The Taming of the Queen

These are not traitors. They are followed by Lord Wriothesley with a rolled letter in his hand. His dark face is alight with triumph. He comes towards me smiling and he unfurls the letter, showing me the seal, the royal seal. It is a warrant for my arrest. ‘Queen Kateryn, known as Parr, you are under arrest for treasonous heresy,’ he says. ‘Here is the warrant. You must come with me to the Tower.’

I have no breath. I throw one anguished look at my husband. He is beaming. I think this is the greatest joke, the greatest masque, that he has ever performed. He has broken my spirit and now he will break my neck and I cannot complain, I cannot protest my innocence. I cannot even beg him for a pardon because I cannot breathe.

Even my sight is dim, though I see Nan running towards us across the grass, her face screwed up in fear. Behind her little Jane Grey hesitates, steps forward, shrinks back, as Lord Wriothesley brandishes his warrant and says again: ‘You must come with me to the Tower, Your Majesty. No delay, please.’ His face is bright. ‘Please don’t make me order them to take you by force.’

He turns to the king and he kneels to him. ‘I have come. I will do as you commanded,’ Wriothesley says, his voice oozing contentment. He rises up again, and he is about to nod to the guards to surround me.

‘Fool!’ Henry bellows at him, full-voiced. ‘Fool! Knave! Arrant knave! Beast! Fool!’

Wriothesley falls back before the king’s red-faced sudden rage.

‘What?’

‘How dare you?’ Henry demands. ‘How dare you come into my own garden and insult the queen? My beloved wife! Are you mad?’

Wriothesley opens and closes his mouth like one of the fat fish in the carp ponds.

‘How dare you come in here and distress my wife?’

‘The warrant? Your Majesty! Your royal warrant?’

‘How dare you show her such a thing? A woman sworn to my interests who has no mind but my mind, who has no thought but mine, whose body is at my command, whose immortal soul is in my keeping? My wife? My beloved wife?’

‘But you said that she should be—’

‘Are you saying that I would order the arrest of my own wife?’

‘No!’ Wriothesley says hastily. ‘No, of course not, Your Majesty, no.’

‘Get out of my sight,’ Henry shouts at him as if he is driven to madness by such disloyalty. ‘I can’t bear you! I never want to see you again.’

‘But, Your Majesty?’

‘Go!’

Wriothesley bows to the ground and stumbles backwards through the garden gate. The guards fumble their exit and rush after him, pushing their way out of the sunlit garden, desperate to get away from the furious king. Henry waits till they are all gone and the gate has clanged shut, the guard standing outside it with his back to us. Only when it is all still and quiet again does the king turn to me.

He is laughing so much that he cannot speak. For a moment I fear that he is having a fit. The tears squeeze out of his puckered eyelids and run down his sweating cheeks. He is dangerously flushed, and as he holds his shaking belly he chokes for air. Long minutes pass as he hoarsely cackles before he can steady himself. He opens his little eyes and wipes his wet cheeks.

‘Lord,’ he says. ‘Lord.’

He sees me standing before him, still frozen with shock, and my ladies blank-faced, waiting.

‘What’s the title of the play, Kate?’ he pants, still laughing.

I shake my head.

‘You who are so clever? So widely read? What is the title of my play?’

‘Your Majesty, I cannot guess.’

‘The Taming of the Queen!’ he shouts. ‘The Taming of the Queen.’ I hold my slight smile. I look at his sweating scarlet face and I let the sound of his renewed laughter break over me like the hoarse cawing of the ravens at the Tower.

‘I am the dog-master,’ he says, abruptly abandoning his joke. ‘I watch you all. I set you all at each other’s throats. Poor curs. Poor little bitch.’

The king sits in the garden till the shadows lengthen along the smooth green grass and the birds start to sing in the tops of the trees. The swallows weave along the curves of the river, swirling above their own silvery reflections and dipping into the water to drink. The courtiers come in from playing games and they walk languidly, like happy children with flushed faces. Princess Elizabeth smiles up at me and I see a scatter of freckles over her nose like dust on marble, and I think I must remind her maid to make sure that she wears a sun bonnet whenever she goes out.

‘It’s been a beautiful day,’ the king says contentedly. ‘God Himself knows what a wonderful country this is.’

‘We are blessed,’ I agree quietly, and he smiles as if the credit for the summer and for the weather and for the sun sinking over the glassy river is somehow all due to him.

‘I shall come to dinner,’ he says, ‘and after dinner you may come to my room and you must talk to me about your thoughts, Kate. I like to hear what you have been reading and what you think.’