by Lucy Worsley
‘Your business in life,’ he said, ‘will be solely to bear some unattractive man his snotty children … unless you choose to do something about it. You’re clever enough to understand what I’m saying.’
I thought hard.
I had decided to cut Ned right out of my thoughts; he was too difficult, too upsetting. That much was clear. And certainly it could feel good to take action, to settle upon a future for myself.
The idea started to grow on me. It was a challenge. I could see that many things I desired – jewels and influence – might be mine for the taking. In fact, why in heaven not? Why not make my own choice? I had never dreamed I had such power …
What about making a fresh start on my court career, with no thoughts of Ned to hold me back and glittering treasures ahead of me?
I suddenly looked up and saw that Will was still watching me, smiling a little. I felt a blush rising up across my cheeks. I feared that he had been able to read my whole succession of thoughts as they had crossed my face.
‘Thank you kindly, Master Summers,’ I said, draining my goblet and standing up decisively. ‘That is indeed a most interesting idea.’
Chapter 26
Queen No More
Summer 1540
It was an interesting thought, but I did not act upon it straight away, not least because I liked and respected my own mistress, Queen Anne.
The king did not pick me out again for attention as spring slipped into summer, and I kept well away from Ned Barsby too. He was hardly ever in the Great Chamber. It was only by accident that I discovered where he had got to.
‘What’s that? Were you asking why we never see Master Barsby?’ The Countess of Malpas was speaking to another of the maids of honour, but I overheard her words. ‘I believe that he has requested a transfer to serve in the private dining chamber, instead of with us in the Great Chamber.’ Without Ned to joke about with, the long evenings sometimes seemed endlessly dull. But I told myself that his transfer was the best thing for us both.
I continued to wait upon the poor neglected queen, and when we were together in her own apartments we often had gay times, laughing and joking. Gradually, we managed to get her into more becoming clothes, and even induced her to start drinking wine.
And yet there was a sense of doom about the whole enterprise of her being queen. There was clearly no sign of a pregnancy, and the king gave up coming to her chambers at night. Katherine was also less and less assiduous in her attendance. In fact, it was almost as though she had ceased to be a maid of honour, and I was not sure how she was spending her time instead.
The Countess of Malpas gave us dreadful warnings against gossiping about the king and queen’s relationship – or the lack of it. ‘We do not discuss the king’s private relationship, even among ourselves,’ she said, as stern as I had ever seen her. ‘He has placed his trust in our mistress the queen. He believes that God will give her a baby boy, so we must do that too.’
Will Summers told me that he and all the gentlemen had been called to a special meeting to hear the results of an enquiry by the royal doctors into the king’s health.
‘His Majesty is well able “to do the act” with any woman he should choose,’ Will hissed into my ear as he partnered me into chapel. ‘We heard it straight from the mouth of all three royal doctors. Just not with his wife. She’s simply too unattractive.’
Katherine had made a rare appearance in the chapel, and I was pleased to see her scowling at us from across the aisle, aware that she was missing out on Will’s well informed gossip.
This news about the king’s virility was one of many things that half of me would have liked to talk over with Ned. Yet whenever I saw him in the courtyard or cloisters, I simply dipped my head and went on walking. I sometimes caught myself listening for his name on the lips of my colleagues as they talked over all the news of the palace.
I schooled myself when I heard it to produce a weary sneer. ‘Oh, Master Barsby,’ I would say. ‘A charming boy, but he needs to grow up.’
***
So the weary weeks wore on until the buds began to appear. In the early summer, though, great upheaval came to our lives. The ladies of the household were called into the Countess of Malpas’s chamber to hear an announcement. ‘There is to be a change in the king’s household,’ she said. ‘Our mistress Queen Anne of Cleves is to be queen no more.’
‘What will happen to her?’ I asked, aghast, visions of the fate of the former Queen Anne Boleyn flooding into my mind.
‘And will there still be places for us at court?’ was Katherine’s question.
The countess told us that once the marriage was unravelled, the former queen would be called ‘the king’s sister’ and would retire from court.
‘And you must give thought to your futures,’ the countess added in response to Katherine’s question. ‘There won’t be employment enough here for all of you.’ We turned to each other and murmured like doves in a cote upon hearing the bark of the fox.
The countess did not need to tell us that there would also be a major change in the constellation of the great men of the realm. Queen Anne’s most powerful supporter, Lord Cromwell, was out of favour, and there was talk that he would even lose his head for having promoted this German match that had turned out so poorly.
Anne herself was not greatly dismayed by the news, and I suspected that she was looking forward to her freedom. This was a topic of conversation strictly for her private chamber. Her German staff and advisors were talking up the insult offered to their princess and their country. But everyone knew that this was a bargaining position to improve the money and status that the king would offer her to go quietly to her new country life.
She stayed firmly in her rooms on the ninth of July when we had a curious kind of party at court. All the great men of England had been summoned to put their names to a document. It stated that the marriage between the king and Queen Anne hadn’t been consummated and that it was null and void.
‘The queen has a great big void where her personality should be,’ Will Summers whispered, as we watched the courtiers trooping past us into the Great Chamber. ‘I’m not surprised that the king was disappointed.’ But he didn’t look too upset, and the whole court was in a playful, almost festive, mood.
Later, in her chamber, the queen called me over to brush her hair. She too seemed happy, as relaxed as I had ever seen her, as if a burden had been lifted. If I were on the point of losing my crown, I would have been more regretful. But then, I understood that I enjoyed having some control over people and events, and that it made Anne nervous to command even me, her maid.
‘Mistress Eliza,’ Anne said, as she laid down the brush. ‘You and I have always been friends.’ This was quite true, and we had often chatted together, officially to improve her English, but also for pleasure. ‘I know that your cousin Katherine finds me dull and prefers to be with my husband,’ she continued. At this, I kept my face carefully blank. ‘But you, you are a warm fire in a cold country.’
I curtseyed, my heart genuinely full. But she gestured me back to my feet and paused. I began to wonder what was coming next; clearly it would be important.
‘When I leave court,’ she said, ‘I will have my own household. I shall live somewhere quiet in the country and have an easy life, with no great men or great events. I would like you to come with me. Of course I will have no such high position as I have enjoyed here, but I think we could have a fine time together. We could sip wine, read books all day and wander at liberty in the woods.’
Again my heart glowed. She had judged me well in offering me three attractive prospects for the spending of our time. But I also knew at once, deep down, that I could not give up the court for such a life. My work here was not done, and my opportunities for saving Stoneton not yet exhausted. I remembered Will Summers’ slow smile, and his sketching out of what the future could hold for me.
‘My lady,’ I said, my very words drawing attention to her reduced status. Until this day I had always
called her ‘Your Majesty’. ‘I fear that I would miss the court and the king too much to leave.’
‘I guessed as much, mein Liebling!’ was Anne’s generous reply. ‘Don’t worry about it. I just hope and pray that this court and this king will be able to make you happy.’
And so the German princess departed. Luckily, there was no suggestion from anyone at court that I should depart too.
Chapter 27
How to Have Fun
July 1540
‘My dear, I’m so pleased!’
The Countess of Malpas spoke more warmly than I could have imagined. It was as if I was speaking her language at last. ‘You are a good, hard worker,’ she went on, ‘once you have decided that a task is not beneath you. I’m sure you can learn how to have fun.’
I had steeled myself to ask the countess for her advice. Freed from attending upon the silent German queen, my time had once again become my own, and I decided to take the plunge and use it differently. No longer would I spend my leisure with books or by myself. Following Master Summers’ suggestion, I would set out to enjoy myself and see what would happen.
‘Now then,’ she said, sitting me down at her table and spreading a pack of cards before us. ‘You should probably learn Pope Paul – that’s the most fashionable game. Lord! To think that you’ve been at court a whole year and haven’t learned how to play it! I sometimes wish that I could stay away from the table myself, but it is such fun. I can lend you this for placing bets, but mind you pay me back by Michaelmas. Your cousin already owes me money.’ The countess pushed towards me a stack of golden coins.
I also persuaded her to give me a new slot on the rota, so that I could come on duty an hour later in the morning and stay up later at night. Fortunately little Anne Sweet had come to join us from Trumpton Hall, so she could take the early shift in the Great Chamber. I saved my energy for the evenings, when wine and gambling were in full flow.
And so, that summer, I made sure that I was the maid of honour who always had the best time. I laughed more loudly than anyone else, drank more wine, lost more money at cards to be sure and wore fewer and tighter clothes. I had come to understand that my long skinny broomstick body was not necessarily worse than Katherine’s curves. Some people even preferred it. I knew that the king’s gentlemen could see the change in me, and I accepted with pleasure their admiration and compliments. There were no compliments to be had, though, from Henny, and I told her less and less about my doings.
Meanwhile Katherine kept her distance, rarely laughing at my jokes or admiring the dresses I bought with my card-table winnings. She did not often seem to be in the public rooms, nor was she much in the maids of honour’s waiting room during our time off.
Once I glimpsed her through the window, walking in the gardens with Ned Barsby. The sight of his tall figure ambling along, hands behind his back, his fair head bent attentively towards Katherine, made me feel sick inside. She was performing her usual nauseating turtle dove act, cooing senselessly as she did with all the men. In the past, Ned had told me he despised it, but now I saw him throw back his head to laugh at something she’d said. That evening, during my dressing, I snapped at Henny for her clumsiness.
But mainly I dealt with Katherine by making the most of her absence and asserting myself. At last, at long last, I felt myself to be the maid of honour most in demand. At archery I insisted that I should be the one to give the signal to the king to release an arrow, and he good-naturedly obeyed my commands. When we went out on the river, I yelled at the watermen to go faster. And at night I danced the silly trembling ‘Dance of the Gentle Fawn’ in the Great Chamber and made everyone laugh.
And every day I felt the king’s eyes rest upon me for perhaps a little longer.
My greatest success came in the bowling alley. I was wearing a new green dress, loose enough just to slip off the curve of my shoulders, but tightly laced around my waist. Instead of being cut low at the front, as Katherine’s dresses were, it was cut low at the back, and revealed what the Countess of Malpas called the ‘elegant column’ of my spine. Once again Katherine was missing. ‘Oh, I think she must be resting,’ said the countess when I asked. ‘She was on duty very late last night.’ This left me uneasy. To which intimate court circles had Katherine gained admittance, while I was left excluded? Was she expecting a betrothal, and if so to whom?
But I didn’t really care, as long as I was making progress with the king.
And today Katherine’s absence could give me the chance to shine. To the horror of the crusty old dukes and duchesses, when the wild mood took him the king was more than glad to drink ale with his butler and play games with even his lowest servants. The court had assembled at the alley after taking wine, and the king was bawling out that he was bored of all his gentlemen. ‘Today,’ he yelled, ‘I deserve a frolic.’
The Countess of Malpas and I exchanged glances. This could be interesting. The king’s frolics alternated between the riotous and the dangerous. But then His Majesty’s next words filled me with dismay. ‘I’ll frolic with Master Ned Barsby,’ the king boomed out. ‘Come out, sir! Come down here and let me thrash you!’
The courtiers were crowded into the end of the long narrow alley, and some of us had even squeezed ourselves along its sides to the grave danger of our toes once the balls were in motion. My own position was against the wall, right up at the far end near the pins. From here I had a fine view of the whole crowd, and I could see clearly as Ned pushed his way forward. People were reaching up to tousle his hair and pat him on the back or even, in the case of Master Summers, to put him in a playful headlock. There were chuckles and whoops. I realised, a little ruefully, just how popular Ned was at court. And I had sternly been telling myself for weeks now that he was a forgettable nobody.
First the king rolled, and then Ned rolled, then it was the king’s turn again. The hollering and cheering grew louder as the game became tense. I could tell that Ned was trying his best to offer a reasonable match but not to win: everyone knew that to beat the king was dangerous. Ned fooled around as he bowled a second time, flailing his arms wildly, pretending to lose his balance, but nevertheless performing deceptively well. Yet not well enough to win outright. The two balls ended up almost at the same spot at my feet near the pins. But which was nearer?
‘Mistress Eliza will tell us who has won!’ the king called out. I had been standing quietly, observing rather than entering into the boisterous mood of the crowd. I decided that the safest course was to maintain my pose as an ice maiden. I determined to spin the matter out, pretending to be uncertain which ball was closer to the pins, but taking it deadly seriously.
‘I need to measure you both,’ I said, removing the necklace I wore and using it to calculate the distance like a yardstick. I must admit that I enjoyed the fact that everyone was watching and waiting for my verdict; for a moment the whole court was silent and panting. It felt like I held them all in the very palm of my hand.
‘It’s close,’ I said. ‘Master Barsby is better at rolling a ball than he is at brushing his hair.’
At this the court erupted into laughter, and Ned himself clapped his hands over his head. I felt my own lips twitching, but I kept up my cool demeanour. The king had his arm now around Ned’s neck, slapping him on the back. For a second, elated with the game, the king looked young again and hearty and handsome as the Countess of Malpas told us he had once been when he was fresh to the throne. Something of Ned’s rosy good spirits had rubbed off upon him.
‘But it’s close indeed!’ I continued, the court falling silent for my words. Calls of ‘Shh!’ and ‘Quiet!’ rang out through the alley as I made some further spurious measurements with my necklace, pretending to consider the matter carefully. Eventually I sank down on to one knee and dipped my head to the king. I paused theatrically, then raised my chin.
‘Your Majesty is the victor!’ I pronounced. The crowd, predictably, exploded with delight.
‘I must keep the lucky necklace,’ the king
said, stumping up to me and holding out his hand. ‘I shall give you another to replace it, as a gift.’ Holding my eyes, he lifted my necklace to his lips and popped it round his neck inside his shirt. When the king finally broke his gaze, I noticed that Ned’s face was such a picture of disapproval that he might almost have been Aunt Margaret. A nasty prickling feeling started up in my stomach and I had to turn away.
After that, we all began to crowd out of the bowling gallery and on towards the tennis court for further games and gambling. As I lifted my foot to step over the threshold, though, I glanced back and noticed that Ned had remained behind.
He was standing there quietly at the head of the bowling alley, eyes to the floor, and rubbing the back of his neck where the king’s arm had been.
But then he lifted his head and saw me. I raised my eyebrows, inviting him to speak.
He’s going to apologise for giving me that miserable look, I told myself. He knows that it’s my job to please the king. He must know I’ve done nothing wrong.
In fact, it struck me that he’d been rather mean in failing to acknowledge my role in making the game a success for the court. The thought made me stand up taller. I wanted him to recognise my skills as a courtier. And what else did he expect me to do in a situation like that?
As I waited, I raised my hand and felt my exposed collarbone. My necklace had gone, but the memory of the king’s eyes burning into the hollow at the base of my throat still persisted. It gave me a glow of confidence.
I stood there for a moment longer, but Ned said nothing at all.
Chagrined, I grabbed Will Summers’ elbow, and we flounced away together into the sunshine.
***
I felt that matters were going well for me as the month of July played itself out. I was delighted to receive a package sent over from the royal lodgings which contained a silver locket with the letter ‘H’ carved upon it. I wore it every day, and the holiday mood at court continued. With Queen Anne’s uncomprehending and darkly dressed figure removed from the top table, our evening dances and japes became more and more wild and risqué. The only unmentionable subject was the fate of Lord Cromwell. He had forfeited his honours, and it was whispered that he now lay in the Tower of London awaiting his certain execution. For myself, I could hardly bear to think of such dark things during these bright days and largely succeeded in putting the matter from my mind.