magister,’ Katharine said, knowing no other man that could visit her. But the firelight shone upon a heavy, firm jaw that was never the magister’s, on white hands and in threatening, steadfast eyes.
‘I am the unworthy Bishop Gardiner, of Winchester,’ a harsh voice said. ‘I seek one Katharine Howard. Peace be with you in these evil days.’
Katharine fell upon her knees before this holy man. He gave her his blessing perfunctorily, and muttered some words of the exorcism against demons.
‘I am even cured,’ Katharine said.
He sent Margot Poins from the room, and stood in the firelight that threw his great shadow to shake upon the hangings, towering above Katharine Howard upon her knees. He was silent, as if he would threaten her, and his brooding eyes glowed and devoured her face. Here then, she thought, was the man from the other camp descending secretly upon her. He had no need to threaten, for she was of his side.
He said that a Magister Udal had reported that she stood in need of Christian aid, and, speaking Latin with a heavy voice, he interrogated her as to her faith. The times were evil: many and various heresies stalked about the land: let her beware of trafficking with them.
Kneeling still in the firelight, she answered that, so far as was lawful, she was a daughter of the Church.
He muttered: ‘Lawful!’ and looked at her for a long time with brooding and fanatical eyes. ‘I hear you have read many heathen books under a strange master.’
She answered: ‘Most Reverend, I am for the Old Faith in the old way.’
‘A prudent tongue is also a Christian possession,’ he muttered.
‘Nay there is no one to hear in this room,’ she said.
He bent over her to raise her to her feet and holding before her eyes his missal, he indicated to her certain prayers that she should recite in order to prevent the fiend’s coming to her again. Suddenly he commanded her to tell him how often she had conversed with the King’s Highness.
Gardiner was the bitterest of all whom Cromwell had to hate him. He had been of the King’s Council, and a secretary before Cromwell had reached the Court, and, but for Cromwell, he might well have been the King’s best minister. But Cromwell had even taken his secretaryship; and he was set upon having Privy Seal down all through those ten years. He had been bishop before any of these changes had been thought of, and by such Papists as Katharine Howard he was esteemed the most holy man in the land.
She told him that she had seen the King but once for a little time.
‘They told me it was many times,’ he answered fiercely. ‘Should I have come here merely to chatter with you?’
There was something sinister and harsh even in the bluish tinge of his shaven jaws, and his agate-blue eyes were sombre, threatening and suspicious.
She answered: ‘But once,’ and related the story very soberly.
He threatened her with his finger.
‘Have a care that you speak truth. Things will not always remain in this guise. I come to warn you that you speak the King with a loyal purpose. His Highness listens sometimes to the promptings of his women.’
‘You might have saved your journey,’ she answered. ‘I could speak no otherwise if he loved me.’
He gazed involuntarily round at the hangings as if he suspected a listener.
‘Your Most Reverence does ill to doubt me,’ Katharine said submissively. ‘I am of a true house.’
‘No house is true save where it finds its account,’ he answered moodily. He could not believe that she spoke the truth — for he was unable to believe that any man could speak the truth — but it was true she was poorly housed, raggedly dressed and hidden up in a corner. Nevertheless, these might be artifices. He made ostentatiously and disdainfully towards the door.
‘Why, God keep you,’— he moved his fingers in a negligent blessing —‘I believe you are true, though you are of little use.’ Suddenly he shot out:
‘If you would stay here in peace your cousin Culpepper must begone.’
Katharine put her hand to her heart in sudden fear of these men who surrounded her and knew everything.
‘What hath Tom done?’ she asked.
‘He hath put a shame upon thee,’ the bishop answered. He had fallen upon Sir Christopher Aske: he had been set in chains for it, in the Duke’s ward room. But upon the coming of the Queen the night before, all misdemeanants had been cast loose again. Culpepper had been kept by the guards from entering the palace, where he had no place. But he had fallen in with the Magister Udal in the courtyard. Being maudlin and friendly at the time, he had cast his arms round the magister’s neck claiming him for a loved acquaintance. They had drunk together and had started, towards midnight, to find the chamber of Katharine Howard, Culpepper seeking his cousin, and the magister, Margot Poins. On the way they had enlisted other jovial souls, and the tumult in the corridor had arisen. ‘These scandals are best avoided,’ the bishop finished. ‘I have known women lose their lives through them when they came to have husbands.’
‘I could have calmed him,’ Katharine said. ‘He is always silent at a word from me.’
Gardiner stood pondering, his head hanging down. His eyes, hard and blue, flashed at her and then down again at the floor.
‘They told me you were the King’s good friend,’ he said, resentfully. ‘Your gossip Udal told my chaplain, and it hath been repeated.’
‘They will talk where there are a many together,’ Katharine answered; ‘the magister is a notorious babbler and will have told many lies.’
‘He is a spy of Privy Seal’s and deep in his councils,’ Gardiner answered gloomily.
A heavy wind that had arisen hurled itself against the dark casement. Little flaws of cold air penetrated the room, and the bishop pulled his cap further down over his ears.
‘My Lord Privy Seal would send my cousin to Calais where there is fighting to come,’ Katharine said.
Gardiner raised his head sharply at Cromwell’s name.
‘You speak sense at the end,’ he muttered. To him too it had occurred that if she was to be the King’s peaceably, this madman must begone. If Cromwell wished this lover of this girl out of the way, the reason was not obscure.
‘A man of his hath been here this very day,’ Katharine said.
‘Privy Seal learned whoremastering in Italy,’ Gardiner cried triumphantly. ‘He saw signs that his Highness inclined to you. Have a care for your little soul.’
‘Why, I think Privy Seal had no such vain imagination,’ Katharine answered submissively. She would have laughed that the magister’s insane babblings should have raised such a coil; but Gardiner was a man esteemed very saintly, and she kept her eyes on the floor.
‘Give thou ear to no doctrines of Privy Seal’s,’ he answered swiftly. ‘Thy soul should burn: I will curse thee. If the King shall offer
