by G Lawrence
I glanced up to look at my ladies and gentlemen. They were singing and laughing, flirting and conversing, as though they had all the time in the world for pleasure. I envied them.
“All these years,” I said. “All these years and I have never felt safe. Since the moment Henry first came to me with words of love on his lips, I have not known peace. Not even when I was made Queen, or when I carried my children.”
I smiled mirthlessly. “I thought Henry would bring me safety, in the end. But it has never been so. Since first I fell in love, I have been falling, and never knew it. I have been tumbling down a cliff, in the dark of night. I have been exposed and slandered, defamed and abused, and all for love. I thought he would make me safe. I thought he would safeguard our future, but I was wrong.”
I looked away from my brother. “He promised once to be my knight,” I whispered. “But I come to think the days of chivalry are dead.”
My brother left me to talk with Henry about the meeting with François. Much postponed had this meeting been, but now the final preparations were being put together, and I had been excited to think that I would soon be publicly accepted. But now… I was anxious.
I ordered more clothes, when my brother left me, thinking that if I had to draw Henry back to me, I would need enticements. Venice gold trim for gowns of silk, yards of cloth of gold and satin in shades of green and gold I ordered, along with a saddle with round buttons of gold for Lady Margaret Douglas.
“It is a fine gift, Majesty,” said the girl when I showed her my drawings.
“You should have some consolation,” I replied, glancing at her with sympathetic eyes. Her dalliance with my young uncle was continuing in secret, but Margaret had drawn back of late, fearing Henry’s reaction if their love should become known.
Her eyes went to my Howard kinsman. The naked affection in them burned. “I know not what to do,” she said.
“When the King is in a good mood, we will go to him together.” I followed the track of her eyes. “There should be love, in this world. There should be constancy.”
She looked baffled, but heartened. I sent her to my uncle to speak about preparations for the meeting in France, and she was pleased to have an excuse to talk to him.
I went back to my drawings, trying to lose myself in my plans… It did not work. Perhaps he was not seeking annulment, I thought as I sketched. Perhaps he was simply worried, as you have been, as to why a son has not been granted by God.
New clothes I ordered, planning to enchant Henry with my body and support him with my mind.
Those clothes would never be worn.
*
A day later, as I entered Henry’s chamber to talk with him about the trip to France, I found he was not there. His men were embarrassed when I enquired where he was, and I knew then that he must be with Jane Seymour.
Turning about, and promising to return soon, I caught sight of Smeaton sitting by himself in an alcove in the Throne Room. He looked sad, so I went to him. “Why so grim, Master Smeaton?” I asked.
He glanced up, not bothering to rise from his seat to bow, as he should have done. “It makes no matter,” he said, looking away with pensive eyes.
My frayed temper snapped. Smeaton was no equal of mine, and this behaviour was not acceptable. He should have risen and bowed, at the very least. “You may not expect to have me speak to you as I might a nobleman,” I said. “You are a lesser person in this household.”
My rebuke stung. A glimmer of anger crossed his eyes. Smeaton never liked to be reminded of his humble origins. “No, madam,” he said, rising to bow. “From you, a look suffices me, and thus fare you well.” He excused himself and left, leaving me staring after him with bemused eyes.
“He tells us all that he loves you, Majesty,” said Norris, appearing behind me.
“Puppy love,” I said, turning. “He sees the courtly love that others offer, and thinks it is real. He thinks himself in love with me for that is what is expected of gentlemen at court, and he yearns to be known as a noble.”
“Do you not trust in any of the men about you?” Norris asked softly, drawing near.
“In whom should I trust?” I asked. “In my husband, who runs off to enjoy the company of whores? In men like Weston who seek advancement by pretending love they feel not?”
“What of me?”
“What of you, Norris?” I whispered. My ladies were on the other side of the chamber, not paying attention. For once, there was no one near us.
“Would you not believe in me?”
“Are you not to wed my fair cousin?”
Norris glanced at Mary, laughing with Brereton. “She is beautiful,” he said, making my heart drop. Then he looked at me. “But she is not you.”
“I know what you would say, and I beg you not to,” I said quickly. “Life is full of lost liaisons, my friend. Had fate been different for either of us, there might be a chance for what you suggest, but it is not, and never will it be so.”
He looked away. “I know,” he said. “And I came to you not with hope, for I know your heart is dedicated to the King alone, and I, too, as his friend of twenty years would never betray him.” Norris looked at me. “But know that I love you,” he said. “And not for show, as Smeaton does, or for favours as Weston looks for… I admire and esteem you. I think you all that is good in this world.”
“I think the same of you,” I whispered. “And nothing will alter that.”
“Then trust in the love of those who offer their hearts to you without motive or purpose. And although I will go to the altar and promise myself to your cousin, I will worship you in my heart for the rest of my days.”
“Then know the same is true for me,” I said sadly.
“I will stand by you, always… Anne.”
Norris bowed and left to talk to Mary Shelton. I watched him walk across the chamber, knowing he carried a heavy heart, just as I did.
Nothing could come of it, but at such a time, as my husband questioned our union and as I struggled to bear a child, it was a comfort to know that amongst the lies and the shadows, amongst the illusions and deceit, there was an honest heart that beat for me, sounding its reckless call in the darkness, bringing light to my world. I hoped I brought Norris the same comfort.
As I went to join my ladies, I caught sight of Richard Rich, standing in a corner, talking to Carewe. I followed the path of their eyes. They were staring at Smeaton.
Something in their watchful eyes made me shudder… as though I had seen a cat with her eyes upon a mouse that stood in plain sight, oblivious to her stalking gait.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Greenwich Palace
April 29th 1536
The next day, everyone was gathered in my rooms. Smeaton was playing for my ladies to dance, and as I watched them, Norris drew near.
Mary and Margaret Shelton were dancing with George and Weston, their steps light and carefree. Mary was so vivacious and pretty that day, and I saw Norris’ eyes linger on her. A spark of jealousy ignited in my heart.
“Why do you not go ahead with your marriage, Norris?” I asked him, sipping from a goblet of wine. I had already drunk more than was good for me, attempting to drown my fear. “It is clear you are attracted to my cousin, and her father has given his consent.”
Norris did not look at me, but I saw his jaw twitch. Given that he had explained his reasons for delaying only the day before, and promised his heart to me, no doubt he thought my question arbitrary. I thought I caught a glimmer of resentment, too.
“I will tarry a time, Majesty,” he said.
I sipped again and let out a short laugh that made people look our way. Unthinkingly, I made to tease him. “You look for dead men’s shoes,” I said, none too quietly. “For if aught were to come to the King but good, you would look to have me.”
The moment I said it, my hand flashed to my mouth and my eyes dropped wide and wild. I looked about. Everyone standing nearby, and there were many, had heard me. It was treason
to speak of the death of the King, and still more dangerous that I had suggested Norris might seek to take me, the Queen, as his wife.
Norris did not even turn his head. His face drained and his eyes bulged.
For a moment, there was silence.
Why had I said that? What was I thinking?
The truth is, I was not. I was caught up in fear and worry. Norris’ admission of love on the previous day had brought me a fragment of joy. Jealous of Mary, I had sought to gain a compliment or another protestation of love from him, to heal my heart. But I had not thought. I had not thought. I had allowed such a scandalous statement to leave my lips unheeded. It was one thing for men to protest they loved me, but quite another for me to take the masculine role and go on the attack. And in saying Norris looked for a time when Henry was dead was dangerous to us both.
“If I thought any such thing,” Norris said, turning, his grey eyes blazing with terror and rage. “I would that my head were taken from me.”
“It was a jest, nothing more,” I said desperately, grasping about for some way to salvage the situation.
“Then it was a foolish one.” Norris glanced about, trying to ascertain who might have heard us.
“Do not think to speak to me as though you were my master!” I said loudly. “I am your Queen!”
“And as such I serve you, madam, but look for nothing more.” Norris was looking wildly about. I stopped him, clutching his arm with a desperate claw.
“Hold still,” I said. “Act as though something is wrong and more people will notice.”
“Plenty heard you, Anne,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Do as I say or I will undo you,” I threatened.
“You may have done that already.”
“We must remedy this,” I said, swallowing hard. The intoxication of the wine left me swiftly. I had never felt more sober than I did in that moment. “The King must not hear of it.”
“There are people here with connections to Cromwell,” Norris whispered. “They will be only too pleased to take such a tale to him and he will use it.”
“Then I must have a witness to speak for me. We will go to John Skip, and you will bear witness that I am a good woman, beyond reproach.”
“What good will this do?”
“I know not. I know not,” I said, wringing my hands. “But for my sake and yours, Norris, do this for me, I beg of you.”
His eyes softened as he took in my distress. “I will,” he said. “And it will be nothing but the truth in any case.” He took my goblet of wine and passed it to my sister-in-law. “Drink no more,” he said. “It brings you no peace.” He gazed at me. I swear I could see his heart in his eyes. “All will be well, Anne,” he said softly. “I will not let harm come to you.”
And with that, Norris went to Skip to swear on his soul that I was a good woman.
My most trusted women, I knew, would say nothing of my hideous slip. But it was a fool’s hope to think Henry would not find out.
I watched Norris leave and my mind called up an image; a drop of blood falling from the body of a deer into a pool of water.
Black falling to black. Blood on blood… A ripple in a pool, casting out from the first impression of liquid upon liquid, undulating out from the centre, washing in waves to touch all and everything.
Rumour would spread.
What had I done?
Later that day, Henry sent for me. As I walked to his chamber, my heart pounding like a drum, I knew my slip would cost me.
Just how much, I did not then know.
I knew it not, but I had granted Cromwell his chance. I had handed Henry his excuse. I had thought my enemies were what I should fear, but I should have looked within, to the unguarded tongue in my mouth. I was my own worst enemy, and this slip, no matter how foolish, no matter how silly, slim, slight and spare, would be used against me. I knew not that Cromwell had the bow ready in his hands.
I had just handed him an arrow.
*
“It was but a jest, Henry!” I cried, running to him and trying to take his sleeve. “A jest! It was a conversation on courtly love that got out of hand, but it meant nothing!”
He pulled his arm from me and glared. I had never seen him so angry. He lifted a hand, as though to strike my face, and I cringed from him.
“A jest?” he roared, gazing at me in disgust as I cowered. “You would jest about my death, would you, madam? You think it a subject of light importance? You think to make yourself a new husband from amongst my own men? My closest friend?”
“It was foolish,” I said, my words tumbling over one another. “I was teasing Norris about not being yet wed to my cousin, and the words just came out.”
“Perhaps this is what you hope for?” he demanded. “For me to die so you might take a new husband?”
“I love you!” I cried, tears bursting from my eyes. “And if I spoke wild, it was because you made me! You want a new wife, do you not? You have spoken to my enemies about setting me aside! In rage and sorrow did my heart lash out, and if I said something foolish, it was because you made me do it!”
“I? I made you say that you desired my demise?”
“I did not say such a thing,” I protested. “I did not, Henry, and any who tells you otherwise is lying! I said to Norris that if aught were to come to you but good, he might think to have me. That is not a wish that you would die! It was a tease… I thought to push him into finally agreeing to wed my cousin.”
Henry twisted away, his nostrils flaring, tipped with white, and his face a mangled mess of purple and red. I tried to take his arm again and he shook me off. “Get off me!” he shouted. “I cannot bear to even look at you, creeping after me, trying to placate me as all the while you plot my death with my men!”
“How can you think that?” I screamed, my wailing voice floating all through court. “For all these long years, I have remained true. For all these years you and Elizabeth have been my only thought. There is no sun in my sky without you, Henry. There is no light in this world. When you offered me your heart, I took it up, and I kept it safe. I offered you the same, but you trampled on my heart and derided my love for you. You mocked my affection by taking mistresses, and you have given leave to my enemies to work against me, and still, whilst I endured pain upon pain and agony on agony, I have never faltered. I am your wife, Henry of England! I swore myself to you and only you, and I have never broken that promise!”
I was sure any moment he would call his guards and have me arrested. I would be defamed and disgraced. Elizabeth would be taken from me.
I fell to my knees and gazed up at him. “For all the love once you bore me,” I said. “For all that was pleasing when you saw my face, or heard my voice, hear me now. I love you, I would never harm you, and whilst I might at times speak recklessly out of fear and pain and hurt, I would never, never do anything to imperil your life.”
I looked up at him. “You are my only protection and salvation, Henry,” I whispered. “I love you.”
“I cannot look at you,” he muttered.
He swept out of the room, leaving me on my knees. I put my face into my hands and wept bitter, terrified tears. Was this the end? Would I find myself packed off to a nunnery, or under arrest? What would become of Elizabeth? I knew not.
I was petrified.
What would Henry do to me… this wife who had failed to grant him a son? This woman who had spoken of his death? This Queen who no longer pleased him and whose enemies were watching from the shadows, waiting to strike?
Chapter Sixty-Five
Greenwich Palace
April 29th 1536
There is still time to mend this. There is still time to mend this.
That was all that went through my head as I walked from Henry’s chambers. I had to demonstrate that I loved him. I had to prove my words were but a jest. I had to show him I was, in heart, an honest women and a good wife. I had to remind him of all that once had been ours.
I went to the
nursery and asked to take Elizabeth into the gardens. She loved to see the fish in the ponds. If her nursemaids noted the wildness of my eyes, they said nothing, but dressed my two-year-old daughter in warm layers, and brought her to me in the gardens at Greenwich.
We sat in a courtyard, beside a pond where little golden fish swam, their backs and sides flashing and glinting in the afternoon light as they turned to catch the warmth of the sun. Elizabeth was in my lap, her tiny, chubby hand reaching out as she tried to touch the fish. A small gurgle of mirth escaped her lips and she looked up, trying to share the moment with me. She waved her hands.