by G Lawrence
Will you call them back on the day I die? I asked Henry in my mind. Will that be your wedding day, Lord of loss? Lord of spite? Lord of pain? Will you take to the altar on a carpet of blood as the one you loved breathes her last?
I had not been found guilty, yet I had a home no more.
I had not been condemned, yet Death was already coming for me.
My women thought I did not hear them when they said a messenger had been sent on the 9th, summoning an expert swordsman from France. But I did hear. I had not yet faced trial, but my executioner was already on his way.
The sword… a graceful death. The axe was clumsy, and often chopped at the neck, the shoulders and the body before taking the head. The sword was quicker, cleaner… it was a noble death.
The sword was for me. Henry’s last gift… a swift, quick death.
This act of mercy told me all I needed to know. Somewhere, perhaps buried deep inside him, Henry knew I was innocent. Had he thought me guilty, there was no pain, no agony, he would have denied me.
Norfolk was made Lord High Steward of England, in preparation for him to preside over our trial. I was told that my father would not sit in judgement upon George and me, as this was thought inappropriate.
What did that matter? My father had passed sentence on Weston, Smeaton, Norris and Brereton, knowing that to do so was to sign the death warrants of his children. For my part, I would have had him sit, pass judgement and face us. At least that would have been honest. But no… our father crawled like the worm he was, currying favour by slaughtering his own children.
Our allies had deserted us. Our goods, property and offices were being handed to others. The sword was on its way. Judgement was already passed.
Henry was wasting no time.
*
“Your chaplain, William Latimer, was searched when he returned to England, my lady,” Mistress Aucher whispered to me in the privy.
“For what reason?”
“They were looking for banned books, but found nothing.”
Mistress Aucher had told me that Latimer had been detained for a day. Latimer was returning from a business trip to Flanders, and since all knew my reformist leanings, no doubt Cromwell had hoped to discover something incriminating on my chaplain. Clever Latimer had known to hide any books he might have brought back for me. They would have been shipped separately, for he understood the risks he took.
What was the purpose of this? Did they hope to add charges of heresy to my trial? Did they want to accuse me of being a witch? I knew not, but they had found nothing. What did it matter if they had? Were not charges of adultery, treason and incest damning enough?
“What have they done with him?” I asked.
“He was taken to London and placed under guard,” said Mistress Aucher. “I know no more.”
But I heard more. More from the watchers who thought I had gone deaf. Jane Seymour had been installed in Carewe’s house at Beddington, and Henry visited her in secret. Jane had been dressed in great finery, when last the court had seen her, and, as Henry grew assured that I would be executed, she was moved closer to him, to Chelsea, where she was served by Henry’s personal cook and other officers.
Henry was sending Jane love tokens, and notes, promising that the pamphlets and their printers would be destroyed and punished. Promising also, no doubt, that his love for her would sustain her, as once it had me.
“They say he will marry her, as soon as…” Mistress Coffin cast a look in my direction, but I was staring at my Bible, apparently unaware of them.
“Say what you will,” said Lady Shelton, ruffling her stout shoulders. “I think it ill that he parades his love for this woman when his wife has not yet stood trial.”
So, I thought. Even those who guard me think badly of Henry. If that is so, I wonder what is said in the streets?
They must know, I thought. Just as they did with Katherine. They must know that Henry was seeking to rid himself of one wife, in order to take another.
Chapter Seventy-Five
The Tower of London
May 15th 1536
I took another glance in the hand-held mirror before I left my rooms.
It was the morning of my trial. After me, George would stand. There was no hope of being found innocent, but I would not go quietly. A meek wife was all Henry wanted now, and I would not be so. Not for him. Not for a demon willing to sacrifice me, his friends, and our good names on the altar of his wants.
I was not to be tried in Westminster Hall. Henry and Cromwell did not want me to be seen by the people. They did not want further ditties to be sung, or the pale flesh of my face to engender sympathy. I would be tried in the King’s Hall in the Tower. I would not leave this place, in life or in death.
The face in the mirror was hollow and pale, but her bright eyes shone from their sockets. There was something fearful about my beauty that day… something morbid, unearthly. As though Death had already taken up residence inside me, and my body shone with the last light of life and His immortal soul.
Doomed I may be, but falter, I would not. I would not fail to present myself as innocent. I did not deserve to die.
I waited at the doorway as they read the Crown’s commission. Beside me was the Yeoman Gaoler of the Tower, his ceremonial axe turned away from me, to signify I was not yet condemned.
“Gentleman Gaoler of the Tower, bring forth your prisoner!” came Norfolk’s voice.
I entered accompanied by Lady Boleyn, Kingston, Lady Kingston and Sir Edmund Walsingham. Mistress Aucher followed, taking a place in the packed stands. Upon entering, I had to steel my heart. I had not been informed how many people would be there to witness my trial. The stands were stocked full, piled with people like stacks of cloth waiting to be cut.
Later, I was told there were two thousand people present. At the time, all I could see was a sea of eyes, staring at me.
I swallowed hard, trying to diminish the frantic beating of my heart as I faced the stage on which my jury sat.
It was my privilege to be judged by a jury of my peers. Unlike Norris, Smeaton, Weston and Brereton, who had faced the commission of oyer and terminer, so conveniently established weeks before we were arrested, I would face lords and dukes. I looked upon them, twenty-six in all. I saw few I would name friends.
Norfolk, sitting as Lord Steward and representing Henry, was on a throne under a cloth of estate with his son at his feet. In Norfolk’s hands was his white staff of office, and in Surrey’s, the golden rod of the Earl Marshal. Norfolk looked pleased.
So finally you have a throne, Uncle, I thought with sneering contempt, and will see me done to death too… what a good day for you!
Norfolk had no doubt been chosen not only for his rank, but to provide a modicum of justice. As my kinsman, he might be viewed by any who knew nothing of our true relationship, as sympathetic. But he was not. It was his delight to sit in judgement over me. Had he not always wished to subdue me? This was Norfolk’s grand day out.
You think to confirm your power, by crushing me this day, I thought. But you do not understand, Uncle. Killing someone does not grant you power over them. My strength is greater than yours. My soul is vaster than you can possibly imagine. Even if you take my life, you will always be weak, as I will always be strong.
Sir Thomas Audley and Suffolk were on either side of Norfolk. At their backs were more men. More enemies.
Henry Courtenay, Marquis of Exeter, and his cousin, Lord Montague, were firmly on the side of traditional religion, and Gertrude, Montague’s wife, had long been my foe. Both had supported Katherine whilst she lived, and her daughter now she was dead. Both had plotted against me with Chapuys and Cromwell, as both had supported Jane Seymour.
John de Vere was the kinsman of Frances, one of my ladies, and he had borne the crown at my coronation, so might be thought of as a potential ally, but he was Henry’s good friend, and shrewd enough to understand what was expected of him. Ralph Neville, too, was Henry’s friend, as was Henry Somers
et, Earl of Worchester, who was also husband to my good friend Elizabeth Browne. Robert Radcliff, Earl of Sussex, Thomas Manners, Earl of Rutland and George Hastings, Earl of Huntington were related to Henry and often in his company. Thomas Fiennes, Lord Dacre, had come up against Henry under charges of treason, which, uniquely, had been quashed for lack of evidence. Dacre needed to prove himself. This was his chance.
Henry Parker, Lord Morley, was George’s father-in-law, but he had loved Thomas More and was a staunch supporter of Lady Mary, as were Lord Windsor and Lord Cobham. Edward Grey, Baron of Powys and Thomas Stanley, Lord Mounteagle, were Suffolk’s sons-in-law. Edward Clinton was married to Bessie Blount. If I died, if Henry despaired of an heir, Clinton’s stepson, Fitzroy, would be a step closer to the throne. Thomas Wentworth was a cousin of Jane Seymour, and therefore had good reason to think his prospects might improve with my destruction.
I almost faltered to see so many foes, but I thought of Katherine. I remembered Blackfriars. Unlike her, I would not walk out of here and be free, but like her I would stand. I would fight. I would be heard.
One face made me start. Sitting with a pale face and shaking hands was Henry Percy. His eyes would not meet mine, and I knew the reason. With all the arrests that had gone on of late, Percy must have thought he was but a whisker from the Tower himself. His appearance here, I had no doubt, had been commanded so he might prove his loyalty. Whatever his feelings had been for me in the past, or were now, he could not find me innocent. To do so might turn Henry’s hungry eye upon him.
I doubted he would think on me with any affection. Percy had been trying to squeeze into the ranks of my enemies for some time… but there was something shameful in his expression. Something which made me think he was unwilling to be there.
Tom and Page had not been tried with the others. I wondered if they might be tried next, after George and me, but something in me told me they would not. It was to Cromwell’s benefit to slaughter Brereton, Weston and Norris. Norris and Weston were part of my faction, and their removal would lead Cromwell closer to Henry than he had ever been. He had never liked Weston, in any case, and I was sure now he had been jealous of Norris. Brereton’s death would grant Cromwell free rein in Wales and Cheshire. Mark was but a passing addition. He was of no importance in life, but in death he would grant Cromwell all he needed.
But as for the other two … Cromwell was friends with Tom, and had no grievance against Page. They would be reprieved, I was sure, and then they would owe Cromwell. He liked to have men in his debt.
And there was an added benefit. To allow some men to escape might secure the idea that those who were tried were guilty. Execute too many, and incredulity might overcome scandalous delight.
I stood before them, my head high as I curtseyed. I gazed on them with a stout face, unwilling to show fear. My gown was black velvet, with a scarlet kirtle and a cap decorated with a black feather and a white one. Black for mourning, and red for the colour of Catholic martyrs. I looked magnificent, as was intended.
We exchanged standard, cordial greetings and I took my seat on the chair provided. Only Norfolk had a throne this day, but I drew myself up. I would not cower and quake. I would show my innocence in all that I did.
Beside Suffolk was my crown on a cushion. It was the one made for my coronation; gold studded with sapphires, rubies and pearls. Crosses of gold and fleurs-de-lis surrounded the rim. They did not mean for me to wear it, but to surrender it, when I was condemned. There was no if.
“Queen Anne of England,” Sir Christopher Hales said loudly. “You come here accused of high treason, adultery and carnal incest with five men, including your own brother. How do you plead?”
My chin rose as did my breast as I drew in air. I would ensure everyone heard me. I raised my right hand. “I plead not guilty, my lord,” I announced.
A buzzing noise of muttering erupted in the stalls. The muffled mumbling sounded shocked. Had they been told I would plead guilty, or had they just supposed it?
I glanced to one side and saw Mistress Aucher in the stands, her face stark. I fixed my eyes on her, drawing strength and courage. At least one person there knew I was innocent.
“Despising her marriage and entertaining malice against the King,” droned Norfolk, “and following daily her frail and carnal lust, the Queen did falsely and traitorously procure by base conversations and kisses, touching, gifts, and other infamous incitations, divers of the King’s daily and familiar servants to be her adulterers and concubines, so that several of the King’s servants yielded to her vile provocations.”
I was not allowed to question witnesses if they were brought against me. Not permitted to call anyone to speak for me, and not allowed to offer evidence on my own behalf. All I could do was answer their questions.
I was to fight without a weapon.
They laid out the case against me. And how specific were the charges. Too specific to any who had a mind…
I was accused of lying with Norris at Westminster in October of 1533; Brereton at Greenwich that November and again at Hampton Court in December. Smeaton and I had apparently rutted at Westminster in April of 1534, followed by Weston in May and June at Westminster and Greenwich. That April of the same year, apparently unsatisfied by Weston, I had lain with Smeaton at Westminster. For some reason, I had taken a break from my whoring, and had resumed my affair with Smeaton only in the April of 1535. That November I had abandoned all virtue and sense, enticed my brother into incest by putting my tongue in his mouth, and had lain with George at Westminster and again in December at Eltham Palace.
They also mentioned, each time a date and charge was read, that I had fornicated with these men at other times, which were unspecified… which also meant it was impossible for me to offer any defence.
In return, I had promoted their careers, using them as my whores to be paid for services rendered.
Aside from these accusations, it was said that in October of 1535 I had conspired to kill Henry at Westminster, had given gifts to my lovers that November, and this January, and had plotted to murder Henry with my brother, Norris, Weston and Brereton whilst at Greenwich. I had also brought injury upon the King’s body, harmed him through stress and strain.
Oh, Henry, I thought. Poor you. Poor little boy… You have suffered, have you?
They used ridiculous evidence against me: I had danced with these men, many times and often; George had been in my chambers; someone had seen me kiss my brother; I had been handed from man to man in the dance; I had written to George; I had given money and medals to these men; I had laughed with them, smiled at them… shown friendship.
Cromwell had no need to prove me guilty of treason, not really. All he needed to do was to thrust forth charges that would unseat the security of any man. Make me appear as a woman who had flouted the normal behaviour of women, as one who had mocked her husband, called his power and lineage into question, and emasculated him in doing so, and he could make me into their worst fear; a woman who threatened the apparently so-fragile power of men.
When I made no answer, one of the men said I could not deny that I had written to my brother to tell him I was pregnant. “Why should I not write with such wonderful news to my brother?” I asked. “Does your wife not write to kin to tell them when she is with child by her lawful husband?”
He had no answer for me.
One might have asked why Westminster was such a particular favourite place of mine to indulge my sinful appetite. Did its walls infect me with carnal lust so strong that I could not restrain it? Another pertinent question was how I could have committed adultery in October of 1533 whilst I was still confined in bed, recovering from Elizabeth’s birth. I was sure a man had formed these accusations, for no woman would ever believe that a woman who had just given birth would entertain the notion of sex for a while…
But I could not question them on this basis. These charges were made to make me appear incontinent of virtue, for to lie with a man whilst recovering from childbe
d was detestable and against the laws of God. It would only have condemned me further, and possibly put my daughter in peril to attack them on this point.
Had I had the time or the right to examine their evidence, I could have made up a list of the palaces where I had stayed during this time from court records. I could have defended myself. A few, I was certain I had not been in at the times and dates proclaimed. In October of 1533, I was at Greenwich, not Westminster, as this had been where I had given birth and where I was churched. I was fairly sure I had been at Greenwich that December, and not at Hampton Court. During April, May and June of 1534, I had been with child, and indeed in June, just one month before I lost my first son, I had been very heavy with child. If I would not lie with my husband during those months, for fear of harming our baby, why would I risk the child who might save me from a horror such as this, by rutting with these men?