Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn

by Morris, Sarah A.

  One dance melted into the next. I could have danced with the King all night. However, after a while, he indicated that we should once more take our seats. As Henry and I made our way back to the great table, I was giddy with excitement, my head spinning from being twirled around and around to the beat of the drum. We had our arms about each other, laughing breathlessly from the sheer fun and exhilaration of the dance when suddenly, I caught sight of my sister. She was standing over to my left hand side, close to the doorway through which I had entered. I squeezed Henry’s hand, and turning to him I said,

  ‘I have seen my sister, and I wish to speak to her, my love.’

  ‘Of course,’ Henry replied. He reached up and stroked the side of my cheek lovingly, before we went our separate ways.

  As I wound my way through the crowd, acknowledging the lords and ladies as I passed, I saw my sister talking to a handsome young man, and was somewhat curious to know his name. I wondered if he was one of Henry’s intimates. Would I know all about him instantly, once I knew his identity? As I approached them, Mary noticed me and broke off her conversation with the gentleman in question.

  ‘Sister, look who has arrived!’ I was immediately curious. Clearly, I knew this gentleman well. ‘Master Wyatt is just returned from Rome.’ Ah! The gentleman was Thomas Wyatt, one of England’s greatest poets. An early admirer of Anne’s, he would be a staunch and loyal supporter who would narrowly escape with his life during those terrible days of May, 1536.

  Thomas was tall, perhaps a little over six feet and of slender build; his limbs long and generously proportioned; his height and unnerving good looks undoubtedly made him stand out amongst his contemporaries. He was elegantly, but not ostentatiously, dressed in a blue doublet and hose with a silver grey jerkin, whilst a black woollen gown, lined with fur, finished off the ensemble. Most striking about him, however, was his dark auburn hair set against piercing blue eyes; the colour of which matched perfectly the shade of his garments; as was the fashion, he had a beard which was cut short and cropped close to his jaw-line.

  Drawing closer, Thomas made a deep and elegant bow in my direction. With a flourish of his hand, he looked up at me, and I saw that he was grinning. Clearly, his obsequious gesture had been meant as an intimate joke between friends.

  ‘Mistress Anne! To see you again is as if to see the sunshine after the storm!’

  ‘Master Thomas!’ I played along lightly with his game. ‘How delightful it is to see you back at Hever. I trust your trip went well?’ Of course, I had no idea about the nature of his trip, but I was getting very good at saying the right things.

  ‘Indeed it did, Madame.’ Looking pointedly over my shoulder towards the King, he went on, ‘I see, however, that you have been occupied somewhat during my absence.’ Perhaps I blushed slightly. I did not need to turn around to understand exactly what Thomas was talking about. In the slightly awkward pause that followed, my sister spoke up.

  ‘Well, I think I’ll leave you two to become reacquainted.’ She turned her back to Thomas. As she walked by me, she caught my gaze and raised her eyebrows, smiling at me mischievously. It did not take a genius to begin to understand that there was something more between Thomas and me than I might have hoped. Alone, he turned towards me and said more seriously this time,

  ‘Did you miss me, Anne?’ I searched for the right thing to say. Already I was becoming aware of how delicate was my position. There were ears all around me even then, and I knew I had to be careful. Somewhat tentatively, I said,

  ‘Thomas, I have missed you as I would miss any dear friend.’ At this, Thomas looked crestfallen. So he does love her, I thought to myself. What I did not know though was what exactly had passed between them. However, I was fairly sure that the romance was, by then at least, entirely one-sided. When I first thought about being with Henry, I had felt an overwhelming surge of both love and passion well up within me. I felt no such emotion toward Thomas, except the warmth and a familiarity that exists between old friends.

  Thomas remained silent, his eyes downcast. He was clearly struggling with what to say to me next. Abruptly, I took him by the hand and led him to the quietest corner of the room. It was a vantage point overlooking the dance floor where I could speak to him more privately. As I spoke, I gave the impression of watching the dancing intently, and yet my words were clearly addressed to my friend.

  ‘Listen to me, Thomas,’ I said in a hushed whisper. ‘Whatever has passed between us is in the past, you must understand that!’ I glanced at him sideways and saw that he was studying me intently. ‘Things have changed . . .’

  When Thomas finally spoke, there was great sadness in his voice,

  ‘So, I see it is true, the King has indeed been out hunting.’ I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking at the King. Henry must have felt our gaze upon him, for he looked up. I smiled warmly, hoping that he could not see the turmoil that I felt inside. Thomas went on. ‘Do you not see it Anne? He has blinded you with his wealth and power.’ He paused before adding, ‘I can see though that it must be intoxicating for a woman like you, to have a man like Henry at your feet.’ I shot him a glance expecting to see anger in his eyes. However, there was only tenderness there and it took me by surprise.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ I kept looking ahead of me, feigning interest in the activities unfolding in front of us. ‘Don’t you see how hard it is for a woman in this world? I am but the property of my father! And yet Henry . . . Henry gives me the chance of freedom!’

  ‘Freedom! You jest with me Anne. Henry will buy your love but it will be at a high price. I love you, Anne! I love you for who you are!’ I felt my heart thundering in my chest. I felt confused at Thomas’s declaration of love, and at the same time terrified that we would be overheard. He forged on, ‘I would love you unconditionally, Anne. The King will love you only on one condition, and that will be the fruit of your womb!’ With that, Thomas clearly could not take anymore. He dipped me a curt bow before turning on his heels and walking quickly from the room.

  I was left standing there, feeling as if one thousand eyes were upon me. I hardly dared look up at Henry. What if he had seen the intensity of our conversation and guessed that something was passing between Thomas and me?

  However, when I finally did so, all continued as it had before, with Henry laughing raucously, throwing his head back in unbridled mirth.

  Sometime after midnight, the revels finally came to an end as the guests melted away into the night. The King and his closest attendants were lodged within the castle. However, as the Boleyn family home was of a modest size, the majority of the King’s entourage was housed in spacious and brightly coloured tents laid out close to the village, just to the west of the castle, or in nearby Polebrook Manor. I returned to my bedchamber. Four or five candles lit the room, providing a subdued glow, which was much to my taste after the riotous sights and sounds of the evening. I noticed that one of the maids had prepared my bed, which was turned down and ready for me to sink into. Bess briefly reappeared to help me undress and return my jewels to their casket. Then, having helped me in to my linen nightgown, she brushed my hair and braided it, before bobbing a short curtsey and turning to leave the room. I watched the door close with a gentle ‘click’ of the latch, until finally, I was left alone.

  I eased myself between the cool linen sheets, longing for sleep to come. I was physically, utterly exhausted. Every time I closed my eyes, I was sure that when I opened them again I would find myself back in my flat in London, and know that this had been but an amazing dream. Yet it did not happen and sleep would not come. My mind was abuzz with excitement, exhilaration and wonderment. As I lay there in the darkened room, the castle descended into silence. Only the occasional shout could be heard drifting up from the revellers outside, as they made their drunken way back to their lodgings; I thought how some things never changed!

  I was surprised to find that despite my unbelievable and bizarre circumstances, I no longer felt afraid. I would n
ever be able to explain what had, and what was, happening to me, but I always knew that Anne was never far from my side.

  Eventually, after an hour or so, I gave up trying to fall asleep. Throwing the covers back, I slipped out of the bed and put on a silk dressing gown lined with velvet, which had been laid across a stool in case I should need it. I knew where I wanted to go. Earlier in the evening, I had overheard my father discussing astronomy with the King. I heard him recount how, during our childhood, he would to take us up to the roof of the Gatehouse so that we could gaze at the stars. Henry, I also remembered, was a keen astronomer. He had talked with my father about the possibility of paying a visit to the rooftop himself on such a fine night. He asked my father how he should reach it. I had listened intently to his directions, and I knew where I was heading. Picking up the solitary candle that had lit my room, I tiptoed towards the door and slipped into the corridor beyond. Thankfully, the spiral staircase leading up to the roof was close to my bedchamber, and it was not long before I found myself climbing up the stone steps and out into the warm night.

  As I looked up, the sky seemed to be alight with one thousand stars, resplendent against the blackness that stretched across the heavens. In my other lifetime, I was so used to the orange-yellow glow of artificial light, that the sheer brilliance of the myriad of luminescent stars that formed a canopy over my head took my breath away. Without a sound, I made my way across the roof of the castle to the parapet. The stone was cold and rough beneath my fingers, and as I peered over it, I saw the moat below aglow from the silvery-blue light reflected from the full moon. I peered out into the inky blackness towards the woodland beyond. Ghostly echoes of the night owl emanated from the darkness as she went about her hunting foray. The night was gloriously warm and even though I had worn only a nightshirt and the softest silk dressing gown, I felt no chill. Resting my hands wide apart against the ledge, I lifted my face towards the sky and breathed in the spaciousness of the still night.

  For the first time, I found my mind was quiet. I began to merge into the silence that surrounded me, losing all sense of myself, where I was and what was happening to me. So, when his voice cut through my meditation, I was jolted back to reality. Despite being startled, I slowly turned my head, looking over my right shoulder; it was the voice of the King. Yet again, I was struck by Anne’s composure, her ability to remain cool and aloof when others would fall over themselves in their obsequiousness towards their lord and master. I remained silent and waited for Henry to speak again, almost as if to explain the rude interruption of my privacy.

  ‘I hoped I might find you here,’ he said. For a moment, I detected an unusual hesitancy in Henry’s voice. It seemed that he too understood that I might wish to be alone. Henry continued, ‘You looked radiant tonight, sweetheart. I could not settle. I kept seeing your face and I wanted so very much to feel the softness of your skin and the warmth of your sweet kisses.’

  Without uttering a word, I looked away, staring back out into the night, only to hear the rustle of his garments as he came in closer toward me. Without speaking another word, I felt Henry’s bear-like hand reach around the side of my neck and caress it gently. At the same time, his body pressed against my back, as his other hand reached around the front of me, taking hold of the soft curves of my belly. As we merged into one, becoming inseparable, I was touched by the warmth of his breath as Henry nuzzled his face tenderly into my hair, before working his way down to kiss Anne’s slender neck. Despite myself, I felt every muscle of my body yield and melt under his. I softened into his embrace, extending my neck and allowing Henry to kiss me. Quite soon, his right-hand found its way beneath my silk dressing gown and nightshirt. I think I must have let out the softest of groans, subsumed in waves of pleasure, as the King slipped his hand inside my clothes, stroking and caressing my breast.

  I felt Henry’s erection pressing hard against the small of my back. I wondered if he was so consumed with passion that he might take me there and then, but he seemed to be content to hold me in a silent embrace. I was surprised by his tenderness as he gathered me up in his arms, and I feared that I may just melt away in ecstasy. Although nearly lost in this desire, a small voice kept warning me of the dangers that I faced ahead. Before I could stop myself, I spoke out loud. I did not face Henry, for I feared I could not look him in the eye and speak of my deepest fear. Instead, I spoke out into the night in hushed whispers, knowing full well that he would hear all.

  ‘Henry . . . Henry I am deeply humbled that you should think to raise me so high in the estate of your sovereign lady wife, to become the Queen of England, but what . . . what if we cannot have sons; what if I can’t give you a son!’ Henry continued to caress my body, covering me with delicate kisses. His lips alighted on my ear and he whispered into it almost imperceptibly,

  ‘My love, you are the world to me. You have lit a fire in my heart that can never be extinguished. Our love is pure and goodly in the sight of God, of that I am sure. We will be blessed with many children—and with sons. Has your mother not born male children? No Anne, there is nothing for us to fear. England will have to melt into the ocean before I stop loving you.’

  I so wanted to believe those words! That this man was in love with me, whether he be the King of England or no; that he would never desert me; that he would always be there to protect me from the wolves at court. I yielded again to his embrace and kisses, allowing them to chase my fearful thoughts away into the recesses of my mind. There we must have stayed, perhaps for an hour or more. It was a rare moment alone as we rested peacefully in each other’s arms, enfolded by our shared dream.

  Chapter Four

  Hever Castle,

  June 1, 1527

  I was awoken the next morning by another flurry of excitement. The King was already breaking his fast with my parents and asked me to join them. After breakfast, Henry took me aside and told me that he was to return to London that very morning. There was urgency in his voice. He wished to consult again with his councillors and enquire if they had made any progress regarding the annulment of his marriage to Katherine. He took both my small hands within his, and holding them tightly, searched my face earnestly, begging me not to tarry long at Hever, but shortly to join him in London.

  I must admit that I was afraid. The peaceful tranquility of Hever suddenly seemed to be my refuge in a precarious and unforgiving world. I think that I must have nodded meekly and given the King enough assurance of my intentions to return, for he smiled at me and kissed my forehead. Finally, he let go of my hands and swept off to make preparations for the journey ahead.

  It was with the same riot of colour and commotion that the King’s party finally departed a little after nine o’clock in the morning. Along with my mother, father and my sister, Mary, we wished the King God’s speed and good health, waiting in the little courtyard at Hever until the clouds of dust from the horses’ hooves had finally settled, and all sounds had melted back into the usual silence of our rural idyll. As we all turned to go back inside the castle, I found myself gently taking hold of my father’s arm. Suddenly, I was gripped by a desire to send after the King a token of my love and commitment. I was sure that I needed my father’s help. He turned to look at me, his face inquisitive as he waited for me to speak.

  ‘Father, in the light of the great honour that the King has shown towards your daughter, I feel that,’ I searched for the right words, ‘I should send the King a gift, some token of my love for him.’

  ‘Anne, your judgement in this matter has been impeccable.’ I winced imperceptibly. I saw clearly that for Anne this was, by then, also an affair of the heart. Yet for her father it had become an affair of state. ‘I will arrange for our jeweller to visit us this afternoon, so that you may choose an appropriate token of your . . . love.’ He patted my hand, then turned and left me alone with my thoughts.

  Shortly after, my mother and sister left the castle, riding out to visit one of our close neighbours. My father disappeared into the Great Hall, I a
ssumed to deal with the pile of parchment carried in behind him by one of our servants. I found myself relieved to be left alone, at least for some short time. With the departure of the King’s entourage, the castle lay quietly in a peaceful repose.

  In the brief period that I had been there, I had learned much about that beautiful building. Yet, there was still much to be discovered, and I found myself wandering through corridors and rooms filled with the same wonderment and curiosity as that of a child exploring its environment for the first time. I was not content merely to drink in the treasures that surrounded me with my eyes alone. I needed to touch almost everything I saw; I ran the tips of my fingers across the smooth and highly polished oak furniture, touched woollen and silk tapestries, lingered over rough, gilt-framed portraits and traced the curves of the carved stone fireplaces.

  However, more than anywhere else, I was drawn back to the place where I had entered my new life, the Long Gallery. When Mary had woken me from my unconscious state, I had been disoriented and hardly able to take in its beauty. Built to allow the family to take exercise in inclement weather, that sunny, June day meant that the Gallery was deserted, with the exception of a solitary maid, who was busy polishing the oak floor at the far end of the chamber. I was as quiet as a mouse when I entered the room. Yet, the rustling of my taffeta skirts caught her attention, for she looked up and rising immediately, bobbed a curtsey and then left the room.

  Once alone, I walked straight over to the window that was set back into one of the recesses off the main Gallery; it was the same one that I had taken refuge in just the previous day. As before, a window was propped open, although I could not detect any breeze, so still was the air. I sat down on the window seat, the stone ledge strewn with red velvet cushions. Leaning back against the glass, I closed my eyes. I could not help but feel guilty. I knew that I should want to get back to my real life, to my work, to my friends—and to Daniel. Yet all my life, I had longed for an impossible moment like this; a moment in which I might be able to see the face of a woman whom I had admired for so long.