Chapter 1 #2
But after the Princess Elizabeth had been born in September 1533, Kate escaped the oppressive atmosphere at Hever.
How, living there in obscurity, she had been chosen for the coveted post of companion to the heir to the throne was a mystery to her, but Grandfather—seemingly pleased with her for once—told her briskly that she should embrace her great good fortune and not ask silly questions.
She felt a pang at the thought of leaving her mother behind, yet she was eager to be at Hatfield in time for Christmas.
There, she had quickly fallen in love with her baby cousin and felt herself very fortunate indeed.
Mother’s letters depressed her, though. When Father died, Harry, his heir, had become a ward of the Crown because he was a minor.
Two years later, the King had granted his wardship to Aunt Anne, who arranged for him to have a good education that would befit him to rise high in the world.
Mother wrote to Kate that she was not happy about this because she had had no choice in the matter, but she knew it was for Harry’s good.
It especially galled her that Anne had the use of the revenues from Father’s estate, which left Mother in worse penury than before.
Kate had sighed as she read the letter. She prayed there would not be bad blood between the sisters; Mother was jealous enough of Anne as it was.
But soon afterward, things had improved for her.
Mysteriously, she came into some money. Kate had no idea how, and did not like to ask, for she was more sure than ever now that Mother was keeping a secret.
She expected to hear that she had left Hever for a house of her own, but Mother stayed on, in bondage, as she put it.
She said she was keeping the money so that Kate would have a fine dowry one day, which would increase her chances of making a good marriage.
Kate felt bad about that; she would have preferred Mother to use the money to improve her circumstances.
Yet Mother remained adamant. “They have deprived me of doing the best for my son,” she wrote.
“They shall not prevent me from doing the best for my daughter.”
Kate understood how she felt. Mother was not for nothing a Boleyn; she came from a family that prized educated women, and she had ensured that Kate was well taught.
Until she went to Hatfield, Kate had shared Harry’s tutor.
Then, in Elizabeth’s household, she had been provided with a tutor of her own, at the King’s expense.
She had learned Latin and French and even some Italian, for she excelled at languages.
She now wrote in an elegant Italic hand, she knew all about the Greek and Roman myths, and she could draw, too.
She often drew pictures for Elizabeth, humorous sketches that made the little girl squeal with laughter.
—
How she wished she were back in the nursery now.
Reclining on the rough cushions in the cabin, Kate longed for the comforts of Greenwich or Hatfield.
She loved her life in Elizabeth’s household.
Her little cousin, for all her imperious, wayward ways and bossy nature, was enchanting, a creature formed—everyone said—to make a special mark in the world.
She would be a great queen one day, or even an empress. The suitors would be queuing up!
Kate loved Elizabeth’s quicksilver mind, her rampant curiosity, and her fierce independence.
Yet this demanding little Princess could also be affectionate and thoughtful, and there was no doubting that she loved her big cousin.
She was always trailing along behind Kate or demanding that she play with her or read her a story; and she would climb on Kate’s lap and cover her face with kisses.
They looked alike, the pair of them, with their long red hair and long noses, and there was something similar about their eyes.
But it was Elizabeth who had the greater spirit.
Yes, Kate was missing Elizabeth already.
She could not stop wondering why she had been sent for.
Was it the King who had commanded it? Or had Aunt Anne requested it?
Kate would have preferred both of them to leave her in peace.
She had seen King Henry several times when he came to visit Elizabeth and found him quite terrifying.
He was a big man who dressed dazzlingly and dominated the house with his presence.
He exuded power and authority, but he had piggy eyes, a cruel little mouth, and an evil sense of humor.
Kate always shrank away from him, and yet there was something familiar about him, although she could not put her finger on it.
He had sometimes noticed her, looked her up and down, and then chucked her under the chin.
“What a pretty little maid you are,” he’d said once, to her intense mortification. And yet, she had to admit that he was a loving father to Elizabeth, taking an interest in her progress and clearly enjoying her babyish prattle.
Kate just wanted him to leave her alone.
Queen Anne came less often. She sent exquisite items of clothing and other fripperies for Elizabeth, yet Kate wondered if she was disappointed in having a princess when the King had wanted a son, and could not love her daughter.
Everyone knew that his Grace desperately needed a male heir to succeed him, yet so far, the Queen had presented him with just the one girl.
All her other children had been lost. Some of the servants muttered that it was a judgment of God on the King for putting away Queen Katherine; others speculated that Queen Anne would go the way of her predecessor.
Kate felt sorry for her aunt. She was eternally grateful to her for placing her in Elizabeth’s household.
She could not, however, like her, not after the way she had treated Mother.
It was because of Aunt Anne that Mother was now living beyond the sea.
Kate missed her. She had not seen her in a long while.
She had never forgotten the day, back in 1533, when Mother brought William Stafford to Hever, on a day when Grandfather was away.
William was tall, handsome, strong, and fit, as became a soldier, and he knew how to befriend children.
Kate and Harry soon ended up shrieking with laughter as he chased them around the garden pretending to be a dragon.
He clearly adored Mother. Even at nine years old, Kate could tell that they were in love. The knowledge thrilled her.
Soon afterward, she had joined Elizabeth’s household and was rarely home at Hever.
Just once, about six months later, did she see William Stafford again, when she visited her mother during one of Grandfather’s long absences.
She warmed to Will again, to his kind eyes and winning smile, and was overjoyed to see her mother looking so happy.
She found herself praying that Mother might marry Master Stafford.
What she had not known that day was that they had already wed in secret.
Mother told Kate and Harry about that weeks later, in the summer, after she had briefly visited the court and come home very distressed.
With tears in her eyes, she also said that she had to go away for what might be a long time.
“But why?” they had wanted to know.
“Because the King and Queen do not approve of my marriage. Your aunt has banished me from court.”
Kate could not understand why Aunt Anne did not like William Stafford, who was even now putting a loving arm around Mother and dabbing away her tears with his kerchief. It was a complete mystery.
“I fear that I am not of sufficient rank or wealth to marry the Queen’s sister,” he said gently.
“It’s not so much that,” Mother said bitterly, “as that I did not ask her permission. She thinks she’s head of the family now and has the right to say yea or nay.
So she flounced off in a fury and complained to the King.
She made him banish me—as if I had done something wrong, when all I did was fall in love with a wonderful man who will take care of me, and you children.
” She squeezed Will’s hand. They had already learned to call him Will; Kate never called him “Stepfather.” She had not had much chance anyway, for within a week, he and Mother had sailed for Calais, where he was a soldier in the garrison, the port being an English outpost; and Kate went back to Hatfield, feeling very miserable.
—
The Tower loomed ahead. Kate began to feel nervous, wondering how she would be received by the aunt who had been so unkind to Mother. Kate had seen Queen Anne since the rift, when she visited Hatfield, but Anne had behaved as if she wasn’t there.
Her misgivings deepened as the walls of London appeared in the distance.
Rising above them, she could see the great keep of the Tower.
She shivered, knowing she would be walking into a house of gloom, for Aunt Anne must be terrified at the prospect of what might happen to her.
Was her aunt in a dungeon? She didn’t like to ask her escort.
What treason had she been accused of? And was she innocent or guilty?
More importantly, what happened to queens who were found guilty of treason?
As the King’s groom helped her to alight at the Water Gate and they climbed the slippery steps, Kate was struck by how massive and forbidding a fortress the Tower was.
She wanted nothing more than to go back to Greenwich, away from this horrible place.
And yet, here they were, being escorted by yeomen warders through the outer ward to a stone stair that led up to a walkway along the walls.