Catharine Howard, Queen, consort of Henry VIII, King of England, -1542 -- Fiction
With one arm round the boy's little waist as he sat on high, and one
hand on the little feet, the King looked at his daughter in a sudden hot
rage; for to speak contemptuously of his son was a thing that filled him
with anger and surprise. He opened his mouth to shout. Katharine Howard
was gently turning a brass sphere with the constellations upon it that
stood upon the table. She moved her fair face round towards the King and
set her finger upon her lips. He shrugged his shoulders, prince and all
moving up together, and his face took on the expression, half abashed
and half resigned, of a man who is reminded by his womankind that he is
near to a passionate folly.
Katharine by that time had schooled him how to act when Mary was in that
humour, and he let out no word.
'I do not like that this Prince should play in my room,' the Lady Mary
pursued him relentlessly, and he was so well lessoned that he answered
only--
'Ye must fight that cock with Kat. It is Kat that sends him, not I.'
Nevertheless he was too masterful a man to keep his silence altogether;
he was, besides, so content upon the whole that he was sure he could
hold his temper in check, and the better to take breath for a long
speech, he took the little boy from his shoulder and planted his feet
abroad on the carpet.
'See now, Moll,' he said, 'make friends!' and he stretched out a large
hand. She shrugged her shoulders half invisibly.
'I will kneel down to the King of this country and to the Supreme Head
of the Church as it is here set up by law. What more would you have of
me?'
'See now, Moll!' he said.
He fingered the medal upon his chest and cast about for words.
'Let us have peace in this realm,' he said. 'We are very near it.'
She raised her eyelids with a tiny contempt.
'It hangs much around you,' he went on. 'Listen! I will tell ye the
whole matter.'
Slowly and sagaciously he disentangled all his coil of policies. His
letter to the Holy Father was all drafted and ready to be put into fine
words. But, before he sent it, he must be sure of peace abroad. It was
like this--
'Ye know,' he said, 'though great wrangles have been in the past betwixt
him and thee and mine own self, how my heart has ever been well inclined
to my nephew, thy cousin the Emperor. There are in Christendom now only
he and France that are anyways strong to stand against me or to invade
me. But France I ha' never loved, and him much.'
'Ye are grown gentle then,' Mary said, 'and forgiving in your old age,
for ye know I ha' plotted against you with my cousin and my cousin with
me.'
'It is a very ancient tale,' the King said. 'Forget it, as do I and he.'
'Why, you live in the sun where the dial face moves. I in the shadow
where Time stays still. To me it is every day a new tale,' the Lady Mary
answered.
His face took on an expression of patience and resignation that angered
her, for she knew that when her father looked so it was always very
difficult to move him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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