side paths?' he asked harshly.

Culpepper blazed round upon him:

'How might I know? Why sent you no guide?' His vivid red beard was
matted into tails, his face pallid and as if blazing with rage. The
porter had turned them loose into the empty garden.

'Kat is sore hurt,' he mumbled, half in tears. 'Her arm is welly
broken.' He glared at the Duke. 'Care you no more for your own blood
and kin?'

Norfolk asked:

'Who is your Kat? Can I know all the Howards?'

Culpepper snarled:

'Aye, we may trust you not to succour your brother's children.'

The Duke said:

'Why, she shall back to the palace. They shall comfort her.'

'That shall she not,' Culpepper flustered. 'Sh'ath her father's
commands to hasten to Dover.'

The Duke caught her eyes in the fur hood that hid her face like a
Moorish woman's veil. They were large, grey and arresting beneath the
pallor of her forehead. They looked at him, questioning and judging.

'Wilt not come to my lodging?' he asked.

'Aye, will I,' came a little muffled by the fur.

'That shall she not,' Culpepper repeated.

The Duke looked at him with gloomy and inquisitive surprise.

'Aye, I am her mother's cousin,' he said. 'I fend for her, which you
have never done. Her father's house is burnt by rioters, and her men
are joined in the pillaging. But I'll warrant you knew it not.'

Katharine Howard with her sound hand was trying to unfasten her hood,
hastily and eagerly.

'Wilt come?' the Duke asked hurriedly. 'This must be determined.'

Culpepper hissed: 'By the bones of St. Nairn she shall not.' She
lifted her maimed hand involuntarily, and, at the sear of pain, her
eyes closed. Immediately Culpepper was beside her knees, supporting
her with his arms and muttering sounds of endearment and despair.

The Duke, hearing behind him the swish pad of heavy soft shoes, as if
a bear were coming over the pavement, faced the King.

'This is my brother's child,' he said. 'She is sore hurt. I would not
leave her like a dog,' and he asked the King's pardon.

'Why, God forbid,' the King said. 'Your Grace shall succour her.'
Culpepper had his back to them, caring nothing for either in his
passion. Henry said: 'Aye, take good care for her,' and passed on with
Privy Seal on his arm.

The Duke heaved a sigh of relief. But he remembered again that Anne of
Cleves was coming, and his black anger that Cromwell should thus once
again have the King thrown back to him came out in his haughty