Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1

by Philippa Gregory

  They were glad of it. When I rode out to the field to see how the ploughing was going they came across, kicking the mud off their boots, to explain how they were casting their seed. They wanted a lord who took an interest. In the absence of anyone else: they had me. And they knew well enough that if I took an interest in the crop I might be persuaded to take a share. I might have some money tucked away that I might invest, and then we could all grow prosperous together.

  I laughed at that, looking down from my horse into their brown weatherbeaten faces. ‘I have no money.’

  ‘You’re a great lady at court,’ one of them protested. His gaze took in the neat tassels on my leather boots, the inlaid saddle, the richness of my dress and the golden brooch in my hat. ‘There’s more on your back today than I earn in a year.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘And that’s where it stays. On my back.’

  ‘But your father must give you money, or your husband,’ the other man said persuasively. ‘Better to gamble it on your own fields than on the turn of a card.’

  ‘I’m a lady. It’s none of it mine. Look at you. You’re doing well enough – is your wife a rich woman?’

  He chuckled sheepishly at that. ‘She’s my wife. She does as well as I do. But she doesn’t own anything of her own.’

  ‘It’s the same for me,’ I said. ‘I do as my father does, as my husband does. I dress as is proper for their wife or their daughter. But I don’t own anything on my own account. In that sense I am as poor as your wife.’

  ‘But you are a Howard and I am a nobody,’ he observed.

  ‘I’m a Howard woman. That means I might be one of the greatest in the land or a nobody like you. It all depends.’

  ‘On what?’ he asked, intrigued.

  I thought of the sudden darkening of Henry’s face when I displeased him. ‘On my luck.’

  Summer 1522

  In the middle of my third month of exile, the month of June, with the garden of Hever filled with heavy-headed roses and their scent hanging in the air like smoke, I had a letter from Anne.

  It is done. I have put myself in his way and talked about you. I have told him that you miss him unbearably and you are pining for him. I have told him that you have displeased your family by showing too openly your love for him and you have been sent away to forget him. Such is the contrary nature of men that he is much excited at the thought of you in distress. Anyway, you can come back to court. We are at Windsor. Father says you can order half a dozen men from the castle to escort you and come at once. Make sure that you arrive quietly before dinner and come straight to our room where I will tell you how you are to behave.

  Windsor Castle, one of Henry’s prettiest castles, sat on the green hill like a grey pearl on velvet, the king’s standard fluttering from the turret, the drawbridge open, and a continual coming and going of carts and pedlars and brewers’ drays and wagons. The court sucked the wealth out of the countryside wherever it rested and Windsor was experienced in servicing the profitable appetites of the castle.

  I slipped into a side door and found my way to Anne’s rooms, avoiding anyone who knew me. Her room was empty. I settled myself down to wait. As I had expected, at three o’clock she came into the room, pulling her hood off her hair. She jumped when she saw me.

  ‘I thought you were a ghost! What a fright you gave me.’

  ‘You told me to come privately to your room.’

  ‘Yes, I wanted to tell you how things are. I was speaking to the king just a moment ago. We were in the tiltyard watching Lord Percy. Mon dieu! It’s so hot!’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Lord Percy? Oh he was enchanting.’

  ‘No, the king.’

  Anne smiled, deliberately provoking. ‘He was asking about you.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘Let me think.’ She tossed her hood on the bed and shook her hair free. It tumbled in a dark wave down her back and she swept it up in one hand to leave her neck cool. ‘Oh, I can’t remember. It’s too hot.’

  I was too experienced in Anne’s teasing to let her torment me. I sat quietly in the little wooden chair by the empty fireplace and did not turn my head while she washed her face and splashed her arms and neck and tied her hair back again, with many exclamations in French and complaints about the heat. Nothing made me look around.

  ‘I think I can remember now,’ she offered.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘I’ll see him myself at dinner. He can tell me anything he wants to tell me then. I don’t need you.’

  She bridled at that at once. ‘Oh yes you do! How will you behave? You don’t know what to say!’

  ‘I knew enough to have him head over heels in love with me and ask for my kerchief,’ I observed coolly. ‘I should think I know enough to talk to him civilly after dinner.’

  Anne stepped back and measured me. ‘You’re very calm,’ was all she said.

  ‘I’ve had time to think,’ I replied levelly.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I know what I want.’

  She waited.

  ‘I want him,’ I said.

  She nodded. ‘Every woman in England wants him. I never thought that you would prove exceptional.’

  I shrugged off the snub. ‘And I know that I can live without him.’

  Her gaze narrowed. ‘You’ll be ruined, if William doesn’t take you back.’

  ‘I could bear that too,’ I rejoined. ‘I liked it at Hever. I liked riding out every day and walking round the gardens. I was on my own there for nearly three months, and I’ve never been on my own in my whole life before. I realised that I don’t need the court and the queen and the king or even you. I liked riding out and looking at the farmland, I liked talking to the farmers and watching their crops and seeing how things grow.’

  ‘You want to become a farmer?’ she laughed scornfully.

  ‘I could be happy as a farmer,’ I said steadily. ‘I’m in love with the king –’ I snatched a breath ‘– oh, very much. But if it all goes wrong, I could live on a little farm and be happy.’

  Anne went to the chest at the foot of the bed and drew out a new hood. She watched herself in the mirror as she smoothed back her hair and drew on the headdress. At once her dramatic dark looks took on a new elegance. She knew it, of course.

  ‘If I were in your shoes it would be the king or nothing for me,’ she said. ‘I’d put my neck on the block for a chance at him.’

  ‘I want the man. Not because he’s king.’

  She shrugged. ‘They’re one and the same thing. You can’t desire him like an ordinary man and forget the crown on his head. He’s the best there is. There is no greater man than him in the kingdom. You’d have to go to France for King Francis or Spain for the emperor to find his equal.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ve seen the emperor and the French king and I wouldn’t look twice at either of them.’

  Anne turned from the glass and tugged her bodice down a little lower so that the curve of her breasts showed. ‘Then you’re a fool,’ she said simply.

  When we were ready she led me to the queen’s chambers. ‘She’ll accept you back, but she won’t give you a warm welcome,’ Anne threw over her shoulder as the soldiers before the queen’s door saluted us, and held the double doors open. The two of us, the Boleyn girls, walked in as if we owned half the castle.

  The queen was sitting in the windowseat, the windows flung wide open for the cooler evening air. Her musician was beside her, singing as he played his lute. Her women were around her, some of them sewing, some of them sitting idle, waiting for the summons to dinner. She looked perfectly at peace with the world, surrounded by friends, in her husband’s home, looking out from her window over the little town of Windsor and the pewter-coloured curve of the river beyond. When she saw me her face did not change. She was too well-trained to betray her disappointment. She gave me a small smile. ‘Ah, Mistress Carey,’ she said. ‘You are recovered and returned to court?’

  I sank int
o a curtsey. ‘If it please Your Majesty.’

  ‘You have been at your parents’ home, all this long time?’

  ‘Yes. At Hever Castle, Your Majesty.’

  ‘You must have rested well. There is nothing in that part of the world but sheep and cows, I think?’

  I smiled. ‘It is farmland,’ I agreed. ‘But there was much for me to do. I enjoyed riding out and looking at the fields and talking to the men who work them.’

  For a moment, I could see that she was intrigued by the thought of the land, which after all her years in England she still only saw as a place for hunting and picnics and the summer progress. But she remembered why I had left court in the first place. ‘Did His Majesty order your return?’

  I heard a little warning hiss from Anne behind me but I disregarded it. I had a romantic, foolish thought, that I did not want to look this good woman in her honest eyes and lie to her. ‘The king sent for me, Your Majesty,’ I said respectfully.

  She nodded and looked down at her hands where they were quietly clasped in her lap. ‘Then you are fortunate,’ was all she said.

  There was a brief silence. I wanted very much to tell her that I had fallen in love with her husband but I knew that she was far above me. She was a woman whose spirit had been hammered and forged until she could only ring true. Compared with the rest of us she was silver, while we were pewter, a common mixture of lead and tin.

  The great double doors swung open. ‘His Majesty the king!’ the herald announced and Henry strolled into the room. ‘I am come to lead you into dinner,’ he started, and then he saw me and stopped in his tracks. The queen’s considering gaze flicked from his transfixed face to mine and back again.

  ‘Mary,’ he exclaimed.

  I forgot even to curtsey. I just stared at him.

  A little warning tut from Anne failed to recall me. The king crossed the room in three long strides and took my hands in his, and held them to his chest. I felt the scratch of his embroidered doublet under my fingers, the caress of his silk shirt through the slashings.

  ‘My love,’ he said in a low whisper. ‘You are welcome back to court.’

  ‘I thank you …’

  ‘They told me that you were sent away to learn a lesson. Did I do right to say you could come back unlearned?’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Perfectly right,’ I stumbled.

  ‘You were not scolded?’ he pressed.

  I gave a little laugh and looked up at his intent blue gaze. ‘No. They were a little cross with me, but that was all.’

  ‘You wanted to come back to court?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  The queen rose to her feet. ‘So. Let us go to dinner, ladies,’ she said generally. Henry threw a quick glance at her over his shoulder. She held out her hand to him, imperious as a daughter of Spain. He turned to her with the old habit of devotion and obedience and I could not think how to recapture him. I stepped behind her and bent low to arrange the train of her gown while she stood, queenly; despite her stockiness, beautiful; despite the weariness in her face.

  ‘Thank you, Mistress Carey,’ she said gently. And then she led us in to dinner with her hand resting lightly on her husband’s arm, and he inclined his head to her to hear something she said, and he did not look back at me again.

  George greeted me at the end of dinner, strolling to the queen’s table where we ladies were seated with wine and sweetmeats before us. He brought me a sugared plum. ‘Sweets for the sweet,’ he said, planting a kiss on my forehead.

  ‘Oh George,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your note.’

  ‘You were bombarding me with desperate cries,’ he said. ‘Three letters I got from you in the first week. Was it so awful?’

  ‘The first week was,’ I said. ‘But then I became accustomed. By the end of the first month I was rather taking to the country life.’

  ‘Well, we all did our best for you here,’ he said.

  ‘Is Uncle at court?’ I asked, looking around. ‘I don’t see him.’

  ‘No, in London with Wolsey. But he knows all that is going on, don’t you worry. He said to tell you that he will be hearing reports of you and he trusts you now know how to behave.’

  Jane Parker leaned across the table. ‘Are you going to be a lady in waiting?’ she asked George. ‘For you are sitting at our table and on a lady’s stool.’

  George rose unhurriedly. ‘I beg your pardon, ladies. I did not mean to intrude.’

  Half a dozen voices assured him that he did not intrude. My brother was a handsome young man and a popular visitor to the queen’s rooms. No-one but his sour-tongued betrothed objected to him joining our table.

  He bowed over her hand. ‘Mistress Parker, thank you for reminding me to leave you,’ he said courteously, his irritation clear behind his sweet tones. He bent and kissed me firmly on the lips. ‘God speed you, little Marianne,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘You are carrying the hopes of your family.’

  I caught his hand as he was about to go. ‘Wait, George, I wanted to ask you something.’

  He turned back. ‘What?’

  I tugged at his hand to make him lean down to me so that I could whisper in his ear. ‘Do you think that he loves me?’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Oh, love.’

  ‘Well, do you?’

  He shrugged. ‘Whatever does it mean? We write poems about it all day and sing songs about it all night but if there is such a thing in real life I’m damned if I know.’

  ‘Oh George!’

  ‘He wants you, I can tell you that. He’s prepared to go through a degree of trouble to have you. If that means love to you then yes, he loves you.’

  ‘That’s enough for me,’ I said with quiet satisfaction. ‘Wants me, and is prepared to go through a degree of trouble. That sounds like love to me.’

  My handsome brother bowed. ‘If you say so, Mary. If that is good enough for you.’ He straightened up and immediately stepped back. ‘Your Majesty.’

  The king stood before me. ‘George, I cannot allow you to spend the evening talking to your sister, you are the envy of the court.’

  ‘I am,’ George said with all his courtier charm. ‘Two beautiful sisters and not a care in the world.’

  ‘I thought we should have some dancing,’ the king said. ‘Will you lead out Mistress Boleyn and I will take care of Mistress Carey, here?’

  ‘I should be delighted,’ George said. Without looking around for her, he snapped his fingers and, alert as ever, Anne appeared at his side.

  ‘We’re to dance,’ he said shortly.

  The king waved his hand and the musicians struck up a quick country dance so we arranged ourselves in a ring of eight people and started the flowing steps first one way then the other. At the opposite side of the circle I saw George’s familiar beloved face and, beside him, Anne’s smooth smile. She looked as she did when she was studying a new book. She was reading the king’s mood as carefully as she might look at a psalter. She was looking from him to me as if to measure the urgency of his desire. And, while never turning her head, she was checking the mood of the queen, trying to get an idea of what she had seen or what she felt.

  I smiled to myself. Anne had met her match in the queen, I thought. No-one could penetrate beneath the veneer of the daughter of Spain. Anne was a courtier beyond all others but she had been born a commoner. Queen Katherine had been born a princess. From the moment she could talk she had been taught to guard her tongue. From the moment she could walk she had been taught to step carefully and speak kindly to both rich and poor, for you never knew when you might need both rich and poor. Queen Katherine had been a player in a highly competitive, highly wealthy court before Anne had even been born.

  Anne might look around all she liked to see how the queen was bearing up under the sight of me, close to the king, our gazes locked on each other, desire very hot between us. Anne might look; but the queen never betrayed any emotion more than polite interest. She clapped at the end of the dances and once or twice cried o
ut congratulations. And then suddenly the dance ended, and Henry and I were left stranded without musicians playing, without other dancers encircling us and hiding us. We were left alone, exposed, still handclasped with his eyes on my face and me looking up at him in silence, locked together as if we might stay that way forever.

  ‘Bravo,’ said the queen, her voice completely steady and confident. ‘Very pretty.’

  ‘He’ll send for you,’ Anne said that night as we undressed in the room. She shook out her dress and laid it carefully in the chest at the foot of the bed, her hood at the other end, her shoes carefully set side by side under the bed. She pulled on her night shift and sat before the mirror to brush her hair.

  She handed the brush to me and she closed her eyes as I set about the long strokes from head to waist.

  ‘Perhaps tonight, perhaps during the day tomorrow. You’ll go.’

  ‘Of course I’ll go,’ I said.

  ‘Well, remember who you are,’ Anne warned. ‘Don’t let him just have you in a doorway or somewhere hidden and hurried. Insist on proper rooms, insist on a proper bed.’

  ‘I’ll see,’ I said.

  ‘It’s important,’ she cautioned me. ‘If he thinks he can take you like a slut then he’ll have you and forget you. If anything, I think you should hold out a little longer. If he thinks you’re too easy he’ll not have you more than once or twice.’