by G Lawrence
She smiled again at me, and suddenly I really did feel like the younger sister and she the elder. So often I had thought of Mary as unsophisticated, seemingly younger than I. But every now and then, I understood that her experiences of the world were not as sunny as the shine she tried to place on everything. There was wisdom under the surface of her merriment, and gravity under the cover of her lightness. She understood a great deal of patience and of giving up her own wishes for the wants and demands of her family. She was not the elder in years alone.
As the summer wore on, the King announced that his progress would soon embark from the court in London. He would travel down through Kent, and then upwards along the River Thames, visiting noble houses in Essex, before stopping to embark on a long hunting trip at Woodstock. A royal progress was almost the only time when the monarch was seen outside of London, and when the King would favour his courtiers by visiting with them, and staying at their houses. It was something that also caused great concern; housing the court, and its expenses, could be ruinous for a lord, but there were none who would deny the honour of such a visit. There came a great honour to our family when Henry announced that his progress would include a stay at Penshurst Place, his own grand residence that was but a few miles from Hever Castle. Whilst the bulk of his courtiers would lodge at Penshurst, Henry would spend a few nights with us at Hever. Mary and Will were at Beaulieu and he intended to visit them there also. Queen Katherine was to accompany him. Our mother flew home in a frantic frenzy to make Hever suitable for royal guests and I went with her to help.
Hever had never been so busy! The kitchens were in a roar, making enough food for the King and the select group he would bring to the castle, for Hever was simply not big enough to contain the whole court. An encampment was constructed within Hever’s park which all but the King’s closest servants would occupy whilst Henry stayed within the castle. The King’s chamber had to be perfect, the bed he was to use stuffed with the best eiderdown our father could afford, and covered with the finest linen and blankets we owned. Laundering began on a scale, the like of which I had never seen; our gardens looked like a ghostly masque with all the white bedding dancing in the breeze.
Every day I was out hunting with our master of game to gather enough of the local beasts and birds to sate the King’s great appetite. The fish ponds were stocked with living fish and my mother was busy ordering in Henry’s favourites; lamprey and trout were shipped to the stock ponds, and many fish of the seas were brought from the oceans still flapping and swimming in huge barrels of salted water, ready for the pot or pie.
The whole manor was cleansed; walls washed down with vinegar water and then wiped with fresh-smelling herbs and rose petals. Servants polished and cleaned like the hand of the devil was driving them and everywhere there was a feeling of expectation and excitement. The smell of cooking emanated from the kitchens through the day and through the night as bricks of sugar were worked into subtleties, beasts were roasted, pies were baked, and fruits stewed. Whole flocks of geese and chickens were herded squawking into pens so they were ready to catch the moment they were needed. Fresh game I brought to the kitchens was hung to gain flavour, and vast, round cheeses were prodded daily by anxious hands to check if they were ripe. The castle was heavy with noise, and the air thick with excitement.
The servants were most excited to catch a glimpse of the King and to serve upon him. Although some who served as maids or footmen to our family had visited the court, to many others, it was a far-off place of mythic romance and chivalry. Bluff King Hal was a figure of legend. They all wanted to be able to boast to their children or grandchildren that they had waited on the King. They wanted to make the best of this visit, as we did; everyone was anxious that the Boleyn family home should not disappoint Henry and his party.
I was nervous… Nothing had happened between Henry and me since I had returned the jewels he had sent to me and I had told no one of it; I wondered now if he had forgotten our kiss in the gardens and if his attentions and affections had waned in the face of my refusal to bed him. It must have been an unusual experience for him, after all; he was surely not used to being refused by the ladies of the court. I had said nothing of it to my friends or family. I suspect that my father may have had me boiled alive for threatening our family’s position at court through refusing to bed the King of England. And he might have insisted that I take up the place my sister was about to leave in order to continue our family’s fortunes. Since I did not want to take the still-warm place of my sister, I was not about to let my wily father know such a thing was a possibility. To give Thomas Boleyn information was to give him opportunity. I wanted no such opportunity as the one the King had offered me.
The rush of the travelling court arrived at the end of a frantic week of activity. Queen Katherine remained at Penshurst with most of the courtiers, but the King and a select group, “his riding household”, came to Hever. Penshurst was the King’s own house, one of many lesser houses he kept in the country; George was steward there, and so he too had been nearby over the past week, preparing the house for his master. I had seen him little, despite the spare miles between us. We had all had much to do before the King arrived.
My mother was in a great panic before the crowds arrived, lest the tireless work she had done to provide Henry with adequate splendour should be unsatisfactory. I felt the household’s rising excitement as we waited and watched; from early morning, when we all knew he would not be arriving anyway, to the afternoon when every small noise caused us to rush to the windows to look for the King’s arrival.
The servants were in their best, and my mother and I clothed in our richest attire. I wore a dark green gown with a crimson kirtle and my customary hanging sleeves, embroidered with tiny yellow and pink honeysuckle flowers and swirling vine leaves, my own work. My hair was caught in my French hood with pearls over the crest and a great chain of gold hung at my waist. I wore, too, my pendant with the letters AB wrought in gold, around my pale, long neck. All women at court were now imitating the style of jewellery that I wore. It was pleasing in some ways to find myself aped so, but in order to remain ahead of the others at court, I had to keep changing parts of my dress or jewels. Sometimes I wondered… if I should paint myself with saffron should I find tomorrow that all the women of court had also turned yellow? Was there anything I could do that they would not follow me in, or had they ceased to think for themselves and learnt only to ape me? How dull if they could not think of a new idea themselves!
My mother and I had washed in water of lavender and rosemary in anticipation of Henry’s arrival. The King was most fastidious in his cleanliness. My maid, Bess, grinned at my shining eyes, noting the colour in my often pale cheeks. She giggled as she brushed my thick dark hair that morning, sending me looks that said she understood my excitement at the richest and most accomplished King in Christendom visiting our home; this was something that our servants would talk of to their children and grandchildren. The day that they were close enough to touch the King himself.
The colour in my cheeks was not all excitement, however, but some trepidation also. I wondered if he was angry at me for refusing to become his mistress. A part of me hoped that he had forgotten it, and another part hoped just as much that he had not.
Finally, and just before we were all set to explode with excitement, they arrived. I was called to the great hall where my mother stood, hastily dusting her gown free of imaginary dirt. My father and George went out to greet the King and his riding party as they clattered into our courtyard. There was great shouting and laughing as the party dismounted and Henry and his men greeted my father and brother; he was fond of both, I knew well. This visit was an honour; a sign to others at court that the Boleyns were in his favour. I hoped that I should not be called on to do anything that would alter the growing love that Henry had for my family… such as having to refuse him once more…
They entered, and I felt my heart pound in my breast as Henry looked around the hall an
d stopped, his eyes on me. With my mother, I swept to the floor in a curtsey, and rose only when I saw his shoes before me, and saw his hand indicate that we rise. I brought my eyes to his face as I rose and behind him saw my father watching every move that mother and I made. I looked into Henry’s eyes. He was staring at my face with an unreadable expression. I knew not if he was pleased or grieved to see me again.
“You are pleased to see us here in your hall then, Elizabeth?” Henry said informally to my mother, smiling at her.
“We are greatly honoured, Your Majesty,” she said, dropping gracefully again to curtsey, but Henry held out his hand to her. “Away with so much ceremony!” he cried gaily. “I am here as a friend to your family; how am I to visit well with you if all I see of you are the tops of your heads?”
The party around him laughed and then there was applause at the grand gesture of doing away with ceremony, although we all knew it to be a fantasy.
“And you, Mistress Boleyn?” he addressed me directly. Instinctively, I went again to curtsey, and was stopped by his hand touching my shoulder lightly. There was a mischief in his eyes as he looked at me, and a softness too. “No more of this bowing,” he said gently. “From such a pretty lady as you, Anne, I would rather have a kiss to welcome me to your hall.”
I could hardly refuse. The King and his whole party were there before me, as were the watchful eyes of my most critical father. I was glad that Mary was not here as yet. I lifted my face as he lowered his lips to mine. There was a brief and courtly kiss as his hand remained on my shoulder and then we parted. Again, the party broke into applause. Henry looked at me with softness; there was a spark in those blue eyes, and I knew then that he was not finished with me. He thought he should have me yet, I thought… Perhaps here! Perhaps I was part of the reason for the visit! But I knew not for sure. Perhaps I was just an added bonus to the trip; a chance to bed the haughty daughter at last whilst he made friends with the covetous, greedy father!
I blushed; it would not be so! I would not be sold off as my sister had been!
The party dispersed as they went to wash and dress for the evening’s entertainments, as did my family. I craved a moment to myself and left the house and the grappling, busy servants for the peace of the gardens. Summer was in full bloom, and the gardens of Hever were always so beautiful just now. The grasses were still lush; the roses were a mass of reds and whites and the shady honeysuckle that I so loved was sweet with perfume, lending a touch of beauty to the darker areas of the garden.
I was pausing to touch the sweet, budding young blooms of the honeysuckle when I saw Henry approaching. He had, it appeared, not seen me, and was once again unaccompanied by his people as he had been in the gardens at court when we had met, and kissed, earlier in the year. I straightened myself and pushed back the hair that had fallen loose of my silk hood. He saw me and paused, his blue eyes narrowing as he came nearer. I bowed to him and impatiently he motioned for me to stand.
“It seems we often meet in gardens, Mistress Boleyn,” he said. “Do you have a love for them?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied. “I relish the peace of my mother’s gardens when I am able to visit my family home.”
He grunted slightly. “Yes, when one is surrounded by people all the time it is pleasant to find solitude in at least one place,” he sounded annoyed.
I faltered. “I am sorry, Your Majesty,” I said hurriedly. “Would you have me leave?”
He looked up at me, puzzled for a moment, and then he smiled ruefully at me. “I was not, in fact, talking of you, Mistress Boleyn,” he said. “Your company is one that I desire, and yet am forbidden, it would seem, whereas all others’ company I am given without question… and yet I seem to desire none of such.”
I said nothing, for I knew not what to say.
He looked at the flowers and around at the gardens as though thinking of what to say, and then, in rather a rush, said, “You returned the jewels I sent to you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I dropped my eyes and curtseyed, for he looked annoyed once more and I wanted to appease him. It would not do to irritate the King when he was honouring our family. He clicked his tongue impatiently at me, bidding me to rise. I looked into his blue eyes. He was frowning, but he did not seem exactly angry with me.
“Not many would have done as you did,” he admonished. “Most women would be grateful for the honour done to them when their prince sends them a gift.”
“I was most grateful for the honour, Sire,” I replied, “but unable to accept such a gift … if I were too to keep my own honour.”
He sighed. “What mean you, my lady?” he asked with colour rising to his cheeks, shaking his head. “Anne, I understand you least of any person I have ever met. You kiss me in the gardens of my own palace and you dance with me as though we were lovers already abed, and yet when I offer you the chance to become my mistress you refuse me and my love for you and send back the jewels that I chose for you from my own inheritance.” He shook his head at me. “You rush to aid me when I am fallen, faster even than my soldiers and yet you ignore me for the company of prattling, prancing boys at court. You are a mixture of virtues and vices, Anna, and I know not how you think of me nor what you desire of me. All you do seems to frustrate me, to anger me… And yet, I cannot seem to be free of you. Not in the arms of others… Not in my waking days, nor in my dreams… You haunt me. You are all I seem able to think about.” He stopped and sighed, running his hands through his blond-red hair and making it unruly. “I am most confused,” he said looking at me, as though I had an answer. “I am most confused, by you.”
I stood amazed; not only by what he was saying, but by how he was saying it to me. We had talked informally before, but he had never expressed himself so honestly, nor so openly before. And the things he said… I was all he could think about?
“Your Majesty,” I started falteringly, and he stopped me by putting his hand on mine.
“We are not now Majesty and servant, Anne.” His voice was earnest, pleading. “Tell me truly… as you would tell another man, king or no king, what is there between us?” His blue eyes bored into mine with fire in them. His hand was strong and forceful upon mine. “I swear that… that I love you, Anne. I have loved no other as I love you and I would know what there is in your heart towards me. Tell me truly of your feelings.”
I hesitated. “Your Majesty,” I said, my heart beating loud within me, half in fear and half in wonderment at Henry’s words… the King loved me? He loved me? I had been in his thoughts all this time… in his dreams? I was half dazed by the revelation and my heart sang out to tell him that I loved him too, that I always had loved him… But my mind spoke harshly to my heart, dampening its spirits. Men say many things, to get what they want of a maid, it warned. Don’t be a fool! He is done with Mary, and would have another Boleyn girl in his bed as a conquest… Don’t be a fool… My mind, too, spoke to me of my resolution to not become mistress to any man, even if he be a king…
I drew myself up, knowing that I had to refuse the King of England once more.
“I was raised to be an honest maid and I ask that what I say now should not be taken as an insult to Your Majesty, but as a compliment to your sensibility. You must see that a maid such as I has little in the way of a great dowry to bring to the estates of a husband. As such, the greatest dowry I could offer is my own self, untouched by the hands of other men, and given in lawful marriage, and love, to one man only.”
I looked up at him. He was a towering man and I felt diminutive before him. “As a knight and a great lord, Your Majesty must understand that I hold my virginity and my honour in great carefulness against the dangers that court may present to it. And whilst the office of Your Majesty’s mistress is one that I know many would occupy happily and with great prestige to their family, it is not one that I seek or wish for. I will be no man’s mistress. I will come to the bed of my husband as a true maid. I hope that to the man I marry, this will be a greater prize than
lands or gold, for I shall bear the sons of his seed and no other. I would wish no husband of mine to be a cuckold, no matter how high their station or personal values of knighthood or other titles, or…”
I paused and looked in his eyes, and my words faltered as I gazed on his handsome face, that face I had seen so often in my dreams, that face I had worshipped as a child. “Or how… attractive that person may be to my person… How dear he may be, to my eyes or to my heart.”
I had spoken carefully, but with strength, and in his eyes I could see anger, desire and also… perhaps respect? I knew not. He looked at me in silence; there was such a mixture of emotions in his face. He faltered as he returned my words. “Then I am dear to your heart?” His voice was pleading. I felt my heart wrench for him.
“Yes,” I said, and then held him back with a trembling hand as he sought to embrace me. “But it cannot be; this cannot be… I cannot be yours in truth, for you have a wife already… It is an impossible situation.” I pulled away from him and folded my arms before my chest, as though that would protect me.
“You would that I should leave you alone, then?” he asked with anger colouring his face now that I had removed myself from his grasp and refused him again.