Interlude
Charles and Philip.
“My son, did you hear?” Charles asked Philip in delight. “The Witch’s son is dead!”
“Edward?” Philip asked, hoping that, in this moment, England could be invaded.
“No, he lives. But the Duke of York is dead!” Charles said joyously. “And Anne is a widow.
“Is the Little Whore in France yet?” Philip asked. Since Elizabeth had jilted him, he referred to Anne and Elizabeth as ‘The Big Whore’ and ‘the Little Whore.’ It was known in Spain that Anne Boleyn, though Queen Regent of England, did not govern the country. It was known she spent her days in wild orgies, as she had when she had been Henry’s concubine, and that the men of England and France had all lain with her.
“She is.” Charles said. “She is now the Dauphine of France. It is time for you, Philip, to make your move and invade France.”
Spain needed no excuse to invade France. Ferdinand, king of Aragon in the past century, had fought for many French territories, and indeed, Queen Isabella had hated the French even more than the Jews.
“I will claim France for the Holy Roman Empire.” Philip said.
“You may, of course, have any fair French ladies you choose.” Charles said. Philip snickered.
“Has a wife been chosen for me, Father?”
“Indeed. A good Iberian princess.”
“Iberian princesses are the only pure ones.” Philip said. “French and English women are all whores.”
“Whores can serve a good purpose. Kidnap Elizabeth, Philip. Then we will show her the true might of Spain.”
“Keep Elizabeth as my wife? She is Henri’s wife.” Philip said.
“She should have been yours. She has betrayed you.” Charles said.
“Do I want her, or a pure Iberian woman?” Philip asked.
“You will not marry her. You will keep her as a mistress.” Charles said. “And use her as bait for her brother.”
Philip sneered at that. But then he saw. Edward loved his ‘sweet sister temperance’, as it was known, and if he would abandon England to save Elizabeth… then France and England would both fall!
Chapter 14
1546
I had returned to England in dismay, sadness, and fright. I had to continue, however, and mourn for Henry privately, because a queen is not permitted the luxury of mourning. I had a grand funeral for Henry, of course. It was held in London, and the people came out massively to mourn the Duke of York, who had captivated the hearts of the people, perhaps even more so than his brother.
Elizabeth was now Dauphine of France, but she rarely wrote to me, although we had promised to write, and when her letters came, they sounded so unlike the daughter I knew and loved! I knew also François was aging. Elizabeth wrote to me only of the Catholic faith, encouraging me to embrace it, and stating she disdained England and that France was her true home now. I had always favored France, to be certain, but it seemed strange to hear Elizabeth write this so. She loved England, as much as I did France. I wondered what was afoot here as I showed the letters to Catherine Seymour, lately Catherine Parr.
“These do not sound like the Elizabeth you and I both love.” Catherine stated, for Catherine Parr and Elizabeth had grown quite close during the time she had been at court.
“Is it truly her? Is she being poisoned?” I asked.
“There are more than poisons of the body, Anne Boleyn.” Catherine stated. I gave her permission to call me Anne Boleyn in private, although she still referred to me as ‘Your Majesty’ in public. With a heavy heart, I realized Catherine Parr spoke the truth. But who was poisoning her mind? It would not be François, would it? Or Henri?
“She writes of her duty to her husband and her new land. This is the woman who before swore in all foolishness that marriage was death.” I said.
“It is indeed the duty of a wife to obey her husband.” Catherine Parr stated.
“It is. But Catherine, I am concerned for her.”
“She belongs to Henri of France now.” Catherine Parr stated. “We can do nothing, you and I. Nor can her brother.”
Elizabeth was in the position, I knew now, that Katharine of Aragon had been. Trapped in a foreign land, alone.
“Perhaps she loves him so much she has changed.” I said, trying to assume the best.
“I believe something else is going on, Anne. Someone is poisoning her against England and you.” Catherine Parr stated.
I showed the letters to Edward. Edward himself would soon marry Lady Jane Grey and make her Queen of England. He did not worry about Elizabeth’s statements of duty to Henri, but he did notice that the letters were nothing like her at all.
“My Sweet Sister Temperance would never write this.” Edward stated, as he read aloud the letter where Elizabeth stated that England was a wicked land and deserved the hand of Spain to crush it.
“The hand of Spain to crush it…” I stated.
“Mother, I believe that François’s queen has turned against Elizabeth.” Edward stated. “I also believe that she is so caught up and blinded in her wifely duties she does not realize she is being used against England.”
“What can we do?” I asked.
“ I believe Elizabeth must be rescued.” Edward stated.
“That would endanger our alliance with France against Spain.” I reminded my son. He often played the gallant knight, riding off onto quests.
“Elizabeth is my sister, Mother.”
“And you are King of England and must put the needs of the nation above her!” I said.
“I am King of England. I am also a twin brother, Mother. Elizabeth is not just my sister, she is a part of my soul. I will not allow these evil folks to poison her against the land of her birth. The land that must rule Europe in Spain’s stead. Mother, England is the land of good and freedom . Spain is the land of evil and darkness. The rains may fall in England, but God’s blessing is upon our land. The sun may shine brightly in Spain, but the moon and darkness eclipse that land. England must rise to greatness.”
“And France?” I asked. Poor France, always caught in the middle.
“France must choose if it wishes to rise with us or fall with Spain. I will give them that choice.” Edward stated.
“Edward… you cannot lead troops into France to rescue your sister!” I begged of him. “Do you not see the folly in this? I will write to François and ask him to explain what is going on.”
“The king of France is dying. Soon Henri will be King and Elizabeth queen.” I said. I inhaled deeply in dread. François had been my ally, my strongest supporter on the continent since Henry VIII had declared me Regent of England for Edward. What would happen should he die? I voiced these fears.
“The English Army will protect you. Also, I believe we should send spies to the French Court, and find out what is going on there.” Edward stated.
“Indeed, Anne Boleyn, you must.” Catherine Parr stated.
“You dare address the queen of England so informally?” Edward said. In spite of it, I smiled. In moments of anger or disrespect shown, my little Edward would defend me in the past, the way his father had.
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.” Catherine Parr stated.
“Ah, Catherine Parr, you are forgiven. I could never hate either of the captivating Catherines, either yourself or the Howard. Although, perhaps, I should call you both Culpepper and Seymour now.”
As Edward spoke those names, a thought came to me. Culpepper and Seymour, both renowned, adventurous men? They were perfect to send to the French Court!
“Catherine, I need to borrow your husband for a bit.” I said.
“As you borrowed Katharine of Aragon’s?” Catherine Parr said.
“No. As a spy to tell us what is going on in the Court of France. Him and Culpepper should go.
“Mother, we should also send the captivating Catherines.” Edward said.
“But…” I said.
“If we send the wives along, espionage will n
ever be suspected.” Edward said.
“I can do this.” Catherine Parr said. “Go with Thomas. I am barren, whereas Lady Culpepper has a duty to her children.
Indeed, Catherine Parr had produced no children as of yet.
“From the same woman who feared to go to France because of Her Protestantism?” I said with a touch of irony.
“I will do my duty to England, which God has called me to.” Catherine Parr stated. “And to my king and my queen. And to our princess. She is England’s rose.”
“England’s rose. Not France’s or Spain’s.” Edward said. “I shall speak to the people, Mother. We must rescue England’s rose!”
Indeed, despite it all, Edward was inspiring joy in me again.
“Edward. We cannot merely go off and leave England, in spite of the danger your sister is in.” I reminded her. “Yes, rescue the English rose, Edward, but you are not King Arthur and cannot ride in on a white horse to save her.”
“Let my husband and Lord Culpepper go to France and investigate things there.” Catherine Parr stated. “There may not be need for any action yet. You must stay here as King with your mother as regent. We will go to France. “
“Indeed.” Edward stated. “I cannot leave England, for I am England and am its king. Elizabeth is England as well. One day…”
“What?” I asked.
“I do not know, Mother. “ Edward stated.
His gallantry remained, as always. Thus, we sent Culpepper and Seymour to France. Catherine Howard wept bitter tears as Culpepper left, but he promised to return to England and his beloved bride. Time had not changed Catherine Howard at all. She remained selfish and caring only for herself, I saw. I wondered if she would remain faithful to Culpepper in his absence. She reminded me much of my sister. I had to keep her at my side. If she were unfaithful, Culpepper had the right to divorce her and strip her of all things save the gown she wore. In this odd time of strife, Jane Seymour came to London to bid her brother farewell in a grand ceremony as a new ship took them to France. Unlike Catherine Howard, the past ten years had changed her.. She curtsied to me, as was proper, and I offered her my hand to kiss it.
“Good Queen Anne. I owe my good fortune as Lady Dormer to you.” Jane said as she kissed my hand. I told her to rise.
“Good Queen Anne, you say?” I said as I waved farewell to the men departing on the ship, among them Catherine Parr. “Ten years ago you cursed me and flaunted your status as Henry’s mistress in my face.”
“I did what I needed to at court to survive, Queen Anne. I know you did the same to Queen Katharine.” Jane said.
“Indeed. I would have done the same thing. But God intervened, I am Queen of England and you are Lady Dormer.” I said.
“Thanks to you only, my queen” Jane said. “My queen, I would beg a favor of you.”
“Speak.” I said. Enough time had passed that I felt no more anguish or bitterness when I looked upon Jane Seymour.
“My queen, may I return to court? May I serve you?” she asked. I marveled at this.
“Why?” I asked.
“I sense, my queen, you are lonely and in need of friends.” Jane said.
“A friend? In you, Seymour?” I sniffed, although her offer tempted me in my loneliness.
“Yes.” Jane said. “I saw, my lady, in the countryside. I saw.. that though you support reform, you allowed the monasteries to stay. You were kind to do that. I remain a Catholic But I am glad you showed us mercy.”
I thought of that. The monasteries and nunneries had shown much corruption, but as queen, I had not thought it wise to punish all for the actions of a few.
“Jane, you are welcome.” I said. My heart softened to her. “Jane, I will tell you I have had time to think on things too. I am glad God made me Queen Regent.”
“You have the body of a week and feeble woman, but the heart and stomach of a king.” Jane said. “And so does your daughter. Good Queen Anne, please do not despair. I believe your daughter can be saved.”
“As do I. Jane, let us go away from this crowd and discuss this privately.” I said, as she and I moved away from the crowd, two knights following to protect and defend us. Something inside me told me I could trust Jane now.
We walked through the muddy streets, looking down upon the Thames. Jane giggled. It was a rare sunny day, and we could see our reflections.
“What could possibly be funny?” I asked.
“Look” Jaen said. I looked in the water, and there were some children playing with pebbles.
“Jane, let me tell you. I am grateful God intervened and was rid of Henry.” I said. Jane gasped.
“But… you fought Katharine for her crown and him! Why did you fight so hard to steal him, and Katharine to keep him, if he was evil?”
“Jane, the thief was Henry. The monster was Henry. If there was witchcraft, it is he who was foul within. You say you are glad I allowed the monasteries to stay. Jane, little Jane, do you truly think Henry would have let them stay? I punished the monks and nuns who were guilty, to be certain, but I let them stay. Henry did not love me. Or you. Or even Queen Katharine. Or any of the things he claimed to. He loved only himself.”
Jane was sobered. “He said he loved me.” She said, the realization only now, it seemed, dawning on her that Henry had lied to her, to me, and to Katharine of Aragon.
“He lied.” I said bitterly. “Fool of all women that I am, Jane, I still yearn and long for him at night. But I am glad to be free of him. When a man loves a woman, he will say anything to get her in his arms. Like a viper, Jane. But when you are close to him and in his clutches, of a man like Henry, then it is too late when you have been bitten.”
“Not all men are like that.” Jane said. “My sweet William loves me.”
“You were wise to ask me to become his wife. Did you know I also had a suitor I preferred to the king? Henry Percy, Jane. I would much rather have been Harry Percy’s countess than Henry Tudor’s wife and Queen of all England. But be glad you were never the queen. You could not have handled it.” I said.
“Being queen would have given me gowns and jewels.” Jane said. Indeed, the very thing Henry had tempted me with. I remembered, being so young and so sweet and him tempting me.
“For the last time, Anne Boleyn, if I were free of Katharine, and made you Queen of England. All the gowns and jewels in the world…” Henry roared.
“Yes!” I said. Then, I returned my mind to the present. The girl seduced by the gowns and jewels was Queen of England—but queen in the sense of a governor.
“But gowns and jewels, Jane, are not things we can take with us to Heaven. Remember what Jesus said. We brought nothing into this world, we can take nothing out of it. Being queen, Jane—you would have been the queen of England, should Henry have discarded me. And what joy would that have brought you?” I asked her.
“He would never have discarded you. You bore him a son.” Jane said as we continued walking. In spite of the sunshine, I felt chilled.Indeed, Henry could have had all the fair young mistresses he wanted, and I would have been invincible. But Katharine of Aragon had thought herself safe too.
“Are you so certain?” I asked. “If he would discard his first wife, who was an Infanta of Spain, Jane, what would he have done to us had we displeased him?”
She slowly nodded her agreement. “The man I thought was a golden prince and that you had corrupted was a corrupt monster.” I saw her eyes fall and her face shatter. I saw then, like me, she always had wondered what might have been. And her fantasy was shattered.
“Indeed. If he had lived, who is to say what would have happened, not only to you and me, but to England? We must trust that God works in all things, Jane.” I said. “So yes, Jane. You may come back to court. But your children?”
“I bore ten. They have all died.” Jane said. “All mine die.”
“And would Dormer consent to have you with me?” I asked.
“Yes.” Jane said.
“Then you may come.” I sai
d. Oh Lord, I wondered. What surprises do you have in store for little Anne Boleyn next?
Chapter 15
1547
The hand of Elizabeth Tudor, Anne Boleyn’s daughter, Queen of France and sister of the King of England
«Le roi est mort. Vive le roi.» My father-in-law is dead and my husband is King of France, and I am queen of France. Henry II is his name, and I, Elizabeth Tudor, am now the Queen of France. I am young, fourteen years old, but I do not mind. Yet I fear that even though the last king of France was kind to me, I fear my own husband does not care for me much. He does his duty to me, but he is fourteen years my senior. I know it is my duty to wed and bear children, But he is often distant to me, and cold. Now that I AM Queen, I wonder if that will change.
The days of brave Eleanor of Aquitaine, whom I idolized as a child, are no more. As Henri II’s wife, what I can do is limited. Of course, I will be crowned Queen at his side, but what power or influence do I truly have? This is why I always feared marriage. My mother’s case is unusual, being left regent of England. Of course, it is not unheard of. The same queen I idolize was Regent for her son, Richard the Lionhearted. But this is France, the land of Salic Law, not England, the land I love.
Today, as I ride through the streets of Paris, I wave to the French people, who cheer me as Anne Boleyn’s daughter. I speak the French language well, it is true, but my heart remains in England. I cried when I left England, although I dared not show my tears to any but my governess, Lady Bryan. Now, all my English ladies are left and replaced with French ones. Eleanor of Austria is dowager queen. She was kind to my mother when we arrived, but I have noticed a change in her since the death of King François. I have written letters to my mother, but I never receive any replies. She has also said she is kind to me, but I notice subtle changes in her. She had discarded the necklace my mother once sent her as a peace offering. She is also watched to make certain she is not carrying another child, but she makes no secret of her dislike for me, for the daughter of Anne Boleyn. She speaks often of Katharine of Aragon, the poor woman who could not give my father the sons he needed, stating that my mother is illegal, and thus, England must be rescued and saved by Spain, but what does she speak of?
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