Catharine trembled. “What friend, John?”
“Archbishop Cranmer.”
“Ah, the archbishop!” replied she, drawing a deep breath.
“And is he all, John? Does their enmity pursue only me and him?”
“Only you two!” said John Heywood, sadly, for he had fully understood the queen’s sigh of relief, and he knew that she had trembled for another. “But remember, queen, that Cranmer’s destruction would be likewise your own; and that as you protect the archbishop, he also will protect you with the king—you, queen, and your FRIENDS.”
Catharine gave a slight start, and the crimson on her cheek grew deeper. “I shall always be mindful of that, and ever be a true and real friend to him and to you; for you two are my only friends: is it not so?”
“No, your majesty, I spoke to you of yet a third, of Thomas Seymour.”
“Oh, he!” cried she with a sweet smile. Then she said suddenly, and in a low quick voice: “You say I must trust no one here but you. Now, then, I will give you a proof of my confidence. Await me in the green summer-house at twelve o’clock to-night. You must be my attendant on a dangerous excursion. Have you courage, John?”
“Courage to lay down my life for you, queen!”
“Come, then, but bring your weapon with you.”