by G Lawrence
“I was sad when I saw this gown.”
“It does not please you?”
“It pleased me greatly, not just because it is so beautiful or because it came as a gift from you, but because you had it made for a special night, and when you gave it to me, you believed that night was far away.”
I put a hand to my chest and ran it down, through the centre of my pert breasts, to my stomach, where I held it. Henry watched me. His eyes glistened with hunger.
“We were to be married here,” I went on, enjoying Henry’s fixed stare. “I was sad to think we could not be … but found myself even more sorrowful to think I would not have that which I had long desired; a husband in my bed.”
“Anne…” Henry’s voice was strangled. “Do not tease me, please.”
I walked to him. “No more teasing,” I said, kneeling and putting my hands on his thighs. I slid them up and heard him gasp. “No more waiting. This night, this hour, it is ours. I will have you in my bed, Henry of England.”
He reached out and touched my hair. His eyes were wide, excited and nervous. “You are sure?” he asked. “Without marriage…”
“Call a priest here secretly on the morn,” I said, rising and holding out a hand. “Tomorrow I will become your secret wife. Tonight, I will for one night be what you wanted so many years ago. Tomorrow we wed. Tonight, I am your mistress.”
He surged from his chair like a wave cresting over the shore and pulled me to him. His hands did not seem to know where they wanted to be, for they were on my breasts, my hips and my rear. His hands trembled against my skin, as he crushed me against his chest, whispering incoherent words of love. He picked me up and carried me to the bed. Putting me gently upon it, he pulled his clothing from his body like a wild man. When he fell on me, his hands hard and hot, he started to murmur in my ear. “Anne… my Anne… Never have I wanted a woman as I want you.”
I wriggled from my nightgown and pressed myself against him. “Henry,” I whispered, a catch of fear in my voice. “Be gentle… remember I have never done this before.”
The look of effort on his face almost made me giggle, but I managed to contain it. “The first time,” he panted. “This first time, Anne… I may not be able to last. It has been so long… I have wanted you so long…”
I put my arms about his neck and opened my legs under him. I could feel him hard against my thigh. I was scared, after hearing so many times how the first time hurt, but I did not want to punish Henry by making him wait. “Try to be gentle,” I whispered in his ear, lifting my hips.
He groaned long and hard as he entered me. The sharp pain made me gasp, and he tried to hold back, but I could see it was agony for him. The sensation was strange too. There was pain, but there was something else. Long had I known what goes on between a man and a woman, but never had I realised it could be so satisfying. I let out a slight moan and shifted against him, pushing myself up. For Henry, this was almost the end.
He buried his head in my breast, his body quaking. “It is alright, my love,” I said. He pulled his head back and I smiled, my eyes dazed with pleasure and pain. “Take your pleasure. This is the first, but not the last time we will do this, this night.” I put my hands to his buttocks and pushed him deep inside me. Henry almost roared with the sensation and started to thrust, faster and faster. It hurt a great deal. I had to set my teeth against each other to keep from crying out, but amongst the pain there was joy. Feeling how wanted I was… Feeling how he needed me; knowing there was nothing and no one in Henry’s mind but me at that moment, was sweet to my soul. After a few moments, he stiffed and let out a great cry. He clutched hold of me, bruising my skin, as he spilled his seed. And then, breathless and shaking, he collapsed on me.
“My God,” he murmured weakly against my soft neck. “My God.”
“My Henry,” I laughed. He was still inside me. I could feel him twitching. Parts of my body I had never thought of before stung and ached, but it was done. That for which we had waited so long was complete. And as he lifted his head and I saw his eyes, I knew it would not be the last time this night.
“I should have given you pleasure,” he said. “But I do not think I could have held off.”
“The night is young,” I purred. “And besides, my lord, the Mayor said this storm could last several days…”
Henry chuckled and started to kiss me. His hand slipped between my legs and started to play, gently at first, but with his fingers tripping faster and faster, I began to moan. Henry became hard within me. This time, there was a tingling; a restless, rising urge that made me move with him, against him, our bodies in motion. I closed my eyes and saw silver lights. The world left me. He rode me, wild and reckless, and as he did every drop of my blood became alive. I tipped my head back and high, throaty, sounds burst from my lips. As he reached a pinnacle of pleasure, I was with him. Many times had he brought me gratification over the years of our courtship, but this time it was deeper. A sensation of pure bliss eclipsed me. Wave upon wave carried me. He collapsed, panting hard in my ear. But I was lost. The wave of pleasure carried me still. I rode a silver horse, through lands I had never seen. Delight overtook me, claimed me. I drifted in paradise until I opened my eyes to see him gazing upon my face. Never have I seen a man look more delighted.
Henry shifted his weight, but he did not move away. His hands caressed me, stroking my hot skin, travelling over my breasts and down to the soft cleft between my legs. When he brought his hands up, there was blood on them. “Your maidenhead,” he murmured.
“I had no further use for it,” I said. “What more glory could I have than to be with you? Tomorrow I shall be your wife, and soon, I shall be mother to our sons.”
At the mention of sons, Henry suddenly looked simultaneously pleased and worried. I welcomed both emotions. No child of mine was going to be born a bastard.
Outside the wind howled and the rain battered Calais. The skies were grim and dark, and the noise of the ocean roared over the town, thrashing the shore with heavy hands of water slapping on rocks and walls.
Inside our warm bed, I put my hands about Henry’s neck and pulled him close. Outside, a tempest raged, but in our bed, there was nothing but us, brought together, at last.
Chapter Forty
Calais
Autumn - Winter 1532
We stayed for two weeks in Calais. Every night I dined with Henry and we went to bed together. Every morning I awoke with my love nestled at my side. We were married in a small, private ceremony by a French priest who was more interested in the generous bag of coin Henry offered than about the legalities of the union. The service was only attended by Jane and Norris as Henry wanted our union legal, but he did not want too many people to know.
“We will be married again, properly, when we reach England,” he told me as he climbed into bed. “But this service will suffice, for now, in case I have put a babe in your belly.”
I had already lost count of the number of times we had made love. Mary had given me a salve, as my source of life was sore. Henry found the salve enticing, as it allowed him to slide into me with ease, and since it brought pleasure to me too, we used it liberally. I believed it was entirely likely I was already pregnant. Even my sister was amazed by the numerous times we had coupled.
“I hear your screams of delight each time,” she said with an envious expression. “The King was never this virile with me.”
“For seven years has he been thinking about this,” I reminded her. “And he is most adventurous.”
Henry, indeed, proved a most satisfying lover. He was sweet and tender, but his great strength also came into play. There were nights when I lay on my back, his head between my legs, my hands clutching at the bedcovers, screaming for him to take me for I could bear the torment of pleasure no more. He could bring me to satisfaction multiple times in one night, and we started to experiment with ways of making love of which the Church did not approve. I showed him the methods my sister had spoken of, and he found them
exciting. I loved to ride Henry, as though he were a fine steed in my stables. I found this position not only excited me, but him. There was something enticing in the idea that we were breaking all the rules.
In fact, it was hard to get Henry to think of anything but sex. That fortnight in Calais was like a trip to another world. One where we were different people, different souls, finally set free of all the ties and rules, restrictions and fears that had held us long in bondage. We stayed in bed until one of the afternoon, and giggled like schoolboys about our many and various pleasures.
But however joyous that time was, it had to end. On the 12th of November we left Calais at midnight and arrived in England early the next morning. We stayed at Leeds Castle, taking a leisurely route to Stone, where we met Bridget again. When Henry insisted that our chambers were to be next to each other’s, I saw Bridget’s worried frown. She agreed, of course, but came to me afterwards.
“There is nothing to fear,” I said gaily. “I shall tell you a secret, Bridget, and it is one you must keep. There is no sin in what the King asks. In France, we were married in secret.”
Her face was astonished and I chuckled. “We are man and wife,” I said. “And soon, when Henry has his annulment, I will be announced officially as Queen.”
“I am pleased for you,” said my friend. “But, my lady… what if you fall pregnant?”
“Henry knows he has to move swiftly,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “He will have no more delays.”
“It was… planned, then?”
“When I was a girl,” I told her. “I always thought I would marry a French lord and live in France. It seemed fitting that I, who always felt more French than English, should be married there.” I caught a wisp of disapproval on her face. “You are shocked, Bridget?”
“Perhaps a little,” she admitted. “You were so hard, my lady, about my marriage. I thought you would disapprove of being with a man out of wedlock.”
“But I am married,” I pointed out.
“And yet the King and Queen are not formally separated, and no one but you and His Majesty, and those guests you spoke of, knows,” she went on. “Do you not worry for your reputation?”
“I fear nothing, anymore,” I said. “I have a husband who I love, and he loves me. It is the rest of the world that will have to change, Bridget. They must fall in line.”
“Yes, my lady.” As she left, I saw a glimmer of annoyance on her face.
It was true that I had perhaps been hypocritical for condemning Bridget, but I had apologised and she had accepted. There was no more to be done. And besides, I was so happy I felt nothing could ever make me sad again.
*
On our way back to London, we stayed near Richmond at one of Henry’s lodges in the park. Henry was eager to set out hunting the next morning, so we took to our beds early, although not to sleep.
That night, long after Henry had fallen asleep, I lay awake. I had found that whilst our pleasures made him want to slip instantly into slumber, they refreshed me. My senses were alive. I lay, my head on his warm chest, listening to the sounds of the creaking lodge; the soft step of the guards outside the door, and the noise of owls hooting as they winged through the dark skies. I had never felt so peaceful… never so attuned to the world. It felt as though my blood was steeped in the hush of the night, as though my soul was joined to the wind and the skies and the moon. If I breathed in, the life of the world would enter me, and as I exhaled, so I fed the spirit of the earth. We were one, just like Henry and me.
I thought of François’ advice, and made up my mind. Now I was Henry’s wife, I would become the Queen England needed. François had been right to censure me for declaring I cared not for the opinion of others, and I had known for a long time, in my private thoughts, that the estimation of Henry’s people did matter. As Queen, the people’s love was my domain. I would have to win them over. It would be no easy task, but when had anything in my life ever been easy? I had made people love me before. I could do it again.
The next morning, in the cobalt light before dawn, we set out into the park. The air was fresh and there was a scent of leaf mould and dew on the breeze. It was glorious, and as we hunted I felt only more invigorated. There were mountains to be climbed, gullies to ford, but I had spent years locked up in worry, and now I was free, I would show everyone. I would become the greatest Queen England had ever known.
As I rode through the forest, Henry far ahead of me, I chatted brightly to Jane and Margaret. The trees were burnt ochre and dazzling crimson. Leaves were falling, golden and brown, to join their fellows on the floor. The sparkling dew of the morning was vanishing, rising in little pockets of mist from the leafy ground, and sailing into spindles of light which broke through the canopy of red and orange flame above. We came about a twisting path, and as Henry came into view, I saw he was not on his horse. Henry’s mount was standing by a gnarled old oak, his reins held by Norris. Henry was standing in a glen of dappled light, speaking to a woman and her servants. The woman was kneeling and as I drew close, she looked up.
Mary.
I had not seen Henry’s daughter for some time, and was surprised how grown she was. No more a child was this Tudor. I cursed myself for not considering how close we were to Richmond Palace. She must have heard her father was hunting and come out to meet him! A voice in my mind told me that this could be a mere accident, as Mary was fond of hunting, but something in me did not believe it. Henry had seen little of her for months, and even when they had met their conversation had been of polite topics as he tried to avoid uncomfortable ones. I was sure this was no accidental encounter.
Henry flushed crimson when he saw me and I turned my horse. I could not go to him. He would not relish the interruption, and Mary would certainly not welcome it. I motioned to Jane and my sister. “Get off your horses,” I whispered. “Pretend you are interested in something near the King. I want to know what is being said.”
“Will that not be a little obvious, sister?” asked Jane.
“Gather flowers, if you have to,” I said, in a clipped tone. “I do not care what you do. Henry will not ask! Just get close enough to hear them!”
My ladies did as they were bid. Margaret and I stayed on our horses, apparently lost in conversation about her pregnancy. But it was obvious what Jane and my sister were up to. Henry cut his conversation short. He climbed back on his horse and smiled warily at me. “We must away,” he said. “Or we will lose the best of the day.”
As we rode off, I glanced back. Mary was staring at me, an expression of utter loathing on her pretty face. She did not alter her expression when she saw me watching her. She fixed her eyes on mine. They bored into me. If Mary could have killed me, she would have.
“What did they speak of?” I asked Jane when we got back to the lodge.
Jane shrugged. “Nothing, my lady. The King enquired about her health, and the Princess said she was as well as could be expected. He asked after her studies, and she said they were going well, but she had had problems concentrating because of illness.”
“That is not nothing,” I said. “Mary was trying to tell her father that she is distressed and ill at ease. She was speaking in code, to unsettle his mind.”
“She is only one girl.”
“One girl who maintains a grip on her father’s heart.” I glanced at the wall, only to see Katherine’s odious pomegranate emblem staring back at me. For a moment, it seemed to be smirking. “Mary remains a threat,” I said. “In many ways, a greater one than her mother for Henry loves his daughter.”
“Soon enough, sister, you will give the King a child. He will have a new heir to love.”
“That must happen soon. I cannot afford to tarry.”
“Women have little choice in that regard,” Jane said, her pretty face bitter. “As I could tell you from long and painful experience.”
I nodded. “I know you have suffered, Jane. But for me the risks are greater.”
“You have only been in his
bed a month. Sometimes it takes years for women to bear fruit.”
“I do not have years.”
Jane nodded. She knew it was the truth. Henry loved me, but he needed a son. Without hope that I could bring him one, he might decide he could not make our union public. My enemies would happily tell him our marriage was invalid. I had to grow great with child. There was no other option.
“You could, of course, suggest to His Majesty that you are with child,” said Jane in a sly whisper.
“I do not know that I am.”
“And that is why it would be a suggestion,” she replied. “Tell the King you have a fancy for certain foods. Wince from his touch upon your breasts. Tell him they are tender.”
“You instruct me to tell falsehoods.”
“They are not falsehoods if you truly do desire specific foods,” she said. “We all like certain treats from time to time… And are you not sore from many nights in his bed? Tell him this, but do not tell him more. He will understand and will announce your union.”