Anne the Warrior

by Leigh Jenkins

  I looked up at Owaine, whose smile glowed. I knew it matched the one on my face. Anne had been busy.

  “This is good news indeed,” I said. “Is there any information on when the Emperor will reach Barden?”

  “He cannot reach Barden in less than three days,” the boy said confidently. “His army is moving too slowly.”

  I nodded but did not respond. This could still be a trick by Emperor Charles, moving his army slowly at first and then quickening their pace so that they might suddenly appear when they were not expected. But if they truly did mean to bypass York and make for London, he would move his army at a slower pace, letting them remain rested. But Anne had never given me any reason to doubt her or her resources.

  “You may go,” I said, waving away the boy.

  “See to the kitchen,” Owaine told the flustered youth, handing him a coin on his way out. “Have a meal and by the time you are finished we will have a message for the queen.”

  The boy nodded before ducking out. Owaine made sure the door was well shut behind him before stepping forward.

  “What are you Majesty’s wishes?”

  “How long should it take us to reach Barden?”

  Owaine thought for a moment.

  “If we kept up our pace, we could reach it tomorrow evening.”

  “I will not lie,” I said, easing myself into a chair. “I would not mind an actual bed tonight.”

  “If we rose early we could make Barden after nightfall,” Owaine responded. “Though it’d kill the horses.”

  “I imagine the queen has enough horses,” I answered, giving it a moment of thought. “Well then let us remain here for the evening. You will make sure we are ready to leave before dawn?”

  “As your Majesty commands,” Owaine said with a small bow.

  “And have the boy ride off this evening to tell the Queen of our arrival.”

  Owaine gave another smart bow and began to leave.

  “And Owaine?” I called out after a moment. I waited for the man to pause before speaking my order.

  “Make sure they send me up some supper.”

  ***

  The supper, meager compared to meals past, seemed extravagant in the wake of the past week of gruel. I was afterward conducted to a small chamber where, despite the straw mattress teaming with bugs, I slept soundly.

  I was awakened by candlelight and the soft click of a door.

  “Your Majesty?”

  I started, but it was only Owaine coming to wake me.

  “Please Your Majesty, we must make good time.” I nodded and allowed the young man to help me dress, pulling on the same dirty clothes I had worn the day before. I would have preferred a change – the doublet was especially dust covered and needed a good wash – but there was no time. I instead let Owaine finish the final buckle and we descended the steps.

  “Your Majesty,” a young girl said at the bottom, curtseying while holding out a tray with buttered bread and a small glass of ale. I took a moment to appreciate both, as well as the young girl’s flattering dress. In my time with the army, I had truly begun to miss the beauty of women.

  We rode hard for the rest of the day, the sun beating down on us and tiring out the horses quicker than I had hoped. Owaine pressed for us to stop for the evening, but I would not hear of it.

  “Your Majesty,” Owaine said, flinching with his need to disagree with me. “If we are on the road after dark we open ourselves to bandits, scouting Spanish, any number of dangers.”

  “And we will meet those same dangers sleeping on the ground.”

  “Yes, but with a guard, with some amount of wariness —“

  “Then we shall be wary as we ride,” I said, finishing the argument. Owaine sighed but pulled his horse up slightly to ride behind me once again.

  It was fully dark by the time the torchlights of Barden came into view. My men and I pulled up as Owaine kicked his horse forward, riding up to where he could be seen in the light.

  “Open!” he cried out. I waited for him to say more.

  “Who goes there?” called down a guard. I saw Owaine flinch. I wondered why he did not merely claim he came with me, but I saw him glance toward the darkness that currently surrounded us. For a moment I saw the world as he did. Full of darkness and the unknown, with enemies waiting to take me from every corner.

  “I have a message,” Owaine called back, his voice breaking slightly. He had never been a good liar, one thing I had always liked about him.

  “A message from the king!” Owaine elaborated. “And a gift from France for her Majesty.”

  His voice was stronger here and I imagined he considered himself quite clever for coming up with this lie. I sighed and began to ride forward. His dallying would do us no good; if there were Spaniards in the dark, let them attack.

  The guard peered toward me, now seeing my form and my men come forward from the darkness. It only took him a moment to recognize my bulk.

  “Ah!” he cried out, and then called down below him.

  “Allow in the - the messenger!” I had to hold back a laugh at this man attempting to carry on the ruse, but rode into the courtyard with as much dignity as I could muster.

  She was already on the steps when I got there.

  There was no polite courtier smile on her face, no demure blush as I looked at her. Anne instead gazed at me with the same wide smile that she had graced me with when I first met her.

  But now I could see that smile for what it was. Happiness at seeing me. Relief that there was someone here to help her. Knowledge that her cause – England – was not lost.

  I pulled myself up to the steps and, before I even thought about it, dismounted my horse and crossed the three steps it took to get to her.

  “I am most pleased to see Your Majesty,” Anne breathed out, belatedly dropping into a curtsey, kissing my hands as she knelt.

  “And I am most pleased to see you as well,” I answered, pulling her up. “And so happy with all that you have done for me.”

  It seemed little thanks, but Anne beamed at me, obviously elated with the praise.

  “I have done as much as I could in the name of Your Majesty,” she said, her accent still evident. But then she glanced up at me, happy and adoring, and all I could remember was all she had done for me, for my country and my family.

  “Shall I send for supper?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, nodding my head, making up my mind at last. “I think it would be better if we retire.”

  “Retire?” she asked, her eyes growing, the candlelight catching her dark pupils.

  “Yes, if you would care to attend to me this evening?”

  Anne peered at me for a moment before smiling.

  “I would love to,” she said simply, taking my arm. Without seeing anyone else, she led me quickly to her chambers, dismissing her ladies with a wave of her hand. Smiling at me over her shoulder, she pushed open the door to her bedroom.

  I could finally see in her what my fellow Englishmen had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  May, 1542

  The next morning I awoke and immediately reveled in the feather mattress beneath me, the heavy wool blanket wrapped around my legs and the heat from the still-burning fireplace. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew was I home.

  But when I did open them, I was met with a surprise. My hands were still caught in the long black hair, the first time I had seen it completely unbound since our wedding day. Beside me Anne lay on her side, head turned toward me and lightly snoring. I had never before known a lady who possessed the audacity to snore while in bed with me. I laughed quietly before rolling onto my back.

  The sun had just begun to peak through the windows and I knew we would not have much time left in bed together. I considered waking Anne to pursue better activities but thought better of it; one thing I had experience with was virgins and had found that most were too sore to give any real affection the next day. Instead, I turned my head and looked down at the girl next to me.r />
  Now in the light of day I could see what I had feared. It was true, what I had said when we were first married, that she did possess a flabby stomach, and her teeth still left something to be desired. But regular changes of clothes, eating with a traveling army at war time, an English complexion – Anne was now almost unrecognizable from the girl who had first stepped off the boat from Cleves. I let my hand wander back to her hair and enjoy the silkiness of it, fuller than any woman I had been with thus far.

  But as I let the long strands knot around my fingers, I had to consider. Was it Anne or I who had changed? Rolling back to face her, I continued my study. Yes she dressed better, had grown smaller, and her skin had paled. But underneath that still remained Anne, the same girl who enjoyed her food as much as I did, who could not see the point in cheating at cards, and who loved England as fiercely as anyone else I had ever known. A girl who last night had been attentive and happy to shower me with praise; to let me lead as she followed so willingly. But maybe now, those things were more important to me than her posture, her conduct at meals, and her words. Anne had proven herself to be a worthy queen. A warrior queen, even. I could now not imagine allowing anything to happen to her.

  Interrupting my musings, Anne awoke and turned to look up at me.

  “Good morning, Your Majesty.”

  I smiled. Her accent was evidently heaviest in the morning.

  “I believe you can call me Henry,” I answered. Anne merely blushed and looked away, not attempting to try my name.

  “We must rise,” she said after a moment. “Unless Your Majesty wishes to remain here.” Her eyes cut over to mine and she gave me a shy smile.

  “No, we should take this time to rest,” I said, not adding that I needed the rest from any such activities as well.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Anne said, allowing her head to sink further into her pillow. I let her lie there for a moment before taking her hand.

  “Anne, I must ask you something.”

  “Yes?” she asked, opening an eye to peer at me.

  “I must ask that you allow Owaine to escort you back to London.”

  Anne bit her lip, her eyes wide open now.

  “Have I done something to displease Your Majesty?” she asked.

  “No, quite the contrary,” I answered. “I could not imagine you doing more. But I fear for you. You have done well, but this is no place for a woman.”

  “Your Majesty, I know that I am merely a woman and will not inspire the men as you do.”

  Even I knew this to be false, as Anne was now the heart and soul of these men, but I did not interrupt.

  “And I know that you will lead these men to a great victory. I do not ask for any of these reasons to stay.”

  Here she looked down again, before continuing.

  “But Henry – can I not be allowed to fight for my country as well?”

  I could think of no way to tell her no. She could right now be carrying my child and I felt compelled to let her fight. Were not those words the very reason I loved her?

  “You are – a most unusual queen,” I said finally.

  “Yes,” she said with a small smile. “But I think that England is ready for that change.”

  Leaning down to kiss her, I could not agree more.

  ***

  The next time I was alone with Anne was on the battlefield two days later. She rode up to me on a gray stallion, her armor fit tightly over her simple dress and gleaming in the torchlight. Her hair was swept up behind her, braided intricately and out of the way. She carried a helmet that, like mine, had a crown wrought on top.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, bowing her head as she rode up to join me.

  “I thought you wore an old piece of my armor?” I asked. It was a fact I had secretly taken pride in, believing that it was my armor that had given her the courage to lead the men in London the previous year.

  Anne blushed, but nodded.

  “I did, I mean that I do, Your Majesty,” she said. “But it did not fit well enough for me to ride in. So I had it melted down and recast for myself.”

  “Ah,” I answered, making the guttural noise Anne often did. When I heard the sound come out of my own mouth I gave a slight chuckle, as did Anne.

  “Are you ready to ride?” I asked as we began to head toward the line.

  “Yes,” she said, her head nodding confidently. There had been a great argument in my chambers the day before, as many of the men argued that Anne could be seen on the battlefield but not lead the men herself. That it was too dangerous. Now that she could be carrying my child, I considered it dangerous as well, but allowed Anne to speak in her own defense.

  “I will best inspire the men if I am before them,” she kept repeating.

  “It hasn’t been done,” Henry Clifford snapped, who currently resided in Barden Tower. “I say that Her Majesty will do best if she speaks to the troops and then remains behind.”

  “They will follow me,” she argued.

  “They will follow the King!” Clifford responded.

  “Yes,” she answered. “But these men have followed me here. I cannot abandon them now.”

  I could not help but admire Anne’s sense of responsibility, one I had felt so many times. My mind made up, I had leaned forward.

  “Sweetheart, you may ride to the front of the lines with me,” I commanded. “And speak to the troops after me. Owaine will be with us. After the order for the charge is given, you will pull up and remain with him. He will conduct you to a vantage point where you can see the battle.”

  Anne pursed her lips, but knew that my decision had been made. She nodded.

  And now we rode together to the front lines, preparing to speak to the infantry that would lead the charge at dawn. In truth, I was happy Anne had put up such a fight, as it seemed to distract everyone from trying to keep me from leading the charge. Here on the hill, Anne would be in no more danger than back at the camp – the only way she would be harmed would be if we failed. I did not plan to fail.

  The infantrymen were already in place, pikes well prepared and armor settled. But I could still see their eyes as the sun began to hit the horizon. Reflected in those eyes were love and adoration – but I quickly realized that no matter how much they may respect and fear me, their adoration was saved for another.

  I turned to look behind me, at Anne’s smiling face, and knew my eyes had the same devotion in them as the rest. I smiled, pulled up, and – forgetting my planned speech – began to address the men.

  “Today we face an enemy who has come to rampage our home, bringing destruction to our shores and starvation to our people. You brave men have come to fight, to save your homes, your families, and your Queen. We will never forget the bravery that was shown to her in London, the devotion that you gave her. I know you will show her this same devotion again today. God save the Queen!”

  The cheer of “God save the Queen” began down the line of men until it was a thunderous chant. I turned to look at Anne, who seemed overwhelmed at the adoration from the troops. Turning completely around, I could now see the forces we faced. Twice the number of men. James and Charles safe on a hill far above the range of our arrows, the length of our spears. Their kings safe, their numbers large, they should feel confidant.

  But I could see by the shifting of their men, by the glances toward our line, that they were afraid. Hearing the chant of our men, seeing me and knowing for the first time that the king of England, the king of their enemies, was among his own men and leading the charge, this frightened them. I could see now why Anne was confident – my Englishmen held a love in their eyes that their opponents never could.

  I nodded to Anne, who prepared to speak her own words, drawing herself up high in the saddle.

  “My dear Englishmen! I know you have come here today to fight and defend our land from foreign invaders. From these barbarians who wish only to destroy our home. I have faith that you will follow our king and your own hearts as you rise to meet these men
in battle. God save England!”

  I bowed slightly to Anne before riding down the line to the cavalry. I would once again ride with them, Anne and Owaine remaining behind at the line of infantrymen. Anne would call their charge. Then the minor knights would lead the charge downhill as Owaine rode with Anne to safety.

  As I reached the cavalry, I motioned for Sir Henry Clifford to join me. He had married my niece five years prior; as family to me and the son-in-law of Charles Brandon, I knew he would be loyal to me at all cost.

  “Sir Clifford,” I said when he rode up beside me. “That hill, the one that holds the Emperor and King James, do you know that hill?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he responded, his eyes peering at me.

  “How many roads lead to the top of that hill?”

  Sir Clifford smiled, seeing what I was asking.

  “Three, Your Majesty. But two run out here, into the valley. You can see their entrances from here. Only one goes down the far side.”

  Now that I knew where to look I could see the two roads, both guarded but not heavily so. If we were to take the field we could ride up there quickly.

  However, by that time they would have escaped down the far side of the mountain. I turned to Sir Clifford.

  “Sir Clifford, I want you to take my four guardsmen who remain at camp, as well as a few longbowmen, and take the far route.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty!” Sir Clifford cried out before riding along to where the longbowmen were fortified along the far right flank. Our cavalry stood along the left flank, where the gently sloping hill might tempt some of the infantrymen to run. The right flank was a steeper hill, better suited for the bowmen who could pick off any men who fled their way.

  With this delay there was no time for any stirring speech once I reached the front of the cavalry. Seeing the Scots and Spanish begin their charge, I instead pulled out my sword and cried out, “For England!” Hearing the cry all around me, I looked to my right and saw Anne, her own sword out, echoing the cry, the men swarming about her horse to run down to meet their enemy.

  I kicked the tan horse beneath me and felt him respond. The front line of cavalry had already overtaken me, anxious to keep up with the infantrymen who had just reached the enemy, throwing themselves into the battle. I risked another glance behind me and saw Anne riding her stallion up and down the lines behind the fighters, screaming her own encouragement. Behind her was Owaine, and I could imagine his desperate cries as he tried to take her back to camp; it was the same desperate cries I had ignored so many times before. I turned back and saw the Scottish line of horsemen before me.