Complete Works of Ford Madox Ford, page 171
‘I am main sure ‘tis for Madam Howard that this cavalcade is ordered,’ he said; ‘for there is none other person in Court to whom his Highness would work this honour. And I am main sure that if Madam Howard goeth, she goeth with some mad maggot of a purpose.’
His foxy, laughing eyes surveyed her, and he stroked his great beard deliberately.
‘I ha’ not been near ye this two month,’ he said, ‘but God knows that I ha’ worked for ye.’
Save to take her to Privy Seal the day before, when Privy Seal had sent him, he had in truth not spoken with her for many weeks. He had deemed it wise to keep from her.
‘Nevertheless,’ he said earnestly, ‘I know well that thy cause is my cause, and that thou wilt spread upon me the mantle of thy favour and protection.’
They were in her old room with the green hangings, the high fireplace, and before the door the red curtain worked with gold that the King had sent her, and Cromwell had given orders that the spy outside should be removed, for he was useless. Thus Throckmorton could speak with a measure of freedom.
‘Madam Howard,’ he said; ‘ye use me not well in this. Ye are not so stable nor so safe in your place as that ye may, without counsel or guidance, risk all our necks with these mad pranks.’
‘Goodman,’ she said, ‘I asked ye not to come into my barque. If ye hang to the gunwale, is it my fault an ye be drowned in my foundering if I founder?’
‘Tell me why ye go to Windsor,’ he urged.
‘Goodman,’ she answered, ‘to ask the Queen if she be the King’s wife.’
‘Oh, folly!’ he cried out, and added softly, ‘Madam Howard, ye be monstrous fair. I do think ye be the fairest woman in the world. I cannot sleep for thinking on thee.’
‘Poor soul!’ she mocked him.
‘But, bethink you,’ he said; ‘the Queen is a woman, not a man. All your fairness shall not help you with her. Neither yet your sweet tongue nor your specious reasons. Nor yet your faith, for she is half a Protestant.’
‘If she be the King’s wife,’ Katharine said, ‘I will not be Queen. If she care enow for her queenship to lie over it, I will not be Queen either. For I will not be in any quarrel where lies are — either of my side or of another’s.’
‘God help us all!’ Throckmorton mocked her. ‘Here is my neck engaged on your quarrel — and by now a dozen others. Udal hath lied for you in the Cleves matter; so have I. If ye be not Queen to save us ere Cromwell’s teeth be drawn, our days are over and past.’
He spoke with so much earnestness that Katharine was moved to consider her speaking.
‘Knight,’ she said at last, ‘I never asked ye to lie to Cromwell over the Cleves matter. I never asked Udal. God knows, I had the rather be dead than ye had done it. I flush and grow hot each time I think this was done for me. I never asked ye to be of my quarrel — nay, I take shame that I have not ere this sent to Privy Seal to say that ye have lied, and Cleves is false to him.’ She pointed an accusing finger at him: ‘I take shame; ye have shamed me.’
He laughed a little, but he bent a leg to her.
‘Some man must save thee from thy folly’s fruits,’ he said. ‘For some men love thee. And I love thee so my head aches.’
She smiled upon him faintly.
‘For that, I believe, I have saved thy neck,’ she said. ‘My conscience cried: “Tell Privy Seal the truth”; my heart uttered: “Hast few men that love thee and do not pursue thee.”’
Suddenly he knelt at her feet and clutched at her hand.
‘Leave all this,’ he said. ‘Ye know not how dangerous a place this is.’ He began to whisper softly and passionately. ‘Come away from here. Well ye know that I love ‘ee better than any man in land. Well ye know. Well ye know. And well ye know no man could so well fend for ye or jump nimbly to thy thoughts. The men here be boars and bulls. Leave all these dangers; here is a straight issue. Ye shall not sway the wild boar king for ever. Come with me.’
As she did not at once find words to stop his speech, he whispered on:
‘I have gold enow to buy me a baron’s fee in Almain. I have been there: in castles in the thick woods, silken bowers may be built — —’
But suddenly again he rose to his feet and laughed:
‘Why,’ he said, ‘I hunger for thee: at times ‘tis a madness. But ‘tis past.’
His eyes twinkled again and he waved a hand.
‘Mayhap ‘tis well that ye go to the Queen,’ he said drily. ‘If the Queen say, “Yea,” ye ha’ gained all; if “Nay” ye ha’ lost naught, for ye may alway change your mind. And a true and steadfast cause, a large and godly innocence is a thing that gaineth men’s hearts and voices.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Ye ha’ need o’ man’s good words,’ he said drily; then he laughed again. ‘Aye: Nolo episcopari was always a good cry,’ he said.
Katharine looked at him tenderly.
‘Ye know my aims are other,’ she said, ‘or else you would not love me. I think ye love me better than any man ever did — though I ha’ had a store of lovers.’
‘Aye,’ he nodded at her gravely, ‘it is pleasant to be loved.’
She was sitting by her table and leant her hand upon her cheek; she had been sewing a white band with pearls and silken roses in red and leaves in green, and it fell now to her feet from her lap. Suddenly he said:
‘Answer me one question of three?’
She did not move, for a feeling of languor that often overcame her in Throckmorton’s presence made her feel lazy and apt to listen. She itched to be Queen — on the morrow or next day; she desired to have the King for her own, to wear fair gowns and a crown; to be beloved of the poor people and beloved of the saints. But her fate lay upon the knees of the gods then: on the morrow the Queen would speak — betwixt then and now there was naught for it but to rest. And to hearken to Throckmorton was to be surprised as if she listened at a comedy.
‘One question of three may be answered,’ she said.
‘On the forfeit of a kiss,’ he added. ‘I pray God ye answer none.’
He pondered for a moment, and leaning back against the chimney-piece crossed one silk-stockinged, thin, red leg. He spoke very swiftly, so that his words were like lightning.
‘And the first is: An ye had never come here but elsewhere seen me, had ye it in you to ha’ loved me? And the second: How ye love the King’s person? And the third: Were ye your cousin’s leman?’
Leaning against the table she seemed slowly to grow stiff in her pose; her eyes dilated; the colour left her cheeks. She spoke no word.
‘Privy Seal hath sent a man to hasten thy cousin back to here,’ he said at last, after his eyes had steadily surveyed her face. She sat back in her chair, and the strip of sewing fell to wreathe, white and red and green, round her skirts on the floor.
‘I have sent a botcher to stay his coming,’ he said slowly. ‘Thy maid Margot’s brother.’
‘I had forgotten Tom,’ she said with long pauses between her words. She had forgotten her cousin and playmate. She had given no single thought to him since a day that she no longer remembered.
Reading the expression of her face and interpreting her slow words, Throckmorton was satisfied in his mind that she had been her cousin’s.
‘He hath passed from Calais to Dover, but I swear to you that he shall never come to you,’ he said. ‘I have others here.’ He had none, but he was set to comfort her.
‘Poor Tom!’ she uttered again almost in a whisper.
‘Thus,’ he uttered slowly, ‘you have a great danger.’
She was silent, thinking of her Lincolnshire past, and he began again:
‘Therefore ye have need of help from me as I from thee.’
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘you shall advise with me. For at least, if I may not have the pleasure of thy body, I will have the enjoyment of thy converse.’ His voice became husky for a moment. ‘Mayhap it is a madness in me to cling to thee; I do set in jeopardy my earthly riches and my hope of profit. But it is Macchiavelli who says: “If ye hoard gold and at the end have not pleasure in what gold may pay, ye had better have loitered in pleasing meadows and hearkened to the madrigals of sweet singing fowls.”’ He waved his hand: ‘Ye see I be still somewhat of a philosopher, though at times madness takes me.’
She was still silent — shaken into thinking of the past she had had with her cousin when she had been very poor in Lincolnshire; she had had leisure to read good letters there, and the time to think of them. Now she had not held a book for four days on end.
‘You are in a very great danger of your cousin,’ Throckmorton was repeating. ‘Yet I will stay his coming.’
‘Knight,’ she said, ‘this is a folly. If guards be needed to keep me from his knife, the King shall give me guards.’
‘His knife!’ Throckmorton raised his hands in mock surprise. ‘His knife is a very little thing.’
‘Ye would not say it an ye had come anear him when he was crossed,’ she said. ‘I, who am passing brave, fear his knife more than aught else in this world.’
‘Oh, incorrigible woman,’ he cried, ‘thinking ever of straight things and clear doings. It is not the knife of your cousin, but the devious policy of Privy Seal that calleth for fear.’
‘Why, or ever Privy Seal bind Tom to his policy he shall bind iron bars to make a coil.’
He looked at her with lifted eyebrows, and then scratched with his finger nail a tiny speck of mud from his shoe-point, balancing himself back against the chimney piece and crossing his red legs above the knees.
‘Madam Howard,’ he said, ‘Privy Seal is minded to use thy cousin for a battering-ram.’ She was hardly minded to listen to him, and he uttered stealthily, as if he were sure of moving her: ‘Thy cousin shall breach a way to the ears of the King — for thy ill fame to enter in.’
She leaned forward a little.
‘Tell me of my ill fame,’ she said; and at that moment Margot Poins, her handmaid, placid still, large, fair and florid, came in to bring her mistress an embroidery frame of oak wood painted with red stripes. At Throckmorton’s glance askance at the cow-like girl, Katharine said: ‘Ye may speak afore Margot Poins. I ha’ heard tales of her bringing.’
Margot kneeled at Katharine’s feet to stretch a white linen cloth over the frame on the floor.
‘Privy Seal planneth thus,’ Throckmorton answered Katharine’s challenge. He spoke low and level, hoping to see her twinge at every new phrase. ‘The King hath put from him every tale of thee; it is not easy to bring him tales of those he loves, but very dangerous. But Cromwell planneth to bring hither thy cousin and to keep him privily till one day cometh the King to be alone with thee in thy bower or his. Then, having removed all lets, shall Cromwell gird this cousin to spring in upon thee and the King, screaming out and with his sword drawn.’ Still Katharine did not move, but leaned along her table of yellow wood. ‘It is not the sword ye shall fear,’ he said slowly, ‘but what cometh after. For, for sure, Privy Seal holdeth, then shall be the time to bring witnesses against thee to the hearing of the King. And Privy Seal hath witnesses.’
‘He would have witnesses,’ Katharine answered.
‘There be those that will swear — —’
‘Aye,’ she caught him up, speaking very calmly. ‘There be those that will swear they ha’ seen me with a dozen men. With my cousin, with Nick Ardham, with one and another of the hinds. Why, he will bring a hind to swear I ha’ loved him. And he will bring a bastard child or twain — —’ She paused, and he paused too.
At last he said: ‘Anan?’
‘Ye might do it against Godiva of Coventry, against the blessed Katharine or against Caesar’s helpmeet in those days,’ Katharine said. ‘Margot here can match all thy witnesses from the city of London — men that never were in Lincolnshire.’
Margot’s face flushed with a tide of exasperation, and, sitting motionless, she uttered deeply:
‘My uncle the printer hath a man will swear he saw ye walk with a fiend having horns and a tail.’ And indeed these things were believed among the Lutherans that flocked still to Margot’s uncle’s printing room. ‘My uncle hath printed this,’ she muttered, and fumbled hotly in her bosom. She drew out a sheet with coarse black letters upon it and cast it across the floor with a flushed disdain at Throckmorton’s feet. It bore the heading: ‘Newes from Lincoln,’ Throckmorton kicked with his toe the white scroll and scrutinised Katharine’s face dispassionately with his foxy eyes that jumped between his lids like little beetles of blue. He thrust his cap back upon his head and laughed.
‘Before God!’ he said; ‘ye are the joyfullest play that ever I heard. And how will Madam Howard act when the King heareth these things?’
Katharine opened her lips with surprise.
‘For a subtile man ye are strangely blinded,’ she said; ‘there is one plain way.’
‘To deny it and call the saints to witness!’ he laughed.
‘Even that,’ she answered. ‘I pray the saints to give me the place and time.’
‘Ha’ ye seen the King in a jealous rage?’ he asked.
‘Subtile man,’ she answered, ‘the King knows his world.’
‘Aye,’ he answered, ‘knoweth that women be never chaste.’
Katharine bent to pick up her sewing.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘if the King will not have faith in me I will wed no King.’
His jaw fell. ‘Ye have so much madness?’ he asked.
She stretched towards him the hand that held her sewing now.
‘I swear to you,’ she said—’and ye know me well — I seek a way to bring these rumours to the King’s ears.’
He said nothing, revolving these things in his mind.
‘Goodly servant,’ she began, and he knew from the round and silvery sound she drew from her throat that she was minded to make one of the long speeches that appalled and delighted him with their childish logic and wild honour. ‘If it were not that my cousin would run his head into danger I would will that he came to the King. Sir, ye are a wise man, can ye not see this wisdom? There is no good walking but upon sure ground, and I will not walk where the walking is not good. Shall I wed this King and have these lies to fear all my life? Shall I wed this King and do him this wrong? Neither wisdom nor honour counsel me to it. Since I have heard these lies were abroad I have at frequent moments thought how I shall bring them before the King.’
He thrust his hands into his pockets, stretched his legs out, and leaned back as though he were supporting the chimney-piece with his back.
‘The King knoweth how men will lie about a woman,’ she began again. ‘The King knoweth how ye may buy false witness as ye may buy herrings in the market-place at so much a score. An the King were such a man as not to know these things, I would not wed with him. An the King were such a man as not to trust in me, I would not wed with him. I could have no peace. I could have no rest. I am not one that ask little, but much.’
‘Why, you ask much of them that do support your cause,’ he laughed from his private thinking.
‘I do ask this oath of you,’ she answered: ‘that neither with sword nor stiletto, nor with provoked quarrel, nor staves, nor clubs, nor assassins, ye do seek to stay my cousin’s coming.’
He cut across her purpose with asking again: ‘Ha’ ye seen the King rage jealously?’
‘Knight,’ she said, ‘I will have your oath.’ And, as he paused in thought, she said: ‘Before God! if ye swear it not, I will make the King to send for him hither guarded and set around with an hundred men.’
‘Ye will not have him harmed?’ he asked craftily. ‘Ye do love him better than another?’
She rose to her feet, her lips parted. ‘Swear!’ she cried.
His fingers felt around his waist, then he raised his hand and uttered:
‘I do swear that ne with sword ne stiletto, ne with staves nor with clubs, ne with any quarrels nor violence so never will I seek thy goodly cousin’s life.’
He shook his head slowly at her.
‘All the men ye have known have prayed ye to be rid of him,’ he said; ‘ye will live to rue.’
‘Sir,’ she answered him, ‘I had rather live to rue the injury my cousin should do me than live to rue the having injured him.’ She paused to think for a moment. ‘When I am Queen,’ she said, ‘I will have the King set him in a command of ships to sail westward over the seas. He shall have the seeking for the Hesperides or the city of Atalanta, where still the golden age remains to be a model and ensample for us.’ Her eyes looked past Throckmorton. ‘My cousin hath a steadfast nature to be gone on such pilgrimages. And I would the discovery were made, this King being King and I his Queen; rather that than the regaining of France; more good should come to Christendom.’
‘Madam Howard,’ Throckmorton grinned at her, ‘if men of our day and kin do come upon any city where yet remaineth the golden age, very soon shall be shewn the miracle of the corruptibility of gold. The rod of our corruption no golden state shall defy.’
She smiled friendlily at him.
‘There we part company,’ she said. ‘For I do believe God made this world to be bettered. I think, and answer your question, I could never ha’ loved you. For you be a child of the new Italians and I a disciple of the older holders of that land, who wrote, Cato voicing it for them, “Virtue spreadeth even as leaven leaveneth bread; a little lump in your flour in the end shall redeem all the loaf of the Republic.”’
He smiled for a moment noiselessly, his mouth open but no sound coming out. Then he coaxed her:
‘Answer my two other questions.’
‘Knight,’ she answered; ‘for the truth of the last, ask, with thumbscrews, the witnesses ye found in Lincolnshire, and believe them as ye list. Or ask at the mouth of a draw-well if fishes be below in the water before ye ask a woman if she be chaste. For the other, consider of my actions hereafter if I do love the King’s person.’
‘Why, then, I shall never have kiss from mouth of thine,’ he said, and pulled his cap down over his eyes to depart.
‘When the sun shall set in the east,’ she retorted, and gave him her hand to kiss.
