Lady Lisle smiled at her husband again. “My dear, I didn’t know you noticed things such as dresses and gowns, but yes, you’re right about her gowns. And as for those headdresses, she’ll have to change them. I know for a start that His Majesty favours the French style, you know, the hats and bonnets that Anne Boleyn wore.”
“Sssh, my dear. Don’t let anyone hear you say anything like that if you wish to keep your pretty head on your pretty shoulders.”
“All right, then,” she smiled. “Headdresses as worn by Queen Jane.”
Now it was Lord Lisle’s turn to smile. “That’s better, and safer, too. Now let’s see who Lady Anne can invite to her chambers tonight.”
In the end, despite the fears raised by Lord and Lady Lisle, the meal passed off very well. After a few slightly embarrassing moments at the beginning, the honoured guests who included the Lords Grey, Hastings, Howard and Talbot as well as Messrs Bryan, Knevet and Seymour together with their wives and Cromwell’s own son, Gregory, all enjoyed the meal and the evening. Polite and gentle jokes were exchanged, the food and wine were praised and so too was Lady Anne’s rapidly improving English. The result was that the Earl of Southampton sent a message to his king saying that his future wife and queen ‘was like a princess.’ Henry could not have hoped for anything better. Lady Lisle, who was to echo the earl’s remarks, wrote to her daughter that Lady Anne ‘is so good and gentle to serve and to please.’
However, if Henry had entertained any hopes of spending his first Christmas with his new wife, the high seas in the Channel dashed them to pieces. Reports on the winds and waves were delivered every day to the parties both in London and in Calais. Fifteen days were to pass before Anne could finally leave the cosy atmosphere of the Exchequer and board ship for England. However, at the same time she was feeling homesick for Cleves. This feeling was strengthened when a packet of letters arrived from the duchy bit had not contained any personal missives for her.
Finally, on 27 December 1539 the hoped-for trumpet blast was sounded. The men designated to ‘lie outside the walls and give immediate notice of fair weather’ recognized a break in the storms. Acting on instructions, they blew long, loud blasts on their trumpets as their signal that the crossing could now take place. Immediately the last minute packing was carried out, and among cheers and waving handkerchiefs Anne was escorted to the king’s ship that would take her to England, to her husband and to a whole new way of life. Ropes were cast off, last minute boxes and supplies were hoisted aboard, and the ship, accompanied by a royal convoy of fifty other ships started sailing out of the safety of the harbour.
Surprisingly perhaps, considering that Anne had never set foot on a ship before, it did not take her long to become used to its swaying motion as it ploughed its way north over the Channel. Soon, unlike several of her attendant ladies who either stayed below deck or who had climbed up on to the foc’sle to vomit, Anne moved about confidently.
She walked from one side of the deck to the other and watched the coast of France recede and then strained to catch her first glimpse of England. She became used to the sound of the heavily flapping sails, the slapping of the waves against the wooden hull and the sound of the wind as it whistled through the ship’s rigging.
“When will we reach England?” she asked the captain standing next to her at the rail overlooking the bow.
The tanned, brawny man who had been specially chosen for this mission looked at his pale-faced passenger. “Very soon, milady, that is, if these winds allow us. But you can never tell here in these parts of the Channel, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to be patient.”
Four hours later when Anne asked the same question, the captain had a more definite answer to give her. “You see those lights over there, there to the right? Well those belong to the new castle the king has built at Deal, a small town up the coast near Dover. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be landing near there although at the moment I cannot tell you exactly when that will be.”
“A new castle? I hope His Majesty didn’t build it especially for me.”
“Oh, no, milady. The king’s had about thirty such castles – he called them Device Forts – built all around the south coast to protect the country from invasion. The castle that you can just about see from here is one of them. Personally I think the king was right. Did you know that when Julius Caesar invaded England, he landed at Deal, so I’m not surprised that His Majesty had a castle built there.”
Anne held on to her hat and smiled up at him. “Ah, but this time we come in peace.”
“Very true, milady. But now I have work to do, so please excuse me,” and bowing, he left his chief passenger to continue staring ahead, trying to make out the details of the approaching English coastline.
Even when the murky grey clouds to the west had hidden the sun and the weak daylight had turned to a threateningly dark evening, and despite a few calls from Mistress Gilmyn and her other attendants to join the other ladies below, Anne remained on deck for the remainder of the voyage. “I must see as much of this as I can,” she thought.” I doubt if I’ll ever travel again by ship. I must make the most of this.”
Half an hour after thinking this and after a voyage of several hours over the choppy grey seas, she landed that evening near Deal on the south coast.
What were her thoughts as the white cliffs of Dover loomed up out of the dark sea? What would life with her new husband be like? She had heard so many stories about him, and some of them were - to be frank - quite frightening. As she stood on the deck holding on to a rope she asked herself these questions over and over again. These questions and others had been continuously on her mind since she had first been informed that she was to marry England’s eighth king named Henry. At first they had seemed somewhat vague, somewhat distant. She was in Cleves and he was far over the sea in London, but now they all seemed so immediate.
Now, looking ahead over the ship’s prow, she could see that she was approaching his country. Within half an hour she would be standing on dry land, on England. A mere seventy miles away from the king. From then on, she would not be Lady Anne of Cleves, the sister of Duke William, the ruler of a small and not very important Rhineland duchy. No, soon she would be ‘for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,’ Her Majesty, Queen Anne, the wife of King Henry the Eighth of England.
Chapter Nine - A Meeting in Rochester
It was late in the evening when Anne and her party were allowed to walk down the gangplank and step foot for the first time on English soil. Surrounded by torch-bearing attendants, she was escorted to the castle and, in the flickering light, made her way up the ramp and over the moat to the main entrance. It was too dark for her to notice but had she looked up at the building she would have seen that the rounded keep in its centre was surrounded by six rounded bastions and that they too, in turn were surrounded by rounded and fortified structures. And topping this imposing castle was a large red and white flag of England, flapping proudly and loudly in the wind.
Anne, however, was not destined to stop for long at Deal. After being given time to refresh themselves, she and her attendants set off for Dover, just a few miles to the south. Fortunately the weather was good and even though it was late December, Anne and her retinue which now included several nobles and important clerics who had ridden down from London, rode slowly along the cliff tops to Dover – ‘the Key to England.’
Unlike the newly-built fortifications at Deal, Dover Castle was three hundred years old and its massive square towers and defensive walls seemed to cover much of the land overlooking the nearby high chalk cliff tops. It was not the first time that royalty had stayed at the castle. King Henry II had improved its fortifications; his son, King John, had fought his would-be usurper, the French king Louis VIII here, and three hundred years later Henry VIII had given orders that the fortifications were to be further reinforced. Now the future Queen of England was to spend the night there.
Early the next morning, Anne was awoken in her ch
amber by an urgent knocking on the door. Getting out of bed quickly, she found Mistress Gilmyn standing there in a heavy travelling coat, shivering in the cold morning air.
“Milady, the weather has turned during the night.”
“Turned?”
“Yes, milady. It is now raining heavily and it doesn’t look as if it will stop soon. Everybody wants to know if we’re to wait here today and maybe tomorrow - or are we to continue on to Canterbury?”
Going back to her room to take her own travelling coat, Anne stepped out to where she could see the dark clouds scudding in from the west. The roofs of the castle’s outbuildings were glistening in the rain and now she was aware of the sounds of flowing water as the overflowing gutters poured their contents onto the flagged floors below.
“What does the Duke of Suffolk say? Have you asked him?”
“Yes, milady. He says that if you’ve no objection, he’d prefer to travel on to Canterbury today. He says it’s only fifteen miles to the north of here.”
Anne thought for a moment. Travelling in the rain was certainly not enjoyable, especially for her attendants and horsemen who, unlike her, would be outside her carriage riding and walking in the wind and the rain. On the other hand, the storms in the Channel had already delayed their arrival in London by two weeks and she had heard that her future husband was very anxious to meet her.
“I think that we should leave here today,” she said after a short pause. “Please tell the duke that after I’ve had breakfast and said my prayers I’ll be ready. And maybe,” she smiled hopefully, “it will have stopped raining by then.”
Mistress Gilmyn bobbed a curtsey. “I do hope so, milady,” she said and pulling up her hood she hurried off to deliver Anne’s decision to the duke.
But the hopes of Anne and Mistress Gilmyn were not realized. The heavy rain continued during the day and the drenched entourage made its way to Canterbury along the old Roman road. It came to a halt at Barham Down, just five miles south of their destination. There, within the shelter of the parish church they were made welcome by Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, together with several other bishops and gentlemen. After being allowed to rest and warm their chilled bones for a while, Anne’s retinue, now enlarged by that of the archbishop continued on its way to Canterbury. In the early evening, they all entered the city which would be forever associated with the murder of Thomas à Beckett nearly four hundred years earlier. The ceaseless downpour cut the welcoming ceremonies to a minimum, and Anne and her closest attendants were rushed over to St. Augustine’s Abbey where they were to stay the night.
After Anne and her ladies had changed out of their soaking travelling clothes into warmer and drier ones, she asked to meet her ladies all together in the nave of the abbey.
“Hmm,” she said looking around and noticing some of the broken masonry. “I was told that this cathedral was one of the biggest and finest in England.”
“Excuse me, milady,” Mistress Gilmyn whispered. “We’re not in the cathedral itself. We are in St. Augustine’s Abbey.”
“Ach so, so why are some of the walls all smashed up?”
“Because, milady,” the Duchess of Suffolk whispered to her. “His Majesty had the abbey dissolved recently and then it was broken up.”
“Dissolved? What is this dissolved?”
“It means that the king and the chancellor gave orders for their officers to come here and destroy this and other church buildings.”
From Anne’s expression, it was clear that she did not understand. Lady Suffolk continued with her whispered explanation. “The king’s men came, chased away all the nuns and the priests, broke up the buildings and sold off all the lands and church property. This included all the gold and the silver and the holy books. Then they gave all the money to the king.”
Anne looked troubled. She remembered vaguely having heard something about this in Cleves but had not paid much attention to it.
“But why?” Anne asked, looking at the remains of what had obviously been a beautiful stained glass window. “This church must have looked so wonderful then.”
The duchess did not wish to become involved in a long explanation that would have had to include the controversial issues of religion and politics, especially as this would have to be given to the king’s future wife and queen. “Let’s just say, milady, that the king was and still is against the Roman Catholic Church and so he’s had many of its buildings destroyed,” she shrugged.
Anne could not understand this but seeing the expression on the duchess’ face, she decided that she had asked enough questions. Then she and her ladies retired for an hour before going to the refectory for a warm meal.
If the evening meal at Dover had been highly appreciated, then the one here at Canterbury was even more so. What could be better than feasting on beef and poultry cooked in fine sauces followed by a variety of sweetmeats and sugary comfits? All of these delicacies were accompanied by sweet, mellow wines. In fact, so far, apart from the weather, Cromwell’s detailed planning had gone so well that the Duke of Suffolk and Thomas Cheney wrote to the chancellor recording that
The mayor and citizens received her with torchlight and a good peal of guns. In her chamber there were forty or fifty gentlewomen in gentle bonnets to see her, all which she took very joyously, and was so glad to see the king’s subjects resorting so lovingly to her that she forgot all the foul weather and was very merry at supper.
Back at Hampton Court, Cromwell hurried to show this report to the king who, on reading it, clapped his chancellor on the back.
“Thomas, we’re going to have a wedding and a marriage like we’ve never had before. Despite my aching leg, I can feel it in my bones. I tell you, this Anne of Cleves will be just the right wife and queen for me.”
Cromwell smiled. He knew how important it was to keep his impetuous king and master happy.
“This lady, I tell you, she’ll be like no other. Oh, I am so impatient to see her; to hold her in my arms. Thomas, just look at that portrait. Look at that smile, that face. Don’t you agree with me when I say I’m the luckiest man alive?”
Cromwell smiled again and then saying he still had much work to do, he bowed hurriedly and left the chamber. There were still many points to check regarding Anne’s journey and her entrance to London. If the reports concerning Anne’s arrivals and overnight stops at Dover and Canterbury were anything to go by, how much more successful would her arrival be when she reached London?
In the meanwhile, some forty miles east of the capital, Anne’s train was making its slow and sopping wet way from Canterbury to Rochester via Sittingbourne. The teeming rain continued unabated.
“Is that Rochester?” Anne asked as she pointed at a large square tower in the distance from her carriage window.
“Yes, milady,” replied the Duchess of Suffolk. “That tower is Rochester castle. It is very big and it overlooks the whole area. I believe it’s one of the oldest castles in England.”
Anne looked at her, interested.
The duchess continued. “Yes, it is well over four hundred and fifty years old. William the Conqueror built it.”
Anne looked suitably impressed, and the duchess who felt it was part of her duty to educate her queen-to-be as much as possible, continued with her explanations. “And can you see that huge building next to it? The one with the towers pointing up to the sky? Well, that’s the cathedral. It’s not as big as the one you saw in Canterbury and it’s not quite as old, but it’s older than the castle. My husband told me that it’s about nine hundred years old.”
Anne looked even more impressed. The duchess continued,
“We’ll be spending our time at the Bishop’s Palace where I’ve been told that His Majesty has gone to great expense to make our stay here as comfortable as possible.”
Anne closed the curtains of the carriage as the rain was beginning to wet their clothes. “Oh, I do hope so. At least we’ve been able to travel within this carriage. But think of my poor atte
ndants and guards. Those poor people must be soaked through and through. And cold. But tell me, why are we stopping here?”
She opened the curtain a fraction and looked out. “Who are those men over there? There must be at least one hundred of them, and they’re all on horses.”
“I believe they belong to the Lord of Norfolk, milady. I recognize their livery. He’s come with a company of his men to escort us into the town. I suggest that you close the curtain before we get soaked like the men outside and sit back and wait. Let’s try and enjoy what’s left of this journey.”
* * * * * * *
While Anne was making a favourable impression on her future subjects, her husband-to-be was burning with impatience to see her. Despite his bad leg, he kept pacing up and down, back and forth, as he kept passing the easel bearing her portrait.
“I must see her, Thomas, I must. Just look at her, her eyes, her face, her figure. She looks so demure, so gentle. How can I go wrong with this woman?”
Cromwell was silent as his king continued pacing up and down.
“Just look how she stands there. Just look how she holds herself. Oh, Thomas, what a wife she will be for me! What a queen she will be for England! Oh, Thomas. And the sons she will give me. Just think of that. Brothers for young Prince Edward. What could be better, eh?”
Cromwell smiled again. His plans were going so well. All the reports he had received so far were glowing with their praise of the lady. He looked at Sir Anthony Browne, another member of the king’s Privy Council, and one of His Majesty’s closest confidants.
Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved Page 11