The Taming of the Queen

‘I know. I trust you completely. But there was something about the whole business . . .’ He breaks off.

‘Walk slowly,’ I say passionately. Already, we are approaching the first gateway into the palace and at any moment someone will come and take him away from me. ‘For God’s sake, let us have a moment . . .’

‘The Howards insisted that she came to court,’ he says. ‘They made me promise I would put her in your rooms. I couldn’t think why they would want that, unless to have her spy on you. I doubted their honesty, and she would hardly speak to me. She was furious about something. Clearly, she was coerced. She was very angry.’

‘So you’re still a free man,’ I say longingly.

Gently he presses my hand that rests on his arm. ‘I will have to marry,’ he warns me. ‘We need an alliance at court. We are losing our influence with the king, we need a greater presence here. I need a wife who will speak for me to him.’

‘I can’t speak for you but I would . . .’

‘No. Never. I never want you to say one word for me. But I need a wife here who can take care of my interests.’

I feel as sick as if I have indeed inhaled pestilential airs from the river. ‘You are still going to marry?’

‘I have to.’

I nod. Of course, he has to. ‘Have you chosen a bride?’

‘Only if you give your permission.’

‘I would be very wrong to refuse it. I know that you need a wife; I understand about court. I’ll come to your wedding and smile.’

‘This is not my desire,’ he stipulates.

‘Nor mine, but I’ll dance at your wedding feast.’

We are nearly at the doorway. The guards salute and open the doors. He will have to go to the king’s rooms and I will not see him until dinner. And then at dinner I will not be able to look at him. And then in a month, within weeks, he will be married.

‘Who is your choice? Tell me quickly.’

‘Princess Elizabeth.’

I whirl around and look at my stepdaughter, where she follows us at the head of my ladies, as if I am seeing her for the first time, not as a child but as a young woman. She is twelve years old, old enough to be betrothed. In a few years she will be old enough to marry. In one quick glance I imagine her as Thomas Seymour’s bride, on her wedding day, as his young wife, as mother to his children. I imagine how she will take to lovemaking and how she will flaunt her happiness. ‘Elizabeth!’

‘Hush,’ he says. ‘The king would have to agree, but if he does, then I become his son-in-law. It’s a brilliant match for us.’

It is. With painful clarity I can see the logic of it for the Seymours. It is a brilliant match for them, and Princess Elizabeth, when she is told of it, will pretend to obedience but will be delighted. She has a childish adoration for Thomas for his dark good looks and his air of adventure, now she will think herself in love with him and she will talk about him and coo over him and give herself airs and I will lose my love for her in jealousy.

‘You don’t like it,’ he observes.

I shake my head, swallowing down bile. ‘I can’t like it, but I don’t speak against it. I see that you must, Thomas. It would be a great advancement for you. It would secure the Seymours their place with the royal family.’

‘I shan’t do it if you say “no”.’

Again I shake my head. We go through the doorway into the shade of the entrance hall. The Seymour servants come to greet their masters. They bow and we turn towards the king’s presence chamber. It is not possible to speak, and everyone is looking at Thomas and commenting on the admiral’s return to court.

‘I am yours,’ Thomas says in a passionate undertone. ‘Forever. You know that.’

I release his hand and he bows and steps back.

‘Very well,’ I say. I know that he has to make his way. I know that Elizabeth is a great match for him. I know that she will adore him and he will be kind to her. ‘Very well.’

Thomas leaves the next morning before chapel and I don’t see him again.

‘Are you ill?’ Nan asks me. ‘You look . . .’

‘Look what?’

She scrutinises my pale face. ‘Queechy,’ she says, using a childhood word with a little smile.

‘I’m unhappy,’ I reply in a moment of honesty. I won’t say more but I feel a little eased just by speaking one word of truth. I miss Thomas as a physical pain. I don’t know how I am going to bear his marriage to someone else. The thought of him with Elizabeth makes my stomach churn as if I am poisoned with jealousy.

Nan does not even ask me why I am unhappy. I am not the first royal wife she has seen blanched by the strain of being queen.