by G Lawrence
Dairy women would dress their milk buckets with leaves and fresh flowers. Every door held a garland of buds and branches, and children would scatter blooms on neighbours’ doorsteps to bring good fortune. Ritual battles would be enacted, with villagers jostling on hilltops to fight for the ancient right to control a glen. Wagons and carts were decked with flowers and trundled through the dirty streets, and maypoles would be erected, where people would take hands and dance about them in a circle. The base of the pole would be strewn with flowers and the pole itself bound in gay ribbon. Some reformers wanted to banish these customs, thinking them pagan, but I greeted such sights with joy. May Day was the coming of the new world. Why would God not want us to celebrate it?
And court was far from looking down upon the merry dance of May. Jousting and dancing were traditional on this day, and long ago, Henry and Katherine had gone a-Maying, enacting a masque where Henry and his men dressed up as Robin Hood and his merry band, as Katherine and her ladies sighed on flowery meads.
Perhaps one day, I thought, Henry and I will do this.
I processed from my chambers with a line of thirty ladies in my wake. Dressed in royal purple and cloth of gold, with a French hood trimmed with pearls upon my head, I looked magnificent, every inch a queen. I had taken care with my jewels, selecting those that Henry had given me with our initials entwined, so he might see that I was his alone. I set Norris out of mind. I had told him that nothing could come of our affections. I would cease to feel jealousy for something that could never be mine. I would hold my heart for my husband alone, setting foolish wishes and desires away. You have not betrayed Henry, I told myself. When temptation came, you refused it. You did as you should, as was worthy of you.
Guilt remained, however. No matter if Henry had forgotten his vows and betrayed me, I should not have nurtured affection, no matter how innocent, for another. Henry’s forgiveness made me feel this shame. Goodness lies in seeing our faults and rectifying them, I thought. You know your faults now, Anne Boleyn. Set them to mending.
As we reached the jousting grounds, a crowd was already gathered, watching the knights with greedy eyes, to see whom they might wager upon to bring the greatest spoils.
The fresh wind blew, flouncing over the stands where pretty, plump cushions sat waiting. Despite the wind, the air was warm, and a balmy breeze fluttered through the streaming pennants of the nobles upon the field. I took my seat in the stands between the twin towers of the tiltyard, and looked out onto the gaily-coloured tents where knights were preparing for battle. Their horses were attended by young pages, brushing chestnut or white coats to shimmer like burnished copper or luminous pearl under the May sunshine.
Norris was leading the defenders as my brother led the answerers.
Henry, still recovering from his injuries, was not to ride that day. He sat beside me as the lists were read, smiling at me with warmth in his eyes. At one point he took my hand. It was hesitant, but he laced his fingers through mine.
My heart pulsed with untamed gratitude and boundless, aching relief, thinking he was one of the best men in the world. You will emerge from this ill event only stronger, I thought. There is nothing that can drive you apart. Later, he went to speak to the knights, standing in the shadow of the green and white striped tents, whose sides flapped and billowed in the breeze.
I watched a squirrel as he ran over the dark earth, his red tail and coat buffeted by the breeze. Oblivious to the knights, he scampered happily over the earth, pausing to sniff the air, and, sensing no danger, ran on to clamber up a tree, his step light and fresh as the wind.
At one stage, Norris’ horse became uncontrollable, and he could not ride him. Henry came forth with his own steed and handed the reins to Norris, a clear sign of favour, and one I celebrated. I had not placed Norris in danger.
The joust went on. The challengers were fierce and true. Their horses thundered across the earth, making the crowds scream with joy and terror. The answerers came back, breaking stout lances time and time again on the bodies of their foes. Splinters flew into the air, taken by the wind to cascade over the stands, falling upon the crowds as snowflakes raining from the skies. Ladies laughed and gallants screamed, each supporting their champion.
There was nothing to suggest anything was wrong.
But then, suddenly, Henry mounted his horse and turned from the field. A messenger had come, handed him a scrap of parchment, and then stepped back, his young face wary, as though he feared to be punished. Henry read the note and his face darkened. He glanced at me. I lifted a hand to wave, but he had already turned away.
Abruptly, he left the field, taking with him only six attendants and calling for Norris to follow. As they rode away I could see Henry questioning Norris closely, and from the distant glimpse I had of Norris’ face, his questions brought my friend only horror.
That was the last time I saw my husband.
With the King gone, the joust tumbled to an ungainly close. Puzzled and worried, I rose and departed with my ladies, only to see Norfolk watching me with a strange smile on his face. He bowed as I passed, but as he rose that smirk lingered.
“Where is the King?” I asked when I arrived back at the palace.
“Gone to Westminster, Majesty,” said Henry’s servant.
“But… we are supposed to preside over the entertainments together.”
The man stared blankly at me. What more could he say? Henry had chosen not to attend and that was that. No servant controls their master.
Neither Henry nor Norris resurfaced. I presided over the entertainments with a heart that beat like a drum in my breast. Anxiety rose again, consuming me. What was going on? Had this been any other time, I would have taken to a boat and gone to Henry, but something in me told me that I would not like what I found there.
I was told later that Henry had signed conditions for a treaty with France, and had gone to Westminster to tie up the last strands of this agreement.
“It requires François to end his alliance with Rome,” my father told me.
I breathed in relief. Any agreement confirmed now would alter if Henry meant to set me aside. You worry without cause, I told myself. All was well. Henry believed in our innocence. There was nothing wrong.
But another voice was not so reassuring. It whispered, spilling much I did not want to hear. I sent for my brother.
“I want you to go to the King,” I said. “And find out what is happening.”
“He is working on the treaty,” said George. “That is all.”
“I fear it may not be.” My eyes flashed to the dark panes in the windows. Night had fallen. Blackness covered the world like despair. “Please, George,” I went on. “Go to Westminster.”
“I will go on the morrow,” he said. “I have to call at Whitehall first, to meet with Father.”
“And then you will go to the King?”
He kissed my forehead. “I will,” he said. “To calm you.”
That was the last night of our liberty.
It took me hours to sleep. I tossed in my bed, wondering what was going on. Poor Mary Howard who shared my bed that night found no rest. But eventually I must have fallen into the realm of dreams, for I found myself on a horse, on a dusty road.
I looked up to see a palace. In one of the windows stood Katherine, watching me. I glanced at the road and there was Henry, waiting on his horse.
It was the day he had left her… The day he had committed himself to me.
I glanced up at Katherine again, and I saw the hourglasses in her eyes. As I watched, the last grain of sand fell.
Time is spent.
Katherine’s mouth did not form the words, but they sounded in my head. I turned from her, urging my horse to follow Henry. But as I drew near, his horse raced ahead. He was calling for me, but I could not reach him. On and on I chased him, whipping my horse hard, as I never did in life. My hair billowed, thrashing my face and striking my hands. My breath was hard in my ears, as was the thundering of my heart
.
I came to a stop on a long, dusty road. Henry had vanished, as had the palace holding Katherine.
There was no one and nothing there, but in the distance I could see the tower of blood. On the wind there were voices, crying out in terrible pain. But I could see no one.
I was alone.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Greenwich Palace
May 2nd 1536
Early the next morning, I went to watch a tennis match. Henry was supposed to be playing, and I hoped to talk to him during a break in the matches, but when I arrived, I found his name had been taken from the lists.
“Is the King not competing today?” I asked Weston, who was.
“The King is at Whitehall, madam,” he said. “Apparently there was an emergency Council meeting about France. The King means to sign a treaty with them.”
“I wish I had known,” I said, thinking that at least George would find Henry, as he had left for Whitehall with the dawn. “I could have counselled the King with my opinion.”
“I believe it is not yet set in stone, my lady,” the young man said, clearly itching to get to his match.
“Go, young Weston,” I said, offering him a watery smile. “Play your best, for I will lay a wager on you to win.”
“Then I will play for you, Your Majesty,” he said. “And you will be my good luck charm.”
Poor Weston. He did not know my luck had run out.
I caught his arm before he left. “Was Norris not meant to be partnering you?” I asked.
“He, too, is at Whitehall,” said Weston.
It seemed strange that so many men who were supposed to be a part of these matches were absent, but I released Weston’s arm. As he walked away I saw there was a hand print on his sleeve. I had not noted how wet my palms were.
I forgot to place my wager. When Weston won, I said to my ladies I was sad to have missed my chance. It was then that a messenger arrived. He handed me a note, telling me to present myself before the King’s Privy Council immediately. They were waiting in the King’s Council Chamber upstairs, it said, upon my pleasure.
Although I reasoned that this might have something to do with the treaty, I could not help but be frightened. It was rare for the Council to summon the Queen. Everything was strange. The air, the faces of the people… the atmosphere was palpable with suspense. I felt watched.
Something was going on.
I walked to the Council Chamber and as I entered I saw three men standing there, with faces grave as ghosts; Norfolk, Sir William FitzWilliam and Sir William Paulet.
“My lords,” I said. “Is there news of the treaty?”
“That is not what we are here to speak of,” said my uncle.
My head snapped up as he failed to address me as Majesty, and I liked not the smug look on his face. “Do you forget to whom you speak, Uncle?” I asked.
“Queen Anne,” he said. I thought he was merely stating my title in answer to my reprimand, but he went on, “… you are accused of adultery with three men and treason against the King, your gracious husband. We are commanded to take you under arrest, and escort you to the Tower of London, where you will await trial and judgement for your incontinent living.”
I stared at him, unable to speak. Unable to think. Unable to formulate a response.
“Do you have nothing to say?” asked my uncle.
“I deny all these charges… upon my very soul,” I stammered. “Never have I betrayed the King, and never have I engaged in any act that might be construed as treason.” My skin began to quiver. My heart was loud in my ears.
The men glanced at each other. I could see they did not believe me, or perhaps, they did not want to. I stepped forward and FitzWilliam pushed me back.
“Take your rude hands from the person of your Queen, sir!” I exclaimed. “I have done nothing to warrant such abuse of my name or person. Let me to the King. He must know that all of this is nonsense.”
“It is on the King’s order that we arrest you,” said Norfolk.
My heart stalled. Henry had ordered this? Henry believed I was a traitor, an adulterer? On the basis of what? One unguarded jest? I stared at them in blind, dumb terror.
“You knew Norris and the musician, Smeaton, carnally, did you not?” FitzWilliam demanded, stepping forwards, satisfaction glimmering in his eyes. Once he had been Wolsey’s creature. The Cardinal had named him his “treasure” and he had risen in favour because of him. Now he had a chance for revenge, he was not going to miss a moment of the pleasure it granted his restless heart.
“Norris?” I stuttered. “And Smeaton? Smeaton? You think I would lower myself so far as to not only betray my husband with two men, but to stoop so low beneath my station?”
“Was Norris a better lover then, my lady?” FitzWilliam taunted. “You will admit to him but not to the musician?”
“I admit to nothing, for nothing have I done!” I cried. My hands flailed, useless at my sides.
“Both men have confessed.”
“Then they are liars. I have done nothing.” Confessed? I thought. To what? What had they said? What had they accused me of?
“Tut, tut, tut.” Norfolk tsked, shaking his head. “Adding the sin of falsehood to those you already hold will not endear you to God, my lady.”
His was the face of evil. He delighted in my pain, fear and confusion. He took pleasure in it. Norfolk’s eyes were long and dark; tunnels which reached not only into his mind, but further, into all minds linked and bonded by the same iniquity … to the darkness and chaos of Hell, where all evil becomes as one.
“I have done nothing!” I cried, my heart beating wild. “Nothing! Let me to the King. Let me see him! He cannot believe this of me!”
“He does not wish to see you, nor to associate with such a whore as you.” FitzWilliam’s voice was scathing and I blinked to hear him accuse me of being a jade.
It was then I realised. It was a hideous, dawning realisation… I was never going to get to Henry. They would not allow it. Had I not always said that when Henry put someone out of sight they went out of mind? He was leaving me, just as he had left Katherine. He was throwing me to the wolves of court.
“Am I to have no justice?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Am I to be condemned before I am tried?”
“You will have justice, Majesty,” said Paulet, stepping forwards and scowling at the other two. I could see he did not approve of their harsh handling of this meeting, and he was the only one to use my royal title. “You will have a trial.”
“I will be tried, for this? For lies?” I could have wept. I was shaking. From where had all this horror sprung? At what point had I deserved this? I was about to be ushered into Hell, on Henry’s command.
“You will have a chance to defend yourself, before a jury,” he said.
The commission… I thought, the court that was already set up, already prepared to try and condemn in matters of treason. And they had Norris and Smeaton under arrest… was this why it had been arranged? So they might move with swift speed to convict not only me, who would be tried by my peers, but Norris and Smeaton, men of common blood…
And it was then I realised whose snare I had run blindly into.
Cromwell.
He had set up the commission. He and Audley had insisted on it. Was it for this purpose? Had I been blithely thinking that I had bested him as he worked in the shadows against me?
They questioned me for more than an hour, repeating the same charges until they were branded into my brain. I denied everything. I said over and over that I had done nothing. It made no impression.
“You will be taken to your apartments, Majesty,” Paulet said, seeing I was close to fainting. “And there you will await the tide to take you to the Tower.”
“No,” I said, my head swimming. I felt sick, dizzy, lost… I had wandered into a nightmare. “Please. Let me see my husband.”
“I have not the authority to allow that,” Paulet said. “I am sorry, madam.”
&nbs
p; I was marched to my apartments under guard. My ladies were taken away. I had not a moment to explain before they were bundled out, their faces white and drawn.
The door banged shut.
I heard guards take their places outside. Armour jangling against sword sheaths, footsteps taking position. I stared at the door with wide, wild eyes. I looked to the windows, and thought about breaking one, clambering out onto the turrets, and climbing down to run through the parks, to run away.
But I could not. I did not have strength or means to break the glass and climb out. I would never survive. I would die. For a moment it seemed this might be a better fate than waiting for what would come.