Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey by Adrienne Dillard Page A

interrogation she named the queen as a Protestant. The king ordered her tortured, but she refused to implicate the queen again. Tensions were high and I was relieved when the month came and went without my courses. I could go back to Greys Court and leave this tangled drama behind.

Oxfordshire, Rotherfield Greys:
April 1546 - January 1547
    I had left the court just in time. In July, as the mangled body of Anne Askew was being dragged out to the stake, her body having been racked until she could no longer walk, an arrest warrant was issued for the queen. Queen Katheryn had made the mistake of quarrelling with the king over something in the Bible in front of the leading Catholic at Court, Bishop Gardiner. Gardiner then delighted in whispering poison against the Queen into the king’s ear.
    Francis told me later: “Fortunately for her, someone dropped the bill of articles against her outside the door to her rooms and she was alerted to the plot. In her fit of terror, the king sent his doctor Mr Wendy and he convinced her to beg the king for his forgiveness. The next day she came into the king’s rooms and threw herself on his mercy. Of course, he never truly wanted to act against her so he forgave her right away and to teach Bishop Gardiner and that little toad, Secretary Wriothesley, a lesson, he neglected to tell them of the queen’s escape. When they came to arrest her, he slapped Wriothesley full across the face and yelled ‘Knave! Fool! Beast!’ They could not scurry from his presence fast enough.”
    Gales of laughter pealed from us both as we pictured the porcine Wriothesley waddling out of the king’s sight. His rise under Secretary Cromwell had been much rewarded, but I still thought he was a weasel.
    “Francis,” I heaved, breathless from my mirth. “I wish I had been there to see it.”
    He patted my belly. “But I am so glad you were not. The reformers were all terrified for the queen. Court has been a frightful place and I am relieved to know you are safe in our home.”
    I put my finger to his lips and then brought them to mine. After a deep kiss, I asked him, “But are you safe, my love?”
    His wary eyes stared into mine. “For you, I will do everything I can to keep myself safe.”
    And, as promised, he continued to stay in the king’s good graces and was promoted to Chief Steward and Keeper of the Courts in August.
    My pains came in the autumn, and as the leaves turned red and gold, our baby, Edward, made his debut. Born on the 12 th October, the same day as the prince and on the eve of the feast of St Edward the Confessor, it was only natural that he was named Edward. This labour was easy and the babe came with minimal fuss. He was a fair child with light brown hair and wide emerald green eyes. He took to the nurse’s breast the quickest of all my children by far.
    Court was at Greenwich for Christmas, but I was not ready to go back. Looking back now I am glad I did not go. The king, was closeted at Whitehall deathly ill. While the court was celebrating our Saviour’s birth, my father’s closest companions were preparing for his death.
    Francis brought news of his passing when he finally came home in February.
    “We kept his death a secret for three days while Lord Hertford rode to the prince. He took him straight to Enfield and told both Edward and Elizabeth of their father’s death. He sent for Mary and now all three wait at Court for Edward’s coronation. It is set for the twentieth of this month and your presence is expected.”
    I nodded. “Of course, husband. Edward is, after all, my half-brother. I would not miss it for anything.”
    He traced his fingers down my bare arm. My poor Francis looked exhausted. I hoped that he could come home for a while after the coronation, but I knew that it would not be possible. As uncle to the new king, the Earl of Hertford would be closest to the throne and all the reformers would be at Court working to influence Edward. Francis would be