he King had done for her and hers, he
said, it was disgraceful that she should worry him as she had done for
years, putting him to vast expense in embassies to Rome and elsewhere, and
keeping him in turmoil with his neighbours. Surely she had grown tired of
her obstinacy by this time, and would abandon her appeal to Rome. If she
did so the King would do anything for her; but if not he would clip her
wings and effectually punish her. As a beginning, he said, they were going
to remove her to Fotheringay. Katharine had heard such talk many times
before, though less rudely worded; and she replied in the usual tone. She
looked to the Pope alone, and cared nothing for the Archbishop of
Canterbury. As for going to Fotheringay, that she would not do. The King
might work his will; but unless she was dragged thither by main force she
would not go, or she would be guilty of suicide, so unhealthy was the
place. Some of the members of the household were recalcitrant, and the two
priests, Abell and Barker, were sent to the Tower. The aged Spanish Bishop
of Llandaff, Jorge de Ateca, the Queen's confessor, was also warned that
he must go, and De la Sa, her apothecary, and a physician, both Spaniards;
but at her earnest prayers they were allowed to remain pending an
appeal.[111] The Queen's women attendants were also told they must
depart, but upon Katharine saying that she would not undress or go to bed
unless she had proper help, two of them were allowed to stay. For a whole
week the struggle went on, every device and threat being employed to break
down the Queen's resistance. She was as hard as adamant. All the servants
who remained but the Spaniards, who spoke no English, had to swear not to
treat her as Queen, and she said she would treat them as gaolers. On the
sixth day of Suffolk's stay at Buckden, pack animals were got ready, and
preparations made for removing the establishment to Fotheringay. But they
still had to reckon with Katharine. Locking herself in her chamber, she
carried on a colloquy with her oppressors through a chink in the wall. "If
you wish to take me," she declared, "you must break down my door;" but,
though the country gentlemen around had been summoned to the aid of the
King's commissioners, and the latter were well armed, such was the ferment
and indignation in the neighbourhood--and indeed throughout the
country--that violence was felt to be unwise, and Katharine was left in
such peace as she might enjoy.[112]