14

Rose without a thorn

Today, what remains of Henry VIII's palace of Oatlands lies beneath the foundations of a council estate in Weybridge, Surrey. Much of it was pulled down in the seventeenth century, yet it was a favoured retreat of the King and his children, and Henry spent a great deal of money on it. He had acquired the manor, with its moated red-brick house, in 1537; thereafter he set about enlarging and beautifying it, adding faqades, new wings, an arched bridge over the moat, and an octagonal tower. He then had the moat filled in and extended the building over it, creating a new courtyard in the process. The hunting in the nearby park was excellent, and the palace was convenient for Hampton Court. By 1540, most of the improvements had been completed, and it was because it was such a pleasant place that the King decided to take Katherine Howard there for their wedding.

The marriage ceremony, on 28 July, was conducted in private by Bishop Bonner. For ten days, absolute secrecy was maintained about it. The King was infatuated with his bride, and wished for time to spend alone with her before surrounding her with all the paraphernalia of court etiquette and the lack of privacy this entailed. At last, it seemed to him, he had found a wife who embodied all the qualities he most admired in women: beauty, charm, a pleasant disposition, obedience and, he believed, virtue. He considered himself blessed indeed. Whether Katherine was so elated with her husband is a matter for conjecture, but to all appearances the new Queen suffered her wifely duties with commendable fortitude, displaying at all times a cheerful and loving manner towards her august spouse.

This marriage represented the triumph of the conservative faction at court, which meant that the Howards were once again the most powerful family in the kingdom. The changed order was to have immediate repercussions, even before the King's marriage was made public. On 30 July, Richard Fetherston, former tutor to the Lady Mary, Edward Powell, who had once championed the cause of Katherine of Aragon, and Thomas Abell, Katherine's former chaplain, were all dragged on hurdles from their prison in the Tower to Smithfield, where they were executed for high treason. On that same day, Robert Barnes, the Lutheran scholar who had helped to arrange the King's marriage to Anne of Cleves, was burnt as a heretic. The message was clear: the King would not tolerate opposition, nor was he prepared to countenance heresy. Henceforward he would be ruthless in eradicating it, and the latter years of his reign would be very dangerous times for English Protestants. Henry was to be ably assisted in his crusade against these heretics by Bishop Gardiner, an energetic opponent of Lutheranism.

While the martyrs for both faiths suffered, and the King honeymooned with his young bride, the former Queen was making the most of her new freedom. Early in August, Marillac described 'Madam of Cleves' as being 'as joyous as ever'. Far from lamenting the ending of her marriage, she was holding court at Richmond and wearing new dresses every day. The ambassador thought this either showed prudence or 'stupid forgetfulness of what should so closely touch her heart'. His report is borne out by Anne's household accounts for that month, which record payments for new gowns, among them a dress of black velvet edged with fur. Anne had not only adopted English fashions but also English food. 'There is no place like this England for feeding right well!' she declared, and her table at Richmond became renowned. Indeed, she often played hostess to guests from the court. When she was not doing that, she spent all her time at 'sports and recreation'.

The King himself was one of her visitors. After his marriage, he and Katherine left Oatlands and moved to Hampton Court. From here, Henry rode over alone to Richmond, with only a few attendants, on 6 August. Marillac reported that he and Anne were on 'the best possible terms, and they supped so pleasantly together that some thought she was to be restored to her place'. However, this was not entirely a social call. Three members of the Privy Council were present to witness Anne's signature on a document thought to have been the deed of separation. It was noticed, moreover, that Henry was treating Anne with less distinction than when she was queen. Then, she had been seated beside him at meals. Now, she sat apart, at some distance, at a corner of an adjoining table. Marillac concluded, quite rightly, that there was no likelihood of Henry taking her back.

Nevertheless, there were rumours, and on 8 August the King instructed the Privy Council to inform all his ambassadors abroad that he had remarried. On the same day, Katherine Howard appeared as queen at Hampton Court, dining publicly under a cloth of estate.

Henry's envoys were told that the King had been attracted to Katherine upon a notable appearance of honour, cleanness and maidenly behaviour . . . [and that] his Highness was finally contented to honour that lady with his marriage, thinking in his old days - after sundry troubles of mind which had happened to him by marriage - to have obtained such a perfect jewel of womanhood and very perfect love towards him as should have been not only to his quietness but also to have brought forth the desired fruits of marriage.

The whole realm, they were told, 'did her honour accordingly'.

The month of August was given over to banquets and hunting in honour of the King's bride. Katherine revelled in her newfound importance, for her doting husband was happy to gratify her every whim: every day, she wore new gowns, and appeared laden with the jewellery with which Henry had showered her. He had rarely been so extravagant with his previous wives. Each day, Katherine discovered some new caprice, and her greed earned her the disapproval of many of the older people at court, including the Lady Mary, who did not treat her with the same respect as she had Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves. Mary may have found it discomfitting to have a stepmother nine years her junior, for all that she came from a Catholic family, and there may well have been an element of jealousy in her attitude, for she herself was still unmarried at twenty- four. Marillac commented that the pure atmosphere that surrounded Mary was in 'marvellous contrast to the tainted air of the court'.

Whether Marillac was referring to the new Queen is not known, yet it was not long before Katherine Howard revealed herself as a frivolous, empty-headed young girl who cared for little else but dancing and pretty clothes. This seems not to have bothered the King, who looked on lovingly as his pert little wife capered through the boisterous dances of the period, dances in which he could no longer join. Instead, he encouraged the young men of the court to partner her, and watched benignly as they led her out.

Nothing in Katherine's early life had prepared her for her present position. Her youngest years had been spent in impoverished gentility, for her father had found it hard making ends meet on his limited income. She had then gone to live with the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk for the rest of her formative years; the Duchess had neglected her charge in every respect, so that she was often obliged to resort to servants and people of lowly rank for company. It was a life, moreover, devoid of luxury. But now she had the King as her husband, what seemed like unlimited riches at her disposal, power at her fingertips, and an army of servants at her beck and call. Not unnaturally, it all went to her head. However, she had a pleasing manner and a sunny personality; there is no hint that she ever displayed the arrogance shown by her cousin Anne Boleyn. Katherine had a kind heart, and was willing to use her influence on occasion to assist those in trouble. But she was also incapable of resisting the facile charm of sycophants. She had virtually no understanding of the intrigues and pitfalls surrounding her, and her obvious innocence would lay her open to compromising situations.

The King, nevertheless, found her the perfect wife in every respect. All he asked of her was that she give him more sons. She was fifteen, and ripe for this in a period when girls were married off very young. However, although Henry was visiting her bed nearly every night for the first few months of their marriage, she did not conceive, and it may be that he, with his huge bulk and advancing infirmity, was no longer capable of fathering a child.

In mid-August, the Queen's household was re-formed. The ladies appointed to serve Katherine included the Lady Margaret Douglas, the King's niece, the Duchess of Richmond, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, the Countess of Sussex, Lady Margaret Howard (Katherine's stepmother, now a widow), and Lady Clinton, who was not Elizabeth Blount, the King's former mistress and first wife of Lord Clinton, but his second wife, Lady Elizabeth FitzGerald whom he married after Elizabeth's death in 1539. The ladies of the Queen's Privy Chamber were the Countess of Rutland, Lady Rochford, and Lady Edgecombe, who had all served Anne of Cleves, and Lady Baynton. Other ladies and gentlewomen in attendance included Lady Arundel (Katherine's sister) and Lady Cromwell (Queen Jane's sister Elizabeth), while Mrs Stonor, who had waited upon Anne Boleyn in the Tower, was a maid of honour.

On 18 August, a new bidding prayer was said in every church in the kingdom when the new Queen's name replaced that of her predecessor. Four days later the King left Windsor to go on his usual late-summer progress, and the Queen went with him, travelling to Reading, and then through Oxfordshire. While they were away, a priest was brought before the magistrates at Windsor, accused of having 'spoken unbefitting words of the Queen's Grace', words which cast aspersions upon Katherine's moral integrity. The Privy Council was duly informed, and on their orders the priest was commanded to remain within his own diocese and admonished to be 'more temperate in the use of his tongue'.

On 29 August, Henry and Katherine arrived at the manor of Grafton in Northamptonshire, where nearly eighty years before Henry's grandparents, Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville, had secretly married, and where, only eleven years before, Henry had parted from Wolsey for the last time. Yet there were no ghosts to trouble the happy couple on this occasion, for Marillac observed that:

The King is so amorous of her that he cannot treat her well enough, and caresses her more than he did the others. The new Queen is a lady of moderate beauty but superlative grace. In stature she is small and slender. Her countenance is very delightful, of which the King is so greatly enamoured, and he knows not how to make sufficient demonstrations of his affection for her.

Katherine, added Marillac, was dressed in clothes that followed the French fashion, like all the other ladies at the English court, and bore her device embroidered in gold thread around her arms:Non aultre volonte que le sienne('No other will than his'). In fact Henry was so besotted with Katherine that he ordered a medal to be struck in commemoration of their marriage. It was of gold, embossed with Tudor roses and true lovers' knots entwined, and it carried the inscription: henricus viii: rutilans rosa sine spina, a pretty reference to the King's rose without a thorn, his perfect bride.

The royal pair remained at Grafton until 7 September before riding south into Bedfordshire, where they stayed at Ampthill for a fortnight. Katherine of Aragon had been exiled here after being banished from court. Henry, however, was more concerned about the behaviour of the Queen's vice-chamberlain, Edward Baynton, who, with others, had been drunk and disorderly in the King's presence, and Henry, fearing that their bad example might contaminate the purity of his queen, now issued stern orders 'concerning the sober and temperate order that his Highness would have them to use in his Highness' chamber of presence and the Queen's'.

The King's train left Ampthill on 1 October and travelled to Wolsey's old house, The More in Hertfordshire, before returning to Windsor on 22 October. There, Henry was astonished to learn that rumour was currently crediting him with having made Anne of Cleves pregnant while on his visit to Richmond in August. He was relieved when further investigations revealed that Anne had merely been confined to bed with a stomach upset, which some mischievous persons had whispered was morning sickness. Marillac sneered at the rumours, for the King was so openly affectionate towards Katherine Howard, and 'bestows so many caresses on her, with such singular demonstrations of affection', that it was impossible to believe he had belatedly contemplated seducing Anne of Cleves. Henry's love for his wife was further proved in October when the Queen Consort Act was passed by Parliament; this Act set out in plain terms the rights and privileges of the Queen, giving her the power to act as 'a woman sole, without the consent of the King's Highness'. Immediately after the Act was passed, Henry granted to Katherine Howard all the lands and manors that had once been in the possession of Queen Jane.

It was around this time that a crisis arose in the Queen's household. Her chief lady-in-waiting, Lady Margaret Douglas, the King's 25-year-old niece, was a young woman of strong and determined character. Some four years earlier she had clandestinely married Lord Thomas Howard, an affair that ended with his imprisonment and death in the Tower, whither he had been sent for daring to marry Margaret without the King's permission. It had taken her a long time to recover from his death, but now she was learning to enjoy life again, for, during the summer progress, she had fallen in love with the new Queen's brother, Charles Howard. So indiscreet were the lovers that, by the time the court returned to Windsor, the King had heard the gossip about them. His wrath was terrible. He packed his niece off to Syon Abbey, recently vacated by the dispossessed nuns, and forbade Howard to contact her. Katherine had wisely refused to have anything to do with the intrigue, and therefore remained in the King's good graces.

People were still expressing pious hopes that the Queen might be pregnant. In November, Richard Jones dedicated his bookThe Birth of Mankind,a treatise on reproduction and midwifery, to 'our most gracious and virtuous Queen Katherine', with a warning to all men to 'use it godly'. Although Katherine had as yet no need of such a book, being married to her had rejuvenated the King. On 4 December, Marillac reported that Henry had adopted a new daily routine." he rose between five and six, heard mass at seven, then rode out hawking until dinner, which was at 10.0 a.m. He and Katherine were staying at Woking just then, and Henry told Marillac he felt much better in the country than when he was forced to stay in London during the winter. Even his leg had temporarily improved, enabling him to ride at will.

Henry and Katherine were again at Oatlands from 7 to 18 December, and then moved on to Hampton Court for the Christmas season. The King's New Year's gifts to his wife were lavish, and included two pendant laces with 26 'fair table diamonds' and 158 'fair pearls', as well as a rope of 200 large pearls. She also received from him a square pendant containing 27 diamonds and 26 clusters of pearls, as well as a muffler of black velvet edged with sable fur into which were sewn 38 rubies and 572 pearls. At least some of these gems had belonged to the King's previous wives, for the treasury was so depleted that he could not have afforded to buy them all. Indeed, Henry was so short of funds just then that he could not spare the expense of having the Queen crowned; possibly he had decided that the coronationsofqueen consorts were from now on conditional upon the production of an heir.

The New Year revels of 1541 brought together a family gathering. The Lady Mary had come up from Hunsdon to be present, although she had little in common with the giddy young Queen, and relations were very stilted between them. Katherine did not worry unduly about this, however, for Anne of Cleves was also at court, and she got on famously with both of them. Anne had sent the King and Queen two great horses with violet velvet trappings before arriving at Hampton Court on 3 January. That evening, the King retired early, but Anne stayed up dancing with the young Queen, and the next day dined with her and Henry. When Henry gave Katherine yet more presents, this time a ring and two small dogs, she generously passed them over to the Lady Anne.

From 7 to 10 February 1541 Henry was in London alone, attending to business with the Council while Katherine remained with the court at Hampton; this was the first time they had been apart since their marriage. On the King's return, or soon after, his leg began to pain him once more, causing him to become virtually chair-bound for a time. By Shrove Tuesday, he was sunk in apathy, and not interested in any kind of recreation, even music. Marillac described him as suffering frommal d'esprit,and at one point his doctors were in fear for his life. There was little they could do to alleviate his pain, or his depression, and for some weeks it was left to Queen Katherine to preside over a court that felt strangely empty. There were masques on 21 and 22 February, but the King did not attend them.

In private, the Queen was dutiful in attending to her husband's needs, yet he was not an easy person to live with at this time. He was melancholy and irascible. It was felt that his great bulk only made matters worse, and Marillac observed that the King was 'marvellously excessive in eating and drinking', adding that 'people say he is often of a different opinion in the morning than after dinner'. He could not bear people near him during those weeks, and kept to his rooms, so that it was said that the court 'resembled more a private family than a King's train'. Kings were expected to live their lives publicly, but Henry had had enough. He could not accept this latest setback to his health, or face the fact that he was now a prisoner of his ageing, sickly body. Queen Katherine could not arouse him from his depression, and he shut his door even against her.

Although Katherine was alarmed by the King's behaviour, which was contrary to all she knew of him, her fears were soon to be allayed for by 19 March Henry was much his old self again. His leg was now a little better, and this enabled him to muster his inner resources to help him face the future.

That spring saw Katherine stirred to action by the plight of three people imprisoned in the Tower. One was Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, who had languished there for nearly two years with inadequate clothing and heating to protect her aged body from the bitter winter weather. When she learned of this, the Queen saw her tailor on 1 March and ordered him to make up garments which were to be sent to Lady Salisbury: a furred night-gown, a kirtle of worsted, a furred petticoat, a satin-lined night-gown, a bonnet and frontlet, four pairs of hose, four pairs of shoes and one pair of slippers. With the King's permission, Katherine paid for all these items out of her privy purse.

The second prisoner in whom the young Queen took an interest was Sir Thomas Wyatt, who was again in the Tower on a minor charge. When the King recovered from his malady, Katherine pleaded for Wyatt's release. Chapuys, who had recently returned to court, told Charles V that this was a very courageous act on her part, and that Henry had only grudgingly consented after laying down certain conditions, namely that Wyatt confessed his guilt, and undertook to resume conjugal relations with his wife, from whom he had been estranged for fifteen years. For a week, Katherine worked to persuade the King to leave out this latter condition, but Henry was in a prim and virtuous mood, and insisted upon it. Wyatt was duly released, it being given out that 'at the great and continual suit of the Queen's Majesty, the King, being of his own most godly nature inclined to pity and mercy, hath given him his pardon in large and ample sort'. Katherine also obtained the release of a third prisoner, Sir John Wallop, confined to the Tower for some petty misconduct.

The pardoning of Wyatt was a very popular move at court, and for weeks both King and Queen basked in the approval and applause of those around them. Henry was impressed by his wife's tender compassion for the prisoners, feeling it an appropriate attribute in the consort of a ruler such as himself. It was very gratifying being able to play the role of indulgent husband and merciful sovereign, and flattering to the King's vanity.

In early April 1541, Katherine thought she might be pregnant at last. This, Marillac told Francis I, 'would be a very great joy to the King, who, it seems, believes it, and intends, if it be found true, to have her crowned at Whitsuntide'. Sadly Katherine's hopes came to nothing: it may have been a false alarm, or she may even have suffered an early miscarriage. What is certain is that disappointment cast the King once more into a black mood, and in early May the Queen herself was visibly in low spirits owing to a rumour that Henry planned to get rid of her and take back Anne of Cleves. There was no foundation to this tale, as Henry hastened to reassure his wife, but his disappointment certainly affected their happy relationship for a time, and it may well have made Katherine dissatisfied with her marriage.

Life at court was mundane and quiet that spring. Noneofthe King's children was there and there was little in the way of entertainment. The young Queen was bored. Then news arrived of an uprising against the King in Yorkshire. Headed by Sir John Neville, a fervent Catholic, its purpose was to depose Henry VIII's Lord President of the North and restore the old forms of religion in England. Henry also seems to have feared that disaffection among his subjects would lead to plots for the reinstatement of the Plantagenets. A few sprigs of that ancient royal house still lived: one was Margaret Pole, who had a valid claim to the throne, although she herself had never expressed any desire to occupy it. Indeed, for years, she had rendered loyal and devoted service to the Tudors, and it was mainly because of her sons' disaffection that she had been imprisoned in the Tower. Yet now, with a rebellion on his hands, the King behaved as if the Countess was a threat to his security, and - in spite of the Queen's protests and pleas for mercy - he ordered that the death sentence provided for in the Act of Attainder passed against Lady Salisbury be put into effect immediately.

On the morning of 28 May 1541, there occurred one of the worst atrocities of Henry's reign. The 68-year-old Countess was awakened by the Constable of the Tower with the news that she was to die that day. She was given a short while to prepare her soul for death, then led out to the scaffold on Tower Green, where Anne Boleyn had died, and where a crowd of spectators awaited her. The executioner was not the usual one employed on such occasions and was young and inexperienced. Faced with such a prisoner, he panicked, and struck out blindly, hacking at his victim's head, neck and shoulders, until he had finally butchered her to death.

The cruel end of Lady Salisbury sickened even the Tudor court, but the King was unrepentant. The northern uprising was speedily put down, and its leaders executed at the end of July. The peace of the realm had been preserved, and the security of the dynasty maintained, although Henry's reputation had suffered in the process. He was now more feared than beloved by many of his subjects.

On 30 July 1541, the King left London to go on a progress with the Queen and a great train of courtiers to the Eastern counties and the North, the centres of so much recent disaffection. He believed that his presence there might inspire loyalty and also act as a deterrent against any thought of future revolts. There were also two other matters to be accomplished. One was the collection of the huge fines levied on the cities that had supported Neville's rebellion, and the other was a meeting between Henry VIII and his nephew, James V of Scotland, who had promised to ride down to York to greet his uncle.

The royal cavalcade travelled via Dunstable, Ampthill, Grafton, Northampton, and Stamford to the city of Lincoln. Here, after formally pardoning the citizens for their part in the Pilgrimage of Grace and the recent uprising, the King went with the Queen into the cathedral, where they heard mass. During their stay, they were lodged in the adjacent Bishop's Palace. After leaving Lincoln, they journeyed to Boston, then a flourishing port, where Henry was able to indulge his passion for ships. From Boston, the progress wound its way into Yorkshire, passing into Northumberland as far as Newcastle - the furthest north Henry had ever been during his reign - and then south again to Pontefract, whose castle had been in 1400 the scene of the murder of Richard II. The court arrived there at the end of August.

Meanwhile, disturbing news from abroad had reached England. The Emperor and the King of France were on the brink of war with each other, and both wanted Henry's support. In August, Francis I proposed a marriage between the Lady Mary and his heir, the Duke of Orleans (the Dauphin had died in 1536); but Henry was reluctant to commit himself and so offend Charles. Thereafter, relations between England and France, never very good of late, deteriorated steadily. Since his excommunication in 1539, Henry VIII had been building elaborate defences along the south coast of England, in anticipation of a possible French invasion, and his castles still stand today at Deal and Walmer. He did not trust Francis, suspecting him of plotting an invasion of his kingdom, and for this reason he wanted the Emperor as a friend and ally, bearing in mind also the vital trade links between England and the Low Countries.

Henry did not let mattersofstate affect his enjoyment of the progress; as for the Queen, she was in high spirits, revelling in the warmth and approval emanating from the people who lined the roads and lanes to see her. Yet in Pontefract, she came face to face with her past when a young man who had once lived in the Dowager Duchess's household presented himself at court. His name was Francis Dereham, and he came with a recommendation from the Duchess, whose distant relative he is thought to have been, and who had led him to believe that the Queen would be pleased to have him in her household. But Katherine feared there was another reason that had prompted Dereham's appearance at court, the same reason that had inspired Joan Bulmer to press to be taken into her service. Dereham possessed information that could cause untold harm to Katherine's reputation, and he might well mean to exploit that knowledge, and use it to gain preferment. Hence, when he too requested employment, she dared not refuse, and on 27 August he was appointed her private secretary. 'Take heed what words you speak,' Katherine warned him. When the King asked why she had employed Dereham, she told him that the Duchess of Norfolk had asked her to be good to him - 'and so I will.'

Dereham proved to be a most unsuitable addition to her household. He had a fiery temper, and was over-familiar with his royal mistress, arousing the dislike of many who felt that Katherine was giving him preferential treatment. One of the Queen's gentlemen ushers, a Mr John, fell out with Dereham when the latter remained seated at dinner or supper after the Queen's council had risen, an action that seemed deliberately disrespectful. Mr John sent a messenger one evening with orders for Dereham to rise with everyone else, but Dereham refused. 'Go to Mr John and tell him I was one of the Queen's counsel before he knew her, and shall be there after she hath forgotten him!' he said insolently. This provoked a brawl between the two men with Dereham emerging the victor. It was as well the King did not hear of it, for there were severe penalties for violent behaviour within the court, though Dereham could be discreet when he wanted to, and he kept in the background when Henry was around. Others noticed his proprietorial and somewhat familiar manner with the Queen. Katherine was always susceptible to male flattery and attention, and there were those in her household and at the court who were strongly attracted to her, and jealous of Dereham's influence. She did not know it, but she was standing on the edge of a precipice.

In the middle of September, the King's train arrived in York, where Henry was due to rendezvous with James V. James, being distrustful of his uncle, did not turn up. Relations between England and Scotland had never been very good during Henry's reign, but from now on they would be plainly antagonistic. After waiting with mounting anger for several days for the King of Scots, Henry gave up and went off to Hull, arriving there on 1 October, and staying for five days. Henry was feeling much restored and in a holiday mood, though the progress was now drawing to an end. During October, the royal cavalcade moved slowly south, passing through Kettleby and Collyweston and Ampthill, before reaching Windsor on the 26th.

Two items of bad news awaited the King on his return. One concerned the death of his sister, Queen Margaret of Scotland, on 8 October at Methven Castle, and the other was a report from Prince Edward's doctors that the four-year-old heir was ill with a fever. Marillac told Francis I that Edward was 'too fat and unhealthy' to live long, but he was clearly being malicious. Fortunately, the King's initial panic upon hearing the news of his son's illness was soon alleviated by tidings that the child was making a good recovery. Continuing reports of Edward's progress put Henry into a good mood, and he seems at this time to have become even fonder of his queen, if that were possible. He could not bear to be without her for long, calling her the jewel of his age, and continually thanking God for sending him such a wife. He was even planning a public service of thanksgiving. But his idyll was soon to be abruptly and tragically shattered.

While the King was away on progress, a Protestant called John Lascelles came and confided to Archbishop Cranmer that he knew things about the Queen's past that would reflect upon her marriage with the King. He vowed he would rather die declaring the truth, since it so nearly touched the King, than live with the concealment of the same. Cranmer asked why he had not come forward before, to which he replied that he had been wrestling with his conscience.

Cranmer was not an unkind man, but he preferred to do whatever was expedient, and he was, it must be remembered, a secret Protestant himself, as well as an advocate of reform. He had never approved of the King's marriage to Katherine Howard, although he held nothing personal against her: it was what she represented that he privately and passionately opposed. He therefore saw in John Lascelles a catalyst for change: if anything could be proved against the Queen, it might be possible to remove her from the political scene and discredit her supporters, the powerful Catholic faction. The way would then be clear for the King to marry a bride put forward by Cranmer and his partisans who would be as energetic as Anne Boleyn in the reformist cause.

Cranmer therefore listened patiently and courteously to what John Lascelles had to say. He heard that Lascelles's sister Mary had, before her marriage to a Mr Hall, lived with Katherine in the ladies' dormitory in the Duchess of Norfolk's house at Lambeth, and had known her well. Later, when it was announced that Katherine was to become Queen of England, Mrs Hall had been prompted by her brother to seek service with her. 'I will not,' she answered, 'but I am very sorry for her.' Lascelles had asked why. 'Marry, for she is light, both in living and in conditions [i.e. behaviour],' was the answer. Lascelles did not elaborate on this, but told the Archbishop that his sister could supply more details if she was required to.

When Lascelles had gone, Cranmer pondered for a long time. Anne Boleyn had been found guilty of misconduct after marriage; was it possible that the same thing might be proved against Katherine Howard? Fornication before marriage was not a crime, but it argued a lightness of morals that might lead a young and impressionable girl into an adulterous relationship after the knot was tied. The possibility was there. Yet Cranmer knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. Anne Boleyn's fall had come about because the King was desperate to be rid of her: he was deeply in love with Katherine, and likely to react violently to any inference that she was not as virtuous as he believed her to be. It would not be wise to act until a solid case of incontrovertible fact had been established. Indeed, it might be wiser not to do anything at all.

There was much at stake. Cranmer knew Henry well enough to predict that he would sacrifice his personal needs in the interests of the state; adultery in a queen jeopardised the succession and was insulting to the King. Henry's vast pride would not permit him to retain a wife who had cuckolded him, or made a fool of him. He would be devastated, but he would not be stupid. It was essential, however, for Cranmer to get his facts right beforehand, for it would be death to incur the King's displeasure over such a matter.

He summoned Mary Hall. Her information was far more precise than her brother's. She told Cranmer that some years before, when she was living in the household of the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, it was common gossip that the Queen, then a very young girl, had been encouraging the attentions of her music master, Henry Manox. One of the ladies of the household, Dorothy Barwike, had told Mary that Manox was troth-plight to Katherine Howard, 'with whom he was much in love'. Manox, of course, had no business to be affiancing himself to a daughter of the Howards, and Mary Hall took it upon herself to reprove him for his behaviour.

Man [she had said sharply], what mean thou to play the fool of this fashion? Know not that if my lady of Norfolk knew of the love betwixt thee and Mistress Howard, she will undo thee? She is come of a noble house, and if thou should marry her, some of her blood would kill thee!

Manox had sneered and replied,

Hold thy peace, woman! I know her well enough. My designs are of a dishonest kind, and from the liberties the young lady has allowed me, I doubt not of being able to effect my purpose. She hath said to me that I shall have her maidenhead, though it be painful to her, not doubting but I will be good to her hereafter.

Mary had been appalled by his cynicism, and the fact that he was leading Katherine on with empty offers of marriage, but she was a charitable woman and excused him on the grounds that he 'was so far in love with her that he wist not what he said'. Which says far more about Mary Lascelles's ignorance of the ploys of the male sex than it does about Manox's true intentions.

But Katherine could also be fickle. Shortly afterwards she transferred her affection to Francis Dereham, without having granted Manox the ultimate favour. Their affair progressed quickly and soon, according to Mrs Hall, they became lovers. For a hundred nights and more, Dereham had crept into the ladies' dormitory and climbed, dressed in doublet and hose, into Katherine's bed. The other women and girls in the room were left in little ignorance of what was going on by the noises that issued from beyond the drawn bed-hangings, and one maid refused to sleep nearby because Katherine 'knew not what matrimony was'. At the same time, Manox, full of spite, was going about boasting that he knew of a private mark on Katherine's body. He told Mary Hall that he would speak to Katherine about her behaviour with Dereham, but Mary told him to keep quiet. 'Let her alone,' she said, unable to contain her disgust at Katherine's behaviour 'for if she holds on as she begins, we shall hear she will be naught within a while.'

Cranmer listened to all this with interest, giving due attention to his informant. He could find nothing amiss in her character, and later reported to the Council that 'she did from the first opening of the matter to her brother seem to be sorry, and to lament that the King's Majesty had married the Queen'. Now he dismissed her after taking a written statement, and retired to think about what she had told him.

On 30 October, the King and Queen came to Hampton Court. Henry now gave orders for the special service of thanksgiving for his marriage to take place on 1 November. On that day he publicly thanked God in the Chapel Royal for blessing him with so perfect a companion: 'I render thanks to Thee, O Lord, that after so many strange accidents that have befallen my marriages, Thou hast been pleased to give me a wife so entirely conformed to my inclinations as her I now have.' At the same time, in churches throughout the land, every good subject paid similar honour to the Queen's virtues.

While Henry was giving thanks, Cranmer softly entered the Chapel, not without apprehension. He had decided, after much deliberation, that he ought to lay what information he had before the King now, although he had agonised for hours over how best to do it. In the end, he had decided to summarise the facts in a letter, which he now laid by the King's side before retiring from the service.

Back in his chamber, Henry read what Cranmer had written: that his cherished Katherine was accused of 'dissolute living before her marriage with Francis Dereham, and that was not secret, but many knew it'. His first reaction was one of astonished disbelief. He summoned Cranmer at once and demanded an explanation. Cranmer repeated all that had gone before, and ended by saying he had been forced to convey the news by letter 'as he had not the heart to tell him by mouth'. Henry was stunned, but he kept his composure. He told the Archbishop he did not think there was any foundation in these malicious accusations; nevertheless, Cranmer was to investigate the matter more thoroughly. 'You are not to desist until you have got to the bottom of the pot,' said Henry. At the same time, he gave orders that the Queen was to be confined to her apartments with just Lady Rochford in attendance until her name was cleared, as he was confident it would be. He himself would stay away from her until then. In fact, he never saw her again.

Katherine and her ladies were practising dance steps when the King's guards arrived and said it was 'no more the time to dance'. When they dismissed most of her servants, Katherine - who had more on her conscience than pre-marital romps with Manox and Dereham - became extremely agitated, and demanded to know the reason for her confinement, but the guards could not enlighten her. She thought she knew already, and in the days to come the knowledge prevented her from eating and sleeping. In fact, she was not, as yet, in such a bad case as she feared, for the King was inclined to believe in her innocence because, in his view, the evidence provided by John Lascelles and Mary Hall was a malicious fabrication. On 2 November, he told Sir Thomas Wriothesley and Sir Anthony Browne that:

He could not believe it to be true, and yet, the accusation having once been made, he could not be satisfied till the certainty hereof was known; but he would not, in any wise, that in the inquisition any spark of scandal should arise against the Queen.

On the following day, Cranmer questioned John Lascelles again, but the man only repeated and confirmed what he had said earlier, affirming it to be the truth. Cranmer sat on this knowledge for two days before passing it on to the King. In the meantime, he discovered that the Queen had taken Francis Dereham into her service. On 5 November, he and the Council informed the King that they believed the allegations against Queen Katherine had a sound basis in fact: that she now employed one of her former lovers was seen as very sinister indeed. 'She has betrayed you in thought,' Cranmer told his master, 'and if she had an opportunity would have betrayed you in deed.'

It should be remembered that at this stage Cranmer had not one jot of evidence beyond what he saw as his own logical conclusions that Katherine had ever committed adultery. But Henry's suspicious mind had also jumped to that same logical conclusion. He slumped in his chair, pierced to the heart; for some time he could not speak. Finally, he broke down in tears in front of the Council, weeping copiously and pouring out his heartbreak. They marvelled at this, thinking it 'strange in one of his courage' to show such emotion. 'The King has wonderfully felt the case of the Queen,' reported Chapuys. Indeed, from that moment onwards, Henry was an old man. The semblance of youth had gone for ever. On the same day, he left Hampton Court with a few attendants and galloped to Oatlands, even though the house was full of poignant memories. He remained there for some days, away from the public gaze and the court gossip, his pride broken, and his heart. He did not want to air his shame.

Chapuys thought the King might well be more merciful towards Katherine than her relatives, who had already abandoned her in an attempt to save their own skins. Only Norfolk, who perhaps felt to a degree responsible for what had happened, showed some compassion towards his niece. He was present when Katherine was informed of the charges of misconduct laid against her, and witnessed her hysterical reaction. He told Marillac that she was refusing to eat or drink anything, and that she did not cease from weeping and crying 'like a madwoman, so that they must take away things by which she might hasten her death'. Norfolk had already assumed that his niece would end on the block as her cousin had done, and it is obvious that Katherine herself expected it.

The Queen was not the only person affected by what had happened. Lady Rochford, who was guilty of aiding and abetting crimes the Council did not yet know about, suddenly realised the danger she was in and 'was seized with raving madness'. Since the two women were confined together, it was thought by many that the same fate would befall the Queen. Earlier on, before Henry left Hampton Court, Katherine had dashed past her guards and tried to reach him while he was at prayer in the Chapel Royal, but she had been intercepted by her pursuers and dragged screaming back to her rooms. She knew, as well as everyone else, that if she could see Henry she stood a good chance of being forgiven. But Henry knew his own weakness in this respect, and kings must not be seen to be weak. He had removed himself, and Katherine knew her case was hopeless.

At Lambeth, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk heard reports of the Queen's misconduct, and realised that it was under her roof that that misconduct had taken place. She also recalled certain incidents that tended to confirm what was being said. Nevertheless, she took a more rational view of what was happening than most of her clan. 'If there be none offence sithence the marriage, she cannot die for that was done before,' she reasoned. Yet she began searching the house for incriminating evidence, knowing that, if Katherine fell, the Howards would topple with her.

Cranmer was now certain that he could uncover evidence of adultery after marriage. When he visited the Queen in her apartments on 6 and 7 November, it was in the hope of wringing a confession of this from her. Without it, no one could proceed against her, for premarital fornication was neither a crime nor acceptable grounds for annulling a marriage. Knowing that much depended upon the outcome of the interview, Cranmer assumed his most paternal and solicitous manner. Afterwards, he wrote an account of what had happened for the King.

He found the Queen 'in such lamentation and heaviness as I never saw no creature, so that it would have pitied any man's heart in the world to have looked upon'. It was impossible to speak rationally with her in this state, and therefore he did not stay long. Katherine remained in 'a vehement rage' all night, and was still quite frenzied when he returned the next morning. Even Cranmer was shaken by her behaviour, and feared for her sanity. Yet he brought her hope, in the form of a letter from her husband, promising her mercy if she would confess her faults. When this letter was read to her, she calmed down a little, although Cranmer feared it was only a temporary lull. But at least they were able to converse sensibly for a while, Katherine telling him she was willing to do all he asked of her and that she would reply to his questions 'as truly and faithfully as she would answer at the Day of Judgement and by the Sacrament which she received on All Hallows Day last past'. Cranmer himself admitted later that he meant to frighten her by exaggerating the grievous nature of her offences as well as 'declaring to her the justness of your Grace's laws, and what she ought to suffer by the same'. Only then did he intend to extend the offer of mercy to her.

Yet Katherine was so distraught that he felt constrained instead to stress the 'benignity and mercy' of the King in an attempt to comfort her, sensing that any mention of the law might drive her 'into some dangerous ecstasy, or else into a very frenzy, so that the words of comfort, coming last, might have come too late'. When Katherine at last understood that Henry really did mean to deal gently with her, 'She held up her hands and gave most humble thanks to your Majesty, who had showed her more grace and mercy than she herself could have hoped for.' After that, she became 'more temperate and moderate', even though she did not cease sobbing and weeping, and at one point, when panic hit her once more, she started screaming. The Archbishop was becoming familiar with this pattern, and tried hard to reason out the cause, doing his best to allay her fears while at the same time trying to glean more information. If she had 'some new fantasy come into her head', he said gently, she could confide it to him.

Gradually, Katherine pulled herself together. When she could speak coherently, she cried,

Alas, my Lord, that I am alive! The fear of death did not grieve me so much before as doth now the remembrance of the King's goodness, for when I remember how gracious and loving a Prince I had, I cannot but sorrow. But this sudden mercy, more than I could have looked for, maketh mine offences to appear before mine eyes much more heinous than they did before. And the more I consider the greatness of his mercy, the more I do sorrow in my heart that I should so misorder myself against his Majesty.

And she wept so bitterly that nothing Cranmer could say would comfort her. Eventually, she calmed down, and he left her to rest until the evening.

When he returned, she was still relatively calm, and they talked awhile, he giving her words of comfort, but at six o'clock she again grew hysterical, remembering that at that hour Master Heneage usually brought her news of the King and a loving message from him.

Cranmer did not obtain a great deal of information from Katherine about her liaison with Dereham before her marriage, but he did learn enough to conclude that there had probably been some kind of precontract between them that would invalidate Katherine's marriage to the King, even though Katherine herself 'thinks it to have been no contract'. The Archbishop obtained a written declaration or confession from her, describing what had passed between her and Dereham, but, after he had left, she sent word to say that she wished to change it. On Cranmer's return, she insisted that Dereham had in fact raped her with 'importunate force', and that she had not at any time freely consented to intercourse with him. Cranmer knew, of course, that she was lying, and suspected she might well have lied about other things, such as whether or not she had betrayed the King after her marriage. He warned her that her life was forfeit - although there was no legal basis for this statement - and reminded her again that the King was prepared to be merciful. Her written confession of her fault and her plea for her husband's forgiveness might soften Henry's heart. It was her only hope.

The Queen's confession did not satisfy Cranmer. In it, Katherine declared that Dereham had 'many times moved me unto the question of matrimony', but she had never accepted any of his proposals. She had neither willingly indulged in illicit intercourse with him, nor had she said the words alleged by Mary Hall to have been spoken by her to Dereham, 'I promise you I do love you with all my heart.' She was also sure she had never promised by her faith and troth that she would have no other husband but him. She was too naive to realise that by admitting to a precontract she could have saved her life, for if she had never been the King's legal wife, she could not be accused of adultery, which she now realised they were trying to prove. Instead she seems to have felt that confessing to the existence of a precontract would somehow prejudice her case. She had certainly been affectionate towards her lover, for she had given him a collar and sleeves for a shirt, which had been made by 'Clinton's wife of Lambeth', as well as a silver bracelet, although she accused him of snatching the latter from her and keeping it in spite of her protests. A ruby ring found by the King's men in Dereham's possession was 'none of hers'.

The news that Dereham, Manox and other members of the Duchess of Norfolk's household had been arrested a day or so previously and imprisoned in the Tower was enough to send her into another paroxysm of hysterical panic, yet it also constrained her to be more truthful. Dereham, she continued, had given her presents, mainly lovers' tokens. 'He knew of a little woman in London with a crooked back, who was skilled in making flowers of silk,' who made him a French fennel to give to Katherine, and later a heart's-ease for a New Year's present, although the Dowager Duchess returned it to him, considering it a most improper gift. Yet Dereham was not put off. He bought some sarcenet, which Katherine had had made up into a quilted cap by the Duchess's embroiderer, a man surnamed Rose. Although Katherine had not specified any particular pattern, Mr Rose decorated the cap with friars' knots, which were a symbol of true love. When Dereham saw it, he exclaimed, 'What, wife, here be friars' knots for Francis!' The fact that he was used to addressing her as 'wife' was taken to be strongly indicative of a precontract between them.

These, then, were the only gifts that passed between the lovers, except for 10.00 that Dereham gave to the Queen during the recent progress - for what purpose is not specified. There was also the matter of 100 he left with her when he went away from the household at Lambeth to seek his fortune in Ireland, where he is thought to have turned to piracy. This money was the bulk of his savings, and he entrusted it to Katherine, saying that, if he did not return, 'I was to consider it as my own.' To Cranmer and others, this argued an established relationship based on a firm understanding that the young couple would marry some day.

When Katherine was asked whether she had called Dereham husband and he had called her wife, she answered that it was common gossip in the household that they would marry; some of Dereham's rivals - a reference to Manox, perhaps - were very jealous of him, and it pleased him to flaunt his conquest in their faces. He had asked Katherine if he might have leave to refer to her as his wife; she agreed, and promised to call him husband. Thus they fell into the habit of using these terms.

Dereham seems to have been quite a ladies' man: he kissed Katherine openly and often, and did the same to many other women in the house. On one occasion, he kissed Katherine so passionately that those watching them observed 'that he would never have kissed me enough'. Dereham retorted, 'Who shall let [prevent] me to kiss my own wife?' Then the others teased him, saying the day would surely come when 'Mr Dereham will have Mrs Katherine Howard.' 'By St John!' said Dereham, 'You may guess twice and guess worse!' Katherine inwardly cringed at such talk, and asked Dereham what would happen 'an [if] this should come to my lady's ear?' But it never did. The Duchess was a neglectful guardian, and was either deaf to the rumours or deliberately ignored them. If she was confronted with something not to her liking, then she dealt with it, but otherwise she seems to have cared little for the moral welfare of those in her charge.

Katherine's confession next dealt with the delicate matter known as 'carnal knowledge', and dealt with it honestly and frankly. She confessed that on many occasions Dereham hath lain with me, sometimes in his doublet and hose, and two or three times naked, but not so naked that he had nothing upon him, for he had always at the least his doublet, and as I do think his hose also; but I mean naked, when his hose was put down.

On the nights he visited her bed, he would bring with him wine, strawberries, apples, 'and other things to make good cheer, after my lady was gone to bed'. He never attempted to steal the Duchess's keys, and nor did Katherine; the door to the ladies' dormitory was frequently left unlocked at night for a variety of reasons, so they had no need. Sometimes, he would arrive at Katherine's bedside early in the morning, and behave 'very lewdly', but never, she insisted, was this at her request or with her consent.

There was always the fear of discovery. 'What shift should we make if my lady should come in suddenly?' asked Wilks and Baskerville, two of the women sharing the dormitory. Katherine told them she would send her lover into a nearby gallery, and on one occasion was obliged to do this. When Dereham learned that Katherine might be going to court, he said he would not remain for long in the Duchess's household, to which she replied that he might do as he liked. She had felt little grief at the prospect of being parted from him, and had not shed a tear over it; nor had she told him - as alleged by Mary Hall - he would never live to say, 'Thou hast swerved.' Everyone that knew her was aware how glad she was to be going to court, and once she had left the Duchess's household and Dereham had gone to Ireland, she had not written to him. As far as she remembered, the last conversation between them prior to their parting had concerned Katherine's distant cousin, Thomas Culpeper. . Dereham had heard a rumour that she was going to marry Culpeper, ' and asked if it were true, but she denied it, saying, 'What should you trouble me thereabouts, for you know I will not have you; and if you heard such report, you know more than I.'

In mentioning Thomas Culpeper in her statement, Katherine unwittingly played into Cranmer's hands, for Culpeper was now at court, one of the most highly favoured gentlemen of the King's privy chamber. He was a cousin of the Queen on her mother's side, and Katherine had been fond of him since childhood. In fact, in recent months, that fondness had developed into something far deeper and more dangerous. Cranmer did not know this, but his suspicions were now aroused - he was, it must be remembered, searching for evidence of adultery - and he persuaded the Council to order Culpeper's arrest and detention for questioning.

Thus the evidence against the Queen built up. Cranmer sent her confession to the King on 7 November, along with the further statement alleging that Dereham had raped her by force. In the meantime, Katherine received a visit from some of the lords of the Council, who helped her to draft a plea for forgiveness to send to the King. It read:

I, your Grace's most sorrowful subject and vile wretch in the world, not worthy to make any recommendations unto your Majesty, do only make my most humble submission and confession of my faults. And where no cause of mercy is given on my part, yet of your most accustomed mercy extended to all other men undeserved, most humbly on my hands and knees do desire one particle thereof to be extended unto me, although of all other creatures most unworthy either to be called your wife or subject. My sorrow I can by no writing express, nevertheless I trust your most benign nature will have some respect unto my youth, my ignorance, my frailness, my humble confession of my faults and plain declaration of the same, referring me wholly unto your Grace's pity and mercy. First at the flattering and fair persuasions of Manox, being but a young girl [I] suffered him at sundry times to handle and touch the secret parts of my body, which neither became me with honesty to permit, nor him to require. Also Francis Dereham by many persuasions procured me to his vicious purpose, and obtained first to lie upon my bed with his doublet and hose, and after within the bed, and finally he lay with me naked, and used me in such sort as a man doth his wife, many and sundry times, and our company ended almost a year before the King's Majesty was married to my Lady Anne of Cleves, and continued not past one quarter of a year, or a little above.

This dates the liaison with Dereham to the autumn and winter of 1538-9, when Katherine was about thirteen; her affair with Manox belongs to the period immediately prior to that.

Now that she had declared the whole truth to the King, she humbly besought him to consider the subtle persuasions of young men and the ignorance and frailness of young women. I was so desirous to be taken unto your Grace's favour, and so blinded with the desire of worldly glory, that I could not, nor had grace, to consider how great a fault it was to conceal my former faults from your Majesty, considering that I intended ever during my life to be faithful and true unto your Majesty after; nevertheless, the sorrow of mine offences was ever before mine eyes, considering the infinite goodness of your Majesty towards me from time to time ever increasing and not diminishing. Now I refer the judgement of all my offences with my life and death wholly unto your most benign and merciful Grace to be considered by no justice of your Majesty's laws but only by your infinite goodness, pity, compassion and mercy, without the which I acknowledge myself worthy of extreme punishment.

When Henry read this abject plea, he was somewhat cheered. His beloved wife had not been unfaithful to him after all. Then Cranmer arrived, to inform him that, in his opinion, the Queen had in fact been precontracted to Dereham, and that her marriage to the King was therefore invalid. An annulment now seemed inevitable, but at least it would spare Henry from having to execute another of his wives.

In more buoyant mood, Henry returned to Hampton Court, where he 'socialised with the ladies, as gay as ever I saw him', wrote Marillac. He did not, however, see his wife. Then, on 10 November, on the pretext that he was going hunting, he returned to London, picnicking in a field on the way. At Whitehall, he sat in council from midnight until 4.0 or 5.0 a.m., and again the following day, remaining closeted for some time and only breaking for meals. Obviously a matter of great importance was under discussion, as the King did not often attend Council meetings, nor stay so long when he did. When they emerged, the councillors seemed troubled, especially Norfolk, who was not normally a man to show in his face what he was feeling. The court, which had now arrived from Hampton, was seething with rumours, not least of which was that Henry wanted to change his queen yet again. Marillac's master, Francis I, was anxious for Henry to take back Anne of Cleves, as he had already allied himself with the German princes and hoped that by such a connection Henry would see fit to join forces with him against the Emperor. Marillac was therefore working for a reconciliation between Henry and Anne, a sure indication that it was being taken for granted by most people that the King would soon be a free man. Marillac also reported a rumour that the Queen's physicians had told the King she would never bear children. This is unlikely to have been true, and was probably one of the wilder rumours current at that time. Not so wild was his supposition that Katherine would follow Anne Boleyn, her cousin, to the block.

She, meanwhile, was still confined to her chamber, and was permitted no entertainment; there she would remain until the Council had determined what to do with her. Cranmer was playing for time. He was still trying to uncover evidence of adultery, although as yet there was none. He was also worried that Henry would break his resolve and see Katherine: the chances that a reconciliation would then take place were high. Cranmer therefore suggested that the Queen be sent to a private house until her fate was decided. He had yet, he said, to question Dereham, Culpeper and others who had been involved in the affair. Henry agreed. On 11 November, the Archbishop went to Hampton Court and informed Queen Katherine that she was to be sent to the former Abbey of Syon at Brentford in Middlesex, where she would be under house arrest but 'yet served as queen'. In two days' time she would be taken by river to her new lodging. Lady Rochford, who was believed to know more than she would divulge about her mistress's behaviour, was sent to the Tower to await questioning.

While he was at Hampton, Cranmer learned from the Council that the King had decided to lay before Parliament, as the supreme court, the matter of the Queen's 'abominable behaviour'; Henry meant to arouse Parliament's indignation and disgust at her conduct and therefore her precontract with Dereham would not be referred to, as it constituted her only defence.

No man would think it reasonable that the King's Highness (although his Majesty doth not yet take the degree of estate utterly from her) should entertain her so tenderly in the high degree and estate of a queen, who for her demerits is so unworthy of the same.

It seems that what Henry wanted from Parliament at this stage was a divorce.

On 13 November, while Katherine prepared to leave Hampton Court, Sir Thomas Wriothesley arrived, paid his respects, then summoned her household into the great chamber, where he 'openly declared certain offences she had done', urging those in possession of useful information to divulge it. Then he discharged everyone present except those few ladies who were to accompany Katherine to Syon Abbey. These were given clothes for their mistress: six French hoods with edges of goldsmiths' work, six pairs of sleeves, six gowns, and six kirtles of satin damask and velvet. On the King's orders, all were of sober design, and unadorned with precious stones or pearls, such as a queen would usually wear. Katherine was obliged to leave all her other clothes, her gorgeous court dresses and jewelled hoods, at Hampton Court, as well as her jewellery, which was delivered into the keeping of Sir Thomas Seymour, who took it, with other valuables, back to the King. Katherine was then taken by barge to Syon Abbey, which had recently been vacated by Lady Margaret Douglas, who had been sent to Kenninghall in Norfolk.