Jane Seymour, the Haunted Queen

by Alison Weir

  “No, she doesn’t. She railed at me like a fishwife.” Henry closed his eyes. The quarrel had clearly upset him.

  “Shall we play cards?” Jane suggested. Henry nodded, and she fetched the pack and dealt. They completed two rounds and then he threw his cards on the table.

  “It’s no good, Jane. I can’t concentrate. Something else happened today, and I must speak of it.”

  She gazed at him in some alarm. “What is it?”

  Henry hesitated. “This is in the strictest confidence, Jane. Promise you will speak of it to no one.”

  “I promise,” she said.

  “Thank you. Master Cromwell is better and back at court. Late this afternoon, he came to me with a deputation of the Privy Council. I was surprised to see them, for I could not think what they had come for. They were nervous, and no wonder!” His blue eyes narrowed. “Cromwell said that they had heard disturbing reports of the Queen’s conduct. He told me that his suspicion had first been aroused by a horoscope cast in Flanders, which predicted that I would be threatened by a conspiracy of those who were nearest to me.”

  Jane began to shake. It seemed that her worst fears were being realized. “They were worried about a mere prophecy?” she asked. Probably Cromwell had inflated it for his own purposes into something sinister. He had a pressing motive, God knew. So any move against Anne should be on his conscience, not hers.

  “No,” Henry said darkly. “I would that were all, but they have depositions from some who have laid evidence about the Queen’s misconduct, which suggest that she has been conspiring against my life.”

  Jane’s hand flew to her mouth. This was worse than anything she had imagined. “But that is treason!” she whispered.

  “Yes, and those who had been examining the witnesses were quaking at the danger as they knelt before me. They declared that, on their duty to me, they could not conceal it from me, and they were absolutely right not to do so. They were praising God that He had preserved me for so long from such evil designs. By the Mass, to think of how narrow an escape I might have had! It seems I have nurtured a viper in my bosom.” He spat out the last words.

  Jane was horrified. Infidelity was one thing; conspiring against the King wholly another. Surely Cromwell would not have gone so far as to invent a charge like that, even if he had made too much of Mark Smeaton’s remarks.

  “Are the proofs convincing?” she asked.

  “The evidence I have seen was damning on the face of it, but it is not enough to enable us to lay charges. I have ordered further investigations and will wait to see what they uncover. If the allegations prove true, they will, of course, have serious implications for the succession. Oh, Jane!” He buried his head in his hands. She reached her arms out and held him.

  “I am so sorry, so very sorry,” she murmured in his ear.

  He looked up. His eyes were like ice. “Even if there are no more proofs, I am resolved to be rid of her. Cranmer will have to find a way.”

  “I pray that you will need to do no more than that,” she said.

  “I will do whatever is necessary,” Henry declared. “I cannot let treason go unpunished. It would be seen as weakness.” He gave a deep sigh. “Once I would have been devastated to see this evidence, but now…I am wounded in my pride, not my heart. I am more angry than sad. But I must reserve judgment.” He stood up. “I’m sorry, sweet Jane, I am not good company tonight. I don’t want you embroiled in this, but I am very grateful for your sympathetic ear. You have a wise approach to life; you see the nub of the matter, and that helps me to see things more clearly.”

  “I am always here if you need me, Henry,” she replied, taking his hand.

  He bent and kissed her. “I will come again soon, and you will be mine again.”

  After he had gone, Jane was in turmoil. Part of her felt horror at this affair of the Queen; another rejoiced at the deepening understanding between herself and Henry. It gave her hope that when the time came—if it came—she might be able to plead for mercy for Anne. Hate her she might, but she could not have her blood on her conscience.

  * * *

  —

  The usher wore royal livery. “Mistress Seymour, Master Secretary Cromwell asks that you attend upon him as soon as is convenient.”

  Jane was filled with trepidation. “I will go to him directly,” she said. The usher nodded politely, and escorted her to the council chamber. The room was empty apart from Cromwell and Sir William FitzWilliam, who sat at the far end of the board with a pile of papers in front of them. Jane curtseyed as both men stood up and the usher closed the door behind her.

  Cromwell smiled and indicated that she should sit opposite them. “This won’t take long, Mistress Jane. His Grace is aware that you are here.”

  FitzWilliam spoke. He had a hatchet face and an abrupt manner. “We are investigating certain allegations made against the Queen, so everything said at this table is in the strictest confidence. Do you understand that?”

  “Of course.” Jane hoped they could not see how nervous she was.

  “When you were in her Grace’s service, did you see or hear anything that concerned you?” Cromwell asked.

  “No, I did not,” she said.

  “No hint of unfaithfulness to the King?”

  “No.” Surely they would believe her; she, of all people, had good cause to wish Anne out of the way.

  “Did she spend time alone with gentlemen in her chamber?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Did she show special affection to any particular gentleman?”

  Norris’s handsome face came to mind. “No,” she said.

  “Not even in a way that you might have interpreted as mere friendship?”

  “Her Grace is close to her brother, of course, and she favors many of the gentlemen in her circle, but not in an improper way.”

  Cromwell leaned forward. “When you say ‘favors,’ what do you mean?”

  “She showed herself friendly and condescending to them. She played music and cards with them, and made merry. It was all innocent. There was nothing that struck me as inappropriate.”

  “Did she flirt with them?” FitzWilliam asked.

  Jane was wary. “I’m not sure what you mean, Sir.”

  “Did she banter with them, or make eyes at them, or touch them?”

  “She shared jests, quite openly, and sometimes made faces in jest, but she only touched them by the hand when there was dancing in her chamber.”

  Cromwell was beginning to look frayed. “Did she ever make any jests about the King?”

  “No.”

  “Did she ever criticize his poetry or his clothes?”

  They really were scraping the bottom of the barrel! “No.” They looked at each other.

  “Very well, Mistress Jane, you may go,” Cromwell said, with less courtesy than when he had greeted her. She rose and left, glad to be out of what felt like tainted air.

  * * *

  —

  Henry apologized that evening. “Cromwell thought you might know something, Jane. I’m sorry if you were inconvenienced. They are questioning all those who have served the Queen, and today the Lord Chancellor has appointed two Grand Juries to hear and judge the evidence. They will determine whether there is a case to be made against her, and whether it should proceed.”

  This sounded ominous. “Have you seen any new evidence?” Jane asked.

  “Not yet, but Master Cromwell advised the appointment of these juries to assist in his investigation.” He drew in his breath. “Darling, let us talk of more pleasant things. Come here!” He kissed her long and lovingly.

  Two hours later, when the King had departed, Jane sat on her bed, pensive. Her flowers were overdue. The realization alarmed her, and she tried frantically to remember when she had last bled. She was sure it had been in the third week
of March. Dear Mother of God, that meant she was a week late; she might be with child. But how would she know for certain? What other signs would she look for? She cursed her ignorance. She dared not think of the implications if she was pregnant. What would Henry do?

  She was brooding on this when Nan knocked and came to sit with her. Although theirs had never been an easy friendship, she knew that Nan was on her side, and she approved of Nan’s devotion to Edward, even if she did dominate him.

  Nan was bursting with news. “Edward says that two Grand Juries have been appointed to investigate crimes in Middlesex and Kent. It’s all around the court, for many gentlemen have been commanded to serve on them. He thinks it portends something of great moment, for Lord Exeter says it is rare for such juries to be appointed. Chapuys knows; he said Cromwell hinted to him that this concerns the Queen.”

  Jane feigned astonishment and crossed herself. “If so I fear for her.”

  “Whatever it is, she has probably brought it on herself,” Nan retorted.

  “What if they are making an occasion to get rid of her?”

  “You should be grateful that the way might be cleared for you to become queen,” Nan said.

  “But I do not want to step over Anne’s dead body to do so,” Jane flared. “It is wrong to benefit from someone else’s misfortune.”

  “People do it all the time.” Nan shrugged. “And anyway, Chapuys thinks the King will just end up divorcing her. He said that Elizabeth will almost certainly be excluded from the succession, and that the Princess Mary might be restored, after any children you bear the King. Mary will be overjoyed.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing,” Jane reminded her. “The King has not mentioned marriage, still less children. You are all taking it as a foregone conclusion.”

  “It would not be appropriate for the King to offer you marriage while he still has a wife,” Nan said.

  “He did with Anne Boleyn!”

  Nan would not be bested. “We shall see,” she insisted. “Be grateful that Chapuys is using all means to promote the matter, with Cromwell and with others. He is determined to make you queen.”

  * * *

  —

  Sir Nicholas Carew seemed always to be looming on Jane’s horizon these days. He was proving indefatigable in her cause, and she was grateful for that, given her mounting conviction that she was with child.

  “Make an assault!” he urged her. “Capitalize on what is happening now. Surely you can remember something they can use against the Lady.”

  “I can remember nothing amiss,” she said firmly. She could not wholly deplore his ruthlessness, since he was so entirely on her side, but she did her best to channel it. “There is no need for them to take this course!” she cried. “There are good grounds for an annulment. That’s all that is needed, surely?” She could hear the fear in her voice.

  Carew regarded her with his fine dark eyes. “Ah, but our friend Cromwell wants to make sure that she won’t remain a nuisance after she has been put away.”

  “Her teeth will have been drawn. He has no cause to worry.”

  “But she has a daughter, and might fight for her rights as the old Queen did. Look at us: we still support Katherine and Mary, and we are working to bring down Anne. Cromwell is right to wonder if it might happen again.”

  Jane turned away. “So you would sanction her death, for that’s what we are talking about?”

  “For the peace of the realm, and your security, and that of your children by the King, yes!”

  Jane breathed deeply. “And do our other friends agree?”

  Carew nodded. “They do. Sir Francis Bryan and others in the Privy Chamber are doing all in their power to bring about your marriage. They see the necessity, and the Princess Mary agrees, I hear. I have written to her. I told her to be of good cheer, for shortly the Boleyns will put water in their wine. Jane, the King is as sick and tired of the Lady as he could be. Use your head. Take advantage of this, and make him declare himself.”

  “No!” Jane countered. “I will not have him thinking I am chasing him.”

  “Then threaten to leave him! That soon brought him running in Anne’s day.”

  That, for reasons she could not tell him, was now unthinkable. “Nicholas, I appreciate your concern, and all that you are doing on my behalf, but I think I know by now how to approach the King. He would be unhappy if I treated him as she did.”

  Carew cheerfully conceded defeat. “Very well, Jane, have it your way. But it will not be the fault of this master of horse if the Lady is not dismounted!”

  “Go gently, Nicholas,” she urged. “For my sake, press for a merciful way of removing her.”

  * * *

  —

  Spring was flowering in all its glory as April drew to a close. The courtiers were preparing excitedly for the May Day festival, when traditionally jousts were held in the tiltyard. After that, the King was going to Dover to inspect the fortifications, and then overseas for a short visit to his town of Calais, and Anne was supposed to be going with him. Now that they were together as often as possible, Jane felt sad at the prospect of his being away, and feared that Anne might seize the opportunity to inveigle her way back into his favor; but then he would not be gone for long and, realistically, he was unlikely to succumb to Anne’s wiles now.

  She was trying not to panic at the growing probability that she was with child. She told herself that anything might have interrupted her courses. Losing her virginity and making love might well account for it. She was resolved to wait and see if she missed early next month before jumping to conclusions. In the meantime, she would endeavor not to fret.

  The tournament and the summer progress were not the only topics of interest at court. They were overshadowed by rumors that the Queen’s disgrace was imminent. Clearly not everyone questioned by Cromwell had respected the injunction to keep silent, Jane concluded; or else, which was worse, her own supporters had fed the speculation.

  Chapuys told Edward he believed the King would just have his marriage annulled. Jane was thankful for that. It sounded as if Cromwell had not gathered enough evidence to proceed against Anne by other means.

  “Certainly the King is determined to abandon her,” Edward said at dinner one day. “It is bruited that she was secretly married to the Earl of Northumberland before he wed her, so he may have good grounds for divorce.”

  “Really?” Nan looked up. “I heard that Cardinal Wolsey forbade her to marry Northumberland and sent them both from court.”

  “Maybe they were already married,” Edward said, munching.

  “Please!” Jane begged. “We’ve been speculating for weeks now, and still the King hasn’t said anything to me. Let be, please.”

  Edward raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, sister. This uncertainty must be wearying for you. I have no doubt that he will speak, and soon. Matters seem to be coming to a head.”

  “Just leave it!” Nan commanded. Jane smiled at her gratefully.

  * * *

  —

  “The King is in Council,” Thomas said, frowning, as he breezed into the apartment and made himself at home in the chair Henry used.

  “On a Sunday?” Edward queried. “There must be some matter of moment to be discussed.” They all exchanged glances.

  Jane did not want to indulge in any more idle speculation, so she took herself off to Greenwich Park to enjoy the sunshine. Not far from the palace, she saw a group of people cheering and shouting, and realized they were watching a dog fight. Among them was the Queen. Anne saw Jane watching them and gave her an icy stare, then turned back to the entertainment.

  Jane shrugged and strolled on. She would not let Anne bother her. Her footsteps took her toward the hill on which stood the old tower, Mireflore. It looked forbidding. She never went too close to it.

  She found herself a shady spot and
took up the pair of gloves she was embroidering. As the sun rose high above her, she stopped sewing and ate the cold pasty she had brought with her. Then she resumed stitching, every now and then breaking off to admire the view and the fine weather. The hours passed peacefully. Soon it would be suppertime, and she should go in, but she wanted to finish the gloves, and she was almost done. When she had completed her task, she lay back against a tree trunk and closed her eyes, drowsing in the warmth.

  She woke to see the sun low down in the west and a group of Anne’s ladies sitting on the grass on the slope below the tower. Not wanting to attract attention, she pretended to be asleep. When next she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Anne emerge from the tower and run down the hill. The ladies followed her, and soon they were just tiny figures in the distance, heading back to the palace.

  She wondered what Anne had been doing. Probably she had just been curious to see what it was like inside the tower. Dusty and creepy, Jane imagined.

  She heard a door creak. Someone else was leaving Mireflore. It was Sir Henry Norris! Jane watched in surprise as he strode away down the hill, understanding dawning. He had been alone with Anne in that tower, which made a nonsense of all the arguments that she could have had no opportunities for an illicit affair. Jane remembered that it had been common knowledge among the Queen’s ladies that Norris loved Anne; but she had never heard that it had been reciprocated. They had all thought him a hopeless case. Now it seemed they had been wrong. But heavens, had the pair of them any idea of the risk they had been taking? What if Cromwell, or one of his spies, had seen them? In the light of recent developments, it was very likely that Anne was being watched. How could she have been so reckless? Had she really been so foolish as to arrange a tryst with her lover in broad daylight, in a place where anyone could have come upon them, or seen them entering and leaving? Suddenly, Jane had to know.

  She got up, gathered her things and walked up to the tower. It looked eerie in the fading light of early evening, but she suppressed her unease. There was a key in the great wooden door. She turned it easily. It was gloomy inside, and the menacing shapes of dark, sinister figures loomed at her from the faded murals. She shivered. It was chilly, too, and smelled of age and disuse. Cobwebs veiled the windows. She crept upstairs, and found a chamber containing an old bedstead. It was hardly the setting for a romantic tryst, with its ropes sagging and the floor covered in dust, but there were footprints in the dust leading to the topmost story. Jane continued upward, and was taken aback to find a beautifully appointed room furnished with tapestries and a luxurious bed. A rich Turkey carpet lay on the floor.