Cromwell’s peace of mind was shattered irretrievably when the king personally told every influential gentleman at court of his inability to perform the marriage act with the new queen. When Henry Tudor spoke with his personal physician, Dr. Butts, Cromwell found himself growing dizzy with anxiety. Across the room the Duke of Norfolk smiled.
On the eleventh of January a tournament was held in the new queen’s honor, although the court wondered why. Henry Tudor was making no secret of his deep dissatisfaction with his bride. Anne, on the other hand, remained charming and dignified. Her English was improving at a rapid pace, and on the day of the tournament she wore an English-made gown in the latest London style with a delightful little French hood. The common people were impressed with her, as were many at court, despite the king’s feelings, but the power brokers would have been astounded if they had known the scheme hatched by their new queen to allow the king his freedom.
The day after the wedding, the queen had called Hans to her privy chamber. The king had entered the room directly by means of a secret passage. There, an agreement had been hammered out between Henry and Anne, with young Hans acting as translator so there would be no misunderstanding between the two parties. Henry and Anne would not consummate the marriage just celebrated. Henry would blame his inability to perform with his wife on Anne’s appearance, which was unappealing to him. In return Anne would pretend everything was all right between them as far as she was concerned. There were already rumors that the alliance between the French king and the Holy Roman Emperor were deteriorating. England would shortly not need the goodwill of Cleves. When that rumor became fact, an annulment would be suggested due to the king’s inability to consummate his marriage. It would, of course, be granted.
In return, Anne of Cleves would be given two homes of her choice. Since she was new to England, she would need to visit the royal residences in order to make her decision. The king would settle a goodly allowance upon her, and she would be called his sister. Only a new queen would take precedence over her at court. She would also assure her brother that this change in her status was entirely satisfactory to her, and that she had been treated with kindness.
Both Henry Tudor and Anne of Cleves were content with their secret agreement. It would just be a matter of time. Still, Henry was curious as to why his bride was so damned restrained. Was she not a virgin, and feared his discovery of the fact? He shuddered. He was not curious enough to find out for himself. Or perhaps, he considered, she was afraid of her fate were she not reasonable with him. He frowned. His conduct toward the Princess of Aragon, and that witch, the first Anne, had been entirely correct. No one could fault him, although he knew there were those who had tried.
Henry Tudor stared at Anne, silently questioning her easy acquiescence, and was suddenly tempted to ask her true feelings. She wouldn’t tell them to him, of course, but neither, he realized, would she lie. She was far too clever a woman. Henry Tudor shook himself like a large dog coming in from the rain. The first Anne had been clever, and her daughter, wee Bess, was showing signs of being clever as well. God deliver him from clever women! Best to leave well enough alone and be glad that Anne, his princess wife from Cleves, was such a discreet lady with a temperate disposition. The king’s thoughts slid away to more pleasant matters.
On the twenty-seventh of the month the king gave a great feast for Anne’s attendants from Cleves. They were then all sent home with many gifts and the royal couple’s good wishes. Only Helga von Grafsteen and Maria von Hesseldorf remained from among Anne’s maids. Mother Lowe, who had been the queen’s nurse, also remained with her mistress, as did young Hans von Grafsteen. To Lady Browne’s great annoyance, the king personally told her that eight maids of honor were enough for Anne. No more appointments would be approved.
On the third of February orders were given for a reception to be held for the new queen in London. If some thought it strange that the king had not yet planned the queen’s coronation, they did not dare say so. The following day the royal barge came down the river from Greenwich to Westminster. As they passed the tower, the guns sounded a salute. The riverbank was lined on both sides with the cheering citizenry. The king and queen were escorted by barges filled with members of the court and the London guilds.
Anne was very touched by her new subjects. She was almost sorry she would not be their queen for very long, but if Henry Tudor did not want her for a wife, she certainly did not want him for a husband. A friend, yes. He was going to become a very good friend, but a husband? Never! However, for the sake of appearances, when the king’s barge landed at Westminster, Henry and Anne walked hand in hand to Whitehall Palace, where they would be staying overnight.
The Earl of March attempted to single out Nyssa while they were at Whitehall, but the scurrilous gossip surrounding him made the girl have a special care for her reputation. She did her best to avoid him.
“My duties with the queen leave me little time for myself, my lord,” she told him firmly when he sought to invite her for a ride. “And when I do have time for myself, I prefer the company of my family.” Varian de Winter was disappointed, but he vowed to himself that he would try again to win her favor at a more opportune moment.
It wasn’t long before the ladies of the queen’s household knew for absolute certain that their mistress was a wife in name only, and would remain that way. Anne, in an effort to support the king, played the innocent. In a court rife with intrigue, sexual promiscuity, and adultery, it was unbelievable that the queen should be so innocent, and yet it appeared she was. One winter’s afternoon as Anne sat with her ladies, the queen even remarked how thoughtful the king was of her.
“Vhen he comes to bed each night, he gifs me a tender kiss and says, ‘Good night, sveetheart,’ and vhen he leaves me in the morning, he kisses me again and says, ‘Farevell, sveetheart.’ Is he not the best of husbands? Bessie, my girl, fetch me a cup of malmsey, please.”
The queen’s ladies looked astounded, and finally after several long moments Lady Edgecombe said, “We hope Your Grace will soon be with child. All the country will rejoice when we have a Duke of York joining Prince Edward in the royal nursery.” She smiled weakly.
“I am not vith kinder,” the queen said blandly, and she accepted the goblet of wine Elizabeth FitzGerald brought her. “Thank you, Bessie.”
“I think Your Grace may still be a maid,” Lady Edgecombe said daringly, and her companions paled at her impudence. They knew she would not have said such a thing to another woman, but this queen was so good-natured, and unfailingly kind, she rarely took offense.
“How can I be a maid, and yet sleep with mein Hendrick each night, Lady Vinifred?” She chuckled. “Dot is foolish.”
“To be a true wife in every sense there must be more, madame,” Lady Edgecombe said gently. “Is there no more?”
The queen shook her head slowly, adding, “But I am contented that I know no more. Hendrick is a goot husband to me.” There, she thought. I have, thanks to the nosey Lady Edgecombe, corroborated the king’s word regarding the nonconsummation of our marriage. The queen then arose and said, “I vould rest, ladies. You are all dismissed but Nyssa Vyndham, who vill attend me.” She arose from her chair and walked slowly into her bedchamber with Nyssa hurrying behind her.
“Poor lady,” the Duchess of Richmond said. “She truly does not understand. What a shame the king does not like her. I wonder what will happen to her? He certainly cannot accuse her of adultery, like the other one, nor claim consanguinity, as he did with the first.”
“It will probably be an annulment,” the Marchioness of Dorset said. “What other excuse does he have?”
Nyssa closed the door to the queen’s bedchamber firmly behind her. She turned to the queen, whose face was strangely contorted, and said sympathetically, “Do not let them distress you, dear madame.”
To Nyssa’s surprise, Anne burst out laughing, and when Anne had finally managed to regain control of herself, she said to the girl, “I vant to tell you
something, Nyssa, but it is a great secret. If you cannot keep such a secret, you must tell me now, and I vill not tell it to you at all, but I vould like to tell you. The others, they are not my friends. They are too overcome with their own importance, and the other maids not mature enough. I need a friend, Nyssa Vyndham. Ya! Even a qveen needs a friend. Hans, he is a friend, but he is also just a lad, for all his responsibility. I vould have one of my own sex to talk vith.”
Nyssa came and knelt by the queen, who had seated herself by the fireplace. “I am proud to serve you, dear madame, and I will keep your secrets. I should be honored to be the friend of a queen.”
“I shall not long be your qveen,” Anne said.
“Oh, madame!” Nyssa cried. Distressed, she looked up at her mistress. “Do not say it, I beg you!”
“Listen to me, Nyssa Vyndham. Hendrick Tudor does not like me. I saw it from the first. The king vould not haf married me if he could haf found a way out of our betrothal, but he could not. On our vedding night ve made an arrangement between us. He vould not consummate the marriage, claiming my person repelled him; and I vould not contest an annulment when the time came. Today that silly, vell-meaning, but curious Lady Edgecombe gave me an opportunity to confirm the king’s claim.”
“But His Grace is so courteous of your person,” Nyssa said, confused. She had heard the rumors, but had ignored them as idle gossip.
“As a vife, Hendrick cannot abide me, Nyssa, but as a friend, vell, that is a different matter. Ve play cards each night vhen ve haf retired to the bedchamber. I usually beat him, for he is not very clever, poor Hendrick. I vonder that people fear him.”
“Oh, madame, he is much to be feared. He is pleasant with you because you have given him his way, but when he does not get his way, he is like a surly beast. Make no mistake, the king can be dangerous.”
“Your mother, I am told, vas his mistress,” the queen said.
“For just a few months before he became enamored of the first Queen Anne. Mama was a widow, and my aunt, the Countess of Marwood, dragged her to court to help her overcome her grief. The king was instantly taken by her, but Mama hid behind her mourning. She was very frightened by the king, and had never known any man but my father. The king, however, told Mama that on May Day she would become his. She wanted to run away, but she could not, for the king threatened to take me away from her.”
The queen’s blue eyes widened with surprise. “So,” she said slowly, “Hendrick can be ruthless vhen he vants to be.”
“Aye, madame, he can,” Nyssa said softly.
“So your mama became Hendrick’s lover on May Day, ya?”
“Yes, and for several months after, she was his. She grew to love him, and she understood him quite well. Then came Mistress Anne Boleyn to court, and everything changed. My stepfather came to court too, and the king arranged that he should marry Mama. He was my father’s heir, and had loved Mama from afar, though he never dared to give voice to his passion while my father lived. So they were married in the king’s own chapel, and then returned to RiversEdge, our home. Mama, however, has always remained the king’s most loyal servant. She returned briefly to court twice at his request; once to intercede with the Princess of Aragon, and a second time when Mistress Anne was executed. She has never been back since.”
“Vhat is it Hendrick calls her?” the queen asked.
“His little country girl,” Nyssa replied with a smile.
“And are you a country girl, Nyssa Vyndham, or do you like this court? I think it is very exciting. My brother’s court vas so dull, and serious. No cards or dancing, or pretty gowns.”
“The court can be exciting, Your Grace, but I think, like my mother, I prefer the country life,” Nyssa answered. “Still, I am honored to serve you, and my aunt hopes I will find a husband here.”
“You haf no one at your home?”
“Nay, madame. I am quite the despair of my family. I have attained my seventeenth year, and there is no gentleman, suitable or unsuitable, who catches my fancy or appeals to my heart,” Nyssa told the queen. “If you are not to be queen long, I wonder what will happen to me. Do you know when the king will seek this annulment, madame?”
“I tink it vill probably be in the spring sometime. Hendrick is not a man to go long vithout a voman. Already his eye begins to roam. Haf you not noticed it? He smiles upon Mistress Anne Bassett, upon Mistress Howard, and upon you. You do not see it?”
“Upon me?” Nyssa was horrified. “Oh, madame, surely not upon me? The king was my mother’s lover! He is old enough to be my father!”
She grew pale and near to fainting. The queen put a comforting arm about the girl. “Nyssa Vyndham,” she said, her voice filled with laughter, “Hendrick is old enough to be my papa too. Perhaps I haf listened to too much gossip. Perhaps the king’s kindness to you is because of the affection he bears your mama.”
“Aye!” Nyssa said, able to draw a breath again. “I am certain that His Grace looks upon me as he would the lady Mary or the lady Elizabeth.”
Still, the queen’s words disturbed her, but she could not speak even to her aunt about it. To do so would violate the trust that the queen had put in her. What would happen when the marriage of Anne of Cleves and Henry Tudor was dissolved? The king’s ministers would insist he take another wife, a wife who could give him more sons. The king had, of late, begun to speak on the virtues of Englishwomen as wives as opposed to foreigners. Nyssa was suddenly very aware that she was being studied by certain important members of the Privy Council. Her virtuous behavior and her loyalty to the queen became even more pronounced. It was the only shield behind which she might hide.
In March, Henry Tudor informed his council that consummation of his marriage to Anne of Cleves would be absolutely impossible. The Privy Council realized that they were being commanded, as subtly as Henry Tudor was capable of being subtle, to find a way out of his marriage for him. The king insisted to his ministers that he was certain that there was a precontract between Anne and the son of the Duke of Lorraine.
“We will certainly reinvestigate the matter, Your Grace,” Thomas Cromwell assured his master, and the Duke of Norfolk almost laughed.
The king thanked his council and left them to their debate.
The members of the Privy Council looked to Cromwell.
“There was no precontract,” Cromwell said bleakly. “Before the king’s marriage contract was even signed last autumn, we went to the current Duke of Lorraine. He was the bridegroom proposed for Anne of Cleves when they were children. He has since inherited his father’s dukedom, and he swears that there was no precontract. He sought among his father’s papers. He even spoke with his father’s confessor. There was no evidence of a precontract. The late duke’s priest says a betrothal was but casually discussed once, and then never pursued. The king cannot dissolve this marriage by means of that excuse.”
“He will be rid of her, Crum,” the Duke of Norfolk said. “His juices are already flowing, and he is eager for a woman in his bed. I am told his eye is happily wandering among the prettier women of the court. He will not bed this Flanders mare, but I believe him still capable of siring a child. One prince is not enough, gentlemen! We must have a nursery full of little princes for England.”
“I agree,” Bishop Gardiner said silkily.
“Yet the queen is a good woman,” the Archbishop of Canterbury interjected in kindly tones. “We should not be responsible for harming this faultless creature. It is unworthy of us as Englishmen. If this marriage is to be dissolved, it must be done through annulment. The queen must be gently treated, and given a generous portion in return for her cooperation. I think you would all agree to that, gentlemen.”
“What if she is like the Spanish bitch, and will not cooperate?” the Duke of Norfolk demanded. “After all, the fault is His Grace’s. Has he not told everyone who would listen that he cannot consummate the marriage? What if she will not give way? We’ll have to find another way, and what way is there other than …”
He made a slicing motion across his own long throat. His face was grim.
“Thomas, Thomas,” the archbishop chided the duke softly. “This lady is nothing like the Princess of Aragon. She can be reasoned with, and I will reason with her myself. What think you, Crum? An annulment?”
Thomas Cromwell nodded. “It is the only way, my lords.”
“Then you must propose it to the king, and see what he says,” Archbishop Cranmer told him. “With His Grace’s permission, I will deal with the queen. She cannot be mistreated. She is of a royal house.”
“So was the Spaniard,” muttered the Duke of Norfolk.
“This is a different matter altogether, Thomas,” was the archbishop’s patient reply.
“The king may not wish to be held up to public ridicule,” fretted Cromwell. “What man wishes to admit to his kind of problem?”
“He has no other choice,” Bishop Gardiner replied practically. “If he would be rid of this lady, then he must make some sacrifice.”
“This is not a simple man we are speaking of,” Cromwell said irritably. “This is Henry Tudor himself!”
“We will support you in this, Crum,” the Duke of Norfolk assured the chancellor. “Partisan politics must be put aside for England’s good. Are we not agreed there, gentlemen?” He looked about the table.
“Aye!” the others said with one voice.
“I am not certain of your reassurances, my lord,” Cromwell replied, “but it would seem that I have no choice in the matter other than to approach the king with regard to an annulment. It will be done this very day. Waiting cannot help us.”
The chancellor departed the Privy Council to seek out the king. The other men began to drift away as well. Bishop Gardiner sidled up to the Duke of Norfolk and said, “We must speak, Tom.”
“Come with me,” the duke answered.
The two men moved out into one of the royal gardens, deserted on this rather chilly day. Spring was near, but not quite at hand. Walking among the green maze they would be unobserved, and unheard. It was the perfect spot for plotting.
Love, Remember Me Page 11