Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved

by D Lawrence-Young

  “So the most important Catholics at court, those that believe in the pope and…”

  “Who? The Earl of Southampton and Bishop Gardiner?”

  “Yes. Well, they’ve been poisoning the king’s ear about his wife,” Lady Edgecombe said. “They kept telling him that it wasn’t good for a woman to be so interested in books and religion and the king was heard to say, ‘A good hearing it is when women become such clerks and to come into mine old days to be taught by my wife.’“

  I sat there shocked. This sounded exactly like the time when Archbishop Cranmer and others had talked about Queen Catherine Howard to the king. However, this time it was the Catholic Bishop Gardiner who was doing the same about Queen Catherine Parr.

  “And that’s not all, milady,” and Lady Edgecombe visibly shuddered as she continued. “Bishop Gardiner actually told His Majesty that it was a perilous matter to cherish a serpent within his own bosom.”

  I sat there, frozen like a block of ice. What was happening in the court? Was no woman safe there these days? I realised that I had best stay out of London if I did not wish to be involved in this terrible place. Catherine Parr had been good for His Majesty. She had calmed him down and had made life at court more tolerable for everyone there. He’d become more relaxed but now the Duke of Norfolk and Bishop Gardiner were trying to wreck all this for their own selfish needs. They wanted the Roman Catholic Church to return and if anyone were to suffer, they did not care.

  “Yes,” added Lady Browne. “There are also rumours flying around that His Majesty is thinking of taking another wife and annulling his present marriage. I heard from the imperial ambassador, François van der Delft, that the Earl of Suffolk’s widow, Catherine Brandon, would be most suitable. These rumours have even been repeated in Antwerp and they say that Catherine Brandon would be more fertile than the queen. She’d be able to give him a son or two and that is what His Majesty wants more than anything else. Don’t you agree?”

  I nodded miserably. I wasn’t very fond of the queen but I had no wish to see her harmed.

  “And,” added Lady Edgecombe, “people are saying, especially those who are friends of Bishop Gardiner, that the queen has been married twice before and not produced even one child, let alone a son.”

  “But that’s not fair!” I protested. “Everybody at court knows that her first two husbands were old men. The first one died after only one year of marriage.”

  “We know that, milady, but that hasn’t stopped the rumours,” Lady Browne said, looking worried. “I wonder what’s going to happen now. I must tell you, milady, I stay away from court now as much as I can. It’s only because of my husband and his duties that I go there at all.”

  Soon after this frightening conversation, the two women left but returned two days later. Neither of them greeted me with a smile as they usually did. After a quick discussion and seeing that it was a sunny day, we agreed to have our conversation in a small arbour in the garden far away from anyone else’s ears. I asked a servant to bring us some sweet wine and refreshments and then told him that we were not to be disturbed for the next hour. Then I settled down to hear my visitors’ urgent and important news.

  Lady Browne began. “You remember that we told you that the Duke of Norfolk and Bishop Gardiner want to get rid of the queen?” she asked.

  I nodded. “And have they succeeded?”

  “Let me tell you, milady, what happened before I tell you the end of the story,” Lady Browne said. “I know everything that happened because I had to stay at court while Lady Edgecome here had to return to her country house on some domestic matter so I’ll tell you everything that I heard and saw. Well, first of all, the council had the queen’s ladies arrested.”

  “What! Lady Herbert, the queen’s sister, and Lady Tyrwhitt and Lady Lane?”

  “Yes, and then they were interrogated about which books they were reading and about which books Her Majesty was reading. Then the officers searched their rooms hoping to find some proof of the queen’s heresy.”

  “And did they?”

  “No, milady. Fortunately they found nothing that could even be thought of as heretical and so all the ladies were released.”

  “And did Her Majesty know about this?” I asked.

  “No, milady. At least, if she did, she only learned about it later.”

  “Oh good,” I breathed out in relief. “At least she is safe from the king’s vultures.”

  Lady Edgecombe put a warning finger to her lips. “Just one minute. Lady Browne has not yet finished.”

  I sat there, as tense as a drawn bowstring. For one minute I had thought that the queen was safe and now I was to hear that this was not the case.

  “Then,” Lady Browne continued, wiping a few cake crumbs off her lips. “The queen heard about what’d happened and she became very nervous. She started crying and took to her room and there she started screaming hysterically.”

  “That’s quite understandable” I said. “She was probably thinking of what’d happened to Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, and perhaps about Catherine of Aragon as well.”

  My two visitors nodded their heads. “I’m sure you’re right, milady,” Lady Edgecombe said grimly.

  “In any event,” continued Lady Browne, “The king, seeing her behaving like this, sent his new physician, Doctor Thomas Wendy, to see what was causing his normally calm and well-behaved wife to behave in such a manner.”

  “And did the queen tell the doctor?”

  “Yes, milady. She sent the other physicians away and confided in him about what’d happened. But what the queen didn’t know,” Lady Browne added, “was that the king had already told Doctor Wendy about the whole situation, for he’d known about it all along. Then the doctor warned the queen that the duke and the bishop were plotting against her and that she should go and, to use the good doctor’s words, ‘conform herself to the king’s mind.’“

  “Did that help Her Majesty, to know what was being plotted behind her back?”

  “I think so, milady,” Lady Browne said. “But she still appeared to be very nervous and later, when the king came to see how she was, she told him everything.”

  “That’s right,” Lady Browne added. “And later Lady Lane, my friend who’d been waiting quietly at the back of the room behind some curtains, told me that the queen had told the king that he was her husband, lord and supreme head and governor here on earth and that he was next unto God to lean on.”

  The more I heard of all this plotting, the happier I was that I was now not a regular visitor at court. It sounded like a real snake-pit; a dangerous quicksand for the unwary.

  Lady Browne continued. “Then His Majesty asked her why she’d tried to instruct him about religious matters.”

  “And what did she say to that?”

  “Oh, milady, she gave him such a clever answer. She said that she’d engaged him on religious subjects only because she knew he was so interested in them. She said that while they were discussing these weighty matters he would not be thinking about the pains in his legs.”

  I clapped my hands. That was indeed a clever answer. But then I had to ask, “But did it save her?”

  “Yes, milady,” Lady Browne smiled. “He kissed her and called her his sweetheart and said they were perfect friends again, even more so than they had been in the past.”

  “So everything was settled,” I concluded.

  “Almost,” Lady Brown said. “There is however one more chapter to this story, but I’ll let Lady Edgecombe tell you.”

  Again my fears returned. “Tell me quickly,” I said. “I must know.”

  “And so you shall, milady. The next day the king and queen were walking and talking in the gardens at Whitehall when suddenly the chancellor, the Earl of Southampton appeared, together with an escort of forty guards. When His Majesty asked him why he was there, Southampton told him that they had come to arrest the queen and escort her to the Tower. ‘Come here, man,’ the king called out to him and demanded an imm
ediate explanation. After seeing that he’d made a terrible mistake, Southampton fell to his knees and started to beg for mercy and….”

  “Yes,” Lady Browne smiled and interrupted. “The king was so angry with his chancellor that he cut short his pleading, and in front of everyone - the queen, the guards, me and some other people who had appeared to see what was going on - he shouted at the chancellor that he was ‘a knave, an arrant knave, a beast and a fool!’ Lady Browne began to laugh. “It was so amusing to see that pompous ass get up off his knees trying to escape the king’s hands as he tried to box his ears. And then he scrambled away like a rabbit and shouted to his men to follow him out of the garden.”

  “And so now Her Majesty is safe?” I asked.

  “I think so, milady, I certainly hope so. But she told me that she won’t be reading any more books that may be thought of as heretical. She said she had been concerned only with looking after His Majesty. I think the danger has passed.”

  “At least for the moment,” I couldn’t help adding.

  “We hope for all time,” Lady Edgecombe said. “And now that we’ve told you everything we must return to Whitehall. The tide will soon be ready for us to return.”

  “My ladies,” I said as I escorted them to the small landing quay. “Why did you keep me in such tension if you knew this story had a happy ending?”

  “Milady, we wanted you to feel what we’ve all been through these last few days at court,” Lady Browne answered, perhaps a little sheepishly. “If we’d just told you the happy end, as you call it, you might not have listened to the whole story as carefully as you did. But fear not, we certainly had no intention in causing you to worry unduly. We love you too much for that.”

  And with those reassuring words, the three of us hugged one another and then I bade them goodbye and returned to my chamber.

  That night, as I watched the sun go down behind the clouds over the Thames, I thought how dangerous it was to be so near the king. On thinking back, I now realized that it had all been for the best – that is, the safest course for me - when I had learned that he did not wish to marry me again. It was safer that I spend most of my time here at Richmond Palace or at Bletchlingly. If I were to go to court, I’d make sure that my visits were short and I wouldn’t allow myself to become involved in anything that could be interpreted by anyone as plotting or treasonous.

  From now on, until the king’s death at the end of January 1547, my life for the most part followed a very pleasant routine. My friendship with the king’s daughter, Princess Mary, grew stronger and more intimate and we saw that we could talk about any subject that we wanted - apart from religion and politics. She had inherited her mother’s strict and fervent belief in the old Roman Catholic Church while my beliefs tended to be more liberal. Nevertheless, a true friendship developed between us and on one occasion she made me a very generous gift of a long length of some beautiful Spanish silk.

  Moreover, I saw that the princess, who was only one year older than me, felt so well staying with me at Richmond that she also gave presents to my officers and servants. They truly appreciated this gesture and tried even harder to serve the woman who perhaps one day would become the next Queen of England.

  At the same time, when I wasn’t entertaining the princess, I began to make more frequent but short visits to court. In fact, I became such a regular visitor that I heard a courtier say that the Lady Anne goes and comes at her pleasure. And a pleasure it was. I was on good terms with the queen, with His Majesty and with the two princesses. The king liked me to be in his presence so much that I was included in the list of courtiers who greeted the Admiral of France during the grand reception held in his honour in August 1546.

  But while this was a very exciting celebration, it was also the last time I saw His Majesty, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. I noticed how ill he looked and said as much to Lady Rutland.

  “You must look at him,” I indicated with my head towards where the king was speaking to the admiral and several of his men. “He looks so ill. It is as though he’s in permanent pain.”

  Lady Rutland nodded. “He can hardly walk and he’s carried around now almost all of the time. The wounds on his legs give him no rest and they are constantly leaking. Oh, my dear, I’m so glad it’s not one of my duties to dress his legs, for they smell so foul that anyone who does dress them must be a saint or have no nose.”

  “And he is so fat,” I whispered. “How can anybody be that size?”

  “Well, you would also be like that if you ate and drank like he does. His doctors have warned him but he won’t listen. And most of what he eats is far too rich for him. I’m sure it can’t be doing him any good.”

  It wasn’t. From that autumn on, His Majesy’s health began to decline. He spent less time at court and had less to do with both his wife and with me. His only concern was about the affairs of state and about his son, Prince Edward. The little boy had grown up to be a bookish and precocious nine year old who apparently preferred discussing ideas to playing games or riding his horse in the palace grounds.

  The end of the king’s life came during the last days of January 1547. A month before, during the Christmas season, he had sent the queen to Greenwich Palace together with most of his household and courtiers. As no reason for this was officially given, it caused more rumours to circulate and, all the while, His Majesty’s physician’s worked on his bloated, ulcerous legs. I’m sure that they knew he was dying but as it was treason to predict the king’s death they said nothing but did the best they could to alleviate the pain.

  During this period His Majesty began to isolate himself from more and more people and, to my surprise, didn’t even summon his son to come to his bedside from his country home at Ashridge. Instead, he held long conversations with William Paget, my past secretary and now his Privy Councillor and close adviser. Later I was told that they, together with Queen Jane’s older brother and uncle to the young prince, Thomas Seymour, organized all the details for the new government. This would come into power when the prince became king but because of his young age he would have to be aided by an advisory council.

  On a more personal level, the king decreed that he should be buried at Windsor, next to the body of Queen Jane, his beloved third wife. He also gave orders that the Duke of Norfolk, who had been imprisoned in the Tower in the meanwhile for treason two weeks before Christmas, was to be executed.

  However, the duke’s luck held. The king died before this grim sentence could be carried out and as the new council did not want to start the young King Edward’s reign with a bloody execution, it was decided that the duke was to remain in prison for the time being.

  I heard that the only official present when my one and only husband died on 28 January was Archbishop Cranmer. Because of all the plotting and planning that surrounded the setting up of a new government to be led by Edward Seymour, the news of the king’s death was delayed for a while. Together with everyone else in the country, I learnt of this through hearsay but later several of my ladies came to confirm that what I had originally heard as gossip was in fact true.

  I heard the news with mixed feelings. On one hand he had been my husband during a rather unpleasant six-month period. On the other, once we were divorced, he had treated me well even though that could not be said by many other people. They had suffered from his quick temper and unpredictable nature. I heard that the king regretted having had Cromwell executed and he complained that not one of his other officials had ever worked so well as his past chancellor.

  Finally, his death meant, of course, that I was no longer the ‘King’s Sister.’ Until Prince Edward came of age, the country would be run by Edward Seymour, the Lord Protector. What would become of me and how I would be treated was a question that only time would tell.

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Matters Domestic and National

  The ink had hardly dried on the official documents concerning my past husband’s death when the Lord Protector conferred higher ranks
upon himself and several of his favourite councillors. From being the Earl of Hertford, he now took the ancient and honourable rank of the Duke of Somerset, while at the same time he promoted his younger brother, Thomas, to be Baron Seymour of Sudeley Castle.

  And although the queen had given the king much comfort and good advice during his last years, he did not see it fit to grant her a place on the Regency Council. Soon after the king’s death, I suggested to Lady Browne that this was probably because she was a woman and we knew what the king and most of his councillors thought of women – their role was to be merely decorative and to provide sons.

  Lady Browne shook her head. “I’m not sure I agree with you,” she said. “I think that perhaps he thought that if a widow and a wealthy one at that, could have so much money and influence, she could find herself married off to any unsuitable man; one who was marrying her only for her wealth and her position. And perhaps,” Lady Browne added, “His Majesty did her a favour by not appointing her to the council. Now she’ll be able to live out her life as she pleases, either as a wealthy widow or marry again to someone who gains her heart.”

  And someone did gain her heart. Thomas Seymour himself. It was an open secret at court that Catherine Parr had been in love with the Lord Protector’s brother four years before she had been forced into marrying the king. However, now that she was free, she could do what she wanted. And that is what she did. As usual I learned of this through a conversation I had with Lady Rutland.

  “Have you heard, my dear, that the queen or, rather, the past queen has married Thomas Seymour?” she asked me one spring day about three months after Henry’s death. “They were secretly married, I believe in Chelsea and my spies…”

  “You mean your gossips,” I laughed.

  “Well, yes, my gossips told me that Lady Catherine’s cousin, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, conducted the service but that very few people attended it.”

  “Why? Wasn’t she happy to marry her loved one at last?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure she was, my dear, but she didn’t want to anger her brother-in-law or his proud wife. You know,” she said leaning forward conspiratorially and obviously enjoying this conversation, “that the newly created duchess is such a proud and overbearing woman that I’m not surprised that Lady Catherine wanted to delay the news for as long as possible before that impossible tyrant found out.”