IT WAS A FORTNIGHT later that the horseman brought the note to chambers, riding from Chelsea through the heavy snow that had lain for days. Henry was buried now, and little King Edward crowned. There was a tale that while lying overnight on the way to Windsor, Henry’s body had exploded, that stinking matter had dripped out and attracted the attention of a dog, fulfilling an old friar’s prophecy that the dogs should lick Henry’s blood as they had Ahab’s in the Bible. But that sounded too neat, and I doubted it had happened.
I was working in my room when the messenger arrived, while outside Skelly prepared a case for court and Nicholas laboured, inky-fingered, over a deposition. I recognized the seal at once. That of the Queen; the Queen Dowager, as she was now. I opened the letter, bright light from the snow-covered square outside making the copperplate lettering stand out on the white paper. It was brief, from a secretary, asking me to attend her the following afternoon at Chelsea Palace.
I laid it down. I had not expected to hear from Catherine Parr again; after that confrontation with the King, I had tried, so far as I could, to put her from my mind. But the King’s edict against my coming near had died with him. I had been sorry that Catherine Parr had not, as she had hoped, been appointed Regent, though glad when people said the King had been generous in his Will to her, as well as to the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth; each now had great wealth and status of their own. People said Catherine Parr might marry again, in time, and the name Thomas Seymour was mentioned.
I RODE TO Chelsea alone. Genesis plodded his way out of London slowly, for the roadway was covered with compacted snow and ice. Chelsea Palace, on the riverbank, was a fine new mansion of red brick, set in wide gardens which would be beautiful when spring came; I estimated it could easily house a staff of two hundred. The guards at the gate still wore the Queen’s livery. I was admitted, a steward taking me to the house. Inside, servants passed quietly to and fro, but there were no guards on the doors as at Whitehall, no sidling politicians. He led me to a door at the rear of the mansion, and knocked. A familiar voice bade him enter.
I followed the steward into a large room. I recognized some of the items displayed there from the Queen’s Gallery: an ornate clock, her box of coins which lay on the table beside a chess set. The Queen Dowager herself stood with her back to a large bay window, her black mourning clothes and gable hood contrasting with the snow-covered lawns outside. I bowed low. She dismissed the steward.
‘Matthew,’ she said. ‘It has been many months.’
‘Yes, your majesty.’
Her pale face was as attractive and composed as ever. In her stance I discerned a new relaxation, a new authority. Gently, she said, ‘I am sorry that your efforts to help me ended – badly. I know now who had the Lamentation. And what happened to you – and your poor servant.’
I wondered, did she know that I had lied to the King for her? I could not tell from looking at her, and I must not ask. ‘The book has been returned to you?’
‘Yes. By the Protector.’ I discerned a little bite in her voice at mention of the man who had taken the position she had hoped for. She added, ‘I plan to publish it later this year.’
I looked at her, surprised. ‘Is that – safe, your majesty?’
‘Quite safe, now. Master Cecil has offered to write a preface. He thinks, like me, that the Lamentation of a Sinner may help some suffering souls to salvation. He remains a good friend.’
‘I am glad. He is a young man of great talent.’
‘And you shall have a copy, signed by me.’
‘I – thank you.’
She came a step closer. ‘But I say again, I know what the search for it cost you.’ Her hazel eyes looked into mine and I thought suddenly, yes, she knows I told the King a lie: that I had been responsible for the decision to search for the book rather than telling him it was missing. Along with her uncle, whom I remembered Paget was to question the next day, and who must also have taken a share of the responsibility.
She said, ‘I will be grateful to you, unto death.’
‘Thank you, your majesty.’ There was an awkward pause, then I asked, ‘How fares Lord Parr?’
‘He has gone back to the country,’ she answered sadly. ‘To die, I fear. His great service to me last year was too much for him, ill as he is.’
‘I am sorry to hear it.’
She looked at me earnestly. ‘If he was ever rough with you, it was only through love for me.’
I smiled. ‘I always understood that.’
She moved over to the chess set. The pieces were laid out for a new game, and I wondered for a moment whether she might ask me to play. But she only picked up a pawn and set it down again. ‘It is because I owe you so much that I have sent for you.’ She smiled. ‘To offer you some employment, if you wish to take it.’