The Jenny Wilson Show (featuring Henry VIII and his six wives) (3 page)

“So, you wished to marry again to be a good father to your court?”

“It is my duty.”

“What about your pleasure?”

“It’s for my pleasure too. I like women. Their company soothes me, takes away from my cares. As king it was one of my pleasures to host feasts for the women of the court and even to make sure that the accommodations for those invited were fitting. From my earliest days I learned, as many men do not, that there is much to be enjoyed in women’s company. Katherine is intelligent and learned. I knew I would be able to talk to her. Having a queen’s household enables the young men of my household to meet the young women they will marry and makes their marriages more than just affairs of business.”

He paused briefly before adding, “In some cases, anyway, when their parents can agree dowries and suchlike. A word from me could usually help agreements along,” he smiled.

“But will she not be placed in danger from the factions in your court?”

“Not so long as she pleases me. I know how to look after my own. They came for Cranmer; wanted a commission to test him. So I appointed him head of the commission. Such a shame I was unable to see the faces of those who plotted against him as they realised that those whom I love are safe in my love. But I can guess!” He guffawed.

I opened my mouth to ask about Henry Norris and Thomas Cromwell but Ruth read my thoughts and said, “Move on from this, we can come to those he executed later.”

Henry continued, “One of my reasons for choosing Katherine, quite apart from her merriment and joy in life, is that she has no political following. Her role will be to guide my children and I can think of no one better suited. She is learned and wishes to learn more, she has sound good sense and her every action will prove the wisdom of my choice.”

“Sanctimonious fool,” Ruth muttered in my ear.

“Katherine?” I turned to see she was smiling faintly.

“Part of my difficulty in making the decision was the knowledge that I do possess strong opinions, particularly about religion,” she said. “Maybe it is difficult for people from later times to imagine but at the time religion and the opinions one held carried life or death importance. And because things were changing all the time, it was difficult to know what opinions were safe. It was a most exciting time because there was greater freedom than ever before to come to a conclusion that satisfied your own conscience rather than being told by the Pope…”

“The bishop of Rome,” Henry interjected.

“The bishop of Rome,” Katherine continued smoothly, “what to think. Discussions about religion coloured our lives. Was it simply reform we were about or was it about building something new and great?”

“Well, the Church of England still existed in my time,” I smiled. I thought of the bombings and assassinations that took place in the twenty-first century in the name of religion and wondered how much had really changed.

“I am proud of that,” said Henry. “But Katherine knows she need have no fear about expressing her opinions to me provided they are not heretical.”

“But how would I know whether they were true opinions or heretical thoughts? I am not the theologian you are.”

Henry preened. “Of course not, and I would not expect a woman to understand these things but to be guided by her husband. You will come to no harm if you allow yourself to be guided by me.”

“How would he have coped with feminism?” Ruth muttered in my ear.

“Of course, times have changed since you were on the throne,” I said. “In my day it is considered normal for a woman to make her own way in the world and to have her own opinions.”

“I am aware of these changes,” Henry smiled, “but, if you’ll forgive me, I’m not sure that is such a good thing for men.”

“But isn’t it a natural progression?” I asked. “After all, in your day women had the ordering of large households.”

“Indeed,” said Katherine, “I myself did.”

“Yes, but that is in the domestic sphere, which is right and proper,” said Henry.

“Shame!” yelled a woman in the audience.

Henry blinked, surprised.

“Women’s rights is a subject that raises considerable passion,” I hastened to intervene.

“Passions which could be better spent with their husbands, perhaps,” he did a quick flash of the eyebrows as he said the words, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“The audience, particularly those from later eras, must forgive me,” he continued. “In my time a woman’s role was to ornament her husband, to provide him with sons and to follow the teachings of St Paul and be obedient. I know that things have changed but I must be as I am.”

“This is boring,” snapped Julian in my ear, “and you’re allowing him to get away with being a pompous arse. Do something!”

For myself, I thought that allowing the audience access to Henry’s innermost thoughts, particularly where mindsets didn’t meet was helpful but my inability to argue with him gave Julian the advantage. I blinked, helpless, as I searched for words, the earthly feeling of a dried-up mouth returning as if I had never left my body. It felt like an age had passed before my mind began working again and I thought of a question to ask.

“So, Henry, as we’ve mentioned you had been married five times before you proposed to Katherine. Perhaps the crux of Katherine’s dilemma is what makes you think a sixth marriage will be any more successful than your previous five?”

“Good question,” breathed Ruth.

“Ah, because the lady is far too modest to rely on her own virtues in making it a success?” Henry smiled.

I nodded.

“Well, although I have hopes of a Duke of York to join my son in the nursery, I am conscious that as she has failed to bear children to her previous husbands it is unlikely that our union will be blessed by more children. So she need have no fear of succumbing to the perils of childbed and I will not renounce her for her failure to bear children. And, as I have said, her own personal qualities of good sense commend her to us as a wife who will be dear to our heart. I am confident I have made the right choice.”

“But isn’t it true to say that all of your previous wives were your choice?”

For the first time, Henry looked less than comfortable, he hummed and hawed for a bit before murmuring, “My councillors…”

“But sire,” I smiled, “would any of your councillors have gone against your wishes? They may have advised this bride over that but ultimately, wasn’t the decision always yours?”

He looked at me, eyes twinkling. “A hit, I admit it. When it came to choosing women to share my life, they were my decisions. But it is hard being a king when every family dangles the most beautiful of its daughters in front of your eyes. Princes marry for heirs but life is so much the sweeter if they can love and admire their queens as well.”

“That’s perfect! Stop it there and we’ll go to a break,” said Ruth.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen we’ll go to a quick break,” I said, smiling. “But make sure you rejoin us when you will get to meet the rest of Henry’s queens.”

“And cut,” said Ruth. “Great job Alice. Perfect line from Henry. ‘Love and admire’ is so rich coming from him.”

“I think we went to a break too early,” Julian said.

“Ah, it’s fine. They do it on sports programmes all the time,” said Ruth. “For anyone who knows what Henry did to his queens that’s the perfect high drama moment. Leave ’em wanting more, that’s my motto.”

“Yes,” said Julian, “but who, exactly is in charge here? Who is
directing
?”

“Well, you would be if you knew what you were doing,” said Ruth. “This isn’t TV as we knew it on earth, you know.”

I sighed.

“Was that it?” asked Henry.

“Apparently so. I’m as surprised as you are,” I said. “In fact, I think I need to find out what’s going on. I can hear what they’re saying,” I indicated my earpiece, “but I can’t argue with them, even though their bickering keeps putting me off.”

“Good luck,” said Katherine.

I was rather warming to her. You never see common sense listed as a quality people find attractive; perhaps it masquerades as something else.

I flung open the door to the control room to find Julian and Ruth standing and glaring at each other. He had his hands on his hips and had jutted his head forward aggressively. Clare had beaten me to the control room and was standing watching them with interest.

“When you two have quite finished squabbling,” I snapped, “could someone possibly tell me what is happening next? I am the one facing the cameras and I am the one who’s going to look stupid.”

“Going to?” Julian turned his glare on me. “You, my dear, are turning this into some kind of flirt fest. You have no control, no style and hiring you was probably the biggest mistake of my life!”

There was a silence.

“Figure of speech,” he muttered.

“We’re bringing Catherine of Aragon on next,” said Ruth, having flashed him a glare. “She’s got plenty to say for herself and lots of audience sympathy. You really can’t go wrong.”

“Other than both women out there have the same name,” I said.

“This entire show was a mistake,” Julian said. “What kind of man marries six women with just three names between them?”

“I’ve already spoken to them,” said Ruth. “Catherine of Aragon is happy for you to use her name in its original Spanish form – Catalina. Catherine Howard is happy for you to call her Cat. Anne of Cleves is happy with Anna. It’s all sorted. Nothing for you to worry about Julian.”

He glared. She winked at me.

“You’d better get on with it,” snapped Julian. “The sooner we get this over and done with, the better if you ask me.”

Gritting my teeth, I went back to the set, Clare in tow. Just what was the man’s problem? Whatever happened in our lives, post-life we are all equals. Oh, some have the remnants of earthly fame which makes people want to meet them; so they possibly look more than equal. Some people come from big families and are told when they’re met that there’s a family tradition that they all stick together, so they’re more insular, which might give them a sense of superiority. Then there’s the small matter of the competitions where winning automatically confers a sense of superiority but we are equal. Julian lost his right to snap at anyone when he chose not to be reincarnated. I remembered my own snappy comment with a wince, I didn’t have the right to behave like that either, whatever the provocation, even if I didn’t understand how there could be any provocation to begin with.

As I thought about it, I realised that I didn’t know how Julian had met his earthly end. That was unusual. The first person you meet is the person whose responsibility it is to come and greet you. At that point you are usually suffering from the biggest shock you’ll ever get in any life, so it’s usually arranged for someone you know to come and meet you. They explain the options and you don’t really think about how they came to be there to meet you because the chances are you already know how they arrived in the post-life phase. It’s when you meet the first complete stranger that you realise that, tasteless as it appears in life, you now define yourself by your death. After a while it stops being strange and is no different to defining yourself in life by the job you do. I knew Ruth had drowned; Mary who had got me this gig had been burned at the stake in 1556; Henry had died in his bed, Katherine in childbirth but I didn’t know what had happened to Julian. He looked too young to have died in his bed but that didn’t mean anything – he could be using incredible forces of will to hold his appearance. I didn’t know much about Clare either. I shook my head, I must have been told and forgotten: you couldn’t have mysteries in the post-life world.

Chapter Three

“OK Alice.”

“Welcome back to The Jenny Wilson show,” I beamed into the camera.

“Get on with it,” said Julian in my ear.

Was he trying to put me off? I ploughed on.

“In life, by the time Katherine Parr had to decide whether or not to accept Henry’s proposal, four out of his five previous wives were dead. She had to rely on gossip and supposition…”

“Unsubstantiated facts or something that is supposed, hmmm, I think you might be being a tad tautological there,” murmured Julian.

“Whereas now she can hear the story of their marriages from Henry’s earlier queens. Please give a big welcome to Catalina de Aragon, generally known to the English as Catherine of Aragon.”

The audience duly applauded as the doors slid back and a tiny woman appeared. She had long red-gold hair, blue eyes, a peaches and cream complexion and rosebud mouth. Her dress was a deep goldish brown with a simple pearl border and heavy gold chain. She smiled briefly at me and the audience before turning, curtseying to Henry and then taking the seat Clare signalled her to. She was very composed.

“You’ve appeared as you were when you first came to England,” said Henry.

“You haven’t exactly appeared as you were at the end of your life,” she remarked.

“But I did show everybody.”

She acknowledged the accusation with a faint smile, stood and went through the same transformation Henry himself had shown earlier. It wasn’t quite so dramatic, she simply got wider and her dresses became more jewel-encrusted and her headdresses covered more of her hair. They too were jewel-encrusted; the Tudors quite possibly were the inventors of bling. Finally, her dresses became shabbier and she became thinner and more hollow-cheeked.