John Heywood's words had touched the sore place of his heart, and, in spite of himself, filled his suspicious soul with new doubts.
He mistrusted not merely the accused, but the accusers also; and if he punished the one as criminals, he would have willingly punished the others as informants.
He asked himself: "What aim had Earl Douglas and Gardiner in accusing the queen; and why had they startled him out of his quiet and confidence?" At that moment, when he looked on his beautiful wife, who sat by him in such serene tranquillity, unembarrassed and smiling, he felt a deep anger fill his heart, not against Catharine, but against Jane, who accused her. She was so lovely and beautiful!
Why did they envy him her? Why did they not leave him in his sweet delusion? But perhaps she was not guilty. No, she was not. The eye of a culprit is not thus bright and clear. The air of infidelity is not thus unembarrassed--of such maidenly delicacy.
Moreover, the king was exhausted and disgusted. One can become satiated even with cruelty; and, at this hour, Henry felt completely surfeited with bloodshed.
His heart--for, in such moments of mental relaxation and bodily enfeeblement, the king even had a heart--his heart was already in the mood of pronouncing the word pardon, when his eye fell on Henry Howard, who, with his father, the Duke of Norfolk, and surrounded by a circle of brilliant and noble lords, was standing not far from the royal throne.
The king felt a deadly stab in his breast, and his eyes darted lightning over toward that group.
How proud and imposing the figure of the noble earl looked; how high he overtopped all others; how noble and handsome his countenance;how kingly was his bearing and whole appearance!
Henry must admit all this; and because he must do so, he hated him.
Nay! no mercy for Catharine! If what her accusers had told him were true--if they could give him the proofs of the queen's guilt, then she was doomed. And how could he doubt it? Had they not told him that in the rosette, which the queen would give Earl Surrey, was contained a love-letter from Catharine, which he would find? Had not Earl Surrey, in a confidential hour, yesterday imparted this to his sister, the Duchess of Richmond, when he wished to bribe her to be the messenger of love between the queen and himself? Had she not accused the queen of having meetings by night with the earl in the deserted tower?
Nay, no compassion for his fair queen, if Henry Howard was her lover.
He must again look over at his hated enemy. There he still stood by his father, the Duke of Norfolk. How sprightly and gracefully the old duke moved; how slim his form; and how lofty and imposing his bearing! The king was younger than the duke; and yet he was fettered to his truckle-chair; yet he sat on his throne like an immovable colossus, while he moved freely and lightly, and obeyed his own will, not necessity. Henry could have crushed him--this proud, arrogant earl, who was a free man, whilst his king was nothing but a prisoner to his own flesh, a slave of his unwieldy body.
"I will exterminate it--this proud, arrogant race of Howards!"muttered the king, as he turned with a friendly smile to the Earl of Surrey.
"You have promised us some of your poems, cousin!" said he. "So let us now enjoy them; for you see, indeed, how impatiently all the beautiful women look on England's noblest and greatest poet, and how very angry with me they would be if I still longer withhold this enjoyment from them! Even my fair queen is full of longing after your songs, so rich in fancy; for you well know, Howard, she loves poetry, and, above all things, yours."Catharine had scarcely heard what the king said. Her looks had encountered Seymour's, and their eyes were fixed on each other's.
But she had then cast down to the floor her eyes, still completely filled with the sight of her lover, in order to think of him, since she no longer dared gaze at him.
When the king called her name, she started up and looked at him inquiringly. She had not heard what he had said to her.
"Not even for a moment does she look toward me!" said Henry Howard to himself. "Oh, she loves me not! or at least her understanding is mightier than her love. Oh, Catharine, Catharine, fearest thou death so much that thou canst on that account deny thy love?"With desperate haste he drew out his portfolio. "I will compel her to look at me, to think of me, to remember her oath," thought he.
"Woe to her, if she does not fulfil it--if she gives me not the rosette, which she promised me with so solemn a vow! If she does it not, then I will break this dreadful silence, and before her king, and before her court, accuse her of treachery to her love. Then, at least, she will not be able to cast me off; for we shall mount the scaffold together.""Does my exalted queen allow me to begin?" asked he aloud, wholly forgetting that the king had already given him the order to do so, and that it was he only who could grant such a permission.
Catharine looked at him in astonishment. Then her glance fell on Lady Jane Douglas, who was gazing over at her with an imploring expression. The queen smiled; for she now remembered that it was Jane's beloved who had spoken to her, and that she had promised the poor young girl to raise again the dejected Earl of Surrey and to be gracious to him.
"Jane is right," thought she; "he appears to be deeply depressed and suffering. Ah, it must be very painful to see those whom one loves suffering. I will, therefore, comply with Jane's request, for she says this might revive the earl."With a smile she bowed to Howard. "I beg you," said she, "to lend our festival its fairest ornament--to adorn it with the fragrant flowers of your poesy. You see we are all burning with desire to hear your verses."The king shook with rage, and a crushing word was already poised upon his lip. But he restrained himself. He wanted to have proofs first; he wanted to see them not merely accused, but doomed also;and for that he needed proofs of their guilt.
