Catharine Howard, Queen, consort of Henry VIII, King of England, -1542 -- Fiction
So low was his voice that, to hear him, many lords rose from their seats
and came over against the throne. Thus all that company were in the
upper part of the hall, and through the great window at the further end
the sun shone down upon them, having parted the watery clouds. To their
mass of black it gave blots and gouts of purple and blue and scarlet,
coming through the dight panes.
'Lay off this burden of trial and examination upon us that so willingly,
though with sighs and groans, would bear it.'
Suddenly the King stood up and pointed, his jaw fallen open. Katharine
Howard was coming up the floor of the hall. Her hands were folded before
her; her face was rigid and calm; she looked neither to right nor to
left, but only upon the King's face. At the edge of the sunlight she
halted, so that she stood, a black figure in the bluish and stony gloom
of the hall with the high roof a great way above her head. All the lords
began to pull off their bonnets, only Norfolk said that he would not
uncover before a harlot.
The Queen, looking upon Henry's face, said with icy and cold tones--
'I would have you to cease this torturing of witnesses. I will make
confession.'
No man then had a word to say. Norfolk had no word either.
'If you will have me confess to heresy, I will confess to heresy; if to
treason, to treason. If you will have me confess to adultery, God help
me and all of you, I will confess to adultery and all such sins.'
The King cried out--
'No! no!' like a beast that is stabbed to the heart; but with cold eyes
the Queen looked back at him.
'If you will have it adultery before marriage, it shall be so. If it be
to be falseness to my Lord's bed, it shall be so; if it be both, in the
name of God, be it both, and where you will and how. If you will have
it spoken, here I speak it. If you will have it written, I will write
out such words as you shall bid me write. I pray you leave my poor women
be, especially them that be sick, for there are none that do not love
me, and I do think that my death is all that you need.'
She paused; there was no sound in the hall but the strenuous panting of
the King.
'But whether,' she said, 'you shall believe this confession of mine, I
leave to you that very well do know my conversation and my manner of
life.'
Again she paused and said--
'I have spoken. To it I will add that heartily I do thank my sovereign
lord that raised me up. And, in public, I do say it, that he hath dealt
justly by me. I pray you pardon me for having delayed thus long your
labours. I will get me gone.'
Then she dropped her eyes to the ground.
Again the King cried out--
'No! no!' and, stumbling to his feet he rushed down upon his courtiers
and round the table. He came upon her before she was at the distant
door.
'You shall not go!' he said. 'Unsay! unsay!'
She said, 'Ah!' and recoiled before him with an obdurate and calm
repulsion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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