their handsome King to be a virtuous husband. What would they say if they heard the story of the King and Buckingham’s sister? They would laugh; they would snigger. They mightsay: Well, he is a King, but he is a man as well. They would forgive him his frailty; but he wished to have no frailty in their eyes. He wished to be perfect.
His eyes widened and Compton saw that they were the eyes of a bewildered boy. The cub was not yet certain of his strength; he had not yet grown into the young lion.
Now there was anger on the flushed face . . . vindictive anger. He would not send for the woman and there would be no scandal. Yet he would not lightly forgive those who had frustrated him.
He turned on Compton. ‘How did Buckingham discover this?’
‘It was through his sister – Your Grace may recollect that the Duke has two sisters – Anne, Your Grace’s . . . friend, and Elizabeth, Lady Fitzwalter.’
‘I know her,’ growled Henry. ‘She is with the Queen.’
‘A lady of high virtue, Your Grace. And much pride, like her brother.’
‘A prim piece,’ said Henry, and his eyes were cruel. Then he shouted: ‘Send for Buckingham.’
Compton left him, but Buckingham was not at Court. He, with Anne and Lord Huntingdon, were on their way to the convent which Buckingham had ordered should be made ready to receive his erring sister.
The King’s anger had had time to cool by the time Buckingham stood before him; but Henry was not going to allow anyone to interfere in his affairs.
He scowled at the Duke.
‘You give yourself airs, sir Duke,’ he said.
‘If Your Grace will tell me in what manner I have displeased you I will do my best to rectify my error . . . if it be in my power.’
‘I hear you have sent your sister into a convent.’
‘I thought she needed a little correction, Your Grace.’
‘You did not ask our permission to send her there.’
‘I did not think Your Grace would wish to be bothered with a family matter.’
The King flushed hotly; he was holding fast to his rising temper. The situation was delicate. He was wondering how much of this had reached the Queen’s ears and hoping that he could give vent to his anger in such a manner that Katharine would never hear of it.
‘I am always interested in the welfare of my subjects,’ he grumbled.
‘Her husband thought she was in need of what the convent could give her.’
‘I could order her to be brought back to Court, you know.’
‘Your Grace is, by God’s mercy, King of this realm. But Your Grace is a wise man, and knows the scandal which would be bruited about the Court and the country itself, if a woman who had been sent by her husband into a convent should be ordered out by her King.’
Henry wanted to stamp his feet in rage. Buckingham was older than he was and he knew how to trap him. How dared he stand there, insolent and arrogant! Did he forget he was talking to his King?
For a few moments Henry told himself that he would send for Anne; he would blatantly make her his mistress and the whole Court – ay, and all his subjects too – must understandthat he was the King, and when he ordered a man or woman to some duty they must obey him.
But such conduct would not fit the man his subjects believed him to be. He was uncertain. Always he thought of the cheering crowds who had come to life when he appeared; he remembered the sullen looks which had been thrown his father’s way. He remembered too the stories he had heard of his father’s struggle to take the throne. If he displeased the people they might remember that the Tudor ancestry was not as clean as it might be – and that there were other men who might be considered worthy to be kings.
No. He would remain the public idol – perfect King and husband; but at the same time he would not allow any subject of his to dictate to him what should be done.
‘My lord Buckingham,’ he said, ‘you will leave Court. And you will not present yourself to me until I give you leave
His eyes widened and Compton saw that they were the eyes of a bewildered boy. The cub was not yet certain of his strength; he had not yet grown into the young lion.
Now there was anger on the flushed face . . . vindictive anger. He would not send for the woman and there would be no scandal. Yet he would not lightly forgive those who had frustrated him.
He turned on Compton. ‘How did Buckingham discover this?’
‘It was through his sister – Your Grace may recollect that the Duke has two sisters – Anne, Your Grace’s . . . friend, and Elizabeth, Lady Fitzwalter.’
‘I know her,’ growled Henry. ‘She is with the Queen.’
‘A lady of high virtue, Your Grace. And much pride, like her brother.’
‘A prim piece,’ said Henry, and his eyes were cruel. Then he shouted: ‘Send for Buckingham.’
Compton left him, but Buckingham was not at Court. He, with Anne and Lord Huntingdon, were on their way to the convent which Buckingham had ordered should be made ready to receive his erring sister.
The King’s anger had had time to cool by the time Buckingham stood before him; but Henry was not going to allow anyone to interfere in his affairs.
He scowled at the Duke.
‘You give yourself airs, sir Duke,’ he said.
‘If Your Grace will tell me in what manner I have displeased you I will do my best to rectify my error . . . if it be in my power.’
‘I hear you have sent your sister into a convent.’
‘I thought she needed a little correction, Your Grace.’
‘You did not ask our permission to send her there.’
‘I did not think Your Grace would wish to be bothered with a family matter.’
The King flushed hotly; he was holding fast to his rising temper. The situation was delicate. He was wondering how much of this had reached the Queen’s ears and hoping that he could give vent to his anger in such a manner that Katharine would never hear of it.
‘I am always interested in the welfare of my subjects,’ he grumbled.
‘Her husband thought she was in need of what the convent could give her.’
‘I could order her to be brought back to Court, you know.’
‘Your Grace is, by God’s mercy, King of this realm. But Your Grace is a wise man, and knows the scandal which would be bruited about the Court and the country itself, if a woman who had been sent by her husband into a convent should be ordered out by her King.’
Henry wanted to stamp his feet in rage. Buckingham was older than he was and he knew how to trap him. How dared he stand there, insolent and arrogant! Did he forget he was talking to his King?
For a few moments Henry told himself that he would send for Anne; he would blatantly make her his mistress and the whole Court – ay, and all his subjects too – must understandthat he was the King, and when he ordered a man or woman to some duty they must obey him.
But such conduct would not fit the man his subjects believed him to be. He was uncertain. Always he thought of the cheering crowds who had come to life when he appeared; he remembered the sullen looks which had been thrown his father’s way. He remembered too the stories he had heard of his father’s struggle to take the throne. If he displeased the people they might remember that the Tudor ancestry was not as clean as it might be – and that there were other men who might be considered worthy to be kings.
No. He would remain the public idol – perfect King and husband; but at the same time he would not allow any subject of his to dictate to him what should be done.
‘My lord Buckingham,’ he said, ‘you will leave Court. And you will not present yourself to me until I give you leave
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