The Miracle at St. Bruno's by Philippa Carr Read Free Book Online Page B

we shall be dancing in the big hall. The mummers will come, the bells will ring out, and the guns will boom.”
    “My dearest child,” he said, “let us pray that this will be so.”
    I was touched that he, whose sympathies were with poor Queen Katharine, could now be sorry for Queen Anne Boleyn.
    “Poor soul,” he said.
    “Many have suffered because of her, Father,” I answered.
    “Yes, indeed,” he replied sadly. “Many have lost their heads for her. Who knows when she will be in like case?”
    “But she is beloved of the King.”
    “So were others, my child, and what of them when they cease to inspire that love? Many now rest in their quiet graves. When my time comes I should like to lie in the Abbey burial grounds. I spoke to Brother John about it. He thinks it can be arranged.”
    “Father, I forbid you to talk of death! And it all began by talking of birth!”
    He smiled rather sadly. “There is a link, dear child. We are all born and we all must die.”
    A few days later the royal child was born. We heard that the King was bitterly disappointed, for the child, though healthy, was a girl.
    There was rejoicing at her christening and she was named Elizabeth.
    “The next one,” everyone said, “ must be a boy.”
    Christmas came with its festivities: mummers, carols, feasting and the decorations with the holly and the ivy. We were growing up and the following spring I heard Elizabeth Barton’s name for the first time because everyone was talking of her; she was known as the Holy Maid of Kent and she had prophesied that if the King put away Queen Katharine and set up Anne Boleyn as his Queen he would soon die; and now that he had done so, many people were certain that he had not long to live.
    Brother John and Brother James came to see my father and the three of them walked about the garden in earnest conversation because they thought the Holy Maid could make the King realize his error. It might well be a sign from heaven, said Brother John. I don’t know what my father felt because he never talked to me about these matters. I realize now that he was afraid that I might, in my innocence, say something that would incriminate not only him but me, for young people could be deemed traitors. I understand now that the King was swept on by his desire for the woman who had fascinated him and his wariness with the Queen who no longer did. His senses were in command but he greatly feared the wrath of God toward sinners. Therefore he must convince himself that he was in the right. He must believe—what he said so constantly—that it was not his senses which dictated his actions but his conscience. He insisted that Queen Katharine’s previous marriage to his brother Arthur meant that she was not legally his wife because the marriage had been consummated, although the Queen swore it had not been. The reason his marriage had failed to be blessed with children—except one girl, the Lady Mary—was due to God’s displeasure, said the King. It was not his desire for Anne Boleyn which had made him demand a divorce from Katharine. It was his duty to provide England with a male heir. The new Queen had now one daughter and had proved herself fertile; the next child would be a son.
    So the King reasoned and there was no logic which could defeat his conscience. This I learned later, but at the time I forgot the brooding sense of insecurity for hours at a stretch.
    My mother did too. She was a gentle, pliable woman, who perhaps because she was so much younger than my father relied on him for everything and had few opinions of her own; but she kept our house in order and our servants were devoted to her; moreover she was becoming known as one of the best gardeners in the south of England. She was always excited when new plants were introduced into England; the musk rose had now arrived; and she grew that side by side with the damask. Corinthian grapes too had been brought from the Isle of Zante and she planned a vinery which