by G Lawrence
“I am pleased to see you, George,” I said, drawing back from his embrace. “Of course I am! It is just so frustrating… being left here to wallow in the country, not knowing what is occurring in London…. How is Henry? Have you seen him? Does our father send word? He promised he would write, but I have heard naught from him since he left.”
“George!” came our mother’s voice as she emerged from the house.
George put a hand on my shoulder. “I will tell you all I know, Anne,” he promised, “but first let me get into the castle and change my clothes… then, I am yours.” He marched to our mother and took her in his arms, lifting her slight form from the cobbled courtyard with ease. She giggled as he swung her around, as though she were a child. She beamed at George as he set her down again.
“Your father is well?” she asked.
George lifted his eyebrows. “Busy,” he said in a dry tone. “Since his return to court, he has been running more errands for the King than I have ever known him to do before. Wolsey is most confused that our father has suddenly become the King’s messenger… The Cardinal thirsts to discover what secret has brought them so close.”
“But the Cardinal does not know about me, does he?” I asked.
George shook his head. “He knows nothing of the King’s offer to you, Anne, but he knows of the King’s Great Matter, of course… Wolsey believes you are Henry’s new mistress, but thinks the King wants an annulment of his marriage in order to marry a fabulous French princess… neither Henry nor our father have enlightened Wolsey. Nor do they intend to, yet.”
I breathed out. “Good,” I said. “I little believe the Cardinal would be my friend, or would support the idea of the King marrying me. He has always detested our family.”
George made a short, comical grin of frustration. “May I get into the house now, ladies, and remove the dust of the road before I am pecked to death by your questions?”
My mother giggled, leading George into the castle. I stood for a while in the courtyard, wondering on his words. The Cardinal knew nothing of me, then… Or, at least, he believed I was only Henry’s mistress. That was good, even thought it annoyed me that the paunchy rodent should think so little of me to believe I would fall with ease into the place my sister had recently occupied in the King’s bed… But still… it was better that Wolsey knew nothing of Henry’s offer. It was safer that way, at least for now. I wanted to be in a secure position, and preferably at Henry’s side, when the Cardinal found out. That way I could ensure the slippery eel did not pour words of poison into Henry’s ear. I knew how convincing Wolsey could be, and Henry loved him, leaned upon him, doted upon him and listened to his counsel. I did not want Wolsey tainting Henry’s thoughts or feelings for me if I was not there to contradict him. Wolsey hated and feared my family; not only for the power and influence we were gaining at court, but for his suspicion that we harboured reformist leanings. Both elements were a threat to his various powers.
When George had changed, washed and eaten, he was ready to tell us more. We strolled together, all three of us, through the grounds. In the walled gardens, where the warmth of the sun radiated back at us from the patterned red-bricked walls, we sat. My mother on a seat made for the garden from good oak, George and I lounging on the grass. The herbs and sallat plants of my mother’s gardens were lush and bonny. Prickly thyme and rosemary were flush with purple and white flowers. Yellow rue and the pink-topped marjoram my mother had grown from imported seeds stood basking in the sun. Betony grew tall and sweet in the garden beds, and comfrey hung her purple flowers like sodden bells over her scratchy leaves. My mother’s roses were in full and glorious bloom. I remembered our games here when I was but a child. I could almost see myself hunting for her through the leaves and bushes… almost hear her laugh as it echoed through my memories and into the present day.
My scarlet skirts spread out about me, I leaned back to feel the sun on my face for a moment. I listened to the sound of the breeze as it whistled through the nearby marshlands, making reeds whisper secrets and the trees sound like the oceans. I lifted a hand and unpinned my hood from my head, throwing it carelessly to one side.
“Anne!” scolded my mother, snatching the hood from the floor, handing it back to me and gazing at me with scandalised eyes. “What if someone were to see you?”
“Since I am a maiden still, there would likely be little comment, my lady mother,” I said lightly, placing the hood on the grass at my side. “Besides, I am here with you and my brother alone. I promise, if the Pope turns up unexpectedly, I shall put it back on at once!”
“Anne…” My mother laughed, shaking her head. I looked to George.
“So tell us, brother… what else has been going on at court?”
George twirled a sharp twig of hawthorn in his fingertips, playing with the spikes by bouncing the tops of his fingers off them. “The King went direct to Katherine when he left you, sister, and told her that their marriage was unlawful.” His brown eyes narrowed against the glaring sun. “Henry told her many scholars and members of the clergy had raised the problem with him over the years, and now his conscience was too troubled to let it be. He told her he was having their marriage investigated, and it was likely to lead to an annulment.”
I stared at George. “And what said Katherine?” I frowned, and went on before he could open his mouth. “I thought the idea was to proceed carefully and secretly… Why did Henry go straight to Katherine?”
George shrugged. “Perhaps he wanted to give the lady fair warning of what was about to happen… Remember, Anne, they have been married for a long time, and she loves him. Perhaps he simply thought it was fairer this way.”
I pursed my lips, but said nothing. I was unsure that Henry had acted rightly; not so much for Katherine, for I understood the sense in my brother’s words, but for us.
George took my silence as assent to continue. “The King has enlisted Wolsey to work on the Great Matter, and obviously our father is helping too. Norfolk knows about the King’s proposal, Anne…” George trailed off and cast a wolfish grin at me. “Oh yes, dear sister!” he added with mocking glee. “Our uncle sends his utmost congratulations on your soon-to-be marriage. He even said that you had done well… High praise from a man like Norfolk!”
I snorted. “I am nothing more to my uncle of Norfolk than a means to an end, George. I am well aware of that, I assure you.”
“Anne!” My mother was shocked. “My brother is not the warmest of men, I know, but he is still your uncle and your elder. You should respect him. He has done much to aid us.”
“I will respect him for holding the same blood as you within his veins, my lady mother,” I turned to her. “But I know he has no love for me. He loves only what I am able to bring him and his family. You know that as well as I.”
“There is nothing wrong with family loyalty, Anne,” my mother reproved.
“I know that.” I reached up and squeezed her cold hand. “I am loyal to my family, mother… it is just I choose to be most loyal to those who are closest to me, and love me best… that is all.”
“Katherine did not take kindly to Henry’s arguments,” George cut in, perhaps to distract us from arguing about Norfolk. “She said she was his true wife. She said she and his brother had never lain together whilst they were married and if there were anything sinful in her union with Henry then she would have known instinctually… being as devoted and pious in her faith as she is.”
A shiver ran its finger down my spine. “And what said the King?”
“That he was not convinced, and therefore Katherine could not possibly be either. He insisted that many learned men believed their marriage was a sinful union in the eyes of God, and that the investigation would go ahead.” George paused, throwing the hawthorn twig aside. “They are still seen in public with each other, of course,” he continued, his busy fingers plucking now at the grass. “At court functions, entertainments… and they dine with one another, but the servers in the Privy Chambers
say when they are together, they barely speak. They are awkward and drift readily into silence. It is for duty alone that they appear together now, sister, so if you hear about this from another source, do not be troubled by it.”
“Another source!” I snorted. “What other source would that be? Yours is the first proper news I have had since Henry and our father left. Henry sends me messages, it is true, but he told me nothing of confronting Katherine. And our father sends nothing at all!” I sighed at George. “Why did Henry not tell me he had gone to Katherine, George? He is keeping things from me, trying to protect me, no doubt, but I need to know what is going on, brother. You must understand this. I cannot simply sit here, wondering, fearing and hoping… I need to know!”
“Hence why I came.” George beamed at my surprised face and waggled a finger, stained green by the grass, at me. “I know you better than you know yourself, sister,” he teased. “I knew you would be simmering to a boil here in the country. You were never one for patience, my sister spirit.”
I laughed. “Fine!” I cried, throwing my hands into the air. “You have me! Now, tell me all else that you know!”
“Katherine has called the Spanish ambassador, Mendoza, to her chambers even more often than usual,” said George. “Wolsey has women placed aside the Queen in her household, and they try to discover what it is she and Mendoza say to one another, but they whisper in Spanish, which makes gathering intelligence harder. There are some fears that she may try and contact her nephew, the Emperor Charles, even though the King has forbidden her to do so.”
George noted my worried eyes and shook his head. “Wolsey has Katherine’s correspondence under control, Anne, fear not,” he consoled. “Every letter Katherine writes is taken to the Cardinal before it is sent. Apparently, the Cardinal has been doing this for a long time… not that he had revealed such to the King… Henry was surprised and not best pleased when Wolsey disclosed this, but he cannot deny it is useful to us now. Mendoza’s dispatches are also being checked, secretly, of course, since he is supposed to be free to contact his master. News of this will not get out of England until we are ready, sister.”
“I hope you are right, George,” I said, my heart and my mind swimming with worries. Much was being kept from me. It made me uneasy. “I hope you are right.”
Chapter Four
Wiltshire
Summer 1527
George rode for court again after two days with us, leaving me to return to my increasingly frustrated fog of annoyance… I wanted news! And I did not want to wait for it! My mother kept me company as best she could, but even she was eventually driven away by my scowling face and fragile temper. All that had passed between Henry and me seemed to be almost a dream, as though it had never happened. I began to fear that if I did not see him soon, then he would think the same. His letters were passionate and intense, but I could not help but worry that if we were kept apart for too long, would his passion for me wane? If Wolsey was offering him French princesses, would Henry find one that was pleasing to the eye and forget me? Would he decide all of this was too much, and return to Katherine?
We are all fools when we fall in love, and I was no exception. I dreaded losing Henry, but I also feared to lose the future he had offered me. This sparkling, magical, perfect future. Long had I been schooled by my father to aim for the highest match, and here was the highest of all being offered to me. To lose it now would be unbearable… It would have tried anyone’s patience to wait for such a gift as I had been offered… And even at the best of times, I was not a patient woman.
After another week, Henry wrote, urging my return to court. Although I worried about the need to preserve my reputation, I felt that I should be there. I was supposed to be in service to the Queen. I had been recently elevated, at Henry’s request, to the post of lady-in-waiting, and my absence had been noted. I felt, too, that I needed to be near Henry at this delicate time. He had made me an offer, but I needed to make sure it actually came to be… But there was something I had to do before I returned. I had a family matter to attend to. I wrote to Henry, and told him I would be back at court soon. I travelled with servants to the small Carey estates in Wiltshire, stewardship of which had been granted by Henry to my brother-in-law, Will, as a demonstration of his love for the young gentleman of his Privy Chamber. I needed to speak to my sister.
Mary and I had not always agreed on everything, but she was my sister and now her former lover had proposed marriage to me. I was concerned that Mary would not understand and this happy event could cause a rift between us. She had assisted me thus far, but I needed to be sure of her support in the future. I also wanted, I think, to assure myself that she still loved me, despite the odd situation we were now in. I was afraid of what she might say, in truth, but however this turned out I had to see her face to face. We rode out that day, and stopped at an inn on the roadside that night. Riding fast and changing horses regularly, we reached the small estate the Careys now managed on behalf of the King two days later.
I found Mary in the orchard with little Catherine and young Henry in tow. Both children had the red-gold hair of their mother… and of their possible father, I thought. I started when I remembered that these children were likely to be the bastards of the man I had just agreed to marry. And they were the children of my own sister! I felt God was watching me closely that day and hoped He did not disapprove. If God had frowned on Katherine and Henry’s marriage because Katherine had lain with his brother, then why should it be any different for Henry and me? Mary was my sister, and she had been his mistress. But I assured myself that Henry had not been married to my sister, and the union between Henry and me, once a proper papal dispensation was arranged to nullify this past sin, would be lawful in the eyes of God. Mary and Henry had been together to satisfy lust, but he and I would be married in the sight of God for honourable reasons; for love, for children. But despite my silent reassurances, I was uneasy as I walked towards my sweet sister and her children sitting under a blossoming apple tree in the orchard.
The sun was shining brightly on the three golden-red heads as Mary read to her daughter from a book of fables. Catherine was giggling at the voices Mary created for each character. Henry’s small head nestled at Mary’s breast, nodding in his sleep. They sat under the twisted and gnarled tree, with tiny, infant-apples hanging from the branches over their heads. Beside Mary, a nursemaid sat mending shirts, listening to her mistress as her needle flashed in and out of the linen, catching the sun. The late blossom of the tree, white with an inner shadow of pink, bobbed in the wind. Leaves whispered above them. They made a pretty picture.
As I approached, Mary looked up, saw me, and smiled. She whispered to Catherine, who turned her little head my way, her eyes opening wide as I walked towards them in my fine gown of expensive black damask, with sleeves slashed with grey silk and my riding cloak of deep green velvet billowing behind me. Mary handed Henry to the nursemaid, and told Catherine to stay and look over the book. She walked towards me. “Anne,” Mary called with affection as she approached across the grass. “It seems so long since I saw you.”
There was nothing of the distance and coolness I had feared apparent in her speech or face. There was nothing but welcome and gladness. We went into the house where for an hour or so we talked of nothing but the babies and the lands Will managed for his King. I played with my niece and her dolls and little Catherine was rapt with admiration for my fine gown and my French hood decorated with pearls. Her chubby, small hands reached out to touch the pearls as I dipped my head towards her. When she had stroked at their milky surfaces, she snatched her hands back, looking shy and awed. Mary laughed at her daughter’s blushes.
“She has never seen a lady so grand, sister,” she said with a chuckle. “For I wear more simple attire at home.” Mary indicated to her plain gown of red. It was true that she wore few adornments. She looked a simpler lady here than she had done at court, and told me it was a relief to not have to be dressed so grandly all the time.
Eventually, Mary signalled for her woman to take the children for some food and suggested we two walk and view the park lands that she thought I would try some day. They were fine grounds for flying falcons, with which she knew I loved to hunt. Little Catherine left with a whimper of protest and Mary grinned. “You do know that in no time all her dolls will have to have gowns like yours, don’t you, sister? Your visit has condemned me to many hours of miniature dress-making. But do not think I am not pleased to see you.”
We set out through the gardens, through the gate, and into the park. Mary’s manservant followed at a respectful distance, to ensure our safety. We strolled along the edges of great fields rich with silver-gold crops of wheat and barley, starting to crackle and crack with ripening promise. High, wiry grasses heavy with seed heads stood proud between billowing green grass and flowers along the edge of the path. Mary pulled at the grass as she walked, stripping out white, fluffy seeds and sprinkling them along the path. We wandered past purple-blue flowering hound’s tongue with hairy green-silver leaves, past vervain with russet fronds and tiny white flowers, and paused to smell chamomile flowers as we crushed them in our hands. In the distance we could hear men in the lanes herding sheep to new pastures, cursing at them when they would not move past an obstruction. The summer sun burned above us in the bright blue, cloudless sky, and for a while we were both lost in our thoughts and in our appreciation of a warm, pretty day in England.