away, sending him to a death that you would not give to a dog. "

"It was your plan. " In the mirror my face is green with sickness at the truth being spoken out loud at last, my dark eyes bulging with horror. "It was your plan, not mine. I shall not be blamed for it. You said that we would save them. They would be pardoned if we gave evidence and they pleaded guilty. "

"You knew that was a lie. " He shakes me like a terrier shakes a rat. "You knew, you liar. You never took the stand to save him. You took the stand to save your t.i.tle and your fortune; you called it your inheritance, the Boleyn inheritance. You knew that if you turned evidence against your own husband, then the king would leave you with your t.i.tle and your lands. That's all you wanted in the end. That's all you cared for. You sent that young man and that beauty, his sister, to the gallows so that you could save your own yellow skin and your paltry t.i.tle. You sent them to their deaths, a savage death, for being beautiful and merry and happy in each other's company and for excluding you. You are a byword for malice, jealousy, and twisted l.u.s.t. D'you think any man would trust you with a t.i.tle again? D'you think any man would risk calling you wife? After that? "

"I was going to save him. " I bare my teeth at the two of us in the mirror. "I accused him so that he could confess and be pardoned. I would have saved him. "

"You are a killer worse than the king, " he says brutally, and throws me to one side. I rebound off the wall and grab at the tapestry to steady myself. "You testified against your own sister-in-law and husband; you stood by the sickbed while Jane Seymour died; you testified against Anne of Cleves and would have seen her beheaded. Now, without a doubt, you will see another cousin go to the gallows, and I confidently expect you to bear witness against her. "

"I loved him, " I say stubbornly, going to the only charge that I cannot bear to hear. "You shall not deny that I loved George. I loved him with all my heart. "

"Then you are worse than a liar and a false friend, " he says coldly. "For your love brought the man you love to a most pitiable death. Your love is worse than hatred. Dozens hated George Boleyn, but it was your loving word that took him to his death. Don't you see how evil you are? "

"If he had stood by me, if he had cleaved to me, I would have saved him, " I cry out from my own pain. "If he had loved me as he loved her, if he had let me into his life, if I had been as dear to him as she was * "

"He would never have stood by you, " the duke says with contempt like poison in his voice. "He would never have loved you. Your father bought him for you with a fortune, but n.o.body and no fortune could make you lovable. George despised you, and Anne and Mary laughed at you. That's why you accused them; none of this high-flying, self-sacrificing lie has a shred of truth. You accused them, because if you could not have George, you would rather have seen him dead than loving his sister. "

"She came between us, " I gasp.

"His hounds came between you. His horses. He loved the horses in his stable, he loved his hawks in his mews more than he loved you. And you would have killed every one of them *horse, hound, and hawk *from sheer jealousy. You are an evil woman, Jane, and I have used you as I would use a piece of filth. But now I am finished with that foolish girl Katherine, and I am finished with you. You can advise her to save herself as best she can. You can bear witness for her, you can bear witness against her. I don't care for either of you. "

I feel the wall behind me, and I push myself forward to glare into his face. "You will not treat me so, " I say. "I am no piece of filth; I am your ally. If you turn against me, you will regret it. I know all the secrets. Enough to send her to the gallows, enough to send you there, too. I will destroy her, and you with her. " I am panting now, flushed with rage. "I will bring her to the scaffold and every Howard with her. Even if I die myself this time! "

He laughs again, but now he is quiet, his anger spent. "She is a lost cause, " he says. "The king has finished with her. I have finished with her. I can save myself, and I will. You will go down with the s.l.u.t. You cannot get off twice. "

"I shall tell the archbishop about Culpepper, " I threaten. "I shall tell him that you meant them to be lovers. That you told me to throw them together. "

"You can say what you like, " he replies easily. "You will have no proof. There is only one person who was seen carrying messages and letting him into her rooms. That would be you. Everything you say to incriminate me will point to your guilt. You will die for it, and G.o.d knows, I don't care one way or another. "

I scream then, I scream and fall to my knees and clasp him around the legs. "Don't say that! I have served you, I have served you for years; I have been your most faithful servant, and I have had next to no reward. Get me out of here, and she can die and Culpepper can die, but I shall be safe with you. "

Slowly the duke leans down and detaches my hands as if I were some kind of sticky weed that has tangled unpleasantly around his legs. "No, no, " he says, as if he has lost all interest in the conversation. "No. She cannot be saved, and I wouldn't lift a finger to save you. The world will be a better place when you are dead, Jane Boleyn. You will not be missed. "

"I am yours. " I look up at him, but I dare not grab him again, and so he walks away from me, to tap on the door to the outside world, where the sentries, who used to stand on the outside to keep everyone out, are now keeping us locked in. "I am yours, " I shout. "Heart and soul. I love you. "

"I don't want you, " he remarks. "n.o.body wants you. And the last man you promised to love died because of your testament. You are a foul thing, Jane Boleyn; the axeman can finish what the devil has started, for all I care. " He pauses with his hand on the door, as a thought strikes him. "I should think you will be beheaded on Tower Green, where they killed Anne, " he says. "There's an irony for you. I should think she and her brother are laughing in h.e.l.l, waiting for you. "

Anne, Richmond Palace, November 1541 They have moved Kitty Howard to Syon Abbey, and she is kept as a prisoner, with only a few of her ladies. They have arrested two young men from her grandmother's household, and they will be tortured until they confess what they know; then they will be tortured until they confess what they are required to say. Her ladies who were in her confidence are taken to the Tower for questioning, too. His Grace the king has returned from his private musing at Oatlands Palace and has come back to Hampton Court. He is said to be very quiet, very grieved, but not angry. We must thank G.o.d that he is not angry. If he d"s not fly into one of his vindictive rages, then he might sink into self-pity and banish her. He is going to annul his marriage to the queen on the grounds of her abominable behavior *those are the very words he has put to parliament. Please G.o.d that they will agree with him that she is not fit to be queen, and the poor child can be released, and her friends go home.

She could go to France; she would be a delight to that court, who would find her vanity and her prettiness a pleasure to watch. Or perhaps she could be persuaded to live in the country as I do, and call herself another sister to the king. She might even come to live with me, and we could be friends as we used to be in the old days when I was the queen he did not want, and she was the maid he did. She could be sent away to a thousand different places where she could do the king no harm and where her folly might make people laugh, and where she might grow into a sensible woman. Surely, everyone agrees that she cannot be executed. She is simply too young to be executed. This is not an Anne Boleyn, who schemed and contrived her way to the throne over six years of striving, and was then thrown down by her own ambition. This is a girl with no more judgment than one of her kittens. n.o.body could be so harsh as to send a child like this to the block. Thank G.o.d, the king is sad and not angry. Please G.o.d, the parliament will advise him that the marriage can be annulled, and pray heaven that Archbishop Cranmer is satisfied with the disgrace of the queen on the basis of her childhood amours, and d"s not start to investigate her follies since her marriage.

I don't know what g"s on at court these days, but I saw her at Christmas and the New Year, and I thought then that she was ready for a lover, and hoping for love. And how could she stop herself? She is a girl coming into womanhood with a man old enough to be her father as her husband, a sickly man, an impotent man, perhaps even a madman. Even a sensible young woman in those circ.u.mstances would turn for friendship and comfort to one of the young men who gather round her. And Katherine is a flirt.

Dr. Harst comes riding out from London to see me, and the moment that he arrives, he sends my ladies away so that we can talk alone. I know from this that it is grave news from the court.

"What news of the queen? " I ask him as soon as they have gone from the room and we are seated, side by side, like conspirators before the fire.

"She is still being questioned, " he says. "If there is any more to be had, they will get it out of her. She is kept close in her apartments at Syon; she is allowed to see no one. She is not even allowed out to walk in the garden. Her uncle has abandoned her, and she has no friends. Four of her ladies are locked up with her; they would leave if they could. Her closest friends are under arrest and being questioned in the Tower. They say she cries all the time and begs them to forgive her. She is too distressed to eat or sleep. She is said to be starving herself to death. "

"G.o.d help her, poor little Kitty, " I say. "G.o.d help her. But surely they have evidence for the annulment of her marriage to the king? He has enough to divorce her and let her go? "

"No, now they are seeking evidence for worse, " he says shortly.

We are both silent. We both know what he means by that, and we both fear that there may be worse to discover.

"I have come to see you for something even more grave than this, " he says.

"Good G.o.d, what worse could there be? "

"I hear that the king is thinking of taking you back as his wife. "

For a moment I am so stunned that I cannot say anything, then I grip the carved arms of my chair and watch my fingertips go white. "You cannot mean this. "

"I do. King Francis of France is keen that the two of you shall remarry and that your brother and the king join with him in a war against Spain. "

"The king wants another alliance with my brother? "

"Against Spain. "

"They can do that without me! They can make an alliance without me! "

"The King of France and your brother want you restored, and the king wants to rid himself of the memory of Katherine. It is to be just as it was. It is to be as if she never existed. As if you have just arrived in England, and everything can go as planned. "

"He is Henry of England, but not even he can turn back the clock! " I cry out, and I push myself up from my chair and stride across the room. "I won't do it. I daren't do it. He will have me killed within a year. He is a wife killer. He takes a woman and destroys her. It has become his habit. This will be my death! "

"If he were to deal with you honorably * "

"Dr. Harst, I have escaped him once; I am the only wife of his to come out from the marriage alive! I can't go back to put my head on the block. "

"I am advised that he would offer you guarantees * "

"This is Henry of England! " I round on the amba.s.sador. "This is a man who has been the death of three wives and is now building the scaffold for a fourth! There are no guarantees. He is a murderer. If you put me in his bed, I am a dead woman. "

"He will divorce Queen Katherine, I am certain of it. He has laid it before parliament. They know that she was no virgin when she married him. The news of her scandalous behavior has been released to the amba.s.sadors at the European courts for them to announce. She is publicly named as a wh.o.r.e. He will put her aside. He will not kill her. "

"How can you be so sure? "

"There is no reason for him to kill her, " he says gently. "You are overwrought; you are not thinking clearly. She married him under false pretenses; that is a sin, and she is wrong. He has announced that. But since they were not married, she has not cuckolded him; he has no reason to do anything other than let her go. "

"Then why is he seeking more evidence against her? " I ask. "Since he has enough against her to name her as a wh.o.r.e, since he has enough against her to bring her into shame and divorce her? Why d"s he need more evidence? "

"To punish the men, " he replies.

Our eyes meet; neither of us knows what we dare to believe.

"I fear him, " I say miserably.

"And so you should; he is a fearsome king. But he divorced you, and he kept his word to you. He made a fair settlement on you, and he has kept you in peace and prosperity. Perhaps he will divorce her and make a settlement on her; perhaps this is his way now. Then he may want to marry you again. "

"I cannot, " I say quietly. "Believe me, Dr. Harst, even if you are right and he treats Katherine with forgiveness, even with generosity, I would not dare to marry him. I cannot bear to be married to him again. I still thank G.o.d on my knees every morning for my good fortune in escaping last time. When the councillors ask you, or my brother asks you, or the French amba.s.sador asks you, then you must tell them that I am settled to the single state *I believe myself to be precontracted as the king himself said. Just as he said: I am not free to marry. Persuade them that it cannot be done. I swear I cannot do it. I will not put my head back on the block and wait to hear the whistle of the falling axe. "

Katherine, Syon Abbey, November 1541 Now, let me see, what do I have now?

I have to say, I'm not doing very well at all.

I have six French hoods edged with gold. I have six pairs of sleeves, six plain kirtles, six gowns; they are in navy blue, black, dark green, and gray. I have no jewels, I have no toys. I don't even have my kitten. Everything that the king gave me has been taken from my rooms by Sir Thomas Seymour *a Seymour! taking a Howard's goods! Think how we shall resent that! *to be returned to the king. So, as it turns out, all the things I counted before were never really mine. They were loans and not gifts at all.

I have three rooms with very poor tapestries. My servants live in one, and I live in the other two with my half sister Isabel, Lady Baynton, and two other ladies. None of them speaks to me for resentment at the position they find themselves in through my wickedness, except Isabel, who has been told to bring me to a sense of my sin. I have to say that this makes for very poor company in a confined s.p.a.ce. My confessor is ready for my call should I be such a fool as to wish to hang myself by confessing to him what I have denied to everyone else, and twice a day Isabel scolds me as if I were her servant. I have some books of prayers and the Bible. I have some sewing to do, shirts for the poor; but surely they must have enough shirts by now? I have no page boys, or courtiers, or jesters, or musicians, or singers. Even my little dogs have been taken away, and I know they will pine for me.

My friends are all gone. My uncle has disappeared like the mist in the morning, and they tell me that most of my household *Lady Rochford and Francis Dereham, Katherine Tylney and Joan Bulmer, Margaret Morton and Agnes Restwold *are in the Tower being questioned about me.

But even worse than all of this, I heard today that they have taken Thomas Culpepper to the Tower also. My poor, beautiful Thomas! The thought of his being arrested by some ugly man at arms is a horror, but the thought of my Thomas being questioned makes me fall to my knees and lay my face against the rough cloth of my bed and weep. If only we had run away when we first knew that we were in love. If only he had come for me before I even went to court, when I was still a girl at Lambeth. If only I had told him that I was his, only his, when I first came to court, before all of this went wrong.

"Do you want your confessor? " Lady Baynton says coldly as she finds me weeping. They will have told her to say this; they are eager for me to break down and tell everything.

"No, " I say quickly. "I have nothing to confess. "

And what is so horrid is that these rooms are Lady Margaret Douglas's rooms, where she was kept on her own in silence for the crime of falling in love. Fancy that! She was here, just like me, wandering from one room to the other and back again, under arrest for loving a man, not knowing what the charge could be, nor what the sentence could be, nor when the blow would fall. She was here all on her own, in disgrace for thirteen months, hoping that the king would forgive her, wondering what was going to happen. She was taken away just a few days ago to make room for me *I can't believe it! *they took her to Kenninghall, where she will be imprisoned again until the king forgives her, if he ever forgives her.

I think of her, a young woman only a little older than me, locked up and alone just like me, imprisoned for the crime of loving a man who loved her back, and I wish now that I had gone down on my knees to the king and begged him to be kind to her. But how was I to know that one day I should be in just the same state? In the very same rooms? Suspected of being a young woman in love, just as she is? I wish I had told him that she is only young and perhaps silly and she should be guided *not arrested and punished. But I didn't speak up for her, nor did I speak for poor Margaret Pole, nor for all the men and women at Smithfield. I didn't speak up for the men of the North who rose up against him. I didn't say a word for Thomas Cromwell, but I got married on the day he died without even a moment of pity. I didn't speak up for the king's daughter Princess Mary, but worse: I complained of her. I didn't even speak up for my own mistress and queen, Anne, whom I loved. I promised her my loyalty and friendship, and yet when they asked me, I signed a paper against her without bothering to read it. And now there is n.o.body who will go down on their knees and ask for mercy for me.

Of course, I don't know what is going on. If they have arrested Henry Manox along with Francis Dereham, then he will tell them whatever they want to hear. We did not part on good terms, and he has no love for Francis. He will tell them that he and I were all but lovers, and then he is certain to tell them that I dropped him and went on to Francis Dereham. My name will be quite sullied, and my grandmother will be furious.

I suppose they will ask the Lambeth girls all about me. Agnes Restwold and Joan Bulmer are no great friends of mine in their hearts. They liked me well enough when I was queen with favors to give, but they won't defend me or lie for me. And if they dig up half a dozen of the others from whatever little lives they are living, they will say anything for a trip to London. If they ask Joan Bulmer anything about Francis, she will tell them everything, I don't doubt. Every single one of the girls at Norfolk House knows that Francis called me wife, and I answered to it. That he bedded me as if we were husband and wife, and I didn't know *to be honest *whether we were married or not. I never really thought about it. Katherine Tylney will tell them all about Lambeth, quick enough; I just hope that they don't ask her about Lincoln, or Pontefract, or Hull. If she starts telling them about the nights I was missing from my room, then that will lead them to Thomas. Oh, G.o.d, if only I had never laid eyes on him. He would be safe now, and so would I.

If they talk to Margaret Morton, she will tell them that I had words with her when she tried the door of my bedroom and found it locked. I had Thomas, darling Thomas, in bed with me, and I had to fly across the room and shout at her to show more respect, with the door half closed to keep him hidden. She laughed in my face; she knew that someone was inside. Oh, G.o.d, if only I had not quarreled with them all so often. If I had kept them sweet with bribes and dresses, then perhaps now they would be lying for me.

And, now I think of it, Margaret was outside in the presence chamber when Thomas was with me in my privy chamber, one day at Hampton Court. We spent the whole afternoon by the fire, kissing and touching, laughing at the courtiers just outside the door. I was excited by our daring then; now I pinch my own palms till my skin is red and swollen at the thought of what a fool I was. But even now, I can't regret it. Even if I were to die for that afternoon, I would not regret having had his mouth on mine and his touch on me. Thank G.o.d we had that time, at least. I won't wish it away.

They will bring me another tray of food in a moment. I shan't touch it. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't do anything but walk around these two rooms and think that Lady Margaret Douglas walked here too, missing the man she loved. She didn't have half her friends telling the world about her. She didn't have every enemy of the Howards turning the king against her. She is the most unfortunate woman I know, and she is lucky compared to me.

I know Lady Rochford will stay my friend; I know she will. She knows what Thomas is to me, and I to him. She will keep her head. She's been in danger before, and she knows how to answer questions. She is an older woman, a person of experience. Before we parted she said to me, "Deny everything, " and I shall. She knows what should be done. I know she will keep herself safe, and me with her.

She knows everything, of course; that's the worst of it. She knows when I fell in love with Thomas, and she managed all the secret meetings and the letters and the times we could steal together. She hid him for me behind wall hangings, and once in the shadows on the stairs at York. She smuggled me to him down winding corridors in strange houses. He had a room of his own at Pontefract, and we met there after hunting one afternoon. She told me where we might meet, and one night when the king himself tried the outer door, thinking he would come to my bed, she kept her nerve and called out that I was ill and was asleep and sent him away. She did that! She sent the King of England away, and her voice did not quaver for one second. She has such courage; she will not be crying and confessing. I daresay even if they rack her she will just look at them with her cold face and say nothing. I am not afraid of her betraying me. I can trust her to deny everything they ask. I know I can trust her to defend me.

Except except I keep wondering now that she could not save her husband when he was accused. She never likes to talk about him, and that makes me wonder, too. I always thought it was because she was so very sad about him, but now I wonder if it was something worse than that. Catherine Carey was certain that she had not given evidence for them but against them. How could that be? And she said that she had saved their inheritance, and not them. Yet how could they die and she get off scot-free if she had not made some kind of agreement with the king? And if she betrayed one queen *and that her own sister-in-law *and condemned her own husband, why should she save me?

Oh, I get these fearful thoughts because of the situation I am in, which is not an easy one. I know that. Poor Margaret Douglas must have gone half mad walking from one room to another and not knowing what would become of her. Fancy spending a year here, walking from one room to another and not knowing if you will ever be released. I can't bear the waiting, and at least, unlike her, I am sure to be released soon. I am sure everything will come out right, but I do worry about things, about everything really. And one of the things I worry about is how come Anne Boleyn was killed, and George Boleyn was killed, and Jane his wife just walked away? And how come n.o.body ever said anything about it? And how come she could save his inheritance, but her evidence couldn't save him?

Now I must stop this, for I start to think that she might give evidence for me, and it might take me to the same place as Anne Boleyn. That is ridiculous, for Lady Anne was an adulteress and a witch and guilty of treason. And all I have done is go a bit too far with Henry Manox and Francis Dereham when I was a girl. And since then, n.o.body knows what I have done, and I will deny everything.

Dear G.o.d, if they take Thomas for questioning, I know he will lie to protect me, but if they rack him This is no good. The thought of Thomas on the rack makes me howl out like a baited bear as it g"s down before the dogs. Thomas in pain! Thomas crying out as I am crying out! But I won't think of it. It cannot happen. He is the king's beloved boy; the king calls him that: the beloved boy. The king would never hurt Thomas, and he would never hurt me. He has no reason to suspect him. And I daresay, if he did know that Thomas loves me and I him, he would understand. If you love someone, you understand how they feel. He might even laugh and say that after my marriage to him is ended we can be married. He may give us his blessing. He d"s forgive people, especially his favorites. It's not as if I were Margaret Douglas and married without his permission. It's not as if I defied him. I would never do that.

Dear G.o.d, she must have thought she would die in here. It has been only a few days and already I feel like carving my name on the stone walls. The rooms face down over the long gardens; I can see the sunlight on the pale gra.s.s. This was an abbey, and the nuns who lived here were the pride of England for the strictness of their order and the beauty of their singing. Or so Lady Baynton says. But the king drove the nuns away and took the building into his own keeping, so now it is like trying to live in a church, and I swear the place is haunted with their sadness. It is not a fit place for me, at all. After all, I am Queen of England, and if not Queen of England then I am Katherine Howard, and a member of one of the greatest families in the kingdom. To be a Howard is to be one of the first, after all.

Now, let me see, I must cheer myself somehow. So, what do I have? But, oh, it's not very cheering. Really, not very cheering at all. Six gowns, which is not much, and in very dull colors, old-lady colors. Two rooms for my own use and a small household to serve me. So to see the best of it, I am really in a better case than when I was little Mistress Katherine Howard at Lambeth. I have a man who loves me and whom I love with my whole heart, and a very good chance of being released to marry him, I should think. I have a faithful friend in Lady Rochford, who will give evidence in my favor. Tom would die to save me so all I have to do when the archbishop comes again is go on confessing to Francis Dereham and Henry Manox and never say a word about Tom. I can do that. Even a fool like me can do that. And then everything will come out right and when I next count I shall have many lovely things again. I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it at all.

But all the while I am rea.s.suring myself of this, the tears are just pouring out of my eyes and I am sobbing and sobbing. I can't seem to stop crying, though I know I am in a most hopeful state. Really, things are quite all right for me, I have always been lucky; I just can't seem to stop crying.

Jane Boleyn, the Tower of London, November 1541 I am in such terror I think I shall go mad in truth. They keep asking me about Katherine and that fool Dereham, and I thought at first that I could deny everything. I was not there at Lambeth when they were lovers, and for sure they were never lovers after that. I could tell them all I know and with a clear conscience. But when that great wooden gate banged shut behind me, and the shadow of the Tower fell cold on me, I felt a terror that I had never known before.

The ghosts that have haunted me since that day in May will take me for their own now. I am where they walked. I feel the chill of the same walls, and I know the same terror; I am living their deaths.

Dear G.o.d, it must have been like this for him, for George, my beloved George. He must have heard that gate bang; he must have seen the stone bulk of the Tower block out the sky; he must have known that his friends and his enemies were somewhere inside these walls, lying their heads off to save themselves and to condemn him. And now I am here walking where he walked, and now I know what he felt, and now I know fear, as he knew it.

If Cranmer and his inquisitors look no further than Katherine's life when she was a girl, before she came to court, they have enough to destroy her; and what more do they need than that? If they rest on her affairs with Manox and Dereham, then they need nothing from me. I did not even know her then. It is nothing to do with me. So I should have nothing to fear. But if that is the case, then why am I here?

The room is cramped, with stone-paved floors and damp stone walls. The walls are pocked with the carved initials of people who have been held here before me. I will not look for GB, "George Boleyn "; I think I should go mad if I saw his name. I will sit quietly by the window and look out to the courtyard below. I will not go over the walls for his name, fingering the cold stone looking for "Boleyn, " and touch where he carved. I will sit quietly here and look out of the window.

No, this is no good. The window looks out onto Tower Green; my prison chamber looks down on the very spot where Anne was beheaded on my evidence. I cannot look at that place; I cannot look at the bright greenness of the gra.s.s *surely it is more verdant than any autumn gra.s.s should be? *if I look at the green, I will surely lose my mind. It must have been like this for her when she was waiting, and she would have known that I knew enough to have her beheaded. And she must have known that I would choose to have her beheaded. She knew that she had tormented me and teased me and laughed at me until I was beside myself with jealousy; she must have wondered how far I would follow my evil rage, even to seek her death? Then she knew. She knew I gave witness against the two of them, that I spoke out in a clear voice and condemned them without remorse. Well, I feel remorse now; G.o.d knows that I do.

I feel as if I have been hiding myself from the truth for all these years, but it took that hard man the Duke of Norfolk to spell it out to me, and it took these cold walls to make it real for me. I was jealous of Anne and her love for George and his devotion to her, and I bore witness not from what I knew to be a fact, but from what would harm them the most. G.o.d forgive me. I took his tenderness and his care and his kindness for his sister, and I made it into something dirty and dark and bad because I could not bear that he was not tender or careful or kind to me. I brought him to his death to punish him for neglecting me. And now, like some old play in which the G.o.ds are furious, I am still neglected. I have never been more alone. I have committed the greatest sin a wife could do, and still I have no satisfaction.

The duke has withdrawn to the country; neither Katherine nor I will ever see him again. I know him well enough to know that his sole care will be to protect his own old skin and guard his well-loved fortune. And the king needs a Howard to march and fight and execute for him. The king may hate him for this second adultery, but he will not make the mistake of losing a commander as well as a wife. Katherine's step-grandmother, the d.u.c.h.ess, may lose her life for this. If they can prove that she knew that Katherine, in her care, was little more than a s.l.u.t, then they will accuse her of treason: for failing to warn the king. She will be tearing open doc.u.ments, swearing servants to secrecy, sacking old retainers, and cleaning out her rooms, if I know her. She may be able to hide enough to save herself.

But what about me?

My way is clear. I shall say nothing of Thomas Culpepper, and the evidence I can give of Francis Dereham is that he was secretary to the queen at the request of her step-grandmother, and that nothing pa.s.sed between them under my eye. If they discover about Thomas Culpepper (and if they look only a little, they are certain to discover all about Thomas Culpepper), then they will see it all. If they see it all, I shall tell them that she lay with him at Hampton Court, when the king first was ill, all through the royal progress when she thought she was with child, till the very day that we all went down on our knees and thanked G.o.d for her. That I knew she was a s.l.u.t from that first day, but that she ordered me, and the duke ordered me, and I was not free to do what I thought right.

This is what I shall say. She shall die for it, and the duke may die for it; but I will not.

This is all I should consider.