Had the Queen Lived:

by Raven A. Nuckols

  Henry then solicited her advice on how best to deal with his cousin James V, the King of Scotland, who had been causing trouble on the northern border. Sex and politics were still very much alive in the royal bedchamber. Henry kept true to his word and rising at six in the morning he prepared his retinue for a hunting excursion with the Queen. They were gone until the late evening, and then dined together privately in his chambers. While Anne was on the hunt, she had ordered Frances to her estate to await their return. In their absence, Frances was finally able to get a letter to Don Miguel by way of one of Lady Norris’ associates.

  The letter was filled with longing and passion; clearly the absence had done little to diminish her feelings. She desired above all else to see him and meet him—at any time and place he could manage—just to catch a glimpse of him. This dangerous correspondence was delivered about a week later to the secretary’s own hands and is one of the few letters that went unread prior to delivery. The letter is now on display in the National Archives in the United Kingdom.

  Their majesties’ hunt went for the next three days, Henry spending time with Anne and virtually forgetting Frances; however, he did manage to write her a letter before the hunt. Frances’ mind was filled with nothing but Don Miguel; Henry was out of sight and out of mind. When she finally did answer the letter to the King, she was vague and demonstrated no pain at his absence. It had become very clear to the court that still Anne remained very much in control of the King’s ear on political affairs, and that his young mistress was not.

  Optimistic still, Norfolk—through Frances’ father—advised her to retire to the family household, instructing her to take longer than usual to reply again to the King. Their strategy was to tempt Henry with the young maid’s absence, but exercise caution in doing so. The same tactic had been employed by Jane Seymour years before, to no avail. Frances was also advised that, upon her return to court, she should step up her sexual acceptance of the King, while yet withholding the main prize. The boundaries of the Acts she could engage in were implied.

  It is still unclear when Frances yielded her virginity to the King, but rumors to that effect were flowing around court. If they were true, this would have changed the game dramatically. The behavior of other courtiers was mixed between loyal supporters of Anne and new blood seeking whatever favor they might gain should Frances replace the Queen. Henry had a custom-made gold necklace, with rubies and diamonds, send to his mistress at the end of April, along with a purse of gold and letter declaring his unending love and seeking an answer that she felt the same. Her only reply was to thank him for such wonderful gifts, and not answer his feelings at all.

  8.3 Challenging a Queen

  The late summer of 1541 was one of the hottest in recorded history up to that time and the heat and the drought it caused brought pestilence upon the larger cities that, after suffering again through the sweating sickness, had not even attempted to reconcile their unsanitary conditions. The heat and lack of rain dried up crop fields and famine spread to some parts of the realm. Rioting broke out in smaller towns and a crime spree had heated up due to the lack of food and treacherous conditions.

  The sweat had broken out five times over Henry’s reign: first in 1508, then 1517, again in 1528, in 1541 and 1542, and lastly in 1551, according to the New England Journal of Medicine. One contemporary account was made by a John Caius, a doctor at Cambridge, who wrote the best record of the disease of the time in a 1552 dissertation entitled: “A boke, or counseill against the disease commonly called the sweate, or sweatyng sicknesse.” His pamphlet described the incubation period of the disease, timeframes of death, and all the symptoms. Due to the filth and overcrowding of the cities, it is unsurprising to uncover that lack of sanitation allowed rodents and other animals—even humans—to become vectors, or carriers, of the disease.

  While food supplies were low, the sweat was spreading and overall discord was taking place on a massive scale; yet outsiders would not have known it by visiting the palace. The court of the time consumed food at one of the highest rates on record, and had nearly depleted one of the neighboring forests during their prolonged stay at Hampton Court. Henry’s physicians, who kept him updated on the sickness, advised him to stay put and eliminate as many possible contaminants from his person and the Queen and heirs as possible. This included servants who had contact with the outside, especially the forest; those responsible for the hunting and preparing of meats. The Prince and Princess were safe at their respective estates and no mention of the sweat had been noted with fifty miles of either palace. Nevertheless, Henry took the utmost precautions and ordered their nursery staff not to leave the grounds and all meats, wine, and bread to be thoroughly inspected by a physician prior to consumption. He also ordered that the children’s living quarters were to be cleaned three times a day with only their Lady Governess and one other servant attending at all times. Neither of these individuals was allowed near any of the servants who had been outdoors recently, and those who had left the indoors without permission were to be removed from the palace immediately.

  When news of the sweat hit the rest of Europe, the Pope declared Henry an incompetent ruler who God was now punishing with pestilence, as he had the Pharaoh of old. He told his loyal flock that only if the King were to divorce Anne and turn back to the Church would these series of plagues in his lands be abated, and that he would be welcomed back into the fold. Henry rejected these pronouncements outright and Anne labeled the Pope a heretic. She had Archbishop Cranmer, who was in residence at court, write up a pamphlet denouncing the Pope’s arguments. Tyndale would translate the works into Latin and draft a personal letter for the King and Queen to submit to His Holiness directly. These documents were to be distributed once the sweat had left.

  The House of Commons was contemplating action against the nobility for taking lands without cause to further their own profit and for displacing thousands of the poor. Lord Audley was drawing up plans to submit a law for Parliament to vote on regarding the nobility’s property rights. He had engineers working on re-zoning certain parts of the north, lands that were hotly contested and in high demand. The purpose was to eliminate a free for all land grant that was difficult at best to tax and even harder to collect against. The nobles felt they were entitled, per their jointures, not to invest in the King’s coffers like the rest of the subjects. The nobles resented what families like the Bendici’s had been doing encroaching on their abuses and territory and routinely struggled against them both in court and out. Lord Audley would soon rectify this. Yet despite all of these events, the court continued to engage in lavish feasts and dancing. The country was in a complete state of disarray and Henry’s main preoccupation was with his young mistress.

  In October of 1541, Lord Rochford died from a massive stroke in his chambers. He had suffered a minor stroke only weeks before, and only his groom and physicians were made aware. His children were not notified of the minor stroke so as not to burden them with unnecessary stress. The physicians had advised him to take care and be at ease with his person, but for the sake of appearances he accompanied the King on a hunt only three days earlier. For two weeks his body laid in state as an honored servant of the crown and the father of her majesty the Queen. He was buried at St. Peter’s church in Hever, near the family estate. Anne took his death particularly hard, as the two had become closer in the last few years. On top of her already fragile constitution dealing with an unstable marriage, her one true ally was now gone. His lands and titles were passed to the Queen to disperse at her will and Henry showed genuine concern at the death of his father-in-law.

  While she grieved, Henry fully supported his wife and, for the first time since the affair with Frances began, it appeared he was turning his course. Frances requested permission from Anne to leave court for personal reasons, without providing notice to Henry, fully taking advantage of her mistress’s distress. The Queen merrily granted her leave. Neither the conservative
faction nor Frances’ father had any idea that the young woman was headed back to the family estates. Frances was thankful for any opportunity to be away from her eager suitor and possibly closer to a rendezvous with her true lover.

  Chapuys reported the passing of Lord Rochford to his Master Charles with glee, remarking that God was now making his presence known, and seeing it as a sure sign that Anne was soon to be undone. The Earl of Hastings and Edward Seymour were fearful that a repeat of Anne’s previous performance during Brandon’s injury would occur and bring Anne firmly back into the King’s trust. They and the rest of the conservatives, perhaps justly, feared that this emotional turmoil would yet again place the King in a fragile state and turn him back to his wife; but it was not to be so. He only spent two days with Anne before sending for Frances and leaving Anne alone to grieve. To his surprise, Frances was nowhere to be found, she was already en route to her home estates. Henry erupted with fury. He sent for Lord Audley, demanding to send royal agents to bring Frances back, kicking and screaming if necessary, he sought the girl’s comforts and did not care about her wishes.

  The stress of recent events was more than Anne could bear and she suffered a nervous breakdown. She confined herself to her chambers, drinking heavily and refusing the company of all but two servants and her brother. She missed church, public appearances and all audience requests, including even those of the beloved children of St. Mary’s Orphanage. If she had hoped that her husband would hear of her distress and return to her, she would be disappointed. Henry showed no interest in her condition. He instead spent greater periods of time Audley attending to matters of domestic policy, while awaiting his lover’s return. A relieved Frances arrived home two days later enjoying spending what little time she could with her mother and siblings. She read by her beloved creek and wrote many letters to Don Miguel and Lady Norris updating them on her happiness at being back at home. This was not to last.

  She was home for scarcely three days when Henry’s agents came knocking one suppertime. They sought to return her to court, on the King’s orders. Frances, for the first time, boldly refused. In her anger, she burst into tears, saying that she could no longer stand to be at court and would die if she had to go back. As the men grabbed her by the arms, she begged for her mother and brothers to help save her and asked repeatedly “why are you letting them take me? Please, dear God, don’t let them take me!”

  While Frances was returning to court, malicious rumors circled that she was pregnant with Henry’s child. Her sudden unannounced departure had sparked gossip and the whispers appeared confirmed when it became known that her tailor was owed money for the letting out of two garments. Although, at only 15 years, it was very likely Frances had merely outgrown the frocks and sought them altered to inexpensively maintain her wardrobe, such alterations were typically done for women that had gained weight due to pregnancy. Given the circumstances, word quickly spread that the King had fathered another bastard.

  George refused to let Anne be aware of any of this. She ultimately discovered it from Lady Norris, who had sought any opportunity to add to the Queen’s stress while yet appearing a friend. The conservatives were thrilled to hear of her breakdown and Henry’s lack of concern towards his wife. Their plan was working after all; perhaps not perfectly, but in accordance with their desires. Frances was in full favor and, just like a decade before, the palace was realigning as ambitious courtiers sought to position themselves to gain from a new Queen’s patronage.

  When Frances finally did return to court on September 3rd, she was tired from her long journey and emotionally exhausted. She was taken to Henry’s chamber where her King, instead of scolding her, warmly embraced her. He shared his feelings for her, again begging his mistress to answer him with some kindness; all she could reply was that she was very fond of him, but confused and needed time to sort out her feelings and how exhausted she was from her long journey. She begged Henry to be understanding of her worries, especially because of the difficulty in continuing to serve the Queen, who was growing ever more angry and harsh. He was disappointed but did his best to comply with Frances’ wishes. It would be weeks before he would receive any answer from her at all, but that did not stop him from courting her openly.

  December 1541 brought a nervous Christmas season to Whitehall. The sweating sickness had finally abated in November, with the changing weather (which saw the insects carrying the disease begin to die off), but continued fears of another round were everywhere. The King would go back and forth between the two very different women, which caused confusion and concern at court on both sides of the political sphere. Spain and France were still enjoying the benefits of the Peace of Toledo, but this allowed them to marshal ever more strength without fear on their shared border, potentially threatening Henry’s England; Rome was still seething from Henry’s insolence and Henry feared its cooperation with the Spanish; now, the Queen and Frances shared one roof. It had been a very chaotic year.

  The King celebrated by lavishing Anne with expensive presents. One such gift was a necklace of diamonds and pearls that bore his “HR” logo, with a heart of gold enclosing her initials. He had given her a similar gift when they were betrothed. His devotion belonged to Anne for all she had helped him to accomplish, but his affections, attentions, and lust, were directed at Frances. Perhaps his generosity to his wife was a “guilt gift,” in recompense for his affairs and her emotional distress over the past few months. Or at least a vain attempt to keep the Queen silent. Whatever the motivation for the present, his attempt to placate his wife with expensive jewels did little to put her at ease. She was completely drunk by the end of the proceedings and attempted to lure Henry to her bed, but he failed to yield to her desires; some thought her actions were more desperate than ever before.

  As far as the tense court was concerned the writing was on the wall; the royal marriage was approaching its end––or so it appeared. Dancing at the center of the floor—after the King had left the room—was the woman who would soon replace the Queen, and everyone knew it. Rejected, humiliated, and abandoned, with nothing to lose, Anne made her way over to Frances as the court came to a quick halt. The French Ambassador noted in his later report to his king that he could make out the drunken, boisterous Anne very clearly, but could quite hear the response made by the shy and nervous Frances. The Queen admonished the King’s mistress:

  “You think you dare replace me? You think you ought to be Queen? You know nothing beyond your youth and vulgarity. I know he has had you thus, and now you are ruined. You are no more a lady of this court, than I a commoner. Flaunting yourself as some play thing, do you know what you are? You’re nothing more than a passing affair, a whore for jewelry and he will tire of you; I will destroy you as I have done your betters, Lady Frances.”—Queen Anne Boleyn

  The situation was frighteningly tense; a direct and public threat by the Queen of England was no laughing matter. Anne had (less publicly) done away with several former enemies—Cardinal Wolsey, the Lady Mary, and Thomas Cromwell—who were much more wily and experienced than this young maid. Rising only after the Queen had left the room, Frances was very much shaken. She ran out of the room in tears, fleeing to her chamber. Understanding well the fate that had befallen others who had angered the Queen, she cowered in fear and collapsed into hysterics. Only a visit by the King, reassuring her of his love, finally put her mind to rest. Anne, by contrast, went to her chambers, even while drunk, contemplating her next move; the lady had now been warned.

  Word of the incident quickly spread and was taken to show—not Anne’s strength and ability to intimidate, but rather—that Anne had grown desperate and was losing control, both of her King and of herself. Norfolk and Gardiner resumed plotting against Anne and successfully persuaded one of her ladies to report on the Queen’s mental state. Initially she had tried to dissuade his affairs but this was different. By all accounts she was undergoing a sense of mania, shifting for no reason fro
m hearty laughter to severe melancholy, and sometimes taking to her chamber for days. She hunted less, prayed often, and would speak only to her brother, and only about how to win back the King’s devotion.

  While her behavior may be understandable considering the severe strain she was under, it was concerning to both her friends and enemies. Her violent temper was well known, but this was something entirely new. By the time word of the incident at court had reached Henry, he laughed at it, commenting that “the Queen knows no boundaries” and took Frances to his bedchamber. It surely must have boosted his ego to have such women about him, competing head to head for his affections.

  As the spring developed, Frances remained very much in the King’s good graces and the two attended several public events and festivals together, while the Queen was secluded, claiming to be in prayer. In reality she was plotting new ways to bring down the “wretched whore” who was seeking to steal her husband. Buxton the groom, meanwhile, was remaining in the background of the King as much as possible, so he could continue his attempts to spy on behalf of the conservative faction.