The Taming of the Queen

‘Then you know that I gave the Bible in English to my people and that I am the head of the church in England?’

‘Of course, Your Majesty. I took the oath myself. I called in every one of my household at Snape Castle and made them swear that you are the head of the church and the pope is just the Bishop of Rome, and has no command in England.’

‘There are some who would have the English Church turn to Lutheran ways, changing everything. And there are some who think quite the opposite and would turn everything back to how it was before, restoring the power of the pope. Which do you think?’

I am very sure that I don’t want to express an opinion either way. ‘I think I should be guided by Your Majesty.’

He laughs out loud and so everyone has to laugh with him. He chucks me under the chin. ‘You are very right,’ he says. ‘As a subject and as a sweetheart. I tell you, I am publishing my ruling on this, calling it The King’s Book so that people can know what to think. I will tell them. I am finding a middle way between Stephen Gardiner here – who would like all the rituals and the powers of the church to be restored once again – and my friend Thomas Cranmer – who is not here – who would like it pared back to the bone of the Bible. Cranmer would have no monasteries, no abbeys, no chantries, no priests even – just preachers and the Word of God.’

‘But why is your friend Thomas Cranmer not here?’ I ask nervously. It is one thing to promise to save a man, but quite another to set about doing it. I don’t know how I am supposed to prompt the king to mercy.

Henry’s little eyes twinkle. ‘I expect he is fearfully awaiting to hear if he is to be charged with heresy and treason.’ He chuckles. ‘I expect he is listening for the tramp of soldiers coming to take him to the Tower.’

‘But if he is your friend?’

‘Then his terror will be tempered by hope of mercy.’

‘But Your Majesty is so gracious – you will forgive him?’ I prompt.

Gardiner steps forward and lifts a gentle hand as if he would silence me.

‘It is for God to forgive,’ the king rules. ‘It is for me to impose justice.’

Henry does not give me a week to come to terms with my great joy. He speaks to me again only two days later, on Sunday evening, after chapel. I am surprised that he combines piety with business, but since his will is God’s will, the Sabbath can be holy and satisfactory, both at once. The court is processing from chapel to the great hall for dinner, the bright sunshine pouring in the great windows, when the king halts everyone and nods to summon me from the middle of the ladies to the head of them all. His velvet cap is pulled low over his thinning hair and the bobbing pearls encrusting the brim wink at me. He smiles as if he is joyful but his eyes are as blank as his jewels.

He takes my hand in greeting and folds it under the great heft of his arm. ‘Do you have an answer ready for me, Lady Latimer?’

‘I have,’ I say. Now that there is no escape for me I find that my voice is clear and my hand, crushed between the bulge of his great belly and the thick padding of his sleeve, is steady. I’m not a girl, afraid of the unknown, I am a woman; I can face fear, I can walk towards it. ‘I have prayed for guidance, and I have my answer.’ I glance around. ‘Shall I speak it here and now?’

He nods; he has no sense of privacy. This is a man who is attended every moment of the day. Even when he strains in constipated agony on the close-stool there are men standing beside him ready to hand him linen to wipe, water to wash, a hand to grip when the pain is too great for him. He sleeps with a page at the foot of his bed; he urinates beside his favourites, when he vomits from over-eating someone holds the bowl. Of course he has no hesitation in speaking of his marriage while everyone tries to hear – there is no risk of humiliation for him: he knows that he cannot be refused.

‘I know I am blessed above all other women.’ I curtsey very low. ‘I shall be deeply honoured to be your wife.’

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. He never had any doubts, but he is pleased to hear me describe myself as blessed. ‘You shall sit beside me at dinner,’ he promises. ‘And the herald shall announce it.’

He walks with my hand squeezed under his arm, and so we lead everyone through the double doors to the great hall. Lady Mary walks on the other side of him. I cannot see her beyond the spread of his great chest and she does not try to peep round at me. I imagine her face frozen and expressionless, and know that I must look the same. We must look like two pale sisters marched in to dinner by an enormous father.

I see the high table with the throne and a chair on either side, the head of the servery must have ordered the chairs to be set in place. Even he knew that the king would demand my answer as we walked in to dinner, and that I would have to say ‘yes’.