Boleyn And His Bloodline

by J P Ceark

  * * *

  When they arrived at the Queen’s rooms, Katherine was pacing up and down. The Queen’s agitation exposed herself in a way her ladies had never witnessed before. Maria and Julieta attempted to soothe her concerns but the court knew that Wolsey was angry. He had concealed it well from the King and had conceded to Henry Fitzroy being honoured with the title Duke of Richmond but he would punish those who had encouraged the King against his wishes. Wolsey was out to establish his authority once more.

  ‘What can Wolsey do to you, Your Majesty? The King will never allow him to diminish your position or status.’ The reassuring words meant little to Katherine; she feared a suffering, a loss of respect, a loss of royal dignity.

  Katherine spoke with her soft Spanish accent, more noticeable through her grief of uncertainty. ‘Henry is not without feeling,’ she tried to console herself. ‘But I know of his character and I know when he is suffering. He will make other people feel that pain — I have borne it a thousand times. He will not defend me, so I must endure it.’

  ‘Be still, Your Majesty. What is there to be done?’

  Mary sat with Anne and Jane, the three of them looking on with bafflement as the Queen paid small acknowledgement to them. Her presence chamber had been arranged with two thrones. Some ladies in waiting sat about on stalls playing musical instruments but nothing could soothe the Queen.

  ‘What’s done is done, it cannot be undone,’ Katherine stated. ‘I spoke in haste and anger towards my husband. I made him stand before me and explain himself, no man should be vilified by his wife. He would turn from compassion and sensitivity to condemnation.’

  ‘It was out of motherly love. Even a peasant would fight for her child to have food. If His Majesty was starving the Princess Mary, you only fought for her to be fed,’ Julieta said passionately.

  ‘Henry Fitzroy is a bastard, Princess Mary is legitimate; there should be no other debate on this matter,’ Maria voiced harshly.

  The door to Katherine’s antechamber was left wide open from when letters were being delivered back and forth. They awaited the Cardinal’s arrival and she knew he was standing beyond the corridor as the stones were lit red from the reflection of his silk Cardinal robes.

  A large entourage of men followed behind holding his cloth of gold and red satin canopy above him. The Cardinal asserted himself, sitting himself beside the Queen, his canopy secured over his throne. The Queen lowered her head slightly to acknowledge him. He bowed stiffly, presenting the same reluctant courtesy. ‘Your Majesty,’ he spoke with false sincerity as he sat in union with her. ‘On the action of your impassioned plea for the Princess Mary to have her own household, His Majesty the King has agreed and Princess Mary will be taken from court to establish her own.’ Katherine held her head and her tears back. ‘With all this additional cost, Your Majesty, I’ve had to rearrange the court and to dismiss members which are no longer required for use. Your Spanish ladies are to be dismissed and sent home. I believe there are five in total, all will lose their position and wage. I thought it best to inform you in person as to the unfortunate reasons why these reductions have to be made.’ He gave a meagre bow. ‘A motion has also been put into action to settle for peace with France. As you are aware, your nephew’s lack of consideration, reverence for your husband’s cause, is enough to abandon our union.’

  ‘Life is to be very different at court …’ Katherine replied meekly.

  ‘Aye, but these are necessary changes. I should state it is not just your ladies who have been dismissed; the Duke of Norfolk, his brother-in-law Thomas Boleyn, George Boleyn and many others have lost their positions in the King’s court. It is to lessen the burden on the Privy purse. There is, however, a happy event to occur in the coming weeks,’ Wolsey spoke and regarded the Queen’s reaction. He placed a fig into his mouth, delaying his speech to unnerve Katherine. ‘The King is to joust in the tournament, there will also be a dance and a ceremony. All to celebrate Henry Fitzroy’s new title of Duke of Richmond. The King is insisting you attend, Your Majesty.’ He turned to look at her, a smirk askew on his lips.

  ‘Aye, Your Grace. I understand it all.’ The Queen stood from her chair. Wolsey rapidly did the same. ‘I understand it all.’ She moved slowly towards her private rooms, shutting the door behind her.

  The Cardinal exited without another word but showed his pleasure by acknowledging Mary. He smiled at her as he retreated.

  March 1539

  Hever Castle

  ‘I dreamed of her. O the relief, but it was before King began to chase her …’ Thomas spoke with a wistful concern to his voice, as though searching for time and place.

  ‘Who do you speak of, My Lord?’

  ‘Mary! I speak of Mary! I have barely spoken to her, I know her not; I raised the girls to be independent in thought. I had not foreseen their rebellion!’ He was still sweating and burning. Muddled in his thoughts. ‘… I had lost my position as Treasurer; Wolsey dismissed me with overbearing pleasure but I hadn’t known the King was satisfied with me. He made me Viscount Rochford on the same day his son became Duke of Richmond. If I had known then, I would have spoken kindly to her. If only she would come, I would explain all to her and speak of my disdain …’

  ‘My Lord, I believe Cranmer will write of her progress. She is expected at Greenwich any day now.’

  ‘Which means she has been past Hever and refused to see me … She sees me burn in hell!’

  ‘Sir, the fever is still in its grip, be calm. Your daughter doesn’t hold you in any contempt and it is most likely she will come to you after orders from Cranmer. It’s wise council she seeks …’

  ‘Aye, I believe so. Tell me, Robson, I need to know my judgement. Have I done wrong?’

  ‘My Lord, I cannot answer!’

  ‘My rage was such that all I thought about was revenge at Wolsey but it was Norfolk who suggested Anne should seduce the King. I be against it! Remember that now … I be against it.’

  ‘I remember it,’ Robson lied, allowing Thomas to release his inner burden.

  ‘I’d heard a rumour that Anne had led the men of the court by the nose. I thought she could do the same with the King. Not to seduce him. She had qualities beyond base vanities. I believed the King would see this also and I could see gains against Wolsey’s tyranny … My intention was for the King and for England and later for God himself!’ he yelled out in noble delirium.

  Robson remembered it differently but could only feel pity for his condemned master. Thomas could not bring himself to admit his engineering of their family’s tragedy. It was a burden he wished to ignore.

  Robson applied a cold cloth to his master’s forehead and softly encouraged Thomas to shut his eyes. Thomas’s breathing relaxed; his mind then stilled from his tortuous thoughts.

  March 1525

  Hever Castle

  The knowledge of her in his presence irked him. He had returned from court keen to avoid her. He listened to the subtle creaks within the house, estimating her movements about the dwelling. He loathed being at Hever with his ever disappointed, disapproving wife.

  Thomas thought on an occupation but his bitterness diminished his motivation. Wolsey had made him redundant, a non-entity. He paced a little; it was an attempt to subdue the rising panic. His ambition dismissed for petty ego. The truth was far nobler but to express the sentiment before the Privy Council was to prostrate himself and gladden Wolsey’s superiority.

  A knock at his antechamber door disturbed his thoughts. He called out expecting it to be Robson, but it was Elizabeth with Catherine in her arms. He felt himself tense but then smiled, it was involuntary; the child’s sweet cherubic face softened his frustrations.

  ‘My lord husband, a Howard man just arrived, he’s in the Great Hall,’ Elizabeth spoke carefully. ‘Thomas,’ she addressed him with more affection he noticed. ‘My brother is not far behind …’ She lowered her head but then raised it as if to find strength. ‘Whatever his schemes, send him away.’

 
Thomas took little Catherine from her. He made a grim face, causing the child to giggle. ‘I know my own mind, I don’t need your council.’

  ‘Aye, My Lord,’ she replied sharply.

  He kissed Catherine’s cheek and returned her to Elizabeth. ‘I mean not to find fault in it though,’ he added with consideration. ‘It’s just my time is better served at court.’

  ‘As you think,’ she replied bitterly, igniting his raw anger.

  ‘Our household needs a steady cashflow, my wage from court is gone! Rent from tenants won’t go far enough. Without a position at court I will have to sell off land and woodland. I’ll lose my standing within the county, my authority. Without King Henry’s favour, I’m ruined … If the Duke, your brother, has a scheme to re-establish ourselves, it must be pursued … by whatever means.’ His mind flicked with the memory of the Duke’s last scheme. ‘Is Mary at Beaulieu?’

  ‘Aye, My Lord.’

  He gathered his fur-lined jacket about him and placed gold around his neck and upon his fingers. He sent Elizabeth away, shooing her like a dog, and hurried towards the Great Hall.

  Robson had brought in two of Thomas’s best heavy wooden chairs, placing them in front of the fireplace. Thomas though was dissatisfied; he regarded the fire mantel and saw the stonework was chipped. The plaster on the walls was cracking and falling off and the bright red and green paint was fractured and displaying white beneath the decoration. His brother-in-law would spy the dilapidation.

  As if thinking on the Duke, so Thomas could hear the heavy gallop of men and horses. He viewed from the lattice windows the men riding into the courtyard, dust being thrown up as the horses came to a halt. The Duke threw himself off his horse, striding forward like a God of war — or an arrogant bastard.

  ‘Your Lordship,’ Thomas spoke when the Duke came into his presence, doffing his cap as a mark of respect.

  ‘Viscount Rochford! I heard you had returned from court after gaining a title. Did it go well?’ he mocked. ‘I need wine!’ he yelled about the hall.

  Robson came running, a silver jug gripped under his arm, along with two goblets. He put it before the Duke.

  ‘The honour was not praiseworthy … I could barely hold a minute’s council with the King…’

  ‘As I thought, the King has used you for what he wanted and Wolsey has expelled you for interfering,’ explained the Duke.

  ‘Well, what business have you here?’ asked Thomas growing impatient.

  ‘Ah! So you are well satisfied with our exclusion?’ he lambasted. ‘For as I was aware, we’re now exiles!’

  ‘Your schemes, Norfolk! Why on earth put Mary in his bed? Degraded what small sense she has and irked Wolsey to act against us!’

  ‘It wasn’t I who agreed to anoint the bastard son!’

  ‘So be it! Say on what you think!’ argued Thomas.

  ‘Where be George?’

  ‘London, I’ve written to him to attend on his mother but as yet …’ He shrugged as if defeated.

  ‘Elizabeth is well?’ the Duke asked.

  ‘Aye, just dissatisfied. Thomas’s death, Mary’s disgrace and George’s recklessness …’

  ‘Speak on,’ encouraged the Duke.

  ‘Enough has been said,’ Thomas replied sternly. ‘So what of your scheme?’

  ‘You’ll not take to it but it’s the only path to tread,’ he began, but Thomas gave no protest. ‘Anne remains at court.’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘Do you not think it odd, that the King was satisfied for Wolsey to dismiss her father, her brother, her uncle but not her? Anne who has irked Wolsey just as much as any of us and yet she has been allowed to remain. Many others of the Queen’s ladies were dismissed and yet not her …’

  Thomas sipped on his wine, a slight smile came to his lips. ‘It hadn’t occurred to me.’

  ‘She be kind to the King and we’ll all benefit.’

  ‘How should this scheme come about though?’

  ‘As George is dismissed, we must rely on Mary to approach the King.’

  A dark energy grabbed at Thomas, a memory of the underhandedness of his brother-in-law. The Duke had already concocted a sequence of events which had damaged Thomas. ‘You’ve taken a great interest in my family’s affairs.’

  ‘No more than I should, Thomas. Does it fall from your mind the promise made to us? To endeavour to work for the Howard family when called upon? You were able to marry above yourself for that reason.’

  ‘Anne will be found a good husband? I entrust that stipulation to you.’

  ‘I had thought on that … I could devise a good marriage, as I did for Mary,’ he spoke in a nonchalant manner.

  ‘And Mary will have to be about court with her sister.’

  The Duke shrugged. Getting up from his chair, he made his way across the Great Hall to greet his sister. Thomas observed his brother-in-law’s light footedness, his swagger. He sat himself back down, drinking the wine and composing his thoughts.

  He had to convince Mary and of course Anne. Perhaps Anne would be the easiest to persuade? Her loathing of Wolsey could be motivation enough to play the King like a lute.

  Mary though would know immediately her value to the scheme. She would demand recompense for her miserable situation.

  March 1525

  Beaulieu Palace

  Mary lay exhausted and sore. The child was a boy, screaming for attention and food. The wet nurse held him and rocked him as he began to suckle. Mary though was quick to sleep and remained in her soiled bed linen for some time before William interrupted.

  ‘Get her cleaned,’ he ordered the servants. She was picked up and held aloft as the linen was changed and she was stripped.

  ‘It is a boy, My Lord,’ she spoke weakly.

  ‘Aye, is he mine?’

  ‘Aye, My Lord. You have a son, I’ve given you a son.’

  William seemed sceptical, but upon looking the child did indeed have his baring.

  ‘I must write to the King to say we have a son … I thought to name him Henry,’ he spoke with amusement. ‘Named for the King …’

  ‘As you wish, Sir.’

  ‘Aye, it is my wish that he knows I behold what he doesn’t! A son of my blood!’

  ‘Retaliation is as destructive to the victor as it is to the victim,’ she cautioned.

  ‘So be it. Your mother wrote, asking after your health and if you will return to Hever?’

  ‘No, I’ll return to court. As for the baby, he can travel with the wet nurse to Hever.’

  ‘Why are you returning to court? There is nothing left for you there. We can rebuild our lives here.’

  ‘As you wish,’ she conceded, too tired to complain.

  ‘Are you not going to hold our son?’

  ‘He belongs to you.’ She turned violently to one side, causing a stabbing pang to travel along her side. She gave a yelp of pain.

  ‘Your mother also wrote your father is coming to Beaulieu.’

  ‘My father? What business does he bring?’

  William’s countenance changed. He dismissed the wet nurse and child and applied a hand to the wooden beam protruding from the wall. ‘I’ve yet to question him but whatever his objectives, you are to refuse them.’

  * * *

  A few days had passed by. Mary had regained her strength and greeted her father with reverence, though it was falsely felt. The Great Hall at Beaulieu was warmed by a big fire, though there were no tapestries as the King was not in residence. Instead long benches were pushed tightly to the sparse walls; it was here Mary greeted her father, both taking a seat at either end of a bench.

  The sunlight had gone from the room, a grey hue encompassed around them and the fire crackled. Mary observed her father’s stare with obvious aversion.

  He in turn sat the other end of her, noting her conceited display of displeasure, a distinguishing characteristic of her mother’s. ‘William is in great favour with the King. You should be grateful for the comfortable state offered to you.�
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  ‘Through my endeavours, Father,’ she retaliated. ‘It is I who pleased the King.’

  ‘Aye, I don’t dispute that,’ he agreed, though with disdain.

  ‘Yet still I endure your contempt. Where was your protest, Father? Where was your rejection of advancement?’

  ‘I believed you deserving of more!’ he bellowed, startling her. ‘You condemn me for that stance?’

  ‘You care only for how it reflects on you!’ she yelled. ‘I suffered your discredit! I suffered your hostility!’

  ‘Then redeem yourself to me!’ he urged. ‘I’ve misjudged you …’ His anger held but his irritation ebbed. ‘I see your actions were manipulations of family loyalties and now I must beg of you to do the same again.’

  Mary’s brow furrowed. ‘What do mean?’ she queried with curiosity.

  ‘I’ve lost favour with Wolsey and I’m damned by his reprisals. Wolsey has isolated us out of the King’s influence. Mary, I have no other way to reach the King but through you and … Anne.’

  ‘Where is your pride now?’ she asked without sympathy. ‘To concubine another daughter! No! I will never see Anne deprive me of the King’s attention!’

  He threw up his hand with violent energy and turned towards her, roaring with hatred. ‘This be the problem of womanhood. You seek validation but this be the truth: you are insignificant!’

  ‘I did as I was ordered to do!’

  ‘Not by me! I would never have allowed you to degrade yourself!’ Thomas forced his voice to soften. ‘Do this and I’ll keep you from your husband. You can attend court and dance and sing and dress in the finest gowns. Even tempt the King if that is your desire, but speak well of me to him.’

  Mary became silent as she thought on her father’s bargain. ‘The cause of all my unhappiness is you,’ she spoke bluntly. ‘I care not for the King or his company, my misery is of your making.’

  Her effecting words hurt him but his fury could summon no remorse, no sympathy. ‘I did not create it, Mary. The only person who can make you a victim is yourself. Your resentment is of your own … I can offer sanctuary …’