The Taming of the Queen

‘I shall release the men held on charges of heresy,’ he says to me. ‘A man should not be imprisoned for his conscience, not if he is questioning reverently and thoughtfully.’

Silently, I nod as if I am overwhelmed by the king’s vision.

‘You will be glad to know that a preacher like Hugh Latimer can be free to speak again?’ Henry prompts me. ‘He used to preach in your rooms, didn’t he? You can have your afternoon sermons again.’

I speak with meticulous care. ‘I should be glad to know that innocent men are free. Your Majesty is merciful, and a careful judge of what is right.’

‘Will you have your afternoon sermons again?’

I don’t know what he wants to hear, and I am determined to say only what he wants to hear. ‘If it is your wish. I like to listen to the preachers so that I may understand Your Majesty’s thoughts. It helps me to follow your intricate thinking if I study the fathers of the church.’

‘D’you know what Jane Seymour’s motto was?’ he suddenly demands.

I flush. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘What was it?’

‘I believe it was Bound to Obey and Serve.’

He bellows suddenly: a roar of shocking laughter, opening his mouth wide, showing his yellow teeth and his furred tongue. ‘Say it again! You say it!’

‘Bound to Obey and Serve.’

He laughs but there is no humour in his voice at all. I make sure that I am smiling, as if I am willing to be amused but too slow to understand the joke, as if I, as a dull woman, can have no sense of humour, but I am happy to admire his wit.

The admiral of France, Claude d’Annebault, who negotiated the peace with Edward Seymour, comes to Hampton Court for a great reception. The royal children, especially Prince Edward, are to welcome him. The king says that he is tired and asks me to watch that Edward does all that he should, and maintains the dignity of the Tudor throne. Edward is only eight, and torn between excitement and apprehension at the part he has to play. He comes to my rooms before the Frenchman arrives and asks me what exactly is to happen and what exactly he is to do. He is so precise, so anxious to be accurate, like a little astronomer, that I call my master of horse and my principal steward and we draw out, on a great sheet of paper, a plan of the gardens. Then, with his old tin soldiers from the nursery, we represent the arrival of the French delegation, and use little dolls to represent us, going out to meet them.

There are to be two hundred French gentlemen and the whole of the Privy Council and the court will come to meet them. We will house them in tents of cloth of gold in the gardens and we will build temporary banqueting houses for the feasts. We draw this little village on our plan, and we take another piece of paper and list the ten days and every reception, hunt, masque, sport and feast.

Princess Elizabeth is there too, and Lady Jane, and we laugh and call for bonnets and headgear and soon we are play-acting the arrival of the French. Edward plays himself but all the rest of us are Frenchmen and courtiers in great hats, sweeping exaggerated bows and making long speeches until we fail the masque with our laughter and have to be ourselves again.

‘But it will be like this?’ Edward asks earnestly. ‘And I will stand just here?’ He points at the platform that we have marked on the plan.

‘Why worry? Elizabeth demands of him. ‘You’re the prince and our Lady Mother is regent – whatever the two of you choose to do must be how it is to be done. You’re Prince of Wales, you cannot do anything wrong.’

Edward gives me his sweetest smile. ‘I shall follow you, Lady Mother.’

‘You are the prince,’ I say. ‘And Elizabeth is correct. Whatever you do is the right thing.’

The visit goes off just as we planned it. Prince Edward rides out with an escort of gentlemen and yeomen of the guard, all dressed in cloth of gold. He looks very small with the great yeomen towering over him, but he handles his little horse well and he greets the visitors with dignity in perfect French. I am so proud of his scholarship that I hug him on his return and dance him around my private chamber.

I report on his good behaviour to the king, and Henry says that he will meet the admiral himself, and take him to Mass in the chapel royal.

‘You have served me and my family well today,’ Henry says to me when I go to his room in the evening to tell him of the visit and the ceremonies, of how well Prince Edward acted as host in his father’s absence, of how proud we must be of Jane Seymour’s boy. ‘You have been as a mother to him,’ the king says. ‘Far more than his own mother, who never knew even knew him.’

I notice that tonight he speaks of her death as a dereliction of her duty. ‘You have been as a regent to the country today. I am grateful to you.’

‘I have done nothing more than I should,’ I coo.

‘I am glad that you are pictured with him in the family portrait,’ he says. ‘It is right that you are honoured as his stepmother.’