Boleyn And His Bloodline

by J P Ceark

  ‘Aye, the King demands loyalty,’ spoke Thomas, unable to think of his wife while his position at court was lost to him. ‘I must proceed over the court case …’ He took a long draught of wine. ‘Over forty years of diplomacy, to him and to his father, and I must prove my loyalty.’

  ‘Bit late to cry foul now,’ the Duke smirked, causing Thomas to mimic his amusement. ‘This is the inclination of politics. It only serves to roll the die again. Take heart and fall upon the sword believing your wound shall not prove fatal.’

  ‘I’ve stated I will condemn my own daughter and son to death. No, Brother, I’ll never encourage the state of ambition within my breast again.’

  The Duke of Norfolk fanned his hand as if to waft away the defeated air. ‘I too have been forced to prove my loyalty to the King. My order is to decide the judgement of the condemned … I’ll have to find them guilty … But I will not instruct you to be upon the panel for Anne and George. Condemn the other men accused and then be away from court.’

  ‘Could you sway the King for a merciful death? They must not burn.’

  ‘It is the King’s will, but as I understand it, his ardent desire is to marry Jane Seymour and he is looking for a quick dispatch. Should we all comply with these conditions, I think the penalties will be lessened. You’ll have to convince Anne to accept these terms.’

  Thomas nodded again, trying to absorb his current situation. His face then lifted towards Robson. ‘I must ask another service of you, Robson. Will you go to Cranmer? Tell him not to petition on Anne’s behalf. I know his conscience will be much affected but it’s not to irk the King.’

  Robson breathed slowly in an attempt to slow his quickening and heavy heart. ‘Aye, My Lord.’

  He bowed low and went to leave but turned to observe his master. Thomas, however, was retreating into the bedchamber of his wife. He knew nothing of the words that could be spoken to comfort her in this time and pitied his master’s task.

  * * *

  There was still some light in the sky though the night had fallen. Robson walked back to the barge, believing Cranmer was at his London house, away from court. As he arrived, Cranmer’s livery men aided him from his boat. ‘Is your master in attendance?’ he first queried. ‘Will he accept my admittance on behalf of the Earl of Wiltshire?’

  They marched up the side of the riverbank and towards the London residents. They had not yet said a word in reply to him, forcing Robson to assume Cranmer expected his presence.

  The torch fires around the building flickered as he walked through a gateway and down a narrow alley leading to a small wooden door, studded with iron nails. He was gently pressed to go through the side door and he instantly emerged in the presence chamber of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The fire was alight and three empty chairs awaited.

  Robson stood away from the fire; he was hot enough. He wondered if it was the coming of the summer sun or the terror he felt for the family he had served for so long that made him perspire now. He knew the beads of sweat that had gathered on his brow early that morning and remained there to this moment.

  He glanced at the tapestries and listened out for movement about the townhouse. He tried to estimate from which direction Cranmer would appear.

  He received his answer a moment later as Cranmer emerged from a doorway behind the empty chairs. His concerned face, etched in fear, came quite close to this low- born servant.

  ‘What does Thomas ask?’ Cranmer whispered. ‘What can be done?’

  Robson shook his head. ‘He’s resigned, Your Grace. Nothing can be done and requests you to resign yourself to this truth as well.’

  Cranmer nodded. ‘He is wise and selfless in his actions. The reformation of religion mustn’t be damaged by these tragic circumstances. I owe him so much and would do so much if it were in my power. Once again he aids my vocation at his loss …’ Cranmer spoke as if thinking aloud but then his conscience got the better of him. ‘I’ve written to the King expressing my disbelief of Queen Anne’s guilt. If it were the only sentence I could write about Queen Anne, I would write it a hundred times. I’ve never had a better opinion in a woman than I did in her.’

  ‘My master’s only request is that the King will show mercy and neither the Queen nor George will be burnt at the stake.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to intercede with the King,’ began Cranmer but Robson shook his head again.

  ‘It would be on Cromwell’s orders, my master insists there be no opposition protest, no public unrest or unjust action against the King.’

  ‘Aye, I accept Thomas’s plea and will pray for his desired outcome … though I do fear I will be called by the King to dissolve the marriage. If there is a message I can take to Queen Anne from her father, be sure to submit it before I am summoned. It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘I know what he will ask, though it is the most difficult of requests … Encourage her to sign; give false hope that signing shall prevent her death … She must not provoke the King’s unmerciful spite. I’ll come again tomorrow on behalf of my master if such a message needs to be changed, but I think his only petition is for Anne to do as the King bids.’

  March 1539

  Hever Castle

  Mary wept; a sense of injustice, a helpless sadness invaded her.

  ‘They both made brave deaths. People who once hated your sister now spoke of her courage at the scaffold. Her eloquence and her heartbreak publicly confessed and publicly acknowledged as her own blame. Your father didn’t attend the trials of his children. Cromwell agreed to the Duke of Norfolk’s request, though he did have to declare the four men accused with them as being guilty. Your father returned to Hever but without your mother. Whatever was said between them that night or morning, it broke their marriage vow, their bond and promise. They did not see each other again and she died last year, buried at Lambeth so I am told.’

  ‘Aye, Lady Lisle did tell me of Mother’s death but I did not attend. I received no invitation to do so.’ Mary and Robson sat in silence. Though he had explained some of the events, she still wished to know more. ‘Did Cranmer see Anne? Did she do as Father bid? Was not a reprise offered to her?’ Mary asked.

  ‘I was there when Queen Anne died. Your father requested I go with the small hope my face in the crowd would bring her some comfort. But I doubt she saw me. They say she was brave, and she was. Though she kept turning backwards, hoping to hear a reprieve, it was I that gave her that false hope. She believed in mercy but only the sword came for her.’

  ‘She was frightened?’

  ‘Aye, very much so. Though no one dare tell your father this, for it would haunt him as it does me.’

  ‘What of Cranmer?’

  ‘I returned to Hever the following day, after Anne’s death. Not long after I had arrived, word had reached us the King had remarried. Cranmer then followed … I was with your father when they met.’

  May 1536

  Hever Castle

  ‘My dear friend, your children are with God and they maintained great integrity upon the scaffold,’ began Cranmer.

  There was silence as Thomas listened without wanting to hear more yet without interrupting, giving into a sensation of desiring closure for this sorry tale yet needing to hear they were at peace. ‘I went to Anne. She signed her marriage away as invalid. I explained this was your instruction and that a reprieve would come but she did so with some indifference. For those she disputed the accusations Cromwell threw upon her name; she spoke of another reason why she wished to sign.’ Robson noticed a flicker of curiosity pass the Earl’s face. ‘She spoke of a promise she made to herself, that if Henry ever fell out of love with her and desired a divorce, she would grant it, wishing him happiness above all else, that she desired this for herself and the kingdom.’

  Thomas snorted with derision. ‘He inspires a peculiar devotion,’ he mused. ‘I’m glad she did as I bid.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Cranmer, but he was too affected by the situation to speak of the cruel belief that Anne had b
elieved she would be forgiven by Henry after demonstrating her devotion to him, even at her own suffering heart.

  ‘I thought it was enough to save them …’

  ‘On another matter I must touch,’ Cranmer continued. ‘She gave me these items with a wish that her daughter will have them in later life.’

  Robson leaned in to see the items. The voided space within the room went so quiet as if to be stale. Then a loud gasp of misery filled it, the uncontrollable cries of Thomas reaching all around the castle. With the pity so heavily felt, Robson scurried towards him.

  ‘She stores faith by you, My Lord. She believes you will guide her daughter …’

  March 1539

  Hever Castle

  ‘Oft I think the faults we see in others should be a reflection in which we should view ourselves, and through that, develop empathy so that the mistakes in which we all create and become victims of can then know the true depths of remorse we all carry, once we have lived and sinned.’

  Mary held out her hand to his and pressed it, for she truly felt the depth of her own remorse and now that of her father’s. ‘We should return to him; perhaps he too could eat a little,’ she suggested.

  They entered into her father’s bedchamber, new emotions dulling the old ones. Thomas was still asleep, his breath shallow. Mary instinctively took his hand in hers. A light pressure happened upon her palm.

  ‘Commend his soul to Jesus Christ, oh Jesus, commend his soul.’

  Thomas could hear the faint whispers of her prayers. He thought quietly, that all through our lives we must fight ourselves, our instinct for ambition, success, love, wealth. These are our prime motivations, often to the detriment of our dignity, integrity, our moral worthiness. We look through the eyes of the previous generation and say they did it all wrong, we know better. He let out a faint sigh. We learn as they learned … we fail as they failed. Forgiveness: the better quality to live by than any ideology of power and wealth. Acceptance and forgiveness.

  Mary bent over him, kissing his forehead and placing her head against his.

  May 1536

  York Place

  ‘They’re condemned. We must keep our dignity and not show our pain.’

  ‘I care not a fig for your dignity! Your dynasty, all your titles! I asked you to guide her, as a father responsible for his child’s welfare! Your duty was to protect them, guide them! Not surrender them to the scaffold, for a stranger to swing a blade. Why didn’t you offer yourself? She was your kin, your sin,’ Elizabeth pleaded.

  ‘There is still Elizabeth and Henry and Catherine, our grandchildren to think of, to provide for …’

  ‘Be away! The finality of death is upon us! Our life beyond ourselves is all taken. Our own existence concluded. There is nothing of tomorrow, next week, next year. To even dwell upon the moving time is to know our children no longer live there. And neither do we.’

  Thomas rushed to be beside his wife but she rejected even his slightest touch. ‘What of Mary? She will be eager to comfort you to console and mourn with you. Can I approach her and request her presence to soothe your distressed self?’

  ‘Mary is gone from us! Like the rest! It’s better that she is, for you have cursed us! Damned us!’ She began to cough uncontrollably, the strain in her throat affecting the sound of her emotions. ‘I’ll never return to Hever, I’ll never return to you. That empty display of grandeur, ambition and greed has left you with nothing … not a wife, not any child. You are as irrelevant today as you were the day I married you. There be the truth I should have said years ago.’

  ‘I don’t defend myself …’

  ‘What defences are there to give?’ she challenged. ‘All our actions are judged, Thomas. There’ll come a day when yours are to.’

  March 1539

  Hever Castle

  ‘We oft neglect the end,’ spoke Robson, looking upon his cold master. ‘Never do we consider the day when breath is gone and those who remain must start afresh.’

  ‘We can bring them to memory … but perhaps the memory is not always happy. I meant to inform you,’ Mary spoke while remembering. ‘Father asked Cranmer on your behalf, requesting new employment with a good family. As I understand it, Cranmer has succeeded with this request.’

  Robson smiled, relieved by the admission. ‘Nothing was said …’

  ‘No, Father felt kindness a weakness. Still, there is proof he did in fact possess it. I have some correspondence on the matter. Go to Greenwich and Cranmer will arrange it.’

  ‘Will you travel with me?’ asked Robson, uneased by the thought of returning to the palace.

  ‘I must return to my husband and daughter, but be reassured I’ll be about court very soon. I’ll send notice for Jane, so if there is a problem come find me. Anyway, I must acquaint myself with my niece.’

  ‘Aye,’ bowed Robson, but turned back to her with a thought. ‘You’ll stay for the burial?’

  ‘I’ve said my goodbye, it’s time I too departed.’ She bade farewell to John and woke Amy from her sleep. The satchels were filled once more and Robson carried them to the entrance of the castle.

  Mary placed the leather pouch in a hidden pocket under her skirts; she had taken the additional money from her father’s coffers and left the remaining coinage for burial and charity. She walked down the staircase for the last time, attempting to keep the memory of the feel of the grain beneath her fingertips as she descended, breathing in the scent of home, the lingering whiff of pine and cloves for the final time.

  Amy joined her at the entrance and the pair took up their satchels once more. They struggled over the drawbridge and walked away from the castle. Before completely out of view, Mary looked back one last time.

  She felt the defeated destruction of failed ambition. They had done wrong and been wronged, Mary thought to herself. She prayed, ‘Vengeance is mine, said the Lord. Let those who have done wrong by us, feel your unforgiving fire. Let them burn!’ She walked from her homeland with anger in her heart but trust in God’s divine justice — that he would settle old scores.

  The sun was rising over Hever, as it had done before and would do after, but its most enterprising occupants were now gone.

  Afterword

  The idea for this book first began with Anne Boleyn. Like most people enthralled to Tudor history her personality and character is much like an enigma. It’s hard to know what motivated her - love or power. Perhaps both. As my research got underway, it became increasingly clear that her relationship with her family was neither conventionally loving nor hostile. There were many indications of the family being close. Proving Anne was never working alone. Whether the Boleyn family were scheming for wealth, political power, status or plain self-interest, it resulted in tragic consequences.

  After the death of Anne and George Boleyn, Thomas Boleyn still participated in court life, even attending the christening of Prince Edward. The devastation must have been great however. Elizabeth Boleyn died a year after her children. Thomas Boleyn died three years after. He chose to leave half of his wealth to his last surviving child Mary. There is no evidence they ever met after her banishment from court. What motivated Thomas to leave his wealth to her aided with the help of Thomas Cranmer to ensure she got it – will remain a mystery. Thomas Boleyn also secured a new post for his servant. These acts of consideration show another side to the schemer he is often portrayed as.

  Bibliography

  Colquhaun, Kate (2007), Taste, Bloomsbury

  Fraser, Antonia (1992), Six Wives of Henry VIII, Orian House

  Hart, Kelly (2009), The Mistresses of Henry VIII, The History Press

  Lacey, Robert (2003), Great Tales from English History, Abacus

  Starkey, David (2003), Six Wives the Queens of Henry VIII, Random House

  Other Sources

  BHO British history online, British-history.ac.uk/letters and papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Vol 3 – Vol 14

  Futurelearn.com

  Course taken – A History of Roya
l Fashion (University of Glasgow)

  A History of Royal Food and Feasting (University of Reading)

  About the Author

  Boleyn and his bloodline is J. P. Ceark’s first novel. For more content check out her blog at www.jpceark.com

  Where else to find JP Ceark:

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