by G Lawrence
I coughed uncomfortably, for I knew that what I was about to say could land me in the net of trouble. “He asked me… and I refused him,” I said.
“You refused the King of England.” It was a statement, not a question and it came in that dangerously calm tone of voice that I knew so well. I felt my heart beat faster; I, who knew my father so well, could sense the ominous clouds gathering in his temper. But I would not be subdued in this matter, not as Mary had been, not as I had almost been so long ago in France… I would not be forced.
“As I would refuse any man who asked me to become his whore,” I ruffled my shoulders backwards, gathering my courage to me. “I am not my sister, father. I hold no ill thoughts towards her for becoming the King’s mistress, but I am not made of the same mettle as she. I wish to one day become a wife, an honest wife, not to be a play-thing for the changing whims of man… even if he be a king.”
“Don’t be such a child, Anne,” spat our father, glaring at me. “The office of the King’s mistress is one that can open many doors at court. Your scruples, such as they are, are nothing to the advancement of our family’s interests. We, all of us, have to do things at times that are difficult for us to do… But if they advance our family…”
“So I should take up the space in the King’s bed so recently vacated by my own sister?”
My father did not answer, and I was surprised to see a faint blush creep over his cheekbones. My mother was still staring steadily at me. “Do you want to be the King’s mistress, Anna?” she asked.
I shook my head and then shrugged. “I… admire the King a great deal,” I said, a blush creeping slowly across my neck and to my breast. “But I cannot be what he wishes of me. I refused him, but he said that he would not give up until he had won my heart in truth. That was when he offered to be my knight.”
“At Hever?” she asked, and I nodded. My mother nodded softly. In the manner that mothers often have, to know the hearts of their children without having to ask, she seemed to have known that something was going on. My father tapped his finger against the stone fireplace.
“You refused him… but he said he would not give up?” he asked, and I nodded again. An expression of hopeful scheming waxed darkly over my father’s face. “That is good… It shows that he is perhaps in earnest about caring for you, daughter. If he merely wanted a conquest, then he would have given up when you refused….” He glared at me. “You should have come to us with this news when it occurred,” he growled, “but as it is, it seems I have less to worry on than I had thought. When I saw the new motto, I feared that another family had a daughter in the King’s bed. Now I find that the King turns once more to our family, and has my daughter in his heart…” He nodded at me. “You will continue to hold the King’s attention,” he ordered.
“I will not become his mistress,” I insisted, staring at my father with glittering eyes as though daring him to order me to.
“It matters not to me if you hold his attention by being in his bed, or being without it,” said my father gruffly. “Even though you refused him, he has continued to court you. And sometimes, that which is unobtainable is more… desirable… than that which we can have easily.”
“Thomas,” reprimanded my mother, her voice strained and her face looking vaguely ill. “I would that you would cease to talk of our daughter in such a fashion before me.”
My father ignored her, and nodded to me. “You have your task, Anne. Retain Henry’s interest, in whatever way you see fit. If Mary has lost the love of the King, then it is fitting that her younger sister should rise to take it. That way we have not lost anything, and we still have a place within the King’s most intimate circle.”
I nodded, feeling a little ill myself. This strange man who was my father… Did he consider anything that was not power and advancement? These things had been drummed into us from an early age, and yet for me, there were scruples, there was honour… And what might my sister say to all of this? Did he care for none of these things? It would seem not.
As though he had read my mind, my father shook his head at me. “You think me grasping, unfeeling,” he snarled softly, “but in truth, we must use all the advantages that God has given us to make a mark on this world. When I am gone, when your mother is gone, we want our children to have a step up in the world of nobility which we could not have had ourselves. Sometimes this means that we must do things that others would never consider. Sometimes this means that we have to reconcile our consciences with the ways of the world. You think me cruel to tell you to retain the interest of the man who only recently courted your sister’s love… But I do not ask you to go against your own conscience. Mary was willing to bed the King, and so I asked her to. You are not, so I ask you to keep his interest in your own manner. Is it such an onerous task… to spend time with a cultured and powerful man who desires you?”
I shook my head. A small, unsure note entered my voice. “He has… been insistent at times,” I stammered.
“Has he tried to force you?” asked my mother, looking shocked.
“I have thought that he might…”
“Then we shall make sure you are protected,” said George boldly. “I will be with you whenever possible. We will ensure that you are not alone, or isolated with the King.”
I nodded, feeling a deep wave of love for my brother break over my heart. I felt regret too, for above all things, I did want to be with Henry. “I do not think he would harm me,” I said softly, “but I would feel heartened to know you were watching for me, brother.”
My father nodded. “That is well then,” he said, turning to stare at the fire thoughtfully. “You may go, but you know your tasks.”
As I turned to leave, our father called out once more. “Anne?” he asked. I turned back to him; he was looking at the fire, not at me. “I told you once before that you would never keep anything from me again. That you have once more done so is not pleasing to me. Do not seek to keep anything of this affair with the King from me. I can only help you if you are honest with me.”
“By loyalty and love, father, I am honour-bound to speak the truth to you when you ask it of me,” I said stiffly, feeling a stab of bitterness in my heart. I was bound to obey my father, but I was starting to feel as though I was nothing but a tool to him, a pawn. I resented it. I resented the way he talked of Mary, and me. I liked not that his ambition was dearer to him than his children, no matter how he protested that this was all done to advance us. “But my heart is my own, as is my body. I need no counsel from any other to decide what to do with them.”
My father started, and turned towards me from the fireside. I took George’s hand and we left abruptly, almost running through the halls of court to the other side of the palace.
“I thought I might die when you said that!” George gasped for breath, laughing and gazing at me, his eyes warm with affection and admiration. “You are my spirited sister in truth… Why, Anne, you are bolder than a buck!”
“Not so bold as to stay and face our father after claiming my heart and body as my own,” I laughed, leaning against the wall and panting. “But at least he knows my will.”
“And you will do as he asks? Attract the King and hold his attention?”
“I will… it is indeed not arduous to me… I… I love Henry, George, I will admit it to you even if I will not say it to father… and as long as I am not in danger from his passion…”
“I will ensure that you are not,” George said stoutly. “You should have told me if Henry was growing insistent with you. I would have made sure that he could not press his attentions on you.”
“It only just happened…” I said, putting a hand to my hot cheeks. “I suspect that one of his gallants told him that my resistance was only an act, and that he should press me with the force of his affections.” I made a sour face. “Men often think that way of women; that they wish to be forced, that it is all some game with them. It may be so for others, but not for me. If anything such as that happens again
, I shall remove myself from court. I will play our father’s game, and try to hold Henry as a mistress without giving myself to him, but I will not be beset by force.”
“You will not,” assured George, “I will make sure of that.”
I smiled at him and took his hand again, squeezing it. “You would protect me, brother?” I asked. “One day, I wonder if you will have to protect me from our own father, if I fail to capture the King.”
“What of Mary? Will you tell her?”
I wrinkled up my nose. “That is not something I look forward to doing, even if I am commanded in this task by our father… I will wait a while. It may well be that Henry’s affection for me is already failing in the light of my constant refusal. After all, how many men would pursue a woman and get nothing in return? It cannot last, George. I will try to do as father wishes, but I fear Henry will tire of me eventually and go on to a woman who gives him what he wants…”
George shrugged. “We shall see, sister-spirit,” he said, taking my hand and leading me into the fresh air of the gardens. “We shall see.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Hampton Court
1526
But Henry did not give up. At court I was the one that he sought each and every day. When he visited to his wife’s apartments, I was the one he would call to play cards with them; when he walked in the gardens I was the one commanded there with my brother to entertain him; when he went to the hunt there was rarely a time when all the ladies of the court were not invited and that I was not seen to be by his side. He invited me to bowling matches and tennis games. He was respectful and gentle towards me. When I walked into a room, his blue eyes would rest on no other; they shone for me alone. He gave me thoughtful presents; a beautiful new falcon; cloth to be made into gowns and strings of pearls, for he knew I loved them. We talked of philosophy and poetry. He sang songs with me and we made a fine coupling in the art of music. I even began to talk to him of my passion for reform, something that he was interested in, but I never went as far as to tell him of all the books I had read… Many of these were banned in England, and such a disclosure could have got me into a great deal of trouble, no matter what his affections were for me.
Margaret and Bridget came to me as though they were one person, and questioned me on the matter.
“The King admires me,” I admitted.
“And how do you feel for him?” asked Bridget.
I shook my head. “I admire him… and more,” I said, “but you two above all others know my resolve. I have allowed him to become my courtly knight, but I will not allow anything further.”
Margaret whistled slightly in admiration. “You are a bold chit, Anne,” she marvelled.
“You know my mind as well as anyone,” I replied. “I wish to be a wife one day, not a mistress, even to a king.”
They listened to me, but I did not reveal all to them. I could not. Some things in this affair were still secrets for my heart alone.
Henry had become my courtly admirer in truth, and everyone could see it. Although he seemed to accept thus far that I would not offer him the place of a lover, I was worried about how long I should be able to keep this up. I wanted to be with him, but I still did not wish to be his mistress, for I knew that he would tire of me as he had done of Mary and would leave. And there was nothing that I wanted more now than to have him stay with me for as long as I could. I told him of this, and he was charmed. But he said my fears were groundless. If I should let him into my bed then I should see how things truly were between us.
“And if you truly loved me, Your Majesty,” I said, “then you would know that I cannot give up my virtue, even for the one I love.”
And so it went on; I refused and he cajoled. I stepped back and he caught my arm. I shied away and he kept chasing. He professed love… and I said that I loved him too, but with no honourable estate to take in his life, I also said I could offer him no more than my heart.
I would not allow us to be alone together again, so George had become our almost constant companion. As long as I could hold Henry at bay, holding his own image of knighthood and chivalry before me like a shield, all would be well for now, but I did not see how any of this could end well. Either I must give in to him, or he should tire of me anyway and find a woman who would open not only her heart to him but her legs as well. I wanted to believe in his love for me, but I was still unsure. And the pressure was mounting on me to decide one way or the other.
I was running out of ideas. I did not want to lose him, but I did not want to lose all I held dear either. Perhaps, I said to myself, you should just try to enjoy the time that you do have with him. This time, this now… This may be all that you have with the one you truly love. If he loves you, then he will not leave you, and if he loves you not, then he will. Only time could test the truth; did Henry truly love me, or was this all just a game to him? A challenge? A hunt? I wanted to believe in his love… All fools do, when they fall in love.
I was in my shared quarters at Hampton Court one afternoon, when George came racing in to see me. There was a bang as the outside doors reverberated with his coming and through the oak doors my brother flung himself in great panic, his face flushed red. I stood in amazement at his sudden entry and held out my hands in question at his sudden appearance.
“The King!” George gasped at me.
“What of the King?” I asked, thinking for a moment that something dreadful must have happened to Henry, for George was in such a fluster.
“He sent me to fetch you,” he panted. “He is angry with you and he wants to see you.”
“Why?” I snapped. “What cause has he to be angry with me?”
George told his story quickly, in between gasps for breath. “The King and some of his men, Tom Wyatt amongst them, were playing bowls in the gardens. There came a pass when the King’s bowl and Tom’s had both fallen close to the marker with very little between them. There was a genial dispute about it and the King said to Tom, ‘Wyatt, I tell thee it is mine.’ As he spoke so, he pointed with his little finger, on which he wears that ring you gave him.” George gasped again, struggling to speak through his laboured breathing.
“Tom recognised the ring. How could he not, after all? It has our crest upon it. And the fool took out a gold pendant with a long red ribbon on it. I knew it was a jewel of yours, as did the King; I could tell by the face he made as he saw it. Tom straightened up, and bold as anything, answered, ‘If it may like Your Majesty to give me leave to measure it; I hope it may yet still be mine.’ We all saw the look in the King’s eyes… He was furious! Wyatt used the ribbon to measure the distance of the bowls to the marker. Tom was defiant, standing there before the King, with your jewel in his hands, and twiddling the ribbon with his fingers.
“The King flushed and frowned; he replied ‘it may be so, but then I am deceived!’ And he stalked off, calling for me as he went. As he walked off with me running behind him, he shouted at me to go and get you and bring you to the privy gardens immediately.” George gasped in air again.
The inference was clear; Henry was showing Tom, an admirer of mine, that I was his, and was won. And Tom was showing that I was perhaps his instead. What was I to these men? I felt suddenly like a coin wagered at cards. I could barely contain the anger I felt. “What a fool Tom is!” I snarled between my gritted teeth. “And how dare Henry believe such of me!”
George put his hand on my shoulder. “That is hardly the problem now, sister,” he warned. “There is a very upset king waiting for you in the gardens who needs calming.”
“There is a very upset lady here who needs calming!” I shouted at him. “What am I to these men but some trinket? To be used to rile each other with tales of imagined conquest. Oh!” I shouted, for fury was upon me. “They play not with bowls but with my honour and reputation, before the whole court no less! Take me to the King,” I growled, turning on George with my eyes ablaze, “and I shall smother his temper with this fire of mine!”
George
stared at me aghast as I stormed past him and strode to Henry’s apartments; courtiers dodged out of my way when they saw the look on my face. I arrived with my anger simmering, threatening to boil over. I asked a servant to announce me to his privy gardens. There were, as usual, a number of courtiers in the presence chamber who seemed most interested in what I was doing there. I cared not for any of their stares or their looks; there was but one upon whom I wished to vent my anger at this moment. Everyone was staring at me with astonishment, and some amusement. They had never seen a lady march so openly to the King’s apartments before and demand to see His Majesty!
I cared not for any of them. I was fury itself.
A servant let me into the privy gardens. I could see Henry at the other end, pacing amongst the beautiful knots and fountains. I walked through the first section where unicorns and lions were mounted on white and green striped poles. I strode with measured steps. A voice in my head warned of caution, but that voice could not stand up to the wall of anger that blocked my head. My footfall behind him caused Henry to turn; his face was black with anger and his blue eyes were full of hurt and ice. His eyes narrowed as I swept to the floor in a curtsey.