by G Lawrence
Percy was slow in becoming a part of our throng. He tarried on the edges of our group at dances and when we walked out through the gardens. But eventually he dared to come forward at an evening’s dance. Percy stepped into conversation with George, whom I gathered he knew fairly well since the households of the King and the Cardinal were often together. Percy then conversed with Tom and Henry Norris, and finally came towards me. His eyes had been glancing at me the whole time and everyone noticed it, and they were laughing at him, thinking that perhaps the sharp-tongued Mistress Anne would slice poor Percy into marmalade. Tom was concealing a smile behind his laced sleeve and Mary was agog with the future giggles she should have to share with me. I smiled politely at the approach of the young nobleman, excusing myself from speaking with Bridget, who was once more heavy with child. Although Percy was of an age with me, he seemed so much younger. His eyes were hazel and the beard on his face was short. His clothes were of the finest, as one would expect from an Earl’s son, and he wore them with the carelessness of one who has always had the best of everything, and may always expect to. He was broad and quite tall and looked strong. He was attractive, yes, and I was pulled to his boy-like manners and the blush upon his cheeks as he stepped forward to me.
“I would ask for your hand to dance, Mistress Boulain,” he said, saying my name the way that Margaret of Austria had done when she named me La Petite Boulain. It made me warm to him.
“You shall require more than my hand of me, should you wish to dance, my lord,” I said smiling. Bridget snorted a giggle, and the others around us laughed merrily as Percy blushed deeper. But he looked into my eyes again with a good-natured smile on his lips; other men might have resented such a jest, but not he.
“Then, may I be so bold as to request the whole of you, Mistress Sharp-tongue?” he asked.
“Even the sharp tongue?” I smiled at him, rather liking the flush on his cheeks. It made his eyes bright and warm.
“I would not do without it,” he said, reaching out to take my hand.
“I’d take the tongue too!” a voice yelled from the back of the crowd and the people around me burst into roars of laughter at the jest. No one took such things too seriously; although the rules of the game of courtly love dictated respect, the rules of the court did not and most jests were bawdy. We all thought little of it then, but there would come a time when all men would learn to guard their tongues.
Percy took my hand and led me out for the next dance. It was a French pavanne; slow and sonorous. My hanging sleeves always made my figure look its best when I danced such dances. My waist was thin and each slow turn of my body and clap of my hands called attention to the finery and distinction of my clothes. My toes tapped across the floor with the grace of one who has been dancing all her life. Around my neck there hung a new adornment that I had designed and my father had had made for me: golden letters in the shape of my initials AB which hung from a long double string of tiny pearls. Pearls were my favourite jewel as they complimented my skin and dark hair.
Thus I was when first I danced with Henry Percy. He was a fine dancer, better than I had expected from the manner of his bearing. He was elegant despite his tall stature and light of foot despite his broad shoulders. I was impressed, and I was a harsh critic of the skills of others in the dance. As the dance ended he led me back to my friends and released me. “I hope to claim the whole of you once again, Mistress Boulain,” he said, softly kissing my hand. “For the whole of you is more enticing than even I had imagined.”
I blushed, feeling suddenly like a child in my happiness. “I hope you shall claim both me and my hand once more, my lord,” I felt my heart race a little faster. “My tongue I shall speak to on your behalf and I will remind it that as you are now our friend, it needs must be gentle with you.”
His eyes widened and he bowed looking very pleased. I was amazed at how easily he allowed his emotions to ride over his face. There was no guile in this young man at all. It was uplifting. And I realised that I liked him even more for it. Tom slid over to me once Percy had wandered back to his crowd. “It is nice of you indeed, Mistress Boleyn,” he said, with a sly note in his voice.
I sighed; I had been enjoying the aftermath of pleasure that Percy’s words and dance had offered me. It was an invigorating and pleasing sense of happiness without court games or guile, which had put a feeling almost akin to homesickness in my heart and belly. This feeling was reminiscent of childhood, a longing for the innocence that had once been ours. That was the feeling that Percy had granted me, and I liked it. But now, Tom was here and I could smell the jealousy on his breath as he spoke to me. I sighed because I knew that he was going to try to spoil the lovely feeling I had from Percy. Tom was jealous; he wanted me to be his. I found his jealousy of Percy to be rather unattractive, and wished he was away from me. It was the first time, perhaps, that I had come to think ill of Tom.
“What is nice of me, Master Wyatt?” I asked curtly.
“Nice of you to rock the cradle of a youngling just come to court,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “Will you soon to be showing the whelp how to button his shirts also?”
The throng around us burst into laughter at Percy’s expense. Margaret shook her head at her brother, even though she tittered. I smiled too; the mischief in Tom’s eyes was infectious, but I was not going to allow him to get away with insulting a man I admired so easily. As the laughter drew to a close I spoke. “Perhaps he is young in his ways,” I mused as though perturbed by a thought. I held my hand to my lips and tapped a finger on them. “But of course, Tom,” I continued, catching his arm and drawing him towards me, “the advantages of youth are that a man is able and willing to hear what a woman may say. But in age…” I patted his arm like he was a feeble old dotard and raised my voice to his ear, speaking loudly. “In great age, Master Tom Wyatt, a man may not be able to hear a woman through the thick growth of hair in his ears!”
The crowd roared and the rest of the room looked our way. I stood in the middle with a quip on my lips and felt the interest of the court upon me. Both the King and the Queen were looking over from their position on the platform at the end of the room to see what the source of the amusement was. I felt the eyes of the court and the royal couple turn on me and I basked in it. I loved to be the centre of attention. Of course I did… I was young and proud.
“And therein, you see, Master Wyatt,” I said, smiling still at Tom, who although laughing with the rest, did look rather disgruntled, “that therein lies some of the attraction of youth for a lady.” I laughed merrily and nodded to the others in the group. “In youth there may be truth,” I quipped, and grinned. “Whereas age may become a cage… Do you not think?” We carried on in our merry ways, and I went to bed that night exhausted and invigorated by the night. For the moment, I thought little of the young Henry Percy asking to dance with me. But it was in truth the start of something momentous.
Chapter Thirteen
Richmond Palace
1522
The King and his men would come to the Queen’s quarters from time to time to visit formally and to allow Henry and Katherine to spend time with each other. Percy was now one of the Cardinal’s men, a page in his household, and, since the Cardinal was often with the King, Percy was at times present in the Queen’s chambers too. The young man would seek me out when possible, and we would spend time playing at cards, or he would listen to me sing for the company and compliment the sweetness of my voice. When attending on Henry, my father noticed this, and at one such meeting in the Queen’s chamber came over to talk to me about this new development in my life.
“You must excuse me, my lord,” my father bowed to Percy who was laughing heartily at a pun I had just made. “I must claim my right as a father to steal my daughter from you for a moment.”
Percy bowed to my father and to me, and withdrew. My father looked at my cheeks, flushed with pleasure from Percy’s attentions, and I ruefully blushed further; feeling excited at the atte
ntions of a man in front of my father was embarrassing. I tried to cover my discomfiture by playing with the strings of my lute, but my father was not a man to be fooled. “The young heir to Northumberland, it would appear, finds you most interesting, daughter,” he said softly with a musing expression on his face. “Henry Percy is engaged, I hear, to Shrewsbury’s daughter, Mary Talbot.”
The colour and pleasure drained from my face. As I looked at him, I thought I caught a momentary flash of pleasure in the ability to steal my pleasure from me run over my father’s face. It was another type of power, after all, and my father liked power.
“Is he so?” I asked carefully and with a measured voice that showed no care behind it.
“Engaged is not quite the same as married, daughter.“ My father cast a sideways glance at Percy who was now chatting to Norris and Will Carey on the other side of the room, near to where some of Katherine’s ladies were playing at cards with other gentlemen. I looked at my father questioningly and he smiled at me. “He seems most taken with you. I have seen the glances he casts your way.“ He scratched at his short beard a little and then continued thoughtfully. “Looks like that may lead a man many places… And a woman, also.”
I arched one eyebrow and my father shook his head. “I mean not that,” he said. “But I would not object to seeing the Boleyn name aligned to the house of Northumberland honourably. It would be an advantageous step for our family and one that is not out of our reach, even though they better us in blood and titles. I believe that a match to align our families may be within the bounds of possibility. Would this one be more to your tastes than Butler of the Bogs?”
“Most things are preferable to bogs, father,” I said. “Consider the laundry that would have to be done; it would take all week to cleanse my gowns.”
My father ignored my jest, and went on. “Then consider his advances and your responses well and play this game to your advantage… I am soon to leave England for Spain to resume my post as negotiator for the King, but in my absence, I would like to see you make the most of what this situation may bring to you.” He smiled and nodded a greeting across the room at one of Henry’s entourage; ever keeping up with the business of advancement, even whilst talking with his daughter on her marriage prospects. “Take the blessing of your father to do whatever it may take to capture that rather charmingly innocent heir to such a large fortune.”
He looked directly at me. “Whatever it may take, Anne, I think should be sufficient.” And with that, my father moved away, leaving me to stare at his back. At first I did not know what to think; had my own father just insinuated that I whore myself to gain a Northumberland as a husband? I was not fool enough to believe that I had misunderstood him. I understood my father well, but I was still not willing to forgo that which I held most dear about myself in order to succeed in life at court.
Still, the more I thought on it, the more the idea of being Percy’s wife did genuinely appeal to me; he was young and handsome, he was tall and broad. He was heir to a great title and fortune. He was bright and he was indeed innocent. It was the boyish turn of his innocence that appealed to me most of all. Much as I loved life at court, its snap and its fire, it is a place often of illusion where all talk of love is but games, and little is real between men and women. Yet in his attentions there was something so genuine and open that I believed it to be true affection and admiration for me. Perhaps, in becoming his wife, I could have a husband who would really love and adore me. Perhaps I could have what so many around me did not have; a marriage to someone that they loved. It was what I had always wanted; what I had dreamed of when I had been in France. That I could have love, and marriage, as one… And now I had my father’s approval for the match also. A thing of wonder, indeed!
I could not help but feel excited. I was given approval to follow my heart… I was equally sure that if Percy had shown me attention and I had not reciprocated affection, that my father would have ordered me to attract him despite my feelings. But as it was, I knew that I liked Percy, that I was attracted to him. My feelings for him were simple and almost strange to me. I felt like a child when I was near him. I felt… almost unlike myself… as though I had found a simpler version of myself hidden in all the court gowns and concealed under the fine French headdresses. Percy brought something out of me which no other man did; a sense of my own innocence. At times, I almost felt shy to think about him.
Percy saw my father move away and as he returned to my side, the King rose and hastily called an end to the meeting in Katherine’s chambers, asking the Cardinal to bring his men and follow him. Percy cast a rueful look to me and kissed my hand, moving to follow the Cardinal as was his duty. As Percy left the chambers, Henry turned, and in the light cast by the candles in the hallway, I saw an expression on his face that I had seen before… when I had danced at the Chateau Vert pageant. Henry, King of England, cast a look towards me of displeasure and… anger. I shivered to see it, but it was gone in a flash of gold as the King turned and left. I sat, wondering what it was that I had done this time to so displease the King’s grace. Once more I wondered if I had imagined it, but I did not think that I had.
My father left for Spain that October, and was to remain in those lands until May of the year following. As he left, I increasingly thought on his orders to secure a match with young Percy, and although I thought on them with a little discomfiture, I also found more and more that I liked the idea. To marry with a man I found engaging… to become a countess! If I could indeed secure Percy, as my father had put it, then I would marry far above my own station. It would be a good match, and as time went on, I found my affection for Percy growing ever more. Tom was almost green with jealousy, and spent much time making jests at the expense of my would-be suitor, but in some ways, this only made me warm to Percy further… and recoil from Tom more. Tom made jests on Percy’s youth and inexperience, but I liked his boyishness, and his sense of innocence.
“He is a dullard,” said Tom as I watched Percy leave by boat for York Palace, the residence of Cardinal Wolsey.
“He is a lord,” I warned Tom, meaning that Tom should be careful in his speech on those of higher rank than him.
“As you wish,” Tom continued. “My lord, is a dullard.”
I laughed, but then I turned to him in seriousness. “I like him, Tom.” I said softly. “And I am truly sorry if that admission gives you pain, for that is something I would never like to cause. But in this, it seems I have no choice. For my liking Henry Percy will give you pain. But it is done, and I have no choice.”
Tom looked away from me, staring out of the window. I moved to touch his arm and he moved away from me. “Will you not take friendship at my hands, Tom?” I asked gently.
“I have taken many things at your hands, Mistress Boleyn,” he said waspishly.
“I have always been honest about my feelings and intentions towards you, Tom. You cannot accuse me of deceit.”
“I think I may have preferred deceit,” he murmured. “It might have had less sting to its tail.”
“Tom…” I went to say more, but he stopped me. Standing away from me and bowing to me, he drew away.
“I am, as ever, your servant, madam.” He bowed to me, his dark eyes seeming to have lost that sparkle I had ever loved to see in them.
“I would have you as my friend, rather than my servant, Tom.”
He nodded. I saw the pain in his eyes and I flinched from it. I felt guilt for causing it. But I did not love Tom. I knew that now. Could I help it if he loved me? What could I do? There is nothing to be done in such situations.
“I would read you George’s latest verse,” I said softly to him. “I think it is his best work.”
Tom nodded again, and tried to smile. “Later, perhaps, my lady,” he shrugged and nodded at the palace to our side. “I have matters to attend to. I will wait on you anon.”
I nodded my head, but before my chin dropped back into place, Tom was gone. I felt as though my heart might break, and
not for me, but for him. Truly, I had no wish to cause him pain, and now I regretted somewhat that I had been so enthused for his company, and eager for his time. Tom had been the first thing, the first person who had made me feel at home in England, and I had long known about his feelings for me. But I had never deceived him. I had been truthful, and told him that I did not, and could not, love him.
I looked over the river, feeling sad. But even as I looked, I could see the boat that carried Percy, and felt as though that brought me strength, and courage. I believed that I loved Percy. The manner in which he approached me was respectful, sweet and charming. To a woman who has seen the darker side of men, and who has lived her whole life surrounded by false flattery, he was revitalizing. When I saw him it was like feeling the first breath of spring wind through the dull gloom of winter. Here was a man that I could love, that I could grant my heart to, and I believed that if I did so, then my heart would be safe in his gentle keeping.