Jean Plaidy - Murder Most Royal: The Story of Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard

“Most Gracious King,” said Cranmer, “I fear to place this grave matter set out herein in your hands, and yet the matter being so grave I dare do naught else. I pray that Your Grace will read it when you are alone.”

Henry read the report on Catherine; his anger was terrible, but it was not directed against Catherine but those who had given evidence against her. He sent for Cranmer.

“This is forged!” he cried. “This is not truthful! I have conceived such a constant opinion of her honesty that I know this!”

He paced up and down so that Cranmer’s chicken heart was filled with fear. It was too soon. The King would not give up the Queen; rather he would destroy those who sought to destroy her.

“I do not believe this!” cried the King, but Cranmer had heard the quiver of doubt in his master’s voice and rejoiced. “But,” went on the King, “I shall not be satisfied until the certainty is known to me.” He glowered at Cranmer. “There must be an examination. And...no breath of scandal against the Queen.”

The King left Hampton Court, and Catherine was told to stay in her rooms. Her musicians were sent away and told that this was no time for music.

Over Hampton Court there fell a hush of horror like a dark curtain that shut away gaiety and laughter; thus it had been at Greenwich less than six years ago when Anne Boleyn had looked in vain for Brereton, Weston, Norris and Smeaton.

Catherine was chilled with horror; and when Cranmer with Norfolk, Audley, Sussex and Gardiner came to her, she knew that the awful doom she had feared ever since she had become the King’s wife was about to fall upon her.

Wriothesley questioned Francis Derham in his cell.

“You may as well tell the truth,” said Wriothesley, “for others have already confessed it for you. You have spent a hundred nights naked in the bed of the Queen.”

“Before she was Queen,” said Derham.

“Ah! Before she was Queen. We will come to that later. You admit that there were immoral relations between you and the Queen?”

“No,” said Derham.

“Come, come, we have ways of extracting the truth. There were immoral relations between you and the Queen.”

“They were not immoral. Catherine Howard and I regarded each other as husband and wife.”

Wriothesley nodded slowly.

“You called her ‘wife’ before others?”

“Yes.”

“And you exchanged love tokens?”

“We did.”

“And some of the household regarded you as husband and wife?”

“That is so.”

“The Dowager Duchess and Lord William Howard regarded you as husband and wife?”

“No; they were ignorant of it.”

“And yet it was no secret.”

“No, but...”

“The entire household knew, with the exception of the Dowager Duchess and Lord William?”

“It was known among those with whom it was our custom to mix.”

“You went to Ireland recently, did you not?”

“I did.”

“And there were engaged in piracy?”

“Yes.”

“For which you deserve to hang, but no matter now. Did you not leave rather abruptly for Ireland?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because Her Grace had discovered the relationship between Catherine and me.”

“Was there not another occasion when she discovered you with her granddaughter?”

“Yes.”

“It was in the maids’ room and she entered and found you romping together, in arms kissing?”

He nodded.

“And what were Her Grace’s reactions to that?”

“Catherine was beaten; I was warned.”

“That seems light punishment.”

“Her Grace believed it to be but a romp.”

“And you joined the Queen’s household soon after her marriage with the King? Mr. Derham, I suggest that you and the Queen continued to live immorally, in fact in adultery, after the Queen’s marriage with His Majesty.”

“That is not true.”

“Is it not strange that you should join the Queen’s household, and receive special favors, and remain in the role of Queen’s attendant only?”

“It does not seem strange.”

“You swear that no immoral act ever took place between you and the Queen after her marriage with the King?”

“I swear it.”

“Come, Mr. Derham. Be reasonable. Does it seem logical to you in view of what you once were to the Queen?”

“I care not what it may seem. I only know that no act of immorality ever took place between us since her marriage.”

Wriothesley sighed. “You try my patience sorely,” he said, and left him.

He returned in half an hour accompanied by two burly men.

“Mr. Derham,” said the King’s secretary softly, “I would ask you once more to confess to adultery with the Queen.”

“I cannot confess what is not so.”

“Then I must ask you to accompany us.”

Derham was no coward; he knew the meaning of that summons; they were going to torture him. He pressed his lips together, and silently prayed for the courage he would have need of. He had led an adventurous life of late; he had faced death more than once when he had fought on the rough sea for booty. He had taken his chances recklessly as the inevitable milestones on the road of adventure; but the cold-blooded horror of the torture chamber was different.

In the corridors of the Tower was the sickening smell of death; there was dried blood on the floor of the torture rooms. If he admitted adultery, what would they do to Catherine? They could not hurt her for what was done before. They could not call that treason, even though she had deceived the King into thinking her a virgin. They could not hurt Catherine if he refused to say what they wished. He would not swerve. He would face all the torture in the world rather than harm her with the lies they wished him to tell. She had not loved him since his return from Ireland; but he had continued to love her. He would not lie.

They were stripping him of his clothes. They were putting him on the rack. Wriothesley, one of the cruelest men in all England, was standing over him implacably.

“You are a fool, Derham. Why not confess and have done!”

“You would have me lie?” asked Derham.

“I would have you save yourself this torture.”

The ropes were about his wrists; the windlasses were turned. He tried to suppress his cries, for it was more cruel than his wildest imaginings. He had not known there could be such pain. He shrieked and they stopped.

“Come, Derham. You committed adultery with the Queen.”

“No, no.”

Wriothesley’s cruel lips were pressed together; he nodded to the tormentors. It began again. Derham fainted and they thrust the vinegar brush under his nose.

“Derham, you fool. Men cannot endure much of this.”

That was true; but there were men who would not lie to save themselves from death, even if it must be death on the rack; and Derham, the pirate, was one of them.

When it would have been death to continue with the torture they carried him away; he was fainting, maimed and broken; but he had told them nothing.

When the Dowager Duchess heard what had happened at Hampton Court she shut herself into her chamber and was sick with fear. The Queen under lock and key! Derham in the Tower! She remembered her sorrow when Anne was sent to the Tower; but now side by side with sorrow went fear, and out of these two was born panic.

She must not stay idle. She must act. Had she not assured His Majesty of Catherine’s purity and goodness! And yet had she not beaten Catherine for her lewdness! Had she not warned Derham first, and had he not, later, run away to escape her anger when it had been discovered that he and Catherine had been living as husband and wife in her house!

She paced up and down her room. What if they questioned her! Her teeth chattered. She pictured the terrible end of the Countess of Salisbury, and saw herself running from the headsman’s axe. She was rich; her house was chock-full of treasure. Was not the King always ready to dispatch those who were rich, that their goods might fall into his hands! She pictured the Duke’s sly eyes smiling at her. “That wench will go to the block!” he had said; and she had berated him, telling him he had better take care how he spoke of the Queen. Her stepson was her most deadly enemy and now he would have a chance of working openly against her.

She must waste no time. She must act. She went down to the great hall and called a confidential servant to her. She told him to go to Hampton Court, glean the latest news, and come back to her as fast as he could. She waited in mental anguish for his return, but when he came he could only tell her what she knew already. The Queen and Derham were accused of misconduct, and some of the Queen’s attendants were accused of being in on the guilty secret.

She thought of Derham’s friend Damport, who doubtless knew as much of Derham’s secrets as any. She had some hazy plan of bribing him to silence on all he knew.

“I hear Derham is taken,” she said plaintively, “and also the Queen; what is the matter?”

Damport said he thought Derham had spoken with indiscretion to a gentleman usher.

Her Grace’s lips quivered; she said that she greatly feared that in consequence of evil reports some harm should fall the Queen. She looked fearfully at Damport and said she would like to give him a little gift. Thereupon she presented him with ten pounds. It was stupid and clumsy, but she was too frightened to know what she did. She murmured something about his saying nothing of Catherine Howard’s friendship with Derham.

Her fear becoming hysterical, the Dowager Duchess paced from room to room. What if Catherine and Derham had exchanged letters when he had gone away to Ireland!

There were here in her house some trunks and coffers of Derham’s, for before he had gone to court she had taken him back into her house; several of the trunks were those which he had left behind when he fled. He had not removed them when he went to court, for his lodging there was not large enough to accommodate them. What if in Derham’s trunks and coffers there was some incriminating evidence?

Her legs shaking, her voice high with hysteria, she called to some of her most trusted servants. She told them that she feared a visit from the King’s ambassadors at any moment; the Queen was in danger; all Derham’s belongings must be searched for fear there might be something in them to incriminate the Queen; she implored her attendants to show their loyalty and help her.

There was a great bustling throughout the house; trunks were forced open; coffers were rifled. There were found some of those letters written by Jane Bulmer on Catherine’s behalf, and which had been preserved by Derham; of these there was made a bonfire; the Duchess even destroyed articles which she suspected had been gifts from Catherine to Derham.

When this work was done she retired to her chamber, feeling old and very weary. But there was no rest for her. A knocking on her door heralded the advent of fresh trouble, the worst possible trouble.

“His Grace the Duke is below,” said her frightened maid, “and he demands to see you immediately.”

Catherine, facing those five dreaded men, was numb with terror. Her limbs trembled so much, and her countenance was so wild, that they thought she would lose her reason. She had had a wild fit of laughing which had ended in weeping; she was more hysterical than had been her cousin, for Anne had not had a terrible example in her mind all the time.

There was one thing which terrified her beyond all others, and gave her great agony of mind. She could think of no way of warning Culpepper. She was almost mad with anxiety on his behalf.