A Dangerous Inheritance

‘Pah! She has been a thorn in my side from the first. What of those Spanish plots to carry her off? I would remind you that Lady Katherine was going about my court flaunting herself as the Catholic heir, and then suddenly King Philip was plotting to abduct her so that he could wed her to his son and set them both on the English throne, as a means to restoring the old faith here. And goodbye, Elizabeth! She was involved, make no mistake. She went to the Count de Feria, by God, and told him she knew I did not want her to succeed me. It was tantamount to giving her consent to the abduction.’

‘If I may say so, your Majesty – and you will remember that I expressed my views at the time – it was a mistake at the begi

‘Time has proved me right,’ says the Queen grimly, toying with the great jewel at her breast. ‘I have been nourishing a serpent in my bosom. Katherine is ambitious, no doubt about it. She wants my crown. She has never ceased to plot against me with the Spaniards. I’ve marked her toadying to Philip’s ambassadors, cozening their support with her wiles. Then there was that talk of her marrying the Scottish pretender, Arran, and so uniting the thrones of England and Scotland. Again, goodbye Elizabeth! And now this marriage to Edward Seymour. I would not put it past those knaves beyond seas and north of the border to have engineered it to discountenance me.’

‘I hardly think so, Madam. Indeed, that marriage has put paid to any intriguing with the Spaniards and the Scots,’ Cecil soothes. ‘Seymour has no claim to the throne, so you can set your mind at rest there.’

‘I still believe there is more to this,’ Elizabeth persists, gnawing her lip in anger. ‘If the Lady Katherine ca

Cecil is shaken, but he has weathered more turbulent storms. ‘I confess I was of that opinion at one time, but your Majesty’s wisdom and greatness have proved me wrong. And I swear before God I never meddled to make this marriage. As for the child, the lords of England will never agree to a bastard succeeding: they have too much respect for the laws of inheritance. You may rest well assured on that point.’

‘Hmm. As I say, have the Lieutenant question the Lady Katherine. Have him ask for her marriage lines. And have Mrs Saintlow questioned soon; she was privy to this, I’ll wager. Even if there is no conspiracy proved, we must take all possible steps to establish that there was no marriage. As you say, if the child is born a bastard, it ca

‘I think your Majesty will find that there was not,’ Cecil interposes.

‘If there was,’ Elizabeth continues unheeding, ‘we will have to think carefully about what is to be done with my fine Lady Katherine.’

Kate

October 1485. Westminster Palace.

It seemed very strange to be back at Westminster, and for a moment at the water-stairs Kate felt overcome by grief and loss, and had to steel herself to walk on. How often had she walked through these gardens, these magnificent halls, this labyrinth of a palace? It was hard to credit that another king ruled here now. Almost she could believe she would see her father seated on the dais in the White Hall, with Queen A

It had been expected that William, one of the peers of the realm, would receive an invitation to attend the King’s coronation. Wives, of course, were not invited. So far, Henry had shown no sign of making good his promise to marry Elizabeth of York, thus, with no queen, there would be no ladies at the coronation.

Kate, desperate for some pleasant diversion, had pleaded with William to take her up to London with him, but he had said no. Always it was the same excuse: she must not draw attention to herself. Since learning of her pregnancy, he had allowed her to go no further than the village. At Raglan, she was inconspicuous, and in time people in the wider world might forget she existed. That seemed to be his hope.

But then had come the King’s letter. William was commanded to bring with him to Westminster the Lady Katherine his wife. No reason was given. Henry Tudor wanted to meet her, it seemed.

That confounded William. Why did the King want to see Kate? How could she be of any importance to him? Or was it just sheer curiosity on the part of a man who wanted to meet the tyrant’s daughter? He went on and on about it, fretting and fuming. He fussed too about her condition: was she up to travelling? It was a long way to London. Maybe they should offer her pregnancy as an excuse for her not to go? In the end, he ordered a new horse litter, plumped out with cushions; and it was in that, with William riding beside her, and an escort afore and behind, that Kate made the journey – with the leather curtains closed, so that none should see her. And it was no hardship at all, because every mile took them further into England. Even though so much had changed for the worse since she was last here, she was glad to be back in her native land.

She must keep to their lodgings, William insisted, and not go abroad. People might recognise her; it was best not to draw attention to herself. So she stayed, resentful, in the two rooms they had been allocated: fair chambers, well appointed, but by no means luxurious, and nothing like the apartments she had been used to occupying.

Two days after their arrival, the summons had come, and William and Kate were ushered into the King’s presence. William had made her wear a subdued gown of green cammaca: good quality, but nothing that suggested royal pretensions, and the colour was that of the Tudor livery.

Kate’s first impression was that Henry Tudor looked more like a clerk than a king. He was in his study, standing behind a desk piled with parchments, papers and scrolls, and rummaging through them with a frown on his face. He did not look up as they entered. They made their obeisances, Kate most unwillingly, and a thin voice said, ‘Rise.’ She found herself facing an unimpressive man in his late twenties. He was tall and lean, with wiry reddish hair that was already thi

‘Welcome to Westminster, my lord, my lady. I trust you had a good journey and that you are comfortably lodged.’

‘Yes, I thank your Grace,’ William said. He had told Kate that he would do the talking. On no account was she to open her mouth unless the King spoke to her directly.

‘I have summoned you today for two reasons,’ Henry said. ‘First, my lord, to confirm you in your earldom.’ William bowed again, expressing his gratitude profusely. Kate could sense his relief. He had fretted about that, as he fretted about everything else, fearing that the King would decide to confiscate his title after all.