Struck With the Dart of Love

by Sandra Vasoli

  How could I possibly have foreseen, then, that the very existence of this book, with me as its acknowledged owner, announced to all that I had stepped beyond the standard?

  That I, Anne Boleyn, had become a religious dissident.

  Windsor

  October 1529

  At long last, I smelled a change in the wind, and that wind had now begun to blow in Henry’s and my favour. Although Wolsey had been banished from court, he had still returned to London, somehow assuming all would be as it had been in his role as chancellor. I marvelled at his seemingly oblivious comportment: forging ahead with business as usual despite his most certain awareness that the relationship between him and the King had gone greatly awry. A profusion of his letters of entreaty had been received by many individuals including Lord Suffolk, Bishop Du Bellay, Henry, and most surprisingly, me. He had implored me to have pity and speak favourably to the King on his behalf. How absurd! To this request, I promptly and politely responded via messenger that I wished him well, but would never presume to interfere in the personal matters between him and His Majesty the King.

  Equally encouraging was the introduction of Dr Thomas Cranmer to Henry and me. Cranmer, a theologian, and academic, had met the Bishops Gardiner and Foxe at Cambridge in August. During conversation over dinner at the house in which they all happened to be staying, Dr Cranmer remarked that as long as the King intended to pursue his answer through canonical principles, he would remain frustrated. Instead, Cranmer avowed, it was a matter of theology and Henry’s personal requirement to answer only to God which would ultimately lead him to the truth. When this opinion was reported to Henry by Dr Foxe, Henry was greatly impressed and called for Cranmer to come, as soon as possible, to court for an audience.

  9 October was noteworthy. A lovely, crisp and clear autumn day, I had taken a long walk near the woods of Windsor Park. As I wandered with Jolie racing forward and back on the paths, I admired the Scottish thistle which thrived in the fields nears the woods’ edge. Here, its leaves were a particularly dark green, and the crowning flower a brilliant purple tinged with blue. It was one of my favourite flowers, and its abundant growth gave the field a gorgeous, moody blue cast. I looked up when I heard the thud of horse’s hooves from behind me, and saw my brother cantering toward me. He reined his horse to a quick stop and as he jumped down to walk beside me, said “Anne, I have news! The most intriguing - the most amazing news!”

  “What is it, George?” I pressed, excitement growing.

  For an annoying moment he quite deliberately hesitated, taunting me with that brotherly look of ‘I know something - you don’t.’

  “What? George! Do tell me, you beast!”

  “Today, in London, the formerly great Lord Chancellor Cardinal Thomas Wolsey was charged in King’s Bench with the crime of praemunire … Anne – Wolsey is finished.” His eyes were fervent. “We have succeeded in exposing his treachery to the King. Now – now the way is cleared for the King to appoint someone who shares the same ideology like so many of us who are enlightened, and it will release the death grip the Church has on him. It will pave the way for your marriage, Anne!”

  My first reaction was elation. Yet, having been stung too many times, it was followed closely by a cautious sense of misgiving.

  “George, what a relief! And thank you, my dear brother, for riding out to find me. This is such a promising step. But, let us be practical – as long as he and Henry breathe the same air you know there is always a chance that the well-handed Wolsey will find a way to winnow himself back into His Majesty’s good graces. I dare not let down my guard. No, not for as long as he lives.”

  George and I walked slowly along the path, leading his horse, with Jolie following.

  “This is such a hazardous game we are engaged in, George,” I murmured reflectively. “‘And not one for the faint of heart, that is the truth.”

  I shivered unaccountably. I wound my arm through George’s as we carefully picked our way through the pretty blue thistle swaying in the cooling breeze.

  Each lovely plant that lay ahead of us bore vicious, prickly thorns bestowed upon it by God to ensnare the unwary.

  The remainder of October was marked by events of significance. By mid-month, Wolsey was no longer chancellor, having been required to relinquish the Great Seal, under his strident objection, to the Lords Norfolk and Suffolk. Possibly thinking it would help his eventual outcome, he pleaded guilty before the councillors and conceded all his many properties to his sovereign. Under the supervision of Stephen Gardiner, who had just been appointed Henry’s official Secretary, and Sir William FitzWilliam, Wolsey’s goods and belongings were removed from his houses and forfeited to the King. Wolsey, at the King’s command, was escorted by William Kingston to Esher, with just enough of his material items to make living tolerable. In total, it constituted quite a difference from the life of grandeur he had been accustomed to.

  Henry engaged in earnest consultation with his privy council which resulted in Sir Thomas More being appointed Lord High Chancellor of England. I knew not how this appointment would affect me or the advancement of the Great Matter since I was well aware that More was a devout Catholic. He was reputed to be an honest man, and kind, and I believed he was truly devoted to Henry. But the fact remained that he was dedicated to the Pope and the Holy See. And by virtue of that fact, it seemed highly unlikely his allegiance would rest with me.

  Greenwich

  October 1529

  Towards the end of October, the King and court returned to Greenwich. There, the first meeting took place between Henry and Thomas Cranmer to discuss the status of the Great Matter. Henry could not stop speaking of the fact that the erudite Dr Cranmer had shown him how the strategy he had been following to obtain a divorce was intrinsically flawed. In Cranmer’s opinion, it was not a legal, but a moral issue. And only through a code of morality would Henry find his truth. Henry, inordinately grateful for some true scholarly insight and understanding, at last, appointed Cranmer to his court, requesting of my father that he invite the theologian to stay at Durham House.

  It was what anyone would have described as a dank, chilly, and quite dreary late October day. The rowers were sculling the Lyon, Henry’s royal barge, on the Thames to the measured sound of tambours and flutes. On board, wrapped in thick cloaks against the raw mist were Henry, my lady mother, and me. Our destination, downriver, was York Place at Westminster, one of Cardinal Wolsey’s former residences. We were to inspect it in preparation for its complete renovation as a royal palace, and Henry had suggested that I might help him in defining the architectural plans for the new, magnificent structure. I was so thrilled and excited with the prospect that the day, although grey and raw, seemed to me to be full of sunshine and cloudless blue skies. We disembarked at the dock and walked toward King Street. From there we entered the building through the northern gate. I had never been inside York Place before, so I was greatly interested to see its current design, and how it might be suited for use as a primary residence for Henry and his court.

  Once inside, we stood on a floor gorgeously laid in imported, painted tiles of striking colour. To the right of the entry staircase was the great hall with its glorious carved ceiling, gilded in gold, silver, and brilliant hues. Beyond the hall, exterior doorways led to a large open cloister which featured antique statuary and marble fountains. Stairs from the cloister directed one to a series of chambers, including Wolsey’s former privy chamber, his bedchamber, and two presence chambers. From our entry point, and turning left, there was a large and beautiful chapel, ornately decorated, with a rich blue ceiling embellished with gold and silver stars, a fabulous altar with a crucifix of solid gold, and elegantly carved linenfold panelling on the walls. I looked about in amazement as I began to understand the extent of Wolsey’s wealth, and his love of ostentation. Apparently, the priestly vows of humility and poverty did not apply to Thomas Wolsey.

  Adjoining the Chap
el we came upon a further courtyard - lushly landscaped, fountains splashing, and trees skilfully espaliered against brick walls, all overlooked by the guest quarters above. Walking south, we discovered a long gallery with official chambers leading from it. The gallery windows looked out to a large orchard, planted with many varieties of fruit trees and shrubs, all carefully cared for. Throughout the house was a magnificent collection of fine furniture, tapestry, and plate. All now belonged to its rightful owner, the King. Still, for all its grandness, it seemed stifling, oppressive. I was overcome by a sinister feeling, standing in the deserted hall, looking about and imagining Wolsey seated in command, as if he were king or Pope. In truth, I couldn’t wait to escape and breathe fresh air.

  We emerged, looking west towards King Street again, and I drew in deep lungfuls of air, shaking off the repugnance of the interior. I knew what it would take to transform the residence into a palace worthy of Henry and his new sovereignty. I looked to him to share my thoughts, and as I did, we spoke almost in unison, exclaiming, “We must expand!”

  Completely in concert, we laughed and laughed.

  “If this is to become a functioning royal residence,” Henry mused, looking around, “it is much too compressed. There must be a way to incorporate the road, and include the property beyond. That will allow the palace private access to The Strand and directly into the city.”

  His gaze then rested on the narrow houses lining the road. “We will need to find a way to resettle the people living there before construction can begin,” he said. “And first and foremost, Milady …” He reached to take my gloved hand, bringing it to his lips, “we will renovate the Queen’s Chambers to provide you with the lodging you deserve.”

  I considered him with a look of love and gratitude. “I thank you, Your Majesty. Your kindness to me knows no bounds.”

  Henry’s eyes sparkled, and his grin was jolly. “Oh, don’t be too overly grateful - you will work for your reward, Mistress Anne. You will be responsible for overseeing all the designs and plans.”

  “It would be my greatest pleasure, Your Grace,’ I said with a slight curtsey. “We will soon see how well our tastes intertwine.”

  Secretly, I delighted in the fact that there was no space now, nor would there be in any new design over which I had control, for Katherine or her pinch-lipped ladies. At York, I would have Henry all to myself!

  Throughout November, Henry was kept busy with matters of state. He met regularly with the new chancellor, Thomas More, as well as with Dr Cranmer, who continued to work on a treatise regarding the Great Matter. Parliament was convened, and in the speech customarily given by the Lord Chancellor on that occasion, More seized the opportunity to denounce Wolsey and all he had come to represent. More made it clear that, under his appointment, the clergy would act with propriety and Christian temperance. There would be a return to the Commandments, and the values Catholicism represented.

  Taking yet another step toward their ultimate separation, Henry sent Katherine to stay at Richmond. Katherine’s daughter Mary was instructed to go to Windsor, maintaining a distance between the two. I remained at Greenwich, and Henry travelled back and forth, conducting business from York Place while Parliament was in session.

  At Henry’s bidding, I began to establish a household of ladies-in-waiting. Of course, there would be Anne Gainsford, who had served me for some months already. I was pleased beyond words to include my friend, Maggie Wyatt, while I also sought Bessie Holland, who was known to me since she was the paramour of my uncle, Lord Norfolk. Finally, I included Mistress Elizabeth Harlestone, with whom I was not overly familiar, but who was recommended. I felt confident that none of these women were sympathetic to Katherine, had no disagreement with Henry divorcing her, and most importantly, would be loyal to me.

  Henry returned to Greenwich to remain there through Christmas. I was overjoyed to see him again: this time after an absence of only a few weeks. Katherine had stated her desire and intent to oversee this year’s Christmastide celebration, as was expected of the Queen. Since she was Queen still, there was no way to dissuade her. So I was faced once again with the unpleasant proposition that Henry, Katherine, and I were to be under the same roof. The situation was growing unbearable, but I worked hard at concentrating on other matters.

  Since he had taken up residence at Durham House, I had become somewhat of a student of the very learned Dr Cranmer, and his tutelage largely consisted of engaging me in elucidating theological discussions. My respect and admiration for the man grew steadily, as did my knowledge of the movement which was destined to either reform the Church or prompt a separatist approach to religion.

  Henry had come to my apartments one evening, bearing two parcels, and looking very pleased with himself.

  “I have intelligence to impart to you, sweetheart, which you will find very, very pleasing,” he said as he sat next to me on a bench. I inhaled his scent as he came close. It never failed to captivate me.

  “Do tell me, Henry, I would delight in some good news,” I said, nuzzling closer to him.

  “Well, then, this is for your ears only. You may not share what I am about to tell you until I have done so first.”

  My curiosity was piqued, and I sat up, eyeing at him questioningly. “What could it be?”

  “I intend, my darling Anne, to honour your family and your father by creating him Earl of Wiltshire in the English peerage, and Earl of Ormonde in the Irish. And I will do so in early December.”

  “Henry, that is magnificent of you. How generous!” I threw my arms around him in gratitude.

  “And, Anne, here is something for you. We will celebrate the occasion at a grand banquet in York Place. You will hold the premier place by my side, and of course, you must be attired appropriately.” He went to the table and retrieved the parcels he had in hand when he arrived. With his broad smile, he handed them to me.

  “Oh, Henry! You give me too many gifts, my darling …” adding hastily, “I do love them all, though.’

  Quickly I unwrapped the first parcel to find a bolt of exquisite deep purple velvet. I looked at Henry with curiosity. Purple was reserved for the royal family.

  “I want you to use this when you have a new gown made for your father’s celebration, Anne. The greatest nobility of the realm will be present, and I wish to have you appear as you should – as my wife, my queen, my love. It is but a matter of a short period of time until this will become reality and I see no reason to pretend otherwise … now open the other parcel.”

  That I did, and could not believe what lay inside: a circlet of diamonds, large and clear in the candlelight; a singular strand suspended from the necklace, ending in a large and rare diamond which would hang just between my breasts. I looked up at Henry, speechless.

  But then, no words were needed. He gathered me to him, and we kissed: an ardent, sensual kiss which caused me to yearn all over again that he would soon be free so we could love each other as God intended us to.

  I looked forward to the honour which was soon to be bestowed on my father, and to the celebration we would enjoy as a result. The design of the gown I would wear that evening was especially stunning, and I worked closely with the tailors who were making it. My family was elated once Henry had announced Father’s elevation, and there was much discussion amongst the courtiers regarding this singular tribute.

  I knew not when, or even whether Katherine had been informed of Henry’s decision, but it became evident after a time that she had been. I avoided her as I always attempted to do, but my friends and allies told me she was anguished and doleful and took no pains to hide it from anyone in her company. I was aware that Henry was seen publicly with her on occasion. He felt it important to maintain convention while the Matter was still being debated. I did not agree, and had told him so, but had no choice but to defer to his way of doing things. I knew how much he now disliked being near to Katherine, and I assumed that if I
but maintained my composure, and he suffered mightily being in her company, surely he would put an end to the pretence before long.

  On St Andrew’s Day, Henry had planned to dine with Katherine. They never dined together privately anymore, only when some ushers, stewards, and other members of the court were present so the word would be spread that the King honoured tradition. To finish the day, however, he had agreed to have a private supper with me, and afterwards, we were to play cards with some of our favourite ladies and gentlemen.

  I was readying the servers for Henry’s arrival, when he unexpectedly entered the room, looking ominously agitated. I took his arm and firmly led him to a seat by the window and out of earshot. “What is the matter, Your Grace? Your concern is alarming.”

  The tone of his voice invited close attention from the staff. Anxiously I stood and led him from the chamber into a smaller anteroom. With furrowed brow and reddening complexion, he vented that he had been in Katherine’s company earlier in the day, whereupon the wretched woman had launched into a loud litany of grumbling and complaints, bemoaning that she continuously suffered the pains of Purgatory on earth.

  “She looked upon me,” he grated, “as if I were the Devil Incarnate, and accused me of treating her terribly because we never spent any time together – that we never dined together, nor did I visit her as a husband should, in her apartments.”

  “And what was your reply?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek to remain in check. It was the first time in weeks I had been angered enough to resort to such painful self-control.

  “I said she had no cause for complaint: that she is mistress of her household, and can do what she pleases. I told her that I am busy – busy with important matters of state which do not pertain to her. And finally, I said that, as to visiting her in her apartments and partaking of her bed, she should know I am not her legitimate husband, as innumerable doctors, canonists and theologians are ready to maintain.”