Struck With the Dart of Love

by Sandra Vasoli

  By seven of the clock the next morning, we set out from Greenwich on the royal barge The Lyon and were rowed downriver to Gravesend, where we boarded the King’s ship, Minion. With an air of great celebration, we sailed in her to the Isle of Sheppey where we were to be hosted by Sir Thomas Cheyne and his wife, Anne, in Queenborough Castle, for several days.

  We docked at the mouth of the River Swale and were rowed by barge along the creek to the approach to the Castle, its towers and turrets illuminated by the late afternoon sun. I felt a pang of recollection at the sight – it reminded me of many of the chateaux in the Loire, in France. It was an impressive fortress. My excitement grew as we crossed the drawbridge spanning the moat, pages and yeomen scurrying to carry the baggage we would need for our stay. The castle was unlike most in England, it being of a circular design. The moat surrounded the curtain wall, with six mighty round towers stretching skyward, their decorative pointed caps each brandishing colourful standards which whipped in the sea breeze. Once inside the keep, we faced a rotunda of white stone. The massive doors opened, and we were beckoned within to centre court, a round room with soaring ceilings, adorned with paintings, ancient armoury, tapestry, and long tables. This chamber served as the great hall, but what was unique about it, other than its circular shape, was the well located in the centre of the room. The servants were able to draw fresh water from below to use in the chambers which ringed the rotunda. Henry’s face was alive with interest as he explored the space with Lord Cheyne.

  Our supper presented another surprise – we were served fresh oysters: raw, which Henry and Sir Thomas slurped happily, and baked – which I enjoyed far more. They were a specialty of the castle’s cook, being readily available from the sea. At the conclusion of the meal, we all stepped out into the keep, and from a viewing platform near the curtain wall, we watched a sunset wash the sky with primrose, and peach streaked with violet. Eventually, an immense orange moon rose slowly over the water, and we were enchanted. Our trip was off to a perfect beginning.

  We had a marvellous time at Queenborough with Sir Thomas and Lady Anne, who had had gone to great effort and expense for the honour of initiating such important travel for Henry and me. We were entertained with feasts and games which included the wealthy local merchants and their wives, and the nobility from the area. I was treated as if I had already been crowned, for Sir Thomas could not have been more solicitous, and her Ladyship constantly curtsied before me until, finally, I asked her to stop. She calmed somewhat when we spent the afternoon at the shooting butts together, practising our archery. It was great fun to enjoy friendship with another woman so enthusiastic about sport. While we sat and shared refreshment, she thanked me effusively for the intercession I offered several years prior when first her father, then her brother, died, and her wardship became a matter of argument between the then-unmarried Cheyne and Cardinal Wolsey. Wolsey of course, ever the arch manager, had wanted to be in control of Anne and her sister - and thus their sizable inheritance - but upon adept political handling by Cheyne, supported by my poignant appeal to Henry, Anne’s future ended up being determined by Cheyne, and her sister’s by my grandmother Howard, to the girls’ great relief. Shortly after that, Anne married Sir Thomas. To me, they seemed a most happy couple, and I envied them, just a bit.

  On 10 October, we parted from the Cheynes with great thanks for their hospitality and headed for Canterbury where we would meet with the majority of our traveling party to hear Mass in the Cathedral and pray for a safe, successful voyage. It was thrilling to see the throng of Courtiers and servants awaiting us as we arrived in that most revered of cities, and a great cheer was raised as Henry and I came into view.

  Following Mass, the King and I, the nobles and the yeomanry all proceeded to Dover. Approaching the great fortress, with its imposing tower looming at the top of the bleached cliffs, I cast a glance round about me. There I surveyed the peers of Henry’s realm, gorgeously bedecked, horses elegantly caparisoned, accompanying us to an ancient fortress which overlooked the sea, and all that on the eve of a triumphant return to France - the beloved home of my youth. I was filled with wonder at my good fortune.

  It had been some years since I had last seen the sea, and when we crested the hill giving rise to the castle, we all stopped and simply stared, enthralled by the dark blue expanse in constant motion, frothed with whitecaps, extending as far as the eye could see beneath the cliffs. That day the sky was clear and cloudless, yet a sharp wind buffeted us as we paused. I dearly hoped for such weather on the morrow to speed us to our destination and said so to Henry, who agreed wholeheartedly.

  We stayed that night in the castle, in lodgings on the second floor of the keep. I recall it being quite damp, musty and odorous from the constant moisture, and not at all warm. But I cared not, for we were to board ship at three of the clock in the morning, so there was little time for sleep anyway.

  Wrapped warmly against the cold and stinging sea spray, I hurriedly gathered my belongings as we prepared to leave the castle and descend to the dock in the deep of night. Torch bearers fore and aft led us through the dark stone corridor until we emerged to confront steps leading down to a lookout terrace. The night being clear, the stars formed a blanket of brilliance which ended abruptly on the horizon where, near invisibly, the sky kissed the sea. I caught my breath and uttered a little cry as I scanned the heavens. Bright and resplendent in the east hung a great comet, its fiery tail splayed across the sky. I tugged silently at Henry’s sleeve, and we observed it together, marvelling at its spreading silvery wake: God’s firework, in truth. I tucked my arm through Henry’s and squeezed. We both sensed it to be a powerful auspice and meant especially for us.

  Descending the spray-treacherous steps toward the dock, I kept my arm closely wound through Henry’s, both to steady myself on the descent and to share his warmth. The cold wind coming off the sea sliced through my heavy cloak. The dock was brightly lit with many torches, and it seemed there were servants and seamen everywhere, running loads of baggage and goods into the hold of the ship. While our fellow travellers assembled, hunched and discomfited against the blow, we were immediately guided by the captain to the plankway to board ship first.

  The Minion rocked in the swell. She was a graceful vessel, a four-masted carrack. Not one of Henry’s greatest warships but, still, she had made many voyages, not merely back and forth across the Channel, but also to more distant, exotic ports to trade in silks and spices.

  With us was Henry’s son, Richmond, now thirteen years of age, tall, angular of limb, and awkward. One could tell he felt very important, accompanying his father on this journey. I was amused to note his diffidence as he was saluted by the ship’s crew – he was, after all, their Lord High Admiral, appointed by Henry when only six years old. I knew my naysayers hoped the inclusion of Henry’s bastard, but beloved, son would cast a pall on the trip for me, but it certainly did not. His mother, the former Bessie Blount, was enduringly married to Gilbert Talboys and had been so for ten years, at the King’s arrangement. I had nothing to fear from this engaging young man - only the promise that since Henry had once got a son by Bessie, surely he would beget one with me.

  We were escorted to our staterooms, small though they were, and my stomach turned slightly from an unmistakable whiff of decaying mice, ever present in the holds of ships - but at least the tiny chambers afforded us privacy. I shrugged from my bonnet and cloak and joined Henry, Richmond, Suffolk and Lord Lisle for refreshment in the officer’s mess. While the remainder of our fellow travellers gratefully boarded, accompanied by seemingly endless streams of baggage, we drank ale, ate manchet and cheese, and waited impatiently to set sail. I partook of little, not knowing how the sway of the ship might affect me.

  At last, we were respectfully invited to make our way to the aftcastle, and beneath the slowly brightening sky, with the royal standards snapping and cracking under the press of the still-stiff wind, the rowers moved the great ship
out from the dock. The deckhands hoisted sail with such rapidity and skill that I was amazed, and when the keen blast filled them, we were off, heeling and skidding across the dark water.

  Cloaked in furs, Henry and I sat on deck, watching the sunrise and enjoying the thrill of sailing. Thankfully my stomach had proved as steady as a rock, and we’d held each other snug under the furs, savouring such warm intimacy while talking and laughing.

  Carried away by the moment I placed my lips close to his ear. “I, my darling Hal, have an announcement for you,” I whispered.

  At once Henry looked at me sharply, expectantly, and I realized I may have been less than adept at broaching the subject which so preoccupied me. For a heart-stopping moment, he must have assumed I would tell him I was with child. It was possible, I guessed, since we had been intimate, albeit merely a few times - but no, that had not been my intent.

  Suddenly taken by remorse over my clumsy approach, I hugged him tighter. “Henry, I understand what you hoped I was about to say, and although that is not my news right now, it will be soon ... No, it is that I wish to begin living as if we were husband and wife. I want to be with you every waking moment, darling - and every night as well! Why should we wait any longer? You know the gossips say that you are taking me to Calais to marry me. So let us live as if our joyous union has already taken place.”

  I held my breath, then, before looking into his eyes. “What say you, my love?”

  He leaned down just a bit so he could give me a tender, lingering kiss, and with both his look and his touch he gave me his answer.

  By midmorning, we spied the coastline. I trembled with excitement. Approaching shore, we could see a sizable crowd assembled to greet us, looking almost like an army, with knights and dignitaries on horseback and flags and standards held aloft.

  Once the ship was docked and secured and the deckhands had placed the plankway, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk disembarked to cheers from the French party there to greet us. They were followed by the Bishops of Winchester, London, Lincoln, and Bath. Next to leave Minion were the Marquess of Exeter, the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Arundel and the Earl of Oxford, the Earls of Surrey and Rutland, and Viscount Lisle. Sadly there was one prominent figure missing from that grand lexicon of nobility: my father, who remained at home in Kent, ailing. I felt badly for him, knowing just how much he would have enjoyed this trip.

  Henry, Richmond and I appeared at the top of the gangway and were met with a salute of cannon. We disembarked to huzzahs and waves from the large crowd. I was delighted, even though we were not yet in the French territory. Calais was part of the English Pale, lands, and marches which encompassed almost thirty parishes, all belonging to the English Monarch. We assumed our place in the procession which travelled through Searcher’s Tower, then through Lanterngate and on into the town proper, which was surrounded by thick stone walls. The parade paused in the busy, central marketplace, giving me a chance to inspect the square. It was lined with stone and timbered buildings which were clearly the nave of commerce; and merchants, barristers, and military officers hastened to and fro between them. Through narrow, cobbled streets we travelled, to arrive at the pretty Church of St Nicholas where we heard Mass, sung in French and English. At length, we stepped back out into the bright sun of midday and continued through the streets to a timber-framed building located well behind the market square: the Staple Inn, which was to be our residence while in Calais. Although my smile had not wavered as we walked those seemingly endless streets, I was mightily relieved to reach our lodging. I desperately needed a bath and a nap!

  Much to my pleasure, I discovered that my apartments were directly adjacent to Henry’s, connected by a series of small closets. I thought the arrangement would work very nicely. The rooms were most pleasing. Usually reserved for the governor of Calais, they had been thoughtfully decorated for our visit; Henry’s having a massive carved bed, with opulent hangings, as the centrepiece of his innermost chamber.

  That evening after we had been comfortably settled in, and supper served and cleared, Henry and I retired together. We neither drew attention to our exit nor did we hide it from those who were to stay in apartments close to us. It was a perfect opportunity to commence our new cohabitation, since the building was small by palace standards, thereby harbouring fewer prying eyes.

  In one of the wardrobe closets which adjoined our rooms, I slipped into a green silk damask chemise and dressing gown, had my hair brushed out, and then glided noiselessly into Henry’s fire-lit chamber. To say he was delighted to see me thus would diminish the truth of his reaction. His face slowly broke into a grin, and he came to me and gripped me in an embrace so tight I near suffocated. He had reigned over the pageantry of the day - the all-powerful commander of his territory - with shouts and cheers and cannon fire, but at that moment I looked into the shining face of the young man he was to me: that vulnerable, captivating, familiar face which I had come to know so well and love so much.

  I rejoiced in the chance to share with my Henry – my King - the passion and lust I had for him, held so long in check.

  Calais

  October 1532

  Seigneur de Langey greeted me with a nod followed by a courteous bow, “Madame la Marquise de Boulan …” I took note of his expression and saw that it did not reflect his usual joie de vivre.

  “Good morning, Seigneur Guillaume,” I replied. “To what purpose do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?”

  “Most unfortunately, Madame, I bear some less than happy news.”

  I detested bad news and looked at him guardedly. “And what might that be, Monsieur?”

  “The Lady Marguerite d’Angoulême has taken ill, Madame. We hope and pray she has not become ill with plague. You know it runs rampant in Paris, as well as in London, at this very moment. I am sorry to say, Madame, she will not be able to meet with you in Boulogne, as you had so wished. She is filled with regret since she had greatly looked forward to seeing you once again, as you did her.”

  “Oh, Guillaume! I am so disappointed! Yet even more, I worry for her. I pray she will recover. I am heartbroken because I may never have another chance to see her, mostly to offer my thanks for everything she so generously taught me. I wish to write and tell her how much I will miss her company and how I wish her a speedy and complete recovery. Will you convey a note from me?”

  “Of course, I will, Madame. I know it will cheer her to receive a letter from your own hand.”

  “Then I will have the letter delivered to you as soon as it is completed. Thank you, Guillaume.”

  As soon as he had departed, I sought Henry, who was preparing for a tour of the garrison.

  “Henry, I am disconsolate. My Lady Marguerite will not be able to make the trip to Boulogne. And she is ill, possibly to her death! I know not whether to be more disappointed or more fearful for her life. I pray for her well-being, but, Henry, I am so dismayed!”

  My lips trembled as I held back tears. Was this to portend the tone for the entire trip?

  “I am sorry to hear of her illness, Anne.” Henry stood while his grooms arrayed him with the equipment and attire necessary for the military inspection. When he finally looked up and saw the depth of my sorrow and my tenuous hold on composure, he waved them away and came over, drawing me to an upholstered bench where he took my hand. He was apprehensive, I could see.

  “Sweetheart, you know that without a woman of appropriate rank to greet you, you will be unable to accompany me to Boulogne to meet Francois, do you not?”

  He peered at me hesitantly with his lips pressed together, fearing an uncontrollable outburst, while I studied the floor, trying to regain some poise. Finally, I looked Henry straight in the eye and lifted my chin bravely.

  “So be it. If I cannot be received by a noblewoman whom I respect, then I will be greeted by no one. I will remain behind, here in Calais, and pray for Marguerite’s recovery.”
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  Henry smiled at me with admiration - and not a small amount of relief at my measured reaction. “Anne, when François and I return together after completing our state visit, you will reign over the celebrations as if you were my wife and queen. While I am away, please oversee the plans so the French will not soon forget their stay in Calais, as hosted by the English King and his Queen-in-waiting. I trust in your style and eye for detail, and with Master Cromwell to assist you, I can be certain that Francois and his nobility will be duly impressed.”

  “I will do precisely as you have asked, Henry. You will be most proud of your court and me in Calais.”

  I laid my hand on his cheek. “Do not tarry overlong, my darling, for I will miss you.”

  “And I you, my love. And I you.”

  The King and his company of noblemen took leave to meet with François and his courtiers for a stay, hosted by the French, in Boulogne. The remaining English company looked forward to reports forwarded from the meeting of the great Kings. We knew it was attended solely by men, and that there were frequent pauses in conducting business to allow for entertainments which included bull and bear-baiting, cards and gambling. There was ceremonial giving of gifts – fine horses, jewels, and clothing – and the awarding of honorary titles. The sons of the respective monarchs were officially presented each to the other King, being admonished that they now had a new royal ‘Father’, and must always honour, respect and obey him.