“Not much of a life,” she said. “First married to Lord Borough…old enough to be her grandfather some say. Well, at least he had the decency to die when she was seventeen, but what did they do but marry the poor girl to Lord Latimer who had already had two wives before. He only died this year, and there she is thirty years old and at last free…or so she thinks. I'll tell you something… she had hopes of Thomas Seymour… yes, our Prince's own bold uncle … a fine upstanding gentleman, they say, and poor Katharine Parr head over heels in love with him, which is easy enough to understand.”

“It must have been his brother who carried me at Edward's christening,” I said.

“Thomas is quite different from my lord Earl, they say. Stern… that's Hertford… seeking high office, never forgetting for a moment that he is the uncle of the heir to the throne. Perhaps Thomas doesn't either…What a handsome man he is! I saw him once…”

“And is Katharine Parr going to marry him?”

“Well, they say the King himself has his eye on her.”

“It can't be. He's… old.”

“Who says the King can't do as he pleases? Will it be a crown for the widow Parr? I'll warrant she'd rather have a plain gold ring from Thomas Seymour. There is a certain risk to a woman who becomes the wife of your royal father. There! Forget I said that.”

“But it's true, Kat,” I said soberly.

My father married Katharine Parr in July just over a year after that February day when Katharine Howard laid her pretty head on the block.

Katharine Parr proved to be different from my father's other wives. I think the most noticeable of her qualities was her motherliness. She was meant to be a mother and she deeply regretted that none of her marriages with old men had brought her children. She mothered the King, which was perhaps what he needed at his time of life. He was fifty-two years old now, his indulgences had been many and he was showing his age. I suppose the death of Katharine Howard had a particular effect on him. He had been happy with her for that short time; she might not have been so exciting as my mother, but her docility and overflowing affection had pleased him; he had not really wanted to be rid of her, but he could be ruthless when he believed himself to have been deceived. His rude health was failing him now; his bulk was turning to fat and he had an ulcer on his leg which caused him great pain and made him very irritable. Katharine Parr knew how to dress it and he used to sit with his foot in her lap, which gave it some ease. She had had a great deal of practice in looking after ailing husbands, and she was very capable at it. The King was fond of her in a mild way, but that seemed to suit him nowadays.

It was that motherliness in her which brought her to beg a favor from the King. He had a family, she reminded him, and it was sad that they were not all together under one roof. Mary Tudor was a woman now; but the two younger ones, Elizabeth and Edward, should be together. She would be a mother to them and he should be a good father.

He gave way, and for the first time I found myself within a family. I was delighted. For one thing it brought me closer to Edward, who was not only my brother but the future King. I was at the time ten years old and every day growing more and more aware of what intrigues went on about me. I realized now that because of my position as the King's daughter the smallest event might be of the utmost importance to me.

The peaceful existence of those days was due to my stepmother's influence. Yet being young I quickly chose to forget how suddenly storms could blow up and it did not occur to me that anything could happen to disturb this newly found contentment. One of my chief pleasures was the company of my brother. He was somewhat pale and thin and not overfond of outdoor sports and pastimes, a fact which did not please my father; but he loved his books, and so did I. We used to run into the schoolroom even before lesson times and could not wait to get to work. We were different in some ways although we looked alike—both had the same white skin and reddish gold hair and bright eyes with a tawny look in them—alert eyes that darted everywhere and took in everything. Edward was perhaps more of a scholar than I was. He absorbed facts, stored them in his mind and never forgot them. He accepted what his books told him and never questioned anything whereas I hesitated over every problem. I was constantly asking the question why.

During this time, when Edward was about six or seven and I was four years older, we would converse together and I would express my doubts, which I was amused to see shocked him a little. Kat used to listen to us and say we were a pair of old wiseacres; and although we did not always agree we never quarreled. The love between us was great and growing. I think he was disturbed by so much responsibility weighing on his frail shoulders; he felt more insecure than I did and looked to me for companionship and even some protection.

Because of his importance he could not be taught by someone like Kat. To tell the truth I was getting a little beyond her myself. “You know more than I do,” she said ruefully on several occasions. The Queen realized this and consulted my father with the result that the most learned tutors in the land were found for my brother, and because I shared his apartments I was fortunate enough to share his tutors as well. There was Dr Richard Cox, the Provost of Eton, who was a very erudite gentleman, and later on Sir John Cheke himself came from Cambridge. He brought with him Roger Ascham, who was very interested in my work and wrote letters of encouragement to me.

There were many at Court who marveled at this intense desire for knowledge which my brother and I possessed; they thought it unchildlike, but Kat said it had come about because my brother grew so tired out of doors, but he never did with his books; and as for me, it was the manner in which she had taught me which had encouraged my love of learning. “I never forced you,” she said. “Roger Ascham once said to me, ‘If you pour much drink at once into a goblet the most part will dash out and run over; if you pour it softly you may fill it even to the top and so Her Grace (meaning you, my Lady) I doubt not by little and little may be increased in learning that at greater length cannot be required.' I remembered that, and I always made learning fun, didn't I? You and I could make of it a game which we could play together… until now when you have become so wise as to outgrow me.”

I said to her then: “And who is this wise man? Roger Ascham, did you say?”

That was before Sir John Cheke brought him to us and the first time I heard his name.

Kat said a little coyly that he was a friend of Mr Ashley, who was a gentleman friend of hers. “He is a connection of the Boleyns,” she added proudly.

I did not think much about Mr Ashley then because I was so absorbed in what was going on. A new tutor had joined us. This was William Grindal, a scholar from Cambridge—so we continued to have the best tutors in the land.

Our stepmother managed to spend quite a lot of time with us. She was deeply religious and believed firmly that the new Reformed Faith was the only true one; she talked of this so eloquently to Edward and me that he was completely carried away. I was less inclined to accept theories than Edward, though I respected the deep and genuine faith of my stepmother and recognized the validity of many of her arguments.

There had been a great upheaval in religion since my father had broken with Rome in order to rid himself of Katharine of Aragon to marry my mother. It was a time when it was considered unwise to discuss these matters too frankly because it was so easy to say something which was not acceptable to one group or the other. However I could never resist an argument and I stated that I believed there was only one God and one Church, and all this argument over different doctrines was a waste of time.