He was smiling now, and his smile could startle her, for there was a malignant cruelty in it which sat oddly on his fair young face. Although she was growing accustomed to it, it made her uneasy.
“I have prepared a treat for the people which will repay them for all they have suffered,” he said.
“Yes, Henry?”
“You remember when I gave orders that those agents of Empson and Dudley should be placed in the pillory?”
“I do.”
“And what happened to them?”
“The mob set upon them, I believe, and stoned them to death.”
The King's smile deepened. “Now I shall give them a bigger treat. Oh yes. I will repay the people for their sufferings, never fear.”
“Then will you give back what your father took from them?”
“Better than that!” he said. “Far better. I will give them Empson and Dudley. They were the extortioners. They shall be executed on Tower Hill, and I'll warrant you, Kate, the people will come from far and wide to see their blood flow … and they will thank their King for avenging their wrongs.”
Words were on her lips, but each day she learned wisdom. So, she thought, you will offer them the blood of your fathers unpopular servants, but their money—the money which was wrung from them in cruel taxes so that they were left with little to show for their labor—you will spend on your jewels, your fine clothes and your rejoicing.
“You do not speak,” he said, frowning. “Like you not my plan?”
There is nothing I can do, she decided.
Ah yes, she was beginning to understand the man whom she had married.
She said quietly: “The people will rejoice, I doubt not.”
Now he was laughing, embracing her warmly. He loved and needed approval as much as he loved and needed feasting and revelry.
MY LORD Mountjoy was one of those who were with the King when Thomas brought the verses he had written on vellum decorated with the white and red roses of York and Lancaster.
Mountjoy was hopeful; the King had confided to him that he looked to the scholars to make his court bright with learning.
Mountjoy was considering writing to Erasmus.
There were also present the King and his chaplain, a man for whom Henry had a deep liking and respect. It was true that he was not a handsome man; his face was slightly marked with the pox, and the lid dragged a little over the left eye, which was not becoming; being in his mid-thirties, he seemed elderly to the King; but although he was, as yet, merely the King's chaplain, Henry was so struck with his discourse that he determined to keep Thomas Wolsey at his side and to heap preferment on him at an early date.
And now came Thomas More, scholar and writer, to offer verses of laudation.
The King held out his hand for the man to kiss. He liked that face; and the royal smile was benign as Henry bade Thomas More rise.
“I remember you,” he said, “in company with the scholar Erasmus. Was it not at Eltham that we met?”
“It was, Your Grace, and Your Grace's memory of that fact covers me with honor.”
“We like our poets. There is too little learning at our court We feel ourselves but ignorant when compared with such learned men.”
“Your Grace astonishes the world with his learning.”
The King smiled, meaning to charm; and instinct told him that modesty would appeal to this man with the kind mouth and the shrewd eyes. “If not with my own,” said Henry, “with that of my subjects. This is a pretty thing you bring me. Read the verses … that all may hear what you have to say to your King.”
Thomas read them, and as he listened the King's heart warmed toward this man. Such elegance of phrase, such finely worded sentiments. He liked what this man had to say of him and his Queen.
“We thank you, Thomas More,” he said when the reading was over. “We shall treasure the verses. And Mountjoy here has been telling us of that friend of yours … Erasmus. We must have him here. I want all to know that I wish to see this court adorned by learned men. I would that I had paid more attention to my tutors. I fear the chase and all manner of sports have pleased me overmuch.”
“Your Grace,” said Thomas, “your humble subjects ask not that you should become a scholar, for you have a realm to govern. We would beg that you extend your gracious encouragement to scholars in this land of ours.”
“We give our word to do it. We need these scholars. They are the brightest jewels in our crown.”
And he kept Thomas More beside him, conversing lightly of theology and the science of astronomy. The Queen joined in and the King was pleased that this should be so.
There were some men whom he liked, whether they were old or young, gay or serious. He had two of those men close to him now … his two Thomases, he called them. One was Thomas Wolsey and the other was Thomas More.
TWO DAYS after the Coronation, Alice Middleton called at The Barge with a posset for Jane.
As soon as she entered the house it seemed to Margaret that she dominated it; but both Margaret and Mercy were pleased that she had brought her daughter with her.
The three children went to one of die window seats and talked together. Little Alice Middleton, to the astonishment of Margaret and Mercy, had learned no Latin.
“But what will you do when you grow up?” asked Margaret in a shocked voice. “Do you not wish to please …”
Margaret was stopped by a look from Mercy, which reminded her that as this little girl had no father they must not talk of fathers.
Margaret blushed, and her eyes filled with compassion. Both she and Mercy wished to be very kind to the little girl who had no father. But young Alice was not disturbed.
“When I grow up I shall take a husband,” she said. “A rich husband.” And she twirled a golden curl, which had escaped from her cap, and, fatherless as she was, she seemed very pleased with herself.
Meanwhile her mother was talking in a loud voice:
“This place is not healthful. I'll swear it's damp. No wonder you are not feeling well, Mistress More. But you take a little of this posset, and you'll feel the better for it.”
Jane said it was good of her to call; she repeated her thanks, for, as she said again and again, she did not know how she would have reached home without the help of Mistress Middleton.
“You would have reached home, I doubt not. That which we must do, we find means of doing…. So I always say.” And Mistress Middleton smiled as though to imply: And what I say—by the very fact that I say it—it is bound to be right.
Jane was glad that Thomas should come in so that he could thank the widow personally for her kindness.
“Thomas,” she said, “this is Mistress Middleton, the kind lady who brought me home.”
“Right glad I am to meet you, Mistress Middleton. My wife has told me many good things of you.”
Mistress Middleton eyed him shrewdly. A lawyer! A scholar! she believed. She had not much respect for scholars; she doubted they did as well as mercers of London and merchants of the Staple of Calais.
“A pity, sir, that you had not the time to take your wife and children into the streets to see the sights.”
“A great pity, madam.”
“Thomas,” cried Jane. “The King … he received you?”
Thomas nodded.
“My husband,” Jane explained, “is a writer.”