16

Never a wife more agreeable to his heart

The marriage of Henry VIII and Katherine Howard was never formally annulled, even though there were good grounds for so doing, and consequently the King became a widower on her death. For a time, though, he was anything but a merry one, and it was eighteen months before he found the woman he wanted to make his sixth wife and before he recovered fully from the blow dealt by Katherine's adultery.

On 25 February 1542, a fortnight after Katherine's execution, Chapuys reported him to be in better spirits; he had presided over three court banquets prior to the onset of Lent, and was now following a new rule of life: 'Sunday was devoted to the lords of his Council, Monday to the men of law, and Tuesday to the ladies.' On the previous Tuesday he had gone from room to room ordering and arranging the lodgings prepared for those ladies still remaining at the court, and had 'made them great and hearty cheer, without showing special affection to any particular one'. It soothed his hurt vanity to be once more the centre of female attention, yet he was in no hurry to remarry, and Chapuys thought he would not do so unless Parliament pressed him to it. Anyway, there were few ladies at court who would aspire to such an honour, the ambassador added wryly, because of the new Act requiring 'any lady the King may marry, on pain of death, to declare any charge of misconduct that can be brought against her'. This rather narrowed down the field, since the ladies of Henry's court were not known for their virtue.

There remained, as ever, the problem of the succession. Prince Edward was still thriving, but in May 1542, there were fears fortunately unfounded - that he was once more ailing, and this prompted both Privy Council and Parliament to remind the King of the need for more sons for the future peace of the realm. But Henry was not ready to face marriage again, though his health had improved. The physician and scholar, Andrew Boorde, who saw the King at this time, noted that his hair was still plentiful and red, if a bit thin on top, and his pulse strong and regular. His digestive system was in perfect working order, and he was better able to curb his temper than in former years. A huge man in height and girth, he sweated a lot, and overate, but Boorde ignored this last fact. The King's leg was still troubling him, but it was better than it had been. His contemporaries thought him fit enough to remarry and sire children, and ignored his mental state. Chapuys sagely concluded that the next queen would be one of Henry's own choosing - 'When he takes a fancy for a person or a thing he goes the whole way.'

The Duke of Cleves, however, hearing the news of Katherine Howard's fate, had other ideas. He was hoping that Henry would take back his sister, and in the spring of 1542 instructed his ambassadors to use their influence to promote a reconciliation. One German envoy visited Cranmer at Lambeth and asked him outright to bring this about. Cranmer replied that he thought it 'not a little strange' that the Duke of Cleves should ask him, of all people, as he was the one person who knew all the just causes' for the annulment of the Lady Anne's marriage. The King, hearing of this from his Archbishop, instructed Cranmer to inform the Duke of Cleves most firmly that there could never be a reconciliation between Anne and himself.

It could not be denied, however, that there was a significant dearth of likely candidates to fill the empty consort's throne. Most ladies saw queenship as fraught with insecurity, for the King 'either putteth away or killeth his wives', and it was generally conceded among them that the woman he eventually married would need nerves of steel and sharp wits, not to mention virtue beyond question.

For the present Henry concentrated on possible matches for his children. Elizabeth had been deeply affected by Katherine Howard's end, and stated there and then that she would never marry, a resolution she never broke. Marriage, for her, had too close an association with death to ever seem safe. As for Mary, her opinion of Katherine Howard had never been particularly high, so she was not as shocked as her young sister when she heard the news. That spring, the King reopened negotiations with France for a marriage between Mary and the heir to the French throne, the Duke of Orleans, though these came to nothing as neither side could agree on the dowry, and the already fragile relationship between England and France suffered a further buffeting. The King now made it a priority to reinforce his country's defences against a possible attack by the French, and continued with his programme of coastal fortifications.

The other thorn in his side was Scotland. There had been an alliance between the French and the Scots for centuries, both nations being hereditary enemies of England, and James V of Scotland had consistently frustrated Henry's hopes of arranging a treaty of friendship advantageous to England. Understandably, the King did not want the Scots pouring over his northern border - as they had done in 1513 - while he was occupied with repulsing a French attack in the south. He was furious with James, and had retaliated by sending a military force against him; on 24 November 1542, James V's army was utterly defeated by the English at the Battle of Solway Moss. When Henry received news of the victory, he showed some of his old jubilation, and Chapuys remarked that the habitual sadness he had displayed since learning of the conduct of Queen Katherine had gone. He now confidently expected his nephew of Scotland to treat with him in more deferential terms, terms that would give Henry some control over Scottish affairs. But King James was in no position to treat with his uncle. When he learned of the defeat of his army, he took to his bed at Falkland Palace and died on 14 December, the day he learned his wife had just presented him with a daughter, Mary, who was now Queen of Scots in her own right.

Nothing could have suited Henry VIII better. With its monarch dead and a baby occupying the throne, Scotland no longer posed a threat to England's security. The nobles would be too busy fighting among themselves for power to concern themselves with England, and the Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, would have her hands full controlling them. It was the infant Queen of Scots who interested the king most, though: he wanted her as a bride for Prince Edward. Such a union would necessarily unite the two countries under Tudor rule, a very attractive prospect to Henry, who wasted no time in sending envoys to the Queen Regent to lay his proposal before her. And on New Year's Day, 1543, Prince Edward, now five, performed his first public duty, entertaining at Enfield a party of noble Scotsmen captured at Solway Moss. They ended up warmly praising the little boy, calling him 'so proper and towardly an imp'. Already, he had beautiful manners and was well behaved. He was fair like his mother, and had something of her retiring, unexuberant manner, but facially he resembled his father, and he had inherited Henry's formidable intellectual powers. Already the child was learning the rudiments of theology and other disciplines, and his father was excessively proud of him.

After Solway Moss, Henry livened up considerably. He spent a good deal of time 'feasting ladies', and began eyeing one or two as prospective wives. He seemed to have forgotten Katherine Howard, and the court recovered some of its gaiety. His good mood was further enhanced by his satisfaction at having concluded a new alliance with the Emperor Charles, whereby both sovereigns had pledged themselves to invade France within two years and to assist each other when called upon to do so. Now, with his new fortifications and his new alliance, Henry could rest assured that he had done all that was needful for the defence of his kingdom.

There was, however, another reason for his new-found contentment: he had at last, to the relief of his advisers, found a lady he could both love and respect. But this was no grand passion - he was done with that. Besides, the lady was married, although her husband was very ill and not expected to live long. She was virtuous and attractive, and Henry wanted her: even as her husband lay on his sick-bed, the King was sending her gifts to signify his esteem. He was certain that in the fullness of time his suit would be accepted, and that the object of his affection would be honoured and delighted to join with him in holy wedlock. He was wrong. She was dismayed at the prospect.

Katherine Parr had been born around the year 1512, the eldest child of Sir Thomas Parr, a descendant of Edward III, by Maud, daughter of Sir Thomas Green of Green's Norton, Northants. She was born either in her father's castle at Kendal in the county of Westmorland, where she spent her childhood, or in his London house at Blackfriars. Kendal castle dated from Norman times, and Katherine's ancestors had lived in it since the fourteenth century. The fabric of the building was much decayed in 1586, according to the antiquarian William Camden, although some rebuilding had taken place in early Tudor times. The Parrs were respected gentry, not very rich but connected to all the noble families of the north, such as Vaux, Throckmorton, Neville, FitzHugh and Dacre.

Lady Parr was only seventeen when she gave birth to Katherine. Shortly afterwards she presented her husband with a son, William, and later on a second daughter, Anne. But on 11 November 1517, when Katherine was five, her father died, and was buried in the monastery of the Black Friars in London, leaving Lady Parr to bring up her three children single-handed. This was a task she undertook conscientiously and with commendable ability, disdaining all offers for her hand in order to devote her full attention to their education. She was a very religious woman and she inspired in them from the first a simple yet reverent love of God, whose word permeated every aspect of her teaching. She was something of a disciplinarian, and expected her daughters to learn proficiency in the traditional feminine skills. There is a tale, probably apocryphal, that Katherine Parr did not take kindly to her mother's strictures and protested that her hands were destined to touch crowns and sceptres, not needles and spindles. Yet she grew up with a great respect for learning and an appreciation of the more sober pleasures in life; of all the wives of Henry VIII, she was the most erudite and the most intellectual.

When Katherine was nearly twelve, her mother entered into negotiations with Lord Dacre for her marriage to Henry Scrope, Lord Scrope's son and heir. Lord Scrope was Lord Dacre's son-in- law, and the marriage had been proposed by Lord Dacre himself, who was a cousin of Sir Thomas Parr, and felt that the young Katherine would be a good match for his grandson. Lady Parr was agreeable, but later ran into difficulties with Lord Scrope over the amount of dowry and jointure to be settled upon her daughter. A series of letters survives which shows that not only was Lord Scrope offering a paltry sum, but he was also unwilling to return Katherine's dowry if she died before the marriage could be consummated, or if it was not consummated for any other reason. Lord Dacre was sympathetic to Lady Parr, and tried to persuade Scrope to change his mind, reminding him that he could save money by sending young Henry to live with Lady Parr until such time as the young couple were of an age to live together, when they would both return to Lord Scrope's house. He reminded his son-in-law that Lady Parr was of the 'good wise stock of the Greens', and warned him that his demands were so 'far asunder that it is impossible ye can ever agree'. If Henry went to stay with Lady Parr he would not only be kept by her but would 'learn with her as well as in any place that I know, as well nurture as French and other languages'. Even after this, however, Lord Scrope persisted in his demands, and early in 1525 Lady Parr informed Lord Dacre that she had decided to abandon the project. This was as well, for young Henry Scrope died on 25 March that year.

Katherine was by then nearing thirteen and growing into a comely girl with auburn hair and aretrousseenose; her family background ensured that she did not lack for suitors, yet when it came to choosing her a husband, Lady Parr opted for a man old enough to be Katherine's grandfather. Around 1526 she married her daughter to the Lord Borough. Some confusion exists as to the identification of this gentleman, some sources naming him as Sir Edward de Burgh, who died before April 1533. He was, in fact, Sir Edward's grandfather, another Edward de Burgh, second Baron Borough of Gainsborough in the county of Lincolnshire. He was a member of a distinguished family, and had been born in 1463 or thereabouts, making him sixty-three in 1526, old even by modern standards to marry a girl of fourteen. Such matches, however, were not uncommon in Tudor times, particularly among the aristocracy. Lord Borough had been married before, in 1477, to the daughter and heiress of Lord Cobham, and by her he had had three children. Anne Cobham died early in 1526 and Lord Borough lost no time in seeking a replacement.

After her marriage, Katherine was taken by her new husband to live in the house he had inherited around 1496, the charming Old Hall in Gainsborough, with its magnificent timbered great hall with a stone oriel window, which had been erected by his father on the site of an earlier dwelling in 1484. Lord Borough himself had added to the house, and two kings had visited it, Richard III in 1485 and Henry VIII in 1509. A year after Henry's visit, Lord Borough had been described as being 'distracted of memory'; it is not clear whether or not he ever recovered, nor was mental disturbance considered in the sixteenth century to be an impediment to marriage. Nevertheless, there are indications that the Borough household was a happy one.

Like many girls in her position, Katherine found herself a stepmother to children older than herself. Lord Borough had two sons: his heir, Thomas, was a man of thirty-eight, who was married to Agnes Tyrwhitt, whose brother Sir Robert was married to Lord Borough's daughter. This lady, whose first name is unknown, quickly became firm friends with her young stepmother, a friendship that would endure throughout their lives. Completing the family was Henry de Burgh, whose wife, Katherine Neville, was - at twenty-seven - the member of it nearest to Katherine Parr in age. Then there were Thomas's children, Edward, Thomas and William, who of a certainty would have commanded much of Katherine's attention, for she was fond of children.

Katherine's marriage to her ageing husband did not last long. He died in 1528, leaving her a widow at sixteen. Whether she stayed on at the Old Hall is not known. All that is certain is that her mother died the following year leaving Katherine virtually independent and her own mistress. Around the year 1530 she received an offer of marriage from Lord Latimer of Snape Castle in the north riding of Yorkshire, which she accepted. A woman on her own could not live comfortably without a male protector in those days, when marriage or the conventual life were the only acceptable options open to her if she wished to guard her reputation - only old women ruled their estates alone. And Lord Latimer was, after all, a good matrimonial catch. He was in his late thirties, a more suitable age for marriage to a young woman of eighteen. Born John Neville, he was a member of the great medieval house of Neville that had been so closely related to the Plantagenets. Like Lord Borough, he had been married before, twice in fact: firstly to Dorothy de Were, daughter of the Earl of Oxford - she had borne him one daughter and his heir, John. Lady Dorothy died on 7 February 1527 and was buried at Wells in Yorkshire. After her death, Lord Larimer took as his second wife, on 20 July 1528, Elizabeth Musgrave, but she bore him no children and died soon afterwards. Lord Latimer and Katherine Parr were married before 1533: the date of their wedding is not recorded.

Thus Katherine came to live in Snape Castle, described by the antiquarian John Leland as 'a goodly castle in a valley with two or three good parks well-wooded about it'. It was Lord Latimer's chief residence, and was sited two miles from the village of Great Tanfield, near Bedale. Today, it is a ruin, only the perpendicular chapel with its Dutch carvings of the life of Christ surviving intact. Here Katherine Parr, the new Lady Latimer, settled down to her first experience of mature married life, ordering her household and accompanying her husband on his occasional trips to London, where he also had a house conveniently situated for attending the court.

Little of note marked the early years of this marriage and there were no children. In 1534, Katherine's sister Anne married Sir William Herbert. Then, in 1536-7 occurred the Pilgrimage of Grace, in which Lord Latimer, coming from a Catholic family, fought on the side of the rebels, for which he later received the King's pardon. It may have been around this time that Katherine first became interested in Protestantism, a leaning she would be forced to conceal for many years; it was not until much later that she would be able to embrace openly the Lutheran faith. At this date she could merely sympathise in private with the reformist cause. Being intelligent, forthright and having sound common sense, it was perhaps natural that she should favour the tenets of the new religion above the mysteries and intricacies and, it must be said, contemporary abuses of Catholicism. Yet, for the duration of her marriage to Lord Latimer and for some time afterwards, she would be obliged to conceal her true religious inclinations beneath a facade of conventional observance.

In the late 1530s, Lord and Lady Latimer were often at court, where they were on good terms with Henry VIII, who had fortunately decided to overlook Latimer's part in the Pilgrimage of Grace. In 1540, Katherine interceded with the King for the release of her cousin, Sir George Throckmorton, who had been imprisoned in the Tower by Cromwell because of his open criticism of the royal supremacy. Spurred on by the pleas of Throckmorton's wife, Katherine Vaux, another of her cousins, who was very distressed at the plight of her husband, Katherine sought out the King when he was in a good mood and humbly asked him to free Sir George. This was a good moment to appeal to Henry, for he was just then plotting the downfall of Cromwell, and was happy to agree to Lady Latimer's request, being doubtless impressed by her integrity and sincerity. However, there was no question of his feelings for her at that time being anything other than affectionate, for he was deeply in love with Katherine Howard and planning to marry her.

A year after Katherine's execution, however, Henry was looking at Lady Latimer through different eyes, and very much liking what he saw. She was then thirty-one, and still attractive, and on 16 February 1543, Henry made her a gift of 'pleats and sleeves'; his exchequer accounts also record that he ordered gowns in the Italian style for her. It was known by then that Lord Latimer was failing in health and would not live long; he had been ill since the previous autumn, having made his will on 12 September. It was highly unusual for the King to give rich gifts to a married woman, and Katherine, doubtless concerned about her husband's state of health, was disconcerted at receiving them, although she did not dare return them. Then, on 2 March 1543, Lord Latimer died, and the King was obliged to bide his time out of respect for the widow. After the funeral in St Paul's Cathedral, Lord Latimer's will was proved, and Katherine inherited the manors of Nunmonkton and Hamerton with an annuity for four years to finance the upbringing of her stepdaughter, Margaret Neville. Thus Katherine became an independent woman of substance.

She seems to have remained at court after her husband's death. What kept her there was not so much having to finalise the details of her husband's estate, nor the interest of the King, but the very obvious admiration of Sir Thomas Seymour, brother of the late Queen Jane. Sir Thomas was about six years older than Katherine Parr, and very handsome. He was also impetuous and extremely ambitious, and he saw in the rich and attractive widow a means of increasing his fortune. He had been working on her emotional susceptibilities since January, when he had returned to court after a diplomatic mission to Nuremberg in Germany, and after Lord Latimer's death, Katherine began to encourage this dashing and unscrupulous adventurer as a suitor. She was both physically and emotionally attracted to him, and it was not long before the two were discussing marriage.

At the same time, a scandal erupted in the Parr family. Just as the King was also beginning to nurture an amorous interest in the widowed Lady Latimer, her brother William, Lord Parr, applied to Parliament for a divorce from his wife, on the grounds of her adultery with an unidentified lover with whom she had eloped in 1542.She was Anne Bourchier, daughter and heiress of the last Earl of Essex of the Bourchier line, whom he had married in February 1526. Furthermore, Lord Parr was so incensed at his wife's infidelity that he was pressing the King to authorise the highest penalty for her offence, which in those days was death.

Her brother's action shocked Katherine Parr, who refused to stand by and allow her sister-in-law to suffer execution. According to the chronicler Hall, she went straight to the King and threw herself at his feet, nor would she rise until he had promised to spare Lady Parr from the headsman's axe. At first, Henry remonstrated with her: 'Madam, you know that the law enacts that a woman of rank who so forgets herself shall die unless her husband pardon her.' Katherine answered, 'Your Majesty is above the law, and I will try to get my brother to pardon.' Eventually, Henry agreed that 'if your brother can be content, I will pardon her'. At this, Katherine went to William and told him that the circumstancesofthe case were not as he had been given to believe by false witnesses; she would use her influence with the King to have them tortured, she said, 'and then by God's help we shall know the truth'. Parr was already, it seems, aware of the King's interest in his sister, and he knew himself defeated. He forgave his wife, and was rewarded for his clemency when, on 17 April, Parliament granted him a divorce. Lady Parr's adultery was established in law, and an Act passed at the same time declared her children bastards and unfit to inherit. Her Essex estates were then entailed upon her husband, who was created Earl of Essex the following December.

The King, it appears, was following his time-honoured custom of advancing the relatives of the woman he meant to marry. Although there is no evidence that Henry had as yet declared himself to Katherine Parr, he admitted Lord Parr to the Privy Council in March 1543,and made him a Knight of the Garter on 23 April following.

This alone should have warned Katherine that the King's intentions were serious, but she either did not notice or affected to ignore the fact, being too involved emotionally with Seymour. Henry saw this and was jealous: Seymour was a younger man who epitomised many of the things Henry had been in his youth, and this in itself did not exactly endear him to his sovereign. His courtship of the comely widow was not to be borne. Henry wanted her, and Henry meant to have her.

Until this time, around late April or early May 1543, Katherine had been unaware of the King's true feelings and intentions towards her. Yet now it began to dawn on her that he too was a suitor, not in an aggressive way, but by appearing 'sad, pensive and sighing' whenever she was around. He was lonely and feeling sorry for himself, and only Lady Latimer's presence could ease him. Katherine responded correctly and respectfully, but she had no desire to be Queen of England or wife to a man who had already gone through five spouses. Her heart was given to Thomas Seymour; as she was to write to him, referring to this time, five years later, 'As truly as God is God, my mind was fully bent the other time I was at liberty to marry you before any man I know.' Henry sensed that this might be the case, and - seeing that Katherine showed no sign of becoming anything more than friendly towards him - decided on a course of rather more drastic action. In May, he dealt with the problem of Thomas Seymour by simply removing him from the scene and sending him on a permanent embassy to the court of the Regent of the Netherlands in Brussels. This must have been a blow, for different reasons, to both Katherine and Sir Thomas, yet Katherine was obliged to hide her true feelings because the King now began to pursue her in earnest, and she had no alternative but to let him think his advances were welcome.

On 1 July 1543, negotiations for the future marriage between Prince Edward and Mary, Queen of Scots were concluded with the signing of the Treaty of Greenwich. With the marriage of his heir so satisfactorily provided for, Henry felt that he might now marry for his own comfort, and it was at this time that he proposed to Katherine Parr. Her initial reaction was one of dismay. The King was not Katherine's idea of a desirable bridegroom, being, according to an eyewitness, the author of the Spanish Chronicle, 'so fat that such a man had never been seen. Three of the biggest men that could be found could get inside his doublet.' At fifty-two, he was already an old man, with an old man's set ways and uncertain temper. His bad leg sometimes rendered him immobile and needed constantly redressing; on occasions it stank. There was grey in his red hair and beard. All the same, he presented himself as a prospective bridegroom with all the assurance he had displayed to Anne Boleyn nearly twenty years before, and it was obvious that he would not brook any refusals. Katherine knew she had little choice in the matter, and when Henry, sensing her reluctance, became insistent, she capitulated.

Katherine was no giddy girl, and she was more suited than most for the task facing her, having been once before married to an old man, and having nursed Lord Latimer through his final illness. She was steady and she was sensible, and, having had the care of grown stepchildren before, all of whom seem to have got on well with her, she was uniquely fitted for the role of stepmother to the King's three children, whose interests she would protect with her customary efficiency.

She was not a pretty woman, or a beauty, but rather comely with red-gold hair and hazel eyes. For many years, portraits of various widely differing ladies were identified as Katherine Parr: these include one at Lambeth Palace, one by Ambrosius Benson in the collection of the Earl of Ashburnham, and a miniature at Sudeley Castle. There is only one portrait that can be said with certainty to depict Katherine, and that is the half-length painted by William Scrots in 1545, which is now in the National Portrait Gallery. The sitter wears a rich costume of scarlet damask banded with cloth of gold; the gown is loose fitting and has the upturned collar that became popular in the 1540s. She is past the first flush of youth, and appears rather plain. On her head is a jaunty cap atop her pearly hood, from which hangs a feather. William Scrots replaced Hans Holbein as Henry's court painter after Holbein's death, but his work lacks the draughtsmanship of Holbein's, and is somewhat mechanical in quality.

There is also, in the Royal Collection, a Holbein drawing that may well portray Katherine Parr. Inscribed 'The Lady Borough', it is a very faint sketch of a face, but enough remains to show a striking resemblance to the lady in Scrots's portrait. Holbein painted most of his English portraits after his return from Germany in 1532, yet some had been executed earlier, during the years 1526 to 1528, when Katherine Parr was married to Lord Borough. It could be argued that the drawing represents Katherine Neville, who married Lord Borough's son Henry in 1528, but comparison with the Scrots portrait, especially in the line of the nose and the slantofthe eyes, lends credence to the likelihood that this is in fact an early portrait by Hans Holbein of Katherine Parr.

Katherine's looks, however, were not her chief attraction. People were drawn more to her warm and amiable personality and her intellectual qualities; she exuded goodwill. She was a good conversationalist, and loved a friendly argument, especially on matters of religious doctrine. She found favour with Cranmer and his reformist party because she was known to be 'very zealous towards the Gospel', according to the Elizabethan author ofThe Book of Martyrs,John Foxe, and they perceived that, like themselves, she might secretly nurture Protestant views. Foxe also remarked of Katherine that she was 'but a woman accompanied with all the imperfections natural to the weakness of her sex', yet in spite of this prejudiced masculine view, typical of that period, Katherine was seen by the reformers to be the perfect instrument whereby they could influence the King. They put heart and soul into encouraging the marriage, grateful that the King's inclinations at last coincided with their hopes.

Katherine proved to be popular with most people, mainly because she had a pleasant manner with both nobility and servants alike. Her chaplain, John Parkhurst, who later became Bishop of Norwich, remembered in his latter years that she was 'a most gentle mistress'. Perhaps the most outstanding thing about her was her formidable intellect, which had been cultivated to an unusual extent by her mother and by the people with whom she had associated in later life. She was perceptive, articulate, thirsty for knowledge, both general and religious, and industrious. Her virtue, a female quality always suspect in an age that believed that teaching women to write would encourage them to pen love-letters, was beyond question. After her marriage to the King, she made a point of 'avoiding all occasions of idleness and condemning vain pastimes'. No one would have cause to believe that she had ever been loose like Katherine Howard.

In many ways Katherine was a rather austere woman, who may be cited as the perfect example of the Renaissance ideal of the godly matron. However, far from being an early feminist, she used her intellectual powers to promote her own strong views, which were strictly conventional, on the conduct of the female sex. She believed,

she wrote in her treatiseThe Lamentations of a Sinner,published in 1547, that women should 'learn of St Paul to be obedient to their husbands, and to keep silence in the congregation, and to learn of their husbands at home'. She herself, however, did not always practise what she preached, for she was to grow fond of disputing with her royal husband - who liked to think himself far superior to her on such topics - and was not above telling him what he ought to think, especially on religious matters. Naturally the King resented this, and there would be clashes. For all this, though, Henry admired her

[learning, and still more her virtue. She was, in every way, a woman

[he could respect, and she made the perfect companion for his later

years. She was quieter and more staid than most of his previous

wives, nor did she display the caprices of Anne Boleyn and Katherine

Howard.

Katherine's chief interest was theology; 'godly matters' fascinated her. Like a true subject of Henry VIII, she detested the Pope, and once compared him to Pharaoh, saying 'He hath been, and is, the greater persecutor of all true Christians than ever was Pharaoh of the Children of Israel.' She was so anxious to promote her religious views that she wrote and published two books, proof indeed of her intellectual ability. This was the first time a queen of England ever aired her personal views to her subjects, and we are fortunate in having these works as testimony to the workings of the mind of this remarkable queen. Of course, much of what she wrote reflected the political ideology of the day. Of Henry VIII, Katherine was, naturally, lavish with praise:

Thanks be to the Lord that He hath sent us such a godly and learned King in these latter days to reign over us, King Henry VIII, my most sovereign, favourable lord and husband: one, if Moses had figured any more than Christ, through the excellent grace of God, meet to be another expressed verity of Moses' conquest over Pharaoh.

She wholeheartedly approved of the King's reforms within the Church, and loved to discuss them with him, putting forth her own views without reserve. Fortunately, they usually coincided with his.

Katherine could also speak and write fluent French, which her mother had taught her. There exists today in the Cecil Papers at Hatfield House a poem said to have been written by her in that language. There is good reason to believe that, had Katherine lived in an age when women were encouraged to develop their intellectual powers, and had she not been hampered by the conventions of her time, she would have turned out to be a very successful and formidable lady in her own right.

With all her excellent qualities, there can be little doubt that the King 'deigned to marry' her for the companionship she could give him rather than for sensual pleasure or assuring the succession. It may well be that Henry was now impotent, and had been since he was married to Katherine Howard, which would account for the fact that neither union produced any children. It is true that Katherine's previous marriages had been childless, yet she did later conceive and bear a child by her fourth husband, so it is unlikely that the fault was hers.

On 10 July 1543, Archbishop Cranmer issued a special licence for the marriage of his sovereign lord King Henry with Katherine Latimer, late the wife of Lord Latimer, 'in whatever church, chapel or oratory he may please, without publication of banns, and dispensing with all ordinances to the contrary for reasons concerning the honour and advancement of the whole realm'. Henry was not minded to wait, and wanted to be married with as little fuss as possible. Accordingly, two days later, on 12 July, the wedding took place privately in the Queen's closet at Hampton Court. The Lady Margaret Douglas, lately returned to court after being pardoned for her illicit love affair, was chief bridesmaid. When the King was asked if he would take Katherine Parr to be his lawful wife, he answered 'Yea', with a joyful countenance', and the ghost of Katherine Howard was laid to rest at last.

One of the witnesses to the marriage was the Lady Anne of Cleves, who showed not the slightest annoyance at her former husband uniting himself to another lady; indeed, she seemed very pleased about it. She knew, more than anyone else, what Katherine was letting herself in for: 'A fine burden Madam Katherine has taken upon herself!' she later remarked, though Chapuys understood her dismissive attitude to mean that she was bitter because the King had not returned to her. He reported that she wanted to return to Cleves, but that was because her mother was ill, and not because she had 'taken great grief and despair at the King's espousal of his new wife, who is not nearly so good looking as she is'. Moreover, after the Duchess of Cleves died later that year, there was no more talk of Anne returning home.

Nearly everyone approved of the new Queen. Wriothesley, writing to inform the Duke of Norfolk of the marriage, described her as a woman, in my judgement, for certain virtue, wisdom and gentleness, most meet for his Highness. And sure I am that his Majesty had never a wife more agreeable to his heart than she is. The Lord grant them long life and much joy together.

Chapuys told the Emperor that Katherine was 'praised for her virtue'; he added that she was 'of small stature, graceful, and of cheerful countenance'. The King, it was said presently, was very satisfied with her. The people of England, too, rejoiced when news of the marriage was made public. Sir Ralph Sadler sent a letter of congratulations to Lord Parr, saying it had revived my troubled spirits and turned all my cares to rejoicing. I do not only rejoice for your lordship's sake, but also for the real and inestimable benefit and comfort which thereby shall ensue to the whole realm, which now with the grace of God shall be stored with many precious jewels.

One of Katherine's first acts as queen was to write to her brother, that same Lord Parr, informing him of her advancement, 'it having pleased God to incline the King to take me as his wife, which was the greatest comfort that could happen to me'. Thoughts of Sir Thomas Seymour had been resolutely banished out of her head. She went on:

I desire to inform my brother of it as the person who has most cause to rejoice thereat. I pray you to let me know of your health, as friendly as if I had not been called to this honour.

For Lord Parr, as for other members of Katherine's family, there was now the heady prospect of continual advancement and the acquisition of wealth and status. The Queen's sister and her husband, Sir William Herbert, came to court, as did members of the Throckmorton family, one of whom, Clement, became Katherine's cupbearer. And her former stepdaughter, Lady Tyrwhitt, was taken into her household, as was the Queen's cousin Maud, the widow of Sir Ralph Lane.

Once the Queen's household had been organised, the King took his bride to Windsor, where he celebrated his marriage by having three Protestant heretics burned to death in the Great Park. Conservatives such as Bishop Gardiner, who already suspected the Queen of having Lutheran sympathies, were watching her closely at this time to see how she reacted to the burnings, but she made no attempt to intercede for the victims and settled down afterwards to enjoy her honeymoon.

The court stayed at Windsor throughout August. Katherine had already resolved to be a loving stepmother to the King's three children, and she was determined to provide for them a happy and stable domestic life. It concerned her that all three lived away from the court and rarely saw their father, so, in August, with the King's approval, she wrote to them all, expressing the wish that they should come and visit her at court, as it was the King's pleasure and hers. The Lady Elizabeth responded promptly, and expressed - in very eloquent terms - her appreciation of Katherine's kindness, which she was sure she did not deserve. She promised that she would so conduct herself that Katherine would never have cause for complaint, and that she would be diligent in showing obedience and respect: 'I await with much impatience the orders of the King my father for the accomplishment of the happiness for which I sigh, and I remain with much submission, Your Majesty's very dear Elizabeth.'

Before long, both Elizabeth and her sister Mary arrived at court. Their new stepmother must have been a very welcome presence in their lives, especially to Elizabeth, who had for most of her young life lacked a mother's love and guidance. The King had never felt comfortable in the company of Anne Boleyn's precocious daughter, but now, under Katherine Parr's benign influence, he softened and unbent towards her.

Elizabeth was nearly ten. Her early promise had been fulfilled, and she was now as intelligent and sharp-witted as many an adult. Already she showed signs of having inherited her mother's love of flattery and her coquettish manner, as well as her courage. But, although she was temperamental, Elizabeth was not as volatile as Anne Boleyn had been, and her insecure childhood had taught her the value of discretion and dissimulation. Already she spoke several languages and was well grounded in the classics. This impressed Queen Katherine, and she immediately took upon herself the duty of supervising Elizabeth's education; indeed, she was to make such a good job of it that the King would later ask her advice when it came to appointing a suitable tutor for Prince Edward.

Henry's eldest child, the Lady Mary, was again finding it a pleasure to visit the court. She and Katherine Parr soon became great friends, and it is certain that Katherine did much to ease Mary's frustration by according her all the respect due to a princess. She became her confidante in everything except matters of religion, and- being near in age - they shared similar interests.

That left Edward. His visits to court would be less frequent than his sisters', for the King feared he might catch some mortal disease from too great a contact with the world beyond the rigorous standards of hygiene in his nursery. However, this did not prevent Katherine from overseeing his progress or being watchful of those who looked after him. In time, Edward would come to love his stepmother as much as his cold nature allowed him to love anybody; she was perhaps the most gentle influence he knew in his short life. At last there was a degree of harmony in the King's family.

On 12 October 1543, Edward celebrated his sixth birthday, and his royal father decided it was time to begin his formal education. Prior to this date, Edward had been 'brought up among the women', as he later recorded in his journal. Now he was to be handed over to male tutors and governors, chief of whom was a man with reformist views, Dr Richard Cox, a fellow of King's College, Cambridge, and the future Bishop of Ely. On the King's orders, the child was to be taught the usual curriculum of the period: classics, theology, languages, mathematics, grammar, and the known sciences, as well as sports and gentlemanly pursuits. Barnaby FitzPatrick, the son of an Irish nobleman, was shortly afterwards appointed Edward's whipping-boy, for it was unthinkable that the heir to the throne be chastised by lesser mortals. Fortunately, the boys became firm friends.

So absorbed was the King in plans for his heir's education and for an invasion of France scheduled for the following summer, that he did not notice fresh trouble brewing in Scotland. Thus the revocation of the Treaty of Greenwich by the Scottish Parliament in December 1543 came as an unpleasant shock to him, as did news that the 'auld alliance' between Scotland and France had been renewed. Henry's rage was terrible indeed. Gone were his hopes of a united Britain, gone his ambition to rule Scotland. Worse still, it had been intimated that his precious son was not good enough for the Scottish Queen. Such insults were not to be borne.

In retaliation, Henry sent an army to Scotland under Lord Hertford with the intention of subduing his rebellious neighbour. He could not afford to leave his northern border open when he took the offensive against the French the following year, and he wished, above all, to teach the Scots a lesson they would never forget. The English army set off just before Christmas to begin its 'rough wooing' of the Queen of Scots, and Hertford executed his master's orders with devastating thoroughness. Leith, Edinburgh and Holyrood were burned, and then he blazed on to Berwick, leaving a trail of destruction and misery along the borders; even today, in such towns as Jedburgh and Melrose, the results of his depredations may still be seen.

The campaign wore on throughout the spring and summer of 1544, while the young Queen Mary was hidden by her mother in a remote abbey. Nor did reports of the destruction appease Henry; in 1545, Hertford was again commanded to attack the Scots, and this time he wrought havoc by sacking, among others, the great abbeys of Dryburgh and Coldingham. At this point, any Scottish nobles who might have been sympathetic to an alliance with England had been alienated, and the Scots had been driven further into the arms of the French. All internal struggles ceased as the aristocratic factions united against England. English raids persisted until Henry's death, and eventually the Scots were obliged to send Queen Mary to France, for fear she might be abducted by the English. There, she would be brought up by the French royal family, and marry into it.

Katherine Parr's first Christmas season as queen was overshadowed by events in Scotland, yet the festivities at Hampton Court were much as usual. On the Sunday before Christmas Lord Parr was created EarlofEssex and the Queen's uncle, another Sir William Parr, was created Lord Parr of Horton and appointed chamberlain to the Queen. After Christmas, however, Henry's leg began to give him trouble, and in January 1544 he suffered several agonising attacks of pain. Chapuys, who was by now himself a virtual invalid and hoped to be going home to Savoy soon, thought that Henry's 'chronic disease' and 'great obesity' were endangering his life and needed careful attention. The King, he reported, was so weak on his legs he could hardly stand. Yet no one dared remonstrate with him about the amount he was eating, nor did they try to prevent him from going about his daily duties as if nothing were wrong with him. His one comfort was the kindness of his wife, who proved as devoted a nurse as she was a companion. He could not praise her enough: evidently the first six months of their marriage had been a success.

On 7 February 1544, as a mark of his esteem, the King passed a new Act of Succession. 'Forasmuch as his Majesty, sithence the death of the late Queen Jane' - Queen Anne and Queen Katherine are not mentioned, for as far as the King was concerned they did not count 'hath taken to wife Katherine, late wife to Lord Latimer, by whom as yet his Majesty hath no issue, but may full well, when it shall please God,' it was provided that, 'if their union might be blessed with offspring', such offspring would be placed after Prince Edward in the order of succession. Failing any issue of the King's present marriage, the Act optimistically - and alarmingly, as far as Katherine was concerned - invested the succession in 'the children [the King] might have by other queens'. After them, would come the Lady Mary and then the Lady Elizabeth. The new Act was generally approved of by the King's subjects, and many hoped that the Queen might yet have a child, although she had now been married for seven months with no sign of pregnancy. As Sir William Paget wrote, 'We trust in God, which hath hitherto preserved his Majesty to his glory and honour and our comfort, to preserve him longer and send him time enough to proceed' to the siring of heirs. It was to prove a vain prayer.

That February, the Queen entertained the Spanish Duke of Najera, who arrived at court on the 17th, and the Lady Mary, who could speak Spanish, was there to assist her. When Eustache Chapuys, the Spanish ambassador, escorted the Duke into the Queen's presence, both royal ladies asked courteously for news of the Emperor. Unfortunately, Katherine was not feeling very well, but she put on a brave face and danced 'for the honour of the company'. Chapuys was impressed by her manner towards Mary, and he told the Emperor that she had constantly urged the King to keep Mary as second in line to the throne after Edward in the new Act of Succession.

Also present on that occasion was the Duke of Najera's secretary, Pedro de Gant, who left an account describing how the Duke kissed the Queen's hand on being presented, and of her leading him to another room where he was entertained with music and 'much beautiful dancing'. Katherine danced first with her brother, 'very gracefully', and then the Lady Mary partnered Lady Margaret Douglas and then some of the gentlemen of the court. A Venetian from the King's household danced galliards 'with such extraordinary activity that he seemed to have wings upon his feet - never was a man seen so agile!' The dancing went on for several hours, after which the Queen signalled to a nobleman who spoke Spanish to present some gifts to her guest. Najera again kissed her hand and she retired to her chamber. Pedro de Gant thought her 'graceful', and said she had a 'cheerful countenance; she is praised for her virtue'. On this occasion, she wore an underskirt of cloth of gold beneath a sleeved overdress of brocade lined with crimson satin, the sleeves being lined with crimson velvet, and the train being two yards long. Hanging around her neck were two crosses and a jewel of very magnificent diamonds; there were 'a great number of splendid diamonds in her head-dress' also.

After Najera had left the court, Mary stayed on. She had been occupying her time lately with translating Erasmus's Paraphrases of the Gospel of St John, an exercise of which the Queen heartily approved, for she felt that it became a woman of rank to undertake intellectual pursuits. Also, around this time, Mary sat for her portrait by a certain Master John, who charged her 4.00 for it. This same artist was also commissioned by Katherine Parr to paint another portrait, now in the National Portrait Gallery, and said to be of the King's great-niece, Lady Jane Grey, who in 1548 lived in the Queen's household. For a long time this second portrait was thought to be of Katherine herself, but the identification with Jane is said to be proved by the similarity of a brooch worn by the sitter to a brooch on an authenticated engraving of Jane. It is probable that Katherine gave Jane this piece of jewellery, and that the portrait is after all one of the Queen. The lady in the portrait looks more than ten years old, as her figure is quite developed and her jowls sag slightly; facially, she bears a striking resemblance to the Scrots portraitofKatherine Parr and she also wears an identical pendant.

On 22 April 1544, Lord Chancellor Audley died, and the indefatigable Wriothesley replaced him on 3 May. Wriothesley, for all his flattery, did not like Katherine Parr, and later did his best to bring about her downfall. He was not a man of great religious bias, but one who adapted his views to suit the times. His antipathy may have been purely personal. He had helped to bring down both Anne of Cleves and Katherine Howard, and seems to have enjoyed political intrigue for its own sake. For the present, he was the political ally of the staunchly conservative Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who suspected the Queen of heresy and was awaiting his opportunity to unseat her. Together, Wriothesley and Gardiner posed a potential threat to Katherine's future as Queen, although fortunately she was aware of their suspicions and careful to give them no cause for complaint.

One of the chief pleasures of queenship, Katherine found, was the ability to help others. To her mind, it was the chief duty of a queen to assist those who came to her in need. Thus, when Lady Hertford grew anxious about her husband, who was absent in Scotland and engaged on a very dangerous mission, Katherine spoke to the King on her behalf, and was able to inform Lady Hertford, in a letter written on 3 June 1544, that her husband would be recalled before Henry set sail for his planned invasion of France. The King's children and some of his other relatives had good reason to be grateful to her also, as did her servants and the humble people who benefited from her charity.

At the end of June, the King and Queen were present at the wedding of the Lady Margaret Douglas to the Earl of Lennox, one of the few remaining Scottish nobles with Anglophile sympathies. This took place in the chapel of Henry's new London palace, which had been built on the site of the old leper hospital of St James, not far from Whitehall. It had been intended as a residence for Anne Boleyn, but she had not lived to see its completion, and it was Katherine Parr who stood by Henry's side when St James's Palace was first used for a state occasion.

Preparations for the invasionofFrance were now so far advanced that the King decided to set out in early July. Before then, however, he accorded his wife the highest honour of all, in token of his trust in her and his respect for her integrity. On 7 July, it was announced in Council that she was to be regent in his absence, and Archbishop Cranmer, Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, Lord Hertford, Dr Thomas Thirlby and Sir William Petre were designated her advisers.

Prior to his departure, Henry also gave instructions about the education of his son. Dr John Cheke, a fellow of St John's College, Cambridge, and a famous academic with secret Lutheran tendencies, was appointed to supplement Dr Cox 'for the better instruction of the Prince'. Sir Anthony Cooke was also engaged to teach sports and recreational activities. Henry's choice of Cheke was applauded by all the great minds of his day and we may be certain that Katherine Parr had either urged or approved of it. Roger Ascham, who later became tutor to the Lady Elizabeth, called Cheke 'an excellent man, full of learning'.

When Cheke arrived upon the scene, he and Cox drew up a new curriculum of study for the Prince, to include languages, philosophy and 'all liberal sciences' in addition to his usual studies. Already, Edward was an extremely precocious and solemn child; so serious was he that he is known to have laughed out loud in public only once during his life. No doubt this was due to the fact that he was very early on made aware of the great destiny awaiting him, and whose shoes he must one day fill. From birth, he was isolated from the hubbub of court life and over-protected by an anxious father; he had never known the security of a mother's love, and hence grew into a self-contained child. His father was an affectionate yet distant, glittering figure, who must have inspired awe in his son whenever they met. It was left to Katherine Parr to alleviate the little boy's loneliness; it was slow progress, but she eventually won his affection, although it was too late to repair all the damage that had been caused by his early upbringing.

With Elizabeth, Katherine had initially had more success, for this child was eager and able to reciprocate the warmth emanating from her stepmother, even though she was inclined to use it as a stepping stone to the King's favour. Through Katherine's good offices, she too had a new tutor at this time, William Grindal. Yet, early in 1544, a rift occurred between Elizabeth and her father. The cause is not known, yet it was enough to make Henry banish his younger daughter from the court. Queen Katherine did all she could to effect a reconciliation between father and daughter, but the King proved obstinate, and her efforts were in vain. Now he was going abroad with the rift unhealed, and there was nothing that Katherine could do about it.

By the second week in July, the English fleet was ready to sail, and the royal army was mustered at Dover. The Queen accompanied her husband to the port and kissed him farewell on 14 July, when he embarked for France. She then led the whole country in a prayer of intercession for his safety and success which she had composed herself to be read in churches:

O Almighty King and Lord of Hosts, which by Thy angels thereunto appointed dost minister both war and peace . . . our cause now being just, and being enforced to enter the war and battle, we most humbly beseech Thee, O Lord God of Hosts, so to turn the hearts of our enemies to the desire of peace that no Christian blood be spilt. Or else grant, O Lord, that with small effusion of blood and little damage of innocents, we may to Thy glory obtain victory; and that, the wars being ended, we may all with one heart and mind knit together in concord and amity, laud and praise Thee, who livest and reignest, world without end, Amen.

After the King's departure, Katherine returned to Greenwich, there to attend to her duties as regent and await news of her husband and his campaign. She wrote to him regularly throughout their time apart, gentle, touching letters that testify plainly to the lively affection that had grown between them. In the first, she spoke of how much she was missing him:

Although the distance and time and account of days neither is long nor many of your Majesty's absence, yet the wantofyour presence, so much desired and beloved by me, maketh me that I cannot quietly pleasure in anything until I hear from your Majesty. The time seemeth to me very long, with a great desire to know how your Highness hath done since your departing hence, whose prosperity and health I prefer and desire more than mine own. And whereas I know your Majesty's absence is never without great need, yet love and affection compel me to desire your presence. Again, the same zeal and affection forceth me to be best content with that which is your will and pleasure. Thus love maketh me in all things set apart mine own convenience and pleasure and to embrace most joyfully his will and pleasure whom I love.

She acknowledged herself greatly indebted to God for His benefits bestowed upon her:

even such confidence have I in your Majesty's gentleness, knowing myself never to have done my duty as were requisite and meet for such a noble prince [is this, one wonders, a reference to her seeming inability to conceive a child?], at whose hands I have found and received so much love and goodness that with words I cannot express it.

This said, the Queen concluded, 'lest I should be too tedious to your Majesty,' committing Henry to God's care and governance.

Shortly afterwards, she received a letter from the Lady Elizabeth, bewailing her exile from the court and thanking Katherine for her hitherto fruitless intercession with the King. She had not dared to write to her father, she confessed, and begged her stepmother to send a letter on her behalf, 'praying ever for his sweet benediction' and beseeching God to send him victory over his enemies, 'so that your Highness and I may as soon as possible rejoice in his happy return'.

Absence from his wife had made Henry all the fonder, and when Katherine wrote again, begging him to forgive Elizabeth for her unknown offence and receive the child again at court, he relented, and gave his permission for her to go to Greenwich to keep Katherine company. Mary was already there, which meant that the Queen could extend her own special brand of kindness to both of Henry's daughters at once.

Meanwhile, the King had arrived in France and had laid siege to the city of Boulogne. The campaign had worked wonders for his health, as Chapuys noted in August, saying that he 'works better and more than I would have thought'. In fact, Henry was in his element, and was enjoying himself as much as he had on his earlier campaign in France, more than thirty years before. It was a relief to find that, despite encroaching age and infirmity, he could still mount a horse and bully the French. If he could not recapture his youth, he could at least enjoy this Indian summer.

On 9 August, the Queen wrote to Henry to tell him that she had dispatched the Earl of Lennox to Scotland in the hope that he would be able to seize the reins of government there, and she imputed the enthusiasm and speed with which he was carrying out his mission to serve a 'master whom God aids'. God, unfortunately, was not disposed to aid this particular venture, which was doomed to end in failure since Lennox's feeble efforts to grasp power were ineffectual. Not knowing this as yet, Katherine set out on a short progress in order to avoid the plague which was raging in London just then. News of her coming sent local gentry into hasty flurries of preparation; the Countess of Rutland, learning that Katherine was at Enfield and would be staying with her two nights hence, wrote to her father, Sir William Paston, asking him to send her some fresh fish, as 'here is small store, and the court is merry!'

Katherine was still worrying about the King, and she had not had news of him for some time. Even her enemy, Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, was moved by her concern.

God is able to strengthen His own against the devil [he told her] and therefore let not the Queen's Majesty in any wise trouble herself, for God shall turn all to the best; and sure we be that the King's Majesty's person is out of all danger.

Feeling somewhat cheered at his words, Katherine wrote yet another letter, which is now lost, to her husband, and sent him some venison, which he loved. At last, on 8 September, he wrote to her in response to her enquiries about certain domestic matters:

Most dearly and most entirely beloved wife,

We recommend us heartily unto you, and thank you as well for your letter as for the venison which you sent, for the which we give unto you our hearty thanks, and would have written unto you again a letter with our own hand, but that we be so occupied, and have so much to do in foreseeing and caring for everything ourself, as we have almost no manner rest or leisure to do any other thing. And whereas you desired to know our pleasure for the accepting into your chamber of certain ladies in places of others that cannot give their attendance by reason of sickness, albeit we think those whom you have named unto us as unable almost to attend by reason of weakness as the others be, yet we remit the accepting of them to your own choice, thinking nevertheless that though they shall not be meet to serve, yet you may, if you think so good, take them into your chamber to pass the time sometime with you at play, or otherwise to accompany you for your recreation. . . . No more to you at this time, sweetheart, both for lack of time and great occupation of business, saving we pray you to give in our name our hearty blessings to all our children, and recommendations to our cousin Margaret [Douglas] and the rest of the ladies and gentlewomen, and to our Council also. Written with the hand of your loving husband,

Henry R.

Three days after this letter was written, the King realised that the inhabitants of Boulogne would not withstand the siege for very much longer. Wrote Chapuys: 'I never in my life saw the King so joyful and in such good spirits and so elated.' Henry told one of the Emperor's generals that he had vowed to bring France to submission and was now fulfilling that promise. 'I have been all my life a Prince of honour and virtue,' he said sanctimoniously, 'who never contravened my word, and am too old to begin now, as the white hairs in my beard testify.' His elation was justified, at least for the time being. On 14 September 1544, Boulogne fell to him; four days later he entered it in triumph, riding through the streets at the head of his army. On the same day, the King of France was forced to sign a peace treaty with the Emperor at Crepy.

In the meantime, Katherine Parr had been staying with the Countess of Rutland at her medieval castle at Oakham; the Queen had brought with her all three of her stepchildren, to keep them safe from the plague. From Oakham, she issued strict orders to the Council, commanding them to make a proclamation that no person who had been in contact with a plague victim was to come near the court nor was anyone to allow any courtier into a house where there had been infection, 'under the Queen's indignation and further punishment at her pleasure'. These sensible measures effectively eliminated any threat of danger to the Prince and his sisters, and to Katherine herself. Fortunately, by late August the epidemic was on the wane, and the Queen deemed it safe to return to Greenwich, where she was when she heard news of the fall of Boulogne.

Katherine was well aware of the importance of her husband's victory, and she immediately ordered that a general thanksgiving be offered up in all the towns and villages throughout England, in gratitude for the taking of the city. These special services were held on 19 September. And to her husband, Katherine wrote: 'I thank God for a prosperous beginning of your affairs, and I rejoice at the joyful news of your good health.'

Late in September, the Queen went to Hanworth for a short break from state duties. There, she read the Lady Mary's translation of Erasmus's Paraphrases, and was very impressed with it; at the end of the month she returned the manuscript with a letter full of warm praise, suggesting that Mary have it published, as it was a 'fair and useful work'. Mary declined to do so, but Katherine replied that she did not see 'why you should reject the praise which all deservedly would give you; yet I leave all to your own prudence, and will approve of that which seems best to you.' Mary responded by saying she was willing to have the work published, but only under a pseudonym, to which Katherine answered that in her opinion Mary would 'do a real injury if you refuse to let it go down to posterity under the auspices of your own name'. Her words made Mary relent. The translation was printed and widely read, receiving high praise from scholars such as Nicholas Udall, Provost of Eton College.

After leaving Hanworth, the Queen returned to Greenwich, there to await the King's homecoming. On 30 September, a triumphant Henry disembarked at Dover, and travelled as fast as possible to see the wife from whom he had been parted for three months. It was a happy reunion, the King and Queen openly showing their affection for each other, and their pride in each other's achievements during the past weeks. Katherine may well have reflected at this time that, if she had given up the chance of a marriage more to her liking with Thomas Seymour, she had at least achieved a measure of contentment with the King, who had been consistently loving and kind to her.

For the remainder of the autumn, Henry diverted himself with his favourite pastime, hunting. His recent burst of energy had not yet spent itself. This was, however, the last time he would ever engage in such pursuits.

In October that year, Sir Thomas Seymour's embassy to the Low Countries came to an end and he returned to court. The King knew very well how things had once stood between Seymour and Katherine, and once again appointed Seymour to an office that would necessitate his being away from court for long periods, that of Lord High Admiral of England. Evidently Henry was still suspicious of Seymour's intentions towards the Queen, although no breath of scandal or hint of impending infidelity tainted her good name. Whatever her private feelings were, she hid them well, and paid no more attention to Seymour than to anyone else, while he, following her lead, betrayed by no sign that there had ever been anything more than friendship between them.

At Christmas, Chapuys took the opportunity to thank the Queen, on behalf of the Emperor, for all that she had done for the Lady Mary, to which she 'replied very graciously that she did not deserve so much courtesy. What she did for the Lady Mary was less than she would like to do, and was only her duty in every respect.' As to maintaining the friendship between England and Spain, Katherine told the ambassador that she 'had done and would do nothing to prevent its growing still further, and she hoped that God would avert the slightest dissension, as the friendship was so necessary and both sovereigns were so good'. Chapuys could not help admiring her. She was, in his opinion, a very pleasant and well-meaning person, whose goodwill could be used to advantage when it came to preserving the alliance between his master and Henry VIII. Yet Chapuys feared he would not be there to use this advantage: he was growing old and nearing retirement, and was so infirm that he was now confined to a kind of wheelchair on occasions. He had already applied for his recall, and was awaiting the Emperor's assent.

New Year arrived, the beginning of 1545. The Lady Elizabeth sent her stepmother her own translation, neatly written in fine italic script, of Margaret of Navarre's book,Le Miroir de I'Ame Pecheresse,a devout meditation on the love of a Christian soul towards God and His Christ. Elizabeth hoped that there was nothing in it 'worthy of reprehension', and begged that no other person than Katherine be allowed to see it, 'lest my faults be known of many' as 'it is all imperfect and incorrect' and 'in many places rude', with 'nothing done as it should be'. This was the kind of gift Katherine liked best, and she was deeply touched that her young stepdaughter should have gone to such trouble. And when she turned to the first page of the work, she read the dedication: 'To the most noble and virtuous Queen Katherine, Elizabeth, her humble daughter, wisheth perpetual felicity and everlasting joy.'

In March, the King's health took a turn for the worse, and he was down with 'a burning fever' for several days; this seems to have affected his leg, and he suffered more bouts of agonising pain. His illness did not improve his temper, which was further aroused by reportsofheresy within his realm, which was spreading at an alarming rate. Henry himself had never approved of Lutheranism. In spite of all he had done to reform the Church in England, he was still Catholic in his ways and determined for the present to keep England that way. Protestant heresies would not be tolerated, and he would make that very clear to his subjects. As a result of his enquiries, twenty-three people were arrested and examined at this time, among them a woman called Anne Askew. This Anne was twenty-three, and had not long since applied to the King for a legal separation from her husband, Thomas Kyme, who had quite literally thrown her out of doors and kept her from seeing her two children. It has often been alleged that at some time in her life Anne was acquainted with Katherine Parr, but there is no evidence to substantiate this, though Katherine was certainly sympathetic towards Anne Askew for she secretly shared the same Protestant views. Under questioning, Anne Askew admitted to being a Protestant, whereupon she was put in prison to wait further examination and lay there for many months. Queen Katherine would one day have reason to regret ever having heard of her.

The summer of 1545 was a sad one for several reasons. Katherine's ward and former stepdaughter, Margaret Neville, died, having appointed her 'dear sovereign mistress, the Queen's Highness' as her heir, since she was 'never able to render to her Grace sufficient thanks for the godly education and tender love and bountiful goodness which I have evermore found in her Highness'. Then, in May, Eustache Chapuys, who had been the Emperor's ambassador to the court of Henry VIII since 1529, informed the King that he was at last being recalled to Spain. Henry, saddened at the prospect of losing an old sparring partner, went immediately to the Queen and warned her of the envoy's imminent departure. The next morning, as Chapuys sat sunning himself in the palace gardens, he saw Katherine approaching, accompanied only by a few attendants. She told him that the King had told her he was coming to say goodbye, and said she was

very sorry, on the one hand for my departure, as she had been told that I had always performed my duties well, and the King trusted me; but on the other hand she doubted not that my health would be better on the other side of the sea.

Chapuys could, she added, do more there to maintain the friendship between England and the Empire, which he had done so much to promote, and for this reason she was glad he was going. After more pleasantries, the Queen begged Chapuys to 'present to your Majesty [i.e. the Emperor] her humble service' and 'to express explicitly to you all that I had learned here of the good wishes of the King'. She then took leave of him. Chapuys left England shortly afterwards and died a few months later. In his place, the Emperor appointed a new ambassador, a Dutchman, Francis van der Delft.

Death also claimed, on 22 August, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, one of the King's oldest and closest friends, who left a widow with two young sons. The elder, Henry, aged ten, succeeded his father as duke, and was sent to join the household of Prince Edward. Here, the regime was tough. In fact, both the King's younger children were subject to a rigorously strict education, which - as Edward later recalled in his journal - was to 'satisfy the good expectation of the King's Majesty, my father'. This was having the effectofturning both Edward and Elizabeth into intellectual prodigies, who devoted almost every waking hour to books and religious exercises. When Edward was called out of the schoolroom for martial exercises, Elizabeth would practise the lute or viol, or occupy herself with needlework. It was the King's wish that Queen Katherine personally supervise the education of his children, a task for which she was eminently suited. Nor did she neglect her own intellectual pursuits. On 6 November 1545, she published - with the King's approval - a collection of prayers and meditations she had collated, under the excessively wordy titlePrayers and Meditationswherein the mind is stirred patiently to suffer all afflictions here, to set at naught the vain prosperity of this world, and always to long for the everlasting felicity: Collected out of holy works by the most virtuous and gracious Princess Katherine, Queen of England.

The book was widely acclaimed. The universities of Oxford and Cambridge begged the Queen to become their patroness, an honour she gratefully accepted. In reply to her letter, Roger Ascham, then fellow of St John's College, Cambridge, wrote:

Write to us oftener, erudite Queen, and do not despise the term erudition, most noble lady: it is the praise of your industry, and a greater one to your talents than all the ornaments of your fortune. We rejoice vehemently in your happiness, most happy Princess, because you are learning more amidst the occupations of your dignity than many of us do in all our leisure and quiet.

The Queen's book represented a real breakthrough in an age when only the most privileged women were fortunate enough to receive an education. Not even the Lady Margaret Beaufort had achieved as much, nor Katherine of Aragon. Two of the finest female minds of the century were fortunate enough to be moulded under Katherine Parr's influence - the future Elizabeth I and, later on, the Lady Jane Grey. Katherine's court was already a centre of feminine learning, and competition for places in her household was fierce. Even male scholars sought her patronage. One, Francis Goldsmith, could not find words enough to praise her, save to say that 'Her rare goodness has made every day a Sunday, a thing hitherto unheard of, especially in a royal palace.' Nor had her high rank affected Katherine's essential humanity and warmth. She was sympathetic towards poor scholars, and did her best to assist them whenever she could. Sometimes she sent them to Stoke College, of which she was patroness. Matthew Parker, who had once been chaplain to Anne Boleyn, was put in charge of them, and it was his duty to ensure also that the children of the Queen's tenants and farmers received an education 'meet for their ages and capacities'. Not surprisingly, Parker was moved to point out that all this could be done 'at no small cost and charge', but the Queen felt that no outlay was too much to pay for something she held dear. The money to fund her scholars and educational projects came entirely from her privy purse, nor would she turn away any poor scholar who came to her seeking assistance.

In the late autumn of 1545, while staying at Windsor, the King suffered some kind of attack, which laid him low for a time. On Christmas Eve, he was reported by the new Spanish ambassador to be 'so unwell that, considering his age and corpulence, fears are entertained that he will be unable to survive further attacks'. Henry was suffering terrible pain from what seems to have been venous thrombosis in his leg, and there was nothing his doctors could do to alleviate it. The Queen did her best to cheer him, and would sit by his bed and try to involve him in what he loved best, a lively dispute, preferably on some theological matter, in order to take his mind off the pain. Yet these seemingly innocent domestic interludes caused concern to the conservative faction at court, who believed that the Queen's sympathies were with the Protestant heretics and that she was being urged by the reformists to convert the King. The Seymour brothers, the widowed Duchess of Suffolk, Lady Hertford, and Lady Dudley - the last three being members of the Queen's own household - were strongly suspected of having infected Katherine with their private views, and as the King showed favour to them all, there was little anyone could do about it. Yet staunch Catholics such as Gardiner and Wriothesley believed that if the King knew the true beliefs of these people then he would deal with them as he had dealt with other Protestants. This might be one way of bringing down the Queen and removing the dangerous influence she had upon Henry VIII.

It is hardly likely that Katherine was unaware of the danger in which she stood, yet she refused to be intimidated. She knew very well that several persons in her inner circle were Protestant converts, and she also knew that heretics risked a dreadful penalty. She realised, therefore, that she should proceed with the utmost care. She had seen that the King's love could easily turn to hatred, and she did not imagine that he would react kindly to the news that his wife was a secret Protestant.

Katherine was occupied just then with a second book,The Lamentations of a Sinner,which was a theological discourse on faith and the proper behaviour of Christians. Its author protested, in her introduction, that she had 'but a simple zeal and earnest love to the truth, inspired of God, who promised to pour His spirit upon all flesh, which I have by the Grace of God felt in myself to be true'. The book was largely an attack on popery, and its central theme was the comparison between Moses leading the people of Israel out of Egypt and Henry VIII freeing his subjects from the iniquity of Rome. In it Katherine also put forth her views on the conduct of her own sex:

If they be women married, they learn of St Paul to be obedient to their husbands and to keep silence in the congregation, and to learn of their husbands at home. Also, that they wear such apparel as becometh holiness and comely usage with soberness, not being accusers or detractors, nor given to much eating of delicate meats or drinking of wine; but that they touch honest things, to make the young women sober-minded, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, housewifely and good, that the Word of God may not be evil spoken of.

Such views reflected exactly the King's own opinions on the role of women within the natural order of things; he was greatly impressed by the book, and even a little jealous, taking as he did great pride in his own learning, and finding it disconcerting to wonder if a mere woman could possibly be as clever as he was.

Trouble was already brewing for Katherine. In February 1546, the King was informed that the heretic Anne Askew had implicated the Queen in a new confession. Further questioning showed that she had not even mentioned Katherine Parr, but the incident was enough to prove to Katherine that her enemies were poised to attack. There is no contemporary evidence to prove that the Queen had anything to do with Anne Askew, and the only authorities for it date from the Elizabethan era. Robert Parsons, in hisTreatise of Three Conversions of England,published in 1603, says that Katherine received heretical books sent by Anne, and that her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Herbert, Lady Lane, Lady Tyrwhitt and others, were party to this. John Foxe, in hisActs and Monuments,published in 1563, tells another story, giving his source as one or more of these ladies.

Foxe gives no date for the events he describes, but if they happened at all, it must have been during the summer of 1546, probably in July. In June, the King gave his permission for Anne Askew to be examined again for heresy in the Tower. Lord Chancellor Wriothesley was in chargeofthe interrogation, and he saw this chance as another to incriminate the Queen. When Anne Askew proved obdurate, he ordered her to be put on the rack, and, with Sir Richard Rich, personally conducted the examination. Anne Askew later dictated an account of the proceedings, in which she testified to being questioned as to whether she knew anything about the beliefs of the ladies of the Queen's household. She replied that she knew nothing. It was put to her that she had received gifts from these ladies, but she denied it. For her obstinacy, she was racked for a long time, but bravely refused to cry out, and when she swooned with the pain, the Lord Chancellor himself brought her round, and with his own hands turned the wheelsofthe machine, Rich assisting. Afterwards, Anne's broken body was laid on the bare floor, and Wriothesley sat there for two hours longer, questioning her about her heresy and her suspected involvement with the royal household. All in vain. Anne refused to deny her Protestant faith, and would not or could not implicate anyone near the Queen. On 18 June, she was arraigned at the Guildhall in London, and sentenced to death. She was burned at the stake on 16 July at Smithfield, along with John Lascelles, another Protestant, he who had first alerted Cranmer to Katherine Howard's pre-marital activities. Anne died bravely and quickly: the bagofgunpowder hung about her neck by a humane executioner to facilitate a quick end exploded almost immediately. If Katherine Parr was grieved by Anne Askew's death, she dared not show it. Like everyone else, she had been horrified to learn that the heretic had been carried to her execution on a chair as her legs were useless after the racking. Yet she kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that if it were to be discovered by her enemies that she shared Anne's views, then she too might face the flames. Foxe tells us that at this time Henry was feeling a little jaded with his marriage because the Queen had not conceived in three years; he had also heard complaints from his councillors about her interference in matters of religion. Hitherto, he had heartily approved of the strong religious bias in his wife's household. He was pleased to see Katherine spending so much time studying the Scriptures and discussing them with learned divines, and he enjoyed their debates on the subject. Now, it seemed that Katherine was going a little too far, becoming over-zealous and exhorting her husband 'that as he had to his eternal fame begun a good work in banishing the monstrous idol of Rome, so he would finish the same, purging his Church of England clean from the dregs thereof. Where else could this lead, some were wondering, but to a Protestant state? Even Henry did not like it, and grew very stern and opinionated whenever the subject was raised. Foxe says his affection for Katherine cooled, though this is nowhere borne out by contemporary sources. Be that as it may, the Catholic party smelled a Protestant rat that was heralding the destruction of everything they held dear; until now, they had not dared to broach the matter with the King, because of his obvious love and esteem for the Queen, but now they saw their chance, and were looking daily for an opportunity to discredit her in Henry's eyes. Gardiner knew, better than most, that Henry hated being contradicted in any argument. In the past it had galled the Bishop to see the King being corrected by his wife, but now he perceived that Henry himself was becoming irritated with her arguments. Encroaching infirmity made him peevish and impatient; he ceased making his daily visits to his wife's apartments, and it was left to Katherine to decide whether or not to brave his black moods and go and sit with him after dinner or supper. At these times, her enthusiasm more often than not got the better of her, and she persisted in urging the King to carry his reforms still further.

The day came when Henry had had enough and rudely cut short what the Queen was saying and changed the subject, which left Katherine somewhat amazed. However, once the conversation had been steered to less contentious matters, Henry was his old self again 'with gentle words and loving countenance'. When it was time for the Queen to leave, he said, 'Farewell, Sweetheart', and Katherine left the room, little knowing that her enemies were about to pounce.

Bishop Gardiner had been within earshot of that conversation, and he seized his chance when the King began to grumble about her behaviour. 'A good hearing it is, when women become such clerks, and much to my comfort to come in mine old age to be taught by my wife!' he fumed. The Bishop soothed his sovereign's vanity by replying that 'his Majesty excelled the princes of that and every other age, as well as all the professed doctors of divinity', and then poured oil on troubled waters by saying that it was unseemly for any of his subjects to argue with him so malapertly as the Queen had just done; that it was grievous for any of his Councillors to hear it done, since those who were so bold in words would not scruple to proceed to acts of disobedience.

He added significantly that he could make great discoveries if he were not deterred by the Queen's powerful faction. Besides this, the religion by the Queen maintained did not only dissolve the politic government of princes, but also taught the people that all things ought to be in common.

In fact, according to Foxe, Gardiner spared no efforts in persuading the King 'that his Majesty should easily perceive how perilous a matter it is to cherish a serpent within his own bosom', and reminded him that 'the greatest subjects in the land, defending those arguments that she did defend, had by law deserved death. For his part, he would not speak his knowledge in the Queen's case,' because to do so might bring about his own destruction 'through her and her faction', unless the King agreed to give him his protection.

Henry was incredulous at the Bishop's words, but his suspicious nature allowed him to believe that the matter was indeed a serious one, otherwise Gardiner would never have dared to be outspoken. In one clever stroke, the Bishop had managed to convince him that his wife was at the centre of a heretical conspiracy to bring down traditional forms of government, and that she was supported by many influential people at court. This was enough to set all the alarm bells ringing in the King's head, and he questioned Gardiner closely on the matter, remaining closeted with him for some time. When they parted, the triumphant Bishop came away with the knowledge that Henry had consented to articles being drawn up against the Queen, with a view to putting her on trial for her life, 'which the King pretended to be fully resolved to spare'. Gardiner was to provide the proof that was needed to support his accusations.

Foxe seems to be saying here that Henry was playing a double game, and it does seem that he was reserving his judgement until all was made clear. Yet the peril in which the Queen and her ladies now stood was very real, and this was made obvious to them when the Council ordered the arrests of Lady Herbert, Katherine's sister, Lady Lane and Lady Tyrwhitt, her three favourite ladies-in-waiting. They were interrogated about the books they had, and whether the Queen kept forbidden reading matter in her closet, and their coffers were searched in the hope that proof of the Queen's heresy might be discovered. Then they were released. The King knew all this, and seemed content for it to be done.

Henry was then at Whitehall Palace with the court. Because of his health, he did not often leave his rooms, and only a few privileged members of the Privy Council were allowed access to him. Through them, he let it be known that he was agreeable to a warrant being drawn up for the Queen's arrest, should there be any suspicion of heresy. Katherine guessed nothing of this, and heedlessly continued to engage the King in religious debates. He allowed her to do this, for he was now on the alert for a sinister meaning to her arguments, and was carefully weighing every word she said. It appears he was not yet completely convinced of her guilt, and late one night, when Katherine had gone, he confided all his suspicions to his physician, Dr Thomas Wendy, who had replaced Dr Butts on the latter's death in November 1545. Henry pretended 'he intended no longer to be troubled with such a doctress as she was,' and told the Doctor what was afoot, swearing him to secrecy.

When a warrant for Katherine Parr's arrest was drawn up, the King signed it, and it was entrusted to an unnamed member of the Privy Council who fortuitously dropped it. A servant loyal to the Queen found it and brought it straight to her, and Katherine found herself confronting her doom. There was the King's signature: there could be no mistake. Her reaction was instantaneous and dramatic, her agony of mind manifesting itself in tears and hysterical screaming, which was 'lamentable to see', as her ladies remembered many years later. She was distraught with terror, recalling the fate of Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard and realising that, on a charge of heresy, her death would be much more horrible than theirs. In her grief and fear, she took to her bed, shaking and wailing. Her cries could be heard throughout the palace, and even penetrated the King's apartments. Henry, little realising what was the matter, sent Dr Wendy and other physicians to her to try and calm her down. Wendy guessed that the Queen had somehow found out what was afoot, and sent the other doctors away. He then told her what he knew and warned her that Gardiner and Wriothesley were plotting her downfall; she should 'conform herself to the King's mind', he advised, then she might find him 'favourable unto her'.

Wendy's words afforded the Queen little comfort. Still she lay, weeping and crying, her self-control shattered. Eventually, the King, learning of her 'dangerous state', went to her himself. At the sight of him, Katherine calmed down a little, and managed to say that she feared he had grown displeased with her and utterly forsaken her. She was so obviously sincere in her grief that Henry was deeply touched and, 'like a loving husband, with comfortable words so refreshed her careful mind that she began somewhat to recover'. Henry stayed with her an hour, and when he had gone, Katherine made up her mind to cease interfering in matters of religion and to forbid her ladies to dabble in heresy. She ordered them to get rid of any forbidden books in their possession, and made it clear that from now on her chief priority was to conform to her husband's wishes. That night, accompanied only by her sister and Lady Lane, who carried a candle before her, she made her way to the King's bedchamber, where she found Henry chatting with his gentlemen. When he saw Katherine, he welcomed her courteously, and after a while he brought up the subject of religion, 'seeming desirous to be resolved by the Queen of certain doubts'. Katherine, guessing what game he was playing, gave meek and dutiful answers, saying, 'So God hath appointed you, as Supreme Head of us all, and of you, next unto God, will I ever learn.' But Henry was not that easily mollified. 'Not so, by St Mary!' he cried. 'Ye are become a doctor, Kate, to instruct us, as oftentime we have seen, and not to be instructed or directed by us.' Katherine protested her meaning had been mistaken, 'for I have always held it preposterous for a woman to instruct her lord'. If she had ever differed with him on religion, she went on, it was only for her own information, and also because she realised that talking helped to pass away the pain and weariness of your present infirmity, which encouraged me in this boldness, in the hope of profiting withal by your Majesty's learned discourse. I am but a woman, with all the imperfections natural to the weakness of my sex; therefore in all matters of doubt and difficulty I must refer myself to your Majesty's better judgement, as to my lord and head.

This was a masterful speech, and a triumph of diplomacy, and the King was deeply impressed - if not a little relieved - by it. 'Is it so, sweetheart?' he replied. 'And tended your arguments to no worse end? Then we are perfect friends, as ever at any time heretofore.' Katherine's sense of relief may be imagined: a crisis had been averted and the King was once more her loving husband. Again she sat beside him as he took her in his arms and kissed her before everyone present; then he told her it did him more good to hear those words from her own mouth than if he had heard news of 100,000 coming his way. Never again, he promised, would he doubt her. It was late in the night when he finally gave her leave to depart, and when she had gone he praised her highly to his gentlemen.

Henry was shrewd enough to guess why Gardiner and his party wanted the Queen out of the way, and had known all along what game the Bishop was playing. Now that he had ample proof of the Queen's loyalty, he was very much looking forward to discountenancing them. Katherine's servant had been careful to replace the warrant for the Queen's arrest where she had found it; it was quickly retrieved by the councillor, and on the afternoon following the royal couple's reconciliation, Lord Chancellor Wriothesley prepared to use it, knowing nothing of the events of the previous night.

On that afternoon, the King made sure that the Queen joined him to take the air in the palace gardens, where he was 'as pleasant as ever he was in all his life'. Suddenly, in the midst of their laughter, the Lord Chancellor arrived, with forty of the King's guards at his heels, intending to escort the Queen to the Tower with her three ladies, who were also present. Wriothesley was nonplussed at finding his master and mistress so happily engaged, then the King, looking very stern, got up and walked off a little way, calling his Chancellor after him. Wriothesley fell to his knees and began to explain why he was there, but he was brutally cut short by Henry, who shouted 'Knave! Arrant knave! Beast! Fool!', and ordered him out of his presence. Everyone stared at the discomfited Chancellor as he and his men scuttled away. Henry strode back to the Queen; she could see he was in a fury, although he was struggling to 'put on a merry countenance', and innocently enquired what was wrong, saying charitably that she would be a suitor for the Lord Chancellor, 'as she deemed his fault was occasioned by some mistake'. To which her husband replied, 'Ah, poor soul, thou little knoweth Kate how little he deserveth this grace at thy hands. On my word, sweetheart, he hath been to thee a very knave, so let him go.' Katherine wisely held her peace. She knew very well what Wriothesley had come for, and that she had had a lucky escape.

She had learned her lesson and would from then on act the meek and dutiful wife. There would be no breath of heresy in her household, and she would comport herself with greater circumspection than ever, giving her enemies no room for criticism. She would confine herself to corresponding with men of letters such as Roger Ascham, pursuing her intellectual interests and charities, and overseeing the education of her stepchildren. Prince Edward wrote to her that August, saying that her letters and the 'excellence of your genius' made him sick of his own writing: 'But then I think how kind your nature is, and that whatever proceeds from a good mind will be acceptable, and so I write you this letter.' It seemed an age since he had seen her, he added.

August was a busy month for Katherine. On the 24th, Claude d'Annebaut, Admiral of France, visited the court as a consequence of a new treaty of peace between Henry VIII and Francis I. He was entertained with the usual banquets and hunting forays; in the evenings, rich masques were staged for his pleasure and that of Queen Katherine and her ladies, after which there was dancing in two new banqueting houses hung with rich tapestries and furnished with court cupboards containing gold plate set with precious stones.

After the Admiral had returned to France, the King and Queen went on a short progress, even though the King's health was now noticeably failing. His leg was paining him more than ever and, although he preferred to make light of his suffering, it showed in his face. He could no longer walk up or down stairs, and a mechanical hoist was needed to assist him. Norfolk told van der Delft that the King 'could not long endure'. Soon, he could barely walk at all, and an order was given for two chairs (called trams), covered in tawny velvet, 'for the King's Majesty to sit in to be carried to and from in his galleries and chambers'. His councillors believed his illness was incurable and would soon kill him, and were already plotting, each and every one, to gain control of the Prince.

Henry himself was aware that his end could not be far off, and he now made plans for the inevitable regency that would follow his death, since his heir was only nine years old. He was determined to exclude all foreign influence from the regency Council, retaining to the end his mistrust of aliens. At the same time, he was perceptive enough to realise that the general trend was towards a radical reform of the Church, and he showed himself inclined to favour those lords who supported it. As for the Prince, there was little doubt in anyone's mind that he would come to embrace the Protestant faith, and Henry wisely accepted that there was little he could do to stem the tide in this respect. Perhaps some of Katherine's arguments had taken root in his mind. He may well have sensed that his own era was dying and with it the last vestiges of medievalism: a new age was dawning, and it was his duty to lay a solid foundation for it.

But he was not dead yet; there still remained some life in that diseased body. The King's thoughts turned to his son, who had always been the chief delight in his life; now he sent the boy some presents, chains, rings, jewelled buttons, and other valuables, which prompted a stiff little note of thanks from the child.

You grant me all these [wrote Edward], not that I should be proud and think too much of myself, but that you might urge me to the pursuit of all true virtues and piety, and adorn and furnish me with all the accomplishments which are fitting a Prince.

December arrived. Despite the King's illness, a plot to get rid of the Queen and replace her with the King's daughter-in-law, the Duchess of Richmond (daughter of the impeccably Catholic Duke of Norfolk) was uncovered. It seems to have originated with her brother, the Earl of Surrey, who had instructed her on how to win the King's favour, 'that she might rule as others had done'. On being questioned, the Duchess managed to incriminate not only her brother but also her father the Duke. On 12 December, both men were arrested on a charge of high treason and taken to the Tower. The King was in no mood to listen to pleas for mercy; since the fall of Katherine Howard he had distrusted Norfolk, and welcomed this opportunity to rid himself of him: he had suffered enough at the hands of the Howards. They could stew in the Tower until after Christmas, then he would deal with them as they deserved.

On Christmas Eve, Henry prorogued Parliament for the last time, and harangued both Houses on their attitude to religion:

Charity and concord is not amongst you, but discord and dissension beareth rule in every place. I am very sorry to hear how unreverently that most precious jewel, the Word of God, is disputed, rhymed, sung and jangled in every ale-house and tavern. And yet I am even as much sorry that the readers of the same follow it so faintly and so coldly!

Sir John Mason said afterwards that the King had spoken 'so kingly, so rather fatherly, that many of his hearers were overcome and shed tears'. It was obvious to everyone present that this would be the King's last public speech. A Greek visitor to England in the train of the Spanish ambassador reported that the English were 'wonderfully well affected' towards their monarch; they would hear nothing disrespectful about him, and the most binding oaths were sworn on his life. He was already a legend in his own lifetime.

The court was closed to all but the Privy Council and some gentlemen of the privy chamber that Christmas, a sure indication that the King was now in a critical condition. The Queen and the Lady Mary were the only members of his family in attendance. Two days after Christmas the Spanish ambassador told the Emperor that Henry's physicians were despairing of doing anything to help their royal patient, who was 'in great danger' and 'very ill'. His leg was agony, and he was running a high temperature. Reports that he had died already were circulating in the capital.

On 30 December, Henry dictated his will. He left his kingdom and his crown to Prince Edward, and after him to any posthumous heirs that 'our entirely beloved wife Queen Katherine' might bear him. Failing those, the succession should pass to the Lady Mary and her heirs, then to the Lady Elizabeth and hers, and finally to the heirs of the King's late sister Mary, Duchess of Suffolk. His antagonism towards the Scots had ensured that he pass over the heirs of his elder sister Margaret Tudor. The King was adamant: Mary of Scotland should never rule England unless it was as Edward's consort.

With the succession provided for, Henry now made provision for his widow. As token of his appreciation of 'the great love, obedience, chastity of life and wisdom being in our wife and Queen', he bequeathed to her 3,000 in plate, jewels and household goods for the term of her life. She could also help herself to as many of the King's clothes as she pleased, and they were worth a considerable sum. She would, in addition, receive 1,000 in cash and her dower and jointure, as decided by Parliament. Katherine would find herself a very rich widow indeed when the time came.

Henry then expressed his desire to be buried beside the body of 'our true and loving wife, Queen Jane' in the choir of St George's Chapel, Windsor, and left instructions for the raising of an 'honourable tomb' which would be surmounted by effigies of Henry and Jane, fashioned 'as if sweetly sleeping'.

He rallied a little after making his will, and was well enough to leave Greenwich and travel with the Queen to London on 3 January 1547. When they were settled in Whitehall Palace, Katherine did her best to carry on as normally as possible, and tried to counteract rumours that the King was dead or dying. At New Year, she had sent her stepson portraits of Henry and herself, and on 10 january he wrote to thank her, addressing the letter to his most 'illustrious Queen and dearest mother'. He had no idea that his father was so ill, and the King and Queen were anxious to spare him the heavy knowledge that the burden of kingship would soon be his.

On 7 January 1547, an Act of Attainder against Norfolk and Surrey was passed by Parliament. Surrey was tried at the Guildhall six days later, and condemned to death. He was executed on 19 January on Tower Hill, his being the last blood to be shed on the scaffold in Henry VIH's reign. Norfolk remained in the Tower, his fate hanging in the balance, while the King fought his last struggle with mortality. On 23 January, he announced the names of those men he had appointed to serve on the regency Council: Hertford was to be Lord Protector during Edward's minority, assisted by Cranmer, John Dudley, now Lord Lisle, Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, and others including the Queen's brother, the Earl of Essex, all of whom were known to be favourable to the cause of reform. When, however, someone suggested that Sir Thomas Seymour be one of their number, Henry cried out, 'No! No!', even though his breath was failing him. He knew Sir Thomas to be a self-seeker and a scoundrel, seeing clearly through the easy charm that so deceived others, and, of course, he had other, more personal reasons for resenting the man.

What killed Henry VIII was probably a clot detaching itself from the thrombosed vein in his leg, and causing a pulmonary embolism. On 26 January, he realised he was failing fast, and summoned his wife to his bedside. Then (according to William Thomas, who wroteThe Pilgrim: A Dialogue on the Life and Actions of King Henry the Eighththat same month) he thanked God that, 'amongst all the happy successes of his reign' and 'after so many changes, his glorious chance hath brought him to die in the arms of so faithful a spouse'. Katherine was understandably overcome with emotion, for she had become attached to this complex man who was her husband, and whom she had so unwillingly married. In spite of his appalling matrimonial history, he had on the whole been very kind and generous to her, and she had no reason to doubt the sincerity of his affection for her. Now it was time to say farewell, and she began to weep. Henry spoke gently to her, saying, 'It is God's will that we should part,' then he gestured in the direction of the lords of the Council who were waiting near his bed and said:

I order all these gentlemen to treat you as if I were living still, and if it should be your pleasure to marry again, I order that you shall have 7,000 for your service as long as you live, and all your jewels and ornaments.

At this, Katherine broke down completely, and could not answer. Henry ordered her outofthe room, not wishing to witness or prolong her distress.

On the following morning, the King saw his confessor, received Holy Communion, and commended his soul to God. He saw his daughter Mary and made her promise to be a kind and loving mother to her brother, whom he would leave as 'a little helpless child'. Mary, in floods of tears, begged him not to leave her an orphan so soon, but the King said farewell and dismissed her. On that same day, a warrant was drawn up for the execution of the Duke of Norfolk, but Henry was still incapable of signing it. Norfolk would, as a result, languish for six years in the Tower, before being released to serve yet another Tudor sovereign.

Old rivalries died hard. The King sent a message to Francis I, rumoured to be dying of syphilis - he died a month later - bidding him remember that he too was mortal. Yet Henry himself was loath to hear any mention of death, and as it was high treason to mention the death of the King, those about him were reluctant to advise him to prepare his soul for its last journey. At length, Sir Anthony Denny, one of the King's most trusted advisers, ventured to tell him that 'in man's judgement, he was not like to live', and urged him to make ready his soul for death: 'All human aid was now vain, and it was meet for him to review his past life and seek for God's mercy through Christ.' The King listened meekly, then replied, 'After the judges have passed sentence on a criminal, there is no more need to trouble him. Therefore begone.' At this, the physicians withdrew from the room. Henry spoke again: 'The mercy of Christ could pardon all my sins, though they were greater than they be.' His advisers and attendants said they doubted that so great a man could have any sins on his conscience, but Henry shook his head feebly. He refused Sir Anthony Denny's offer to send for someone to hear his final confession and administer extreme unction, saying he would have 'only Cranmer, but he not yet'. Presently, he dozed off.

Shortly after midnight, the King woke and asked for his Archbishop, and a messenger was dispatched to Lambeth. Meanwhile Henry grew weaker, before heaving a sigh and whispering, 'All is lost.' But then, just in time, Cranmer arrived. Henry was now beyond speech, and the Archbishop, speaking gently, 'desired him to give him some token that he put his trust in God, through Jesus Christ'. The King's hand lay in his, and Cranmer felt him wring it hard, proof that his master 'trusted in the Lord'.

The minutes ticked by as everyone in the room silently knelt in prayer. At two o'clock in the morning, on 28 January 1547, King Henry VIII 'yielded his spirit to Almighty God and departed this world'. He was fifty-five.

It was the end of an era. England was now to be ruled by King Edward VI, a child of nine, although few as yet knew it. The old King's death was not announced for three days, although Queen Katherine, now Queen Dowager, was told of it immediately. She seems to have gone into seclusion for a while to mourn her husband, for there is no mention of her activities at this time in contemporary sources, nor did she attend the King's funeral, but that was for reasons of etiquette - women did not attend the funerals of kings. The new King was at Hertford Castle when his uncle, the Lord Protector, arrived on 30 January to take him to Enfield, where he found his sister Elizabeth waiting for him. The two children were then informed of their father's death, at which news they wept bitterly and could not be consoled. However, when Edward had calmed down, Hertford paid homage to him as his new sovereign lord, the other lords of the Council following suit. Then the little boy was brought to London, where, on 31 January, he was proclaimed king, while the Lord Chancellor, with tears in his eyes, informed both Houses of Parliament of the death of Henry VIII. Early in February, the Lord Protector ordered the Council to send a messenger to Anne of Cleves to break the news to her.

On 14 February, the body of the late King began its last journey, conveyed in a coffin on a rich chariot covered with a pall of cloth of gold. Resting on the coffin was a wax effigy of the King dressed in velvet adorned with precious stones. The cortege was escorted by the lords of the Council, followed by a contingent of the King's guard. Behind the hearse trotted the King's riderless charger. Banners were carried aloft in the procession, but only two of the King's six wives were represented: Jane Seymour and Katherine Parr. Henry had not considered his other marriages worthy of commemoration.

That night, the King's body rested in the ruined chapel of Syon Abbey. There the lead coffin, weakened by the motion of the carriage, burst open, and liquid matter from the body seeped on to the church pavement. A dog was with the plumbers who came the next morning to repair the coffin, and it was seen to lick up the blood from the floor, just as Friar Peto had predicted back in 1532: that if the King cast off Katherine of Aragon and married Anne Boleyn, he should be as Ahab, and the dogs would lick his blood. Those who were witnesses to this macabre scene were understandably shaken by it, for the prophecy was well known and it was a superstitious age.

Two days later, Henry VIII's coffin was carried into St George's Chapel, Windsor, where a vast concourse of black-clad mourners awaited it. There in the choir lay the open vault containing the coffin of Queen Jane. Her husband's body was laid beside her amid 'heavy and dolorous lamentation'. Gardiner preached the funeral sermon, taking as his text 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord'; he spoke at length on the 'loss which both high and low have sustained in the death of so good and gracious a King'. As Sir Anthony Browne said afterwards, 'there was no need to pray for him, since he was surely in Heaven.'

At the end of the service, the officers of the late King's household broke their staves over their heads and cast them after the coffin into the vault 'with exceeding sorrow and heaviness, and not without grievous sighs or tears'. Thus did they signify the termination of their allegiance and service. Then the herald cried,'Le roi est mort!Vive le roi!'

Far away, the young King shed bitter tears. 'This, however, consoles us,' he wrote, 'that he is now in Heaven, and that he hath gone out of this miserable world into happy and everlasting blessedness.'

It would be true to say that Henry's contemporaries saw him as something more than human. One called him 'the greatest man in the world', another 'the rarest man that lived in his time'. He certainly possessed exceptional qualities of leadership and a charismatic personality. No king of England has enjoyed such posthumous publicity as he, and no king before him or after him ever held such absolute power, nor commanded such respect and obedience. This is the measure of the man.

In his capacity as a husband Henry's worst failings were glaringly obvious. The deepest, most abiding passion in his life was for Anne Boleyn, yet it was a destructive one, souring with the familiarity of marriage and leaving the King embittered. Her death was contrived for political reasons rather than emotional ones, and Henry did not scruple to get rid of her for the sake of expediency. It is possible to feel sympathy for him after his discovery of Katherine Howard's promiscuity, yet we must remember that his sorrow did not prevent him from executing an ignorant seventeen-year-old girl as a traitor. His marriages to Katherine of Aragon and Anne of Cleves were both annulled, and Katherine was treated with appalling cruelty.

The guiding motive behind his treatment, or ill-treatment, of these four of his wives was the King's very real need for a male heir, something that was always at the forefront of his mind. It should be remembered, in his favour, that Katherine Parr showed a very genuine grief at his death, and that - apart from one occasion, when it appears that Henry kept an open mind about Katherine's activities until proof was available - they were extremely contented together, as their letters prove. Nor did Jane Seymour find Henry less than a loving, if overbearing, husband. What turned the King into the ruthless tyrant of latter years was to some extent Katherine of Aragon's stubbornness and Anne Boleyn's ambition. Taking into account the ever-present problem of the succession, it is impossible to dismiss Henry VIII as the cruel lecher of popular legend who changed wives whenever it pleased him.

His subjects certainly did not view him in that light. He never lost their affection, even during his worst excesses, nor did he ever cease to exercise that charm and common touch that came so easily to his dynasty. Out of the ruins of his marriages and the monasteries, he founded a new church and corrected abuses within it, a policy which certainly found favour with the English in the long run. Although he was a Catholic to the last and rigorous in stamping out heresy, he had the foresight to realise that religious developments in England would lead eventually to a Protestant state - there is proof of this in his choice of the men who were to sit on the regency Council. When he died, he was regarded by his subjects as 'King, Emperor and Pope in his own dominions' and as the 'father and nurse' of his people. For all his faults, he would be remembered with love by them.