It should be remembered that at this stage Cranmer had not one jot of evidence beyond what he saw as his own logical conclusions that Katherine had ever committed adultery. But Henry's suspicious mind had also jumped to that same logical conclusion. He slumped in his chair, pierced to the heart; for some time he could not speak. Finally, he broke down in tears in front of the Council, weeping copiously and pouring out his heartbreak. They marvelled at this, thinking it 'strange in one of his courage' to show such emotion. 'The King has wonderfully felt the case of the Queen,' reported Chapuys. Indeed, from that moment onwards, Henry was an old man. The semblance of youth had gone for ever. On the same day, he left Hampton Court with a few attendants and galloped to Oatlands, even though the house was full of poignant memories. He remained there for some days, away from the public gaze and the court gossip, his pride broken, and his heart. He did not want to air his shame.
Chapuys thought the King might well be more merciful towards Katherine than her relatives, who had already abandoned her in an attempt to save their own skins. Only Norfolk, who perhaps felt to a degree responsible for what had happened, showed some compassion towards his niece. He was present when Katherine was informed of the charges of misconduct laid against her, and witnessed her hysterical reaction. He told Marillac that she was refusing to eat or drink anything, and that she did not cease from weeping and crying 'like a madwoman, so that they must take away things by which she might hasten her death'. Norfolk had already assumed that his niece would end on the block as her cousin had done, and it is obvious that Katherine herself expected it.
The Queen was not the only person affected by what had happened. Lady Rochford, who was guilty of aiding and abetting crimes the Council did not yet know about, suddenly realised the danger she was in and 'was seized with raving madness'. Since the two women were confined together, it was thought by many that the same fate would befall the Queen. Earlier on, before Henry left Hampton Court, Katherine had dashed past her guards and tried to reach him while he was at prayer in the Chapel Royal, but she had been intercepted by her pursuers and dragged screaming back to her rooms. She knew, as well as everyone else, that if she could see Henry she stood a good chance of being forgiven. But Henry knew his own weakness in this respect, and kings must not be seen to be weak. He had removed himself, and Katherine knew her case was hopeless.
At Lambeth, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk heard reports of the Queen's misconduct, and realised that it was under her roof that that misconduct had taken place. She also recalled certain incidents that tended to confirm what was being said. Nevertheless, she took a more rational view of what was happening than most of her clan. 'If there be none offence sithence the marriage, she cannot die for that was done before,' she reasoned. Yet she began searching the house for incriminating evidence, knowing that, if Katherine fell, the Howards would topple with her.
Cranmer was now certain that he could uncover evidence of adultery after marriage. When he visited the Queen in her apartments on 6 and 7 November, it was in the hope of wringing a confession of this from her. Without it, no one could proceed against her, for premarital fornication was neither a crime nor acceptable grounds for annulling a marriage. Knowing that much depended upon the outcome of the interview, Cranmer assumed his most paternal and solicitous manner. Afterwards, he wrote an account of what had happened for the King.
He found the Queen 'in such lamentation and heaviness as I never saw no creature, so that it would have pitied any man's heart in the world to have looked upon'. It was impossible to speak rationally with her in this state, and therefore he did not stay long. Katherine remained in 'a vehement rage' all night, and was still quite frenzied when he returned the next morning. Even Cranmer was shaken by her behaviour, and feared for her sanity. Yet he brought her hope, in the form of a letter from her husband, promising her mercy if she would confess her faults. When this letter was read to her, she calmed down a little, although Cranmer feared it was only a temporary lull. But at least they were able to converse sensibly for a while, Katherine telling him she was willing to do all he asked of her and that she would reply to his questions 'as truly and faithfully as she would answer at the Day of Judgement and by the Sacrament which she received on All Hallows Day last past'. Cranmer himself admitted later that he meant to frighten her by exaggerating the grievous nature of her offences as well as 'declaring to her the justness of your Grace's laws, and what she ought to suffer by the same'. Only then did he intend to extend the offer of mercy to her.
Yet Katherine was so distraught that he felt constrained instead to stress the 'benignity and mercy' of the King in an attempt to comfort her, sensing that any mention of the law might drive her 'into some dangerous ecstasy, or else into a very frenzy, so that the words of comfort, coming last, might have come too late'. When Katherine at last understood that Henry really did mean to deal gently with her, 'She held up her hands and gave most humble thanks to your Majesty, who had showed her more grace and mercy than she herself could have hoped for.' After that, she became 'more temperate and moderate', even though she did not cease sobbing and weeping, and at one point, when panic hit her once more, she started screaming. The Archbishop was becoming familiar with this pattern, and tried hard to reason out the cause, doing his best to allay her fears while at the same time trying to glean more information. If she had 'some new fantasy come into her head', he said gently, she could confide it to him.
Gradually, Katherine pulled herself together. When she could speak coherently, she cried,
Alas, my Lord, that I am alive! The fear of death did not grieve me so much before as doth now the remembrance of the King's goodness, for when I remember how gracious and loving a Prince I had, I cannot but sorrow. But this sudden mercy, more than I could have looked for, maketh mine offences to appear before mine eyes much more heinous than they did before. And the more I consider the greatness of his mercy, the more I do sorrow in my heart that I should so misorder myself against his Majesty.
And she wept so bitterly that nothing Cranmer could say would comfort her. Eventually, she calmed down, and he left her to rest until the evening.
When he returned, she was still relatively calm, and they talked awhile, he giving her words of comfort, but at six o'clock she again grew hysterical, remembering that at that hour Master Heneage usually brought her news of the King and a loving message from him.
Cranmer did not obtain a great deal of information from Katherine about her liaison with Dereham before her marriage, but he did learn enough to conclude that there had probably been some kind of precontract between them that would invalidate Katherine's marriage to the King, even though Katherine herself 'thinks it to have been no contract'. The Archbishop obtained a written declaration or confession from her, describing what had passed between her and Dereham, but, after he had left, she sent word to say that she wished to change it. On Cranmer's return, she insisted that Dereham had in fact raped her with 'importunate force', and that she had not at any time freely consented to intercourse with him. Cranmer knew, of course, that she was lying, and suspected she might well have lied about other things, such as whether or not she had betrayed the King after her marriage. He warned her that her life was forfeit - although there was no legal basis for this statement - and reminded her again that the King was prepared to be merciful. Her written confession of her fault and her plea for her husband's forgiveness might soften Henry's heart. It was her only hope.
The Queen's confession did not satisfy Cranmer. In it, Katherine declared that Dereham had 'many times moved me unto the question of matrimony', but she had never accepted any of his proposals. She had neither willingly indulged in illicit intercourse with him, nor had she said the words alleged by Mary Hall to have been spoken by her to Dereham, 'I promise you I do love you with all my heart.' She was also sure she had never promised by her faith and troth that she would have no other husband but him. She was too naive to realise that by admitting to a precontract she could have saved he
r life, for if she had never been the King's legal wife, she could not be accused of adultery, which she now realised they were trying to prove. Instead she seems to have felt that confessing to the existence of a precontract would somehow prejudice her case. She had certainly been affectionate towards her lover, for she had given him a collar and sleeves for a shirt, which had been made by 'Clinton's wife of Lambeth', as well as a silver bracelet, although she accused him of snatching the latter from her and keeping it in spite of her protests. A ruby ring found by the King's men in Dereham's possession was 'none of hers'.
The news that Dereham, Manox and other members of the Duchess of Norfolk's household had been arrested a day or so previously and imprisoned in the Tower was enough to send her into another paroxysm of hysterical panic, yet it also constrained her to be more truthful. Dereham, she continued, had given her presents, mainly lovers' tokens. 'He knew of a little woman in London with a crooked back, who was skilled in making flowers of silk,' who made him a French fennel to give to Katherine, and later a heart's-ease for a New Year's present, although the Dowager Duchess returned it to him, considering it a most improper gift. Yet Dereham was not put off. He bought some sarcenet, which Katherine had had made up into a quilted cap by the Duchess's embroiderer, a man surnamed Rose. Although Katherine had not specified any particular pattern, Mr Rose decorated the cap with friars' knots, which were a symbol of true love. When Dereham saw it, he exclaimed, 'What, wife, here be friars' knots for Francis!' The fact that he was used to addressing her as 'wife' was taken to be strongly indicative of a precontract between them.
These, then, were the only gifts that passed between the lovers, except for 10.00 that Dereham gave to the Queen during the recent progress - for what purpose is not specified. There was also the matter of 100 he left with her when he went away from the household at Lambeth to seek his fortune in Ireland, where he is thought to have turned to piracy. This money was the bulk of his savings, and he entrusted it to Katherine, saying that, if he did not return, 'I was to consider it as my own.' To Cranmer and others, this argued an established relationship based on a firm understanding that the young couple would marry some day.
When Katherine was asked whether she had called Dereham husband and he had called her wife, she answered that it was common gossip in the household that they would marry; some of Dereham's rivals - a reference to Manox, perhaps - were very jealous of him, and it pleased him to flaunt his conquest in their faces. He had asked Katherine if he might have leave to refer to her as his wife; she agreed, and promised to call him husband. Thus they fell into the habit of using these terms.
Dereham seems to have been quite a ladies' man: he kissed Katherine openly and often, and did the same to many other women in the house. On one occasion, he kissed Katherine so passionately that those watching them observed 'that he would never have kissed me enough'. Dereham retorted, 'Who shall let [prevent] me to kiss my own wife?' Then the others teased him, saying the day would surely come when 'Mr Dereham will have Mrs Katherine Howard.' 'By St John!' said Dereham, 'You may guess twice and guess worse!' Katherine inwardly cringed at such talk, and asked Dereham what would happen 'an [if] this should come to my lady's ear?' But it never did. The Duchess was a neglectful guardian, and was either deaf to the rumours or deliberately ignored them. If she was confronted with something not to her liking, then she dealt with it, but otherwise she seems to have cared little for the moral welfare of those in her charge.
Katherine's confession next dealt with the delicate matter known as 'carnal knowledge', and dealt with it honestly and frankly. She confessed that on many occasions Dereham hath lain with me, sometimes in his doublet and hose, and two or three times naked, but not so naked that he had nothing upon him, for he had always at the least his doublet, and as I do think his hose also; but I mean naked, when his hose was put down.
On the nights he visited her bed, he would bring with him wine, strawberries, apples, 'and other things to make good cheer, after my lady was gone to bed'. He never attempted to steal the Duchess's keys, and nor did Katherine; the door to the ladies' dormitory was frequently left unlocked at night for a variety of reasons, so they had no need. Sometimes, he would arrive at Katherine's bedside early in the morning, and behave 'very lewdly', but never, she insisted, was this at her request or with her consent.
There was always the fear of discovery. 'What shift should we make if my lady should come in suddenly?' asked Wilks and Baskerville, two of the women sharing the dormitory. Katherine told them she would send her lover into a nearby gallery, and on one occasion was obliged to do this. When Dereham learned that Katherine might be going to court, he said he would not remain for long in the Duchess's household, to which she replied that he might do as he liked. She had felt little grief at the prospect of being parted from him, and had not shed a tear over it; nor had she told him - as alleged by Mary Hall - he would never live to say, 'Thou hast swerved.' Everyone that knew her was aware how glad she was to be going to court, and once she had left the Duchess's household and Dereham had gone to Ireland, she had not written to him. As far as she remembered, the last conversation between them prior to their parting had concerned Katherine's distant cousin, Thomas Culpeper. . Dereham had heard a rumour that she was going to marry Culpeper, ' and asked if it were true, but she denied it, saying, 'What should you trouble me thereabouts, for you know I will not have you; and if you heard such report, you know more than I.'
In mentioning Thomas Culpeper in her statement, Katherine unwittingly played into Cranmer's hands, for Culpeper was now at court, one of the most highly favoured gentlemen of the King's privy chamber. He was a cousin of the Queen on her mother's side, and Katherine had been fond of him since childhood. In fact, in recent months, that fondness had developed into something far deeper and more dangerous. Cranmer did not know this, but his suspicions were now aroused - he was, it must be remembered, searching for evidence of adultery - and he persuaded the Council to order Culpeper's arrest and detention for questioning.
Thus the evidence against the Queen built up. Cranmer sent her confession to the King on 7 November, along with the further statement alleging that Dereham had raped her by force. In the meantime, Katherine received a visit from some of the lords of the Council, who helped her to draft a plea for forgiveness to send to the King. It read:
I, your Grace's most sorrowful subject and vile wretch in the world, not worthy to make any recommendations unto your Majesty, do only make my most humble submission and confession of my faults. And where no cause of mercy is given on my part, yet of your most accustomed mercy extended to all other men undeserved, most humbly on my hands and knees do desire one particle thereof to be extended unto me, although of all other creatures most unworthy either to be called your wife or subject. My sorrow I can by no writing express, nevertheless I trust your most benign nature will have some respect unto my youth, my ignorance, my frailness, my humble confession of my faults and plain declaration of the same, referring me wholly unto your Grace's pity and mercy. First at the flattering and fair persuasions of Manox, being but a young girl [I] suffered him at sundry times to handle and touch the secret parts of my body, which neither became me with honesty to permit, nor him to require. Also Francis Dereham by many persuasions procured me to his vicious purpose, and obtained first to lie upon my bed with his doublet and hose, and after within the bed, and finally he lay with me naked, and used me in such sort as a man doth his wife, many and sundry times, and our company ended almost a year before the King's Majesty was married to my Lady Anne of Cleves, and continued not past one quarter of a year, or a little above.
This dates the liaison with Dereham to the autumn and winter of 1538-9, when Katherine was about thirteen; her affair with Manox belongs to the period immediately prior to that.
Now that she had declared the whole truth to the King, she humbly besought him to consider the subtle persuasions of young men and the ignorance and frailness of young women. I was so desirous to be taken u
nto your Grace's favour, and so blinded with the desire of worldly glory, that I could not, nor had grace, to consider how great a fault it was to conceal my former faults from your Majesty, considering that I intended ever during my life to be faithful and true unto your Majesty after; nevertheless, the sorrow of mine offences was ever before mine eyes, considering the infinite goodness of your Majesty towards me from time to time ever increasing and not diminishing. Now I refer the judgement of all my offences with my life and death wholly unto your most benign and merciful Grace to be considered by no justice of your Majesty's laws but only by your infinite goodness, pity, compassion and mercy, without the which I acknowledge myself worthy of extreme punishment.
When Henry read this abject plea, he was somewhat cheered. His beloved wife had not been unfaithful to him after all. Then Cranmer arrived, to inform him that, in his opinion, the Queen had in fact been precontracted to Dereham, and that her marriage to the King was therefore invalid. An annulment now seemed inevitable, but at least it would spare Henry from having to execute another of his wives.
In more buoyant mood, Henry returned to Hampton Court, where he 'socialised with the ladies, as gay as ever I saw him', wrote Marillac. He did not, however, see his wife. Then, on 10 November, on the pretext that he was going hunting, he returned to London, picnicking in a field on the way. At Whitehall, he sat in council from midnight until 4.0 or 5.0 a.m., and again the following day, remaining closeted for some time and only breaking for meals. Obviously a matter of great importance was under discussion, as the King did not often attend Council meetings, nor stay so long when he did. When they emerged, the councillors seemed troubled, especially Norfolk, who was not normally a man to show in his face what he was feeling. The court, which had now arrived from Hampton, was seething with rumours, not least of which was that Henry wanted to change his queen yet again. Marillac's master, Francis I, was anxious for Henry to take back Anne of Cleves, as he had already allied himself with the German princes and hoped that by such a connection Henry would see fit to join forces with him against the Emperor. Marillac was therefore working for a reconciliation between Henry and Anne, a sure indication that it was being taken for granted by most people that the King would soon be a free man. Marillac also reported a rumour that the Queen's physicians had told the King she would never bear children. This is unlikely to have been true, and was probably one of the wilder rumours current at that time. Not so wild was his supposition that Katherine would follow Anne Boleyn, her cousin, to the block.