Part 20 (1/2)
”You have been long in answering my summons,” said the queen; ”but I could not expect greater prompt.i.tude. Time was when a summons from Catherine of Arragon would have been quickly and cheerfully attended to; when the proudest n.o.ble in the land would have borne her message to you, and when you would have pa.s.sed through crowds to her audience-chamber. Now another holds her place, and she is obliged secretly to enter the castle where she once ruled, to despatch a valet to her enemy, to attend his pleasure, and to receive him in the dwelling of an humble canon. Times are changed with me, Wolsey-sadly changed.”
”I have been in attendance on the king, madam, or I should have been with you sooner,” replied Wolsey. ”It grieves me sorely to see you here.”
”I want not your pity,” replied the queen proudly. ”I did not send for you to gratify your malice by exposing my abject state. I did not send for you to insult me by false sympathy; but in the hope that your own interest would induce you to redress the wrongs you have done me.”
”Alas! madam, I fear it is now too late to repair the error I have committed,” said Wolsey, in a tone of affected penitence and sorrow.
”You admit, then, that it was an error,” cried Catherine. ”Well, that is something. Oh! that you had paused before you began this evil work-before you had raised a storm which will destroy me and yourself. Your quarrel with my nephew the Emperor Charles has cost me dear, but it will cost you yet more dearly.”
”I deserve all your reproaches, madam,” said Wolsey, with feigned meekness; ”and I will bear them without a murmur. But you have sent for me for some specific object, I presume?”
”I sent for you to give me aid, as much for your own sake as mine,” replied the queen, ”for you are in equal danger. Prevent this divorce-foil Anne-and you retain the king's favour. Our interests are so far leagued together, that you must serve me to serve yourself. My object is to gain time to enable my friends to act. Your colleague is secretly favourable to me. p.r.o.nounce no sentence here, but let the cause be removed to Rome. My nephew the emperor will prevail upon the Pope to decide in my favour.”
”I dare not thus brave the king's displeasure, madam;” replied Wolsey.
”Dissembler!” exclaimed Catherine. ”I now perceive the insincerity of your professions. This much I have said to try you. And now to my real motive for sending for you. I have in my possession certain letters, that will ruin Anne Boleyn with the king.”
”Ha!” exclaimed the cardinal joyfully; ”if that be the case, all the rest will be easy. Let me see the letters, I pray you, madam.”
Before Catherine could reply, the door was thrown violently open, and the king stood before them.
”Soh!” roared Henry, casting a terrible look at Wolsey, ”I have caught you at your treasonable practices at last! And you, madam,” he added, turning to Catherine, who meekly, but steadily, returned his gaze, ”what brings you here again? Because I pardoned your indiscretion yesterday, think not I shall always be so lenient. You will leave the castle instantly. As to Wolsey, he shall render me a strict account of his conduct.”
”I have nothing to declare, my liege,” replied Wolsey, recovering himself, ”I leave it to the queen to explain why I came hither.”
”The explanation shall be given at once,” said Catherine. ”I sent for the cardinal to request him to lay before your majesty these two letters from Anne Boleyn to Sir Thomas Wyat, that you might judge whether one who could write thus would make you a fitting consort. You disbelieved my charge of levity yesterday. Read these, sire, and judge whether I spoke the truth.”
Henry glanced at the letters, and his brow grew dark.
”What say you to them, my liege?” cried Catherine, with a glance of triumph. ”In the one she vows eternal constancy to Sir Thomas Wyat, and in the other-written after her engagement to you-he tells him that though they can never meet as heretofore, she will always love him.”
”Ten thousand furies!” cried the king. ”Where got you these letters, madam?”
”They were given to me by a tall dark man, as I quitted the castle last night,” said the queen. ”He said they were taken from the person of Sir Thomas Wyat while he lay concealed in the forest in the cave of Herne the Hunter.”
”If I thought she wrote them,” cried Henry, in an access jealous fury, ”I would cast her off for ever.”
”Methinks your majesty should be able to judge whether they are true or false,” said Catherine. ”I know her writing well-too well, alas!-and am satisfied they are genuine.”
”I am well a.s.sured that Wyat was concealed in the Lady Anne's chamber when your majesty demanded admittance and could not obtain it-when the Earl of Surrey sacrificed himself for her, and for his friend,” said Wolsey.
”Perdition!” exclaimed the king, striking his brow with his clenched hand. ”Oh, Catherine!” he continued, after a pause, during which she intently watched the workings of his countenance, ”and it was for this light-hearted creature I was about to cast you off.”
”I forgive you, sire-I forgive you!” exclaimed the queen, clasping his hands, and bedewing them with grateful tears. ”You have been deceived. Heaven keep you in the same mind!”
”You have preserved me,” said Henry, ”but you must not tarry here. Come with me to the royal lodgings.”
”No, Henry,” replied Catherine, with a shudder, ”not while she is there.”
”Make no conditions, madam,” whispered Wolsey. ”Go.”
”She shall be removed to-morrow,” said Henry.
”In that case I am content to smother my feelings,” said the queen.
”Come, then, Kate,” said Henry, taking her hand. ”Lord cardinal, you will attend us.”
”Right gladly, my liege,” replied Wolsey. ”If this mood will only endure,” he muttered, ”all will go well. But his jealousy must not be allowed to cool. Would that Wyat were here!”
Doctor Sampson could scarcely credit his senses as he beheld the august pair come forth together, and a word from Wolsey explaining what had occurred, threw him into transports of delight. But the surprise of the good canon was nothing to that exhibited as Henry and Catherine entered the royal lodgings, and the king ordered his own apartments to be instantly prepared for her majesty's reception.
XI.
How Tristram Lyndwood and Mabel were liberated.
Intelligence of the queen's return was instantly conveyed to Anne Boleyn, and filled her with indescribable alarm. All her visions of power and splendour seemed to melt away at once. She sent for her father, Lord Rochford, who hurried to her in a state of the utmost anxiety, and closely questioned her whether the extraordinary change had not been occasioned by some imprudence of her own. But she positively denied the charge, alleging that she had parted with the king scarcely an hour before on terms of the most perfect amity, and with the full conviction that she had accomplished the cardinal's ruin.
”You should not have put forth your hand against him till you were sure of striking the blow,” said Rochford. ”There is no telling what secret influence he has over the king; and there may yet be a hard battle to fight. But not a moment must be lost in counteracting his operations. Luckily, Suffolk is here, and his enmity to the cardinal will make him a sure friend to us. Pray Heaven you have not given the king fresh occasion for jealousy! That is all I fear.”
And quitting his daughter, he sought out Suffolk, who, alarmed at what appeared like a restoration of Wolsey to favour, promised heartily to co-operate with him in the struggle; and that no time might be lost, the duke proceeded at once to the royal closet, where he found the king pacing moodily to and fro.
”Your majesty seems disturbed,” said the duke.
”Disturbed!-ay!” exclaimed the king. ”I have enough to disturb me. I will never love again. I will forswear the whole s.e.x. Harkee, Suffolk, you are my brother, my second self, and know all the secrets of my heart. After the pa.s.sionate devotion I have displayed for Anne Boleyn-after all I have done for her-all I have risked for her-I have been deceived.”
”Impossible, my liege?” exclaimed Suffolk.
”Why, so I thought,” cried Henry, ”and I turned a deaf ear to all insinuations thrown out against her, till proof was afforded which I could no longer doubt.”
”And what was the amount of the proof, my liege?” asked Suffolk.
”These letters,” said Henry, handing them to him, ”found on the person of Sir Thomas Wyat.”
”But these only prove, my liege, the existence of a former pa.s.sion-nothing more,” remarked Suffolk, after he had scanned them.
”But she vows eternal constancy to him!” cried Henry; ”says she shall ever love him-says so at the time she professes devoted love for me! How can I trust her after that? Suffolk, I feel she does not love me exclusively; and my pa.s.sion is so deep and devouring, that it demands entire return. I must have her heart as well as her person; and I feel I have only won her in my quality of king.”
”I am persuaded your majesty is mistaken,” said the duke. ”Would I could think so!” sighed Henry. ”But no-no, I cannot be deceived. I will conquer this fatal pa.s.sion. Oh, Suffolk! it is frightful to be the bondslave of a woman-a fickle, inconstant woman. But between the depths of love and hate is but a step; and I can pa.s.s from one to the other.”
”Do nothing rashly, my dear liege,” said Suffolk; ”nothing that may bring with it after-repentance. Do not be swayed by those who have inflamed your jealousy, and who could practise upon it. Think the matter calmly over, and then act. And till you have decided, see neither Catherine nor Anne; and, above all, do not admit Wolsey to your secret counsels.”
”You are his enemy, Suffolk,” said the king sternly.
”I am your majesty's friend,” replied the duke. ”I beseech you, yield to me on this occasion, and I am sure of your thanks hereafter.”