by G Lawrence
My head darted up. I had not heard of this plan. I thought Henry had intended for a council to decide the Great Matter in England. There had been no mention of French cardinals. I gazed questioningly at Henry and he shook his head. “It was but an idea, sweetheart,” he explained. “We thought that if Thomas could act in the stead of the Pope, as de facto Pope, then we could reach a ruling faster… Given Clement’s present situation, we thought it a reasonable idea.” His face darkened. “But it seems the French cardinals did not…”
“The route left to us is to apply to the Pope for a trial of Your Majesty’s marriage in England,” Wolsey continued. His eyes were careful now as they looked upon me. I knew he had gathered the reason why I was here… The only reason I would be in this position was if the King was considering marrying me. For what other reason would I be at this meeting? As the King’s new Privy Councillor?
Henry looked deflated, and although I had not expected a great deal, I was dented, discouraged. Another delay. Envoys would have to go to the Pope, talks would go on… Wolsey’s trip to France had accomplished nothing. It had been a waste of time. What did we have from it but the good wishes of the King of France, and his private support? What use was that? I exhaled heavily and stared at Henry, willing him to do more. He had told me our Matter was in hand and that Wolsey was the man to make our dreams reality. I did not see we were in any better position than we were when Henry proposed to me.
“I have already sent a good man of my own household to Rome,” Henry said, exasperating the Cardinal’s uneasiness.
“Your Majesty must of course act as you see fit,” Wolsey said. “But if I am to be your good servant, I must know all that is planned… otherwise we may find ourselves at crossed purposes, Your Majesty… If you require trusted men, I have many to put at your disposal.”
“Dr Knight is a trusted man, Thomas, fear not,” Henry replied. “I have sent him to the Pope in the Castel Saint Angelo, armed with draft dispensations. I hoped that François would offer us help, but I also understand it is better to have all options covered.” Henry put his hand on Wolsey’s arm. “Think you I acted too hastily, Thomas?” I was unpleasantly surprised by the humble note in Henry’s voice.
“Your Majesty has the energy of a thousand men.” Wolsey smiled warmly at his master. “And it is therefore only to be expected he acts on impulse from time to time.”
“I am sorry if you thought I was acting against you, Thomas. I only wish this matter to be resolved, swiftly. It presses on my conscience.”
“Of course, Majesty, of course… but if I could be informed of all you intend before it is done…?”
“Naturally, Thomas, I was too hasty.” Henry beamed at Wolsey. “That is why you are here, with me, is it not old friend? To make sure I always do what is right.”
I watched Henry with shock throughout this exchange. I had not known of this Dr Knight either! Why was I being so kept in the dark about events that concerned me so intimately? Surely I had a right to know these things? It was my future, as well as Henry’s, for which these men were playing. And what difference Henry showed to his servant… It was distressing to see him grovel before Wolsey… and unsettling. I made up my mind to talk sternly to my beloved when this meeting ended. I wanted to be left on the fringes no longer. I believed, then, I could do little to help, but that did not mean I did not want to know all that was going on.
Although Wolsey affected surprise at Henry’s news, we later found that he had actually intercepted Knight and stalled him in his mission to reach Pope Clement. The dispensations carried by Knight stated that the King wanted dispensation to marry a woman whose sister he had known carnally. The missives did not mention me by name, but the Cardinal could not have been wholly unaware of our relationship. Wolsey had badgered the information out of Knight. He had demonstrated surprise to find me in Henry’s chambers, but he had known that something was afoot before his return to England. Still, I doubt he realised how deeply Henry’s affections for me ran. Wolsey knew his King, and he believed he knew his passions. He had thought them ever-changing. He thought me a new shiny toy his King wanted to play with. He was going to be proved wrong.
For now, we all agreed that the best course of action was to send envoys to Rome to request that a papal legate came to England. We would ask for a trial of the King’s marriage before a Legatine Court. A papal legate would be protected by the King’s forces in England, so therefore would not be under pressure to agree in Katherine’s favour due to her nephew’s hold over the Pope. It was the best plan… In truth, it was the only plan. Our hopes that the Queen would humbly step aside were fading. Henry told Wolsey that Katherine had sworn on the sanctity of her marriage, and refused to leave him. Wolsey was obviously concerned to hear this, as clearly he, too, had thought Katherine would be meek enough to step down without causing problems.
It was dawning upon me that this Great Matter was a most intricate business. It was no longer simply a matter of my heart and Henry’s. It involved countries, politics, the Pope, and threat of invasion and war. The Emperor had not thought twice about sacking the Holy City… Would he do the same to England if his aunt was insulted? Henry sensed my rising anxiety and put his large arms around me. Wolsey watched us. His expression of barely concealed concern remained, which was somewhat soothing to my mood. It was refreshing to see a touch of fear on the face of one such as he.
“Soon, my love,” Henry cooed soothingly. “Soon all this shall be over and you and I shall be the true King and Queen.”
As I sunk into Henry’s arms I saw the Cardinal’s jaw twitch. From over Henry’s shoulder I allowed myself to raise one perfectly arched eyebrow at Wolsey as though daring him to say a word. He merely dipped his head to me. It was as though he were a knight acknowledging a foe on the battlefield.
Watching this man over Henry’s shoulder, I knew he was no friend to me, just as he knew I was no friend to him. But he was the best statesman in the land and we needed him. The Cardinal knew now that he would have to watch himself. He had underestimated Henry’s feelings for me, and that had shaken him. The great fat bat would have to make peace with the silly girl he had once insulted if he wanted to keep in favour with his master. I am sure, however, even at that moment, Wolsey was considering how best to snap me away from Henry’s side.
His absence during his trip to France had brought about a shift in power at court. I, not he, was now the most important person to Henry, and the great Cardinal Wolsey was aware of it. Almost immediately after his return, the Cardinal provided me with a new servant, Master Thomas Heneage, who, it seemed, was there to make my every whim reality… and, I had no doubt, was also there to spy on me. Wolsey showered me with gifts and letters, and I must say that he had excellent taste. He gave me a new illuminated book of hours, much like the one I had taken with me to France and the Low Countries, but richly decorated and much grander than my first. I thanked him graciously by letter for the book. It was beautiful and I took it with me everywhere. It was a great solace to me in the frustrating and difficult times ahead even if it was given to me by an enemy pretending to be an ally.
My father found the Cardinal’s sudden humility and deference most amusing, and spent much time with Norfolk chuckling about it. I found it satisfying also, but I was under no illusions about Wolsey’s motives. He wanted to keep me close, to keep an eye on me. He wanted to lull me into a false sense of security, and believed the best way to do that was to flatter me, and lavish gifts upon me. If the Cardinal thought he could buy his way into my good graces, he was much mistaken, just as he was foolish if he thought that such obsequiousness would make me trust him. But I did not dispel his illusions. If the Cardinal wanted me close to keep an eye on me, I would come close, and keep an eye on him.
Later that autumn, Henry and François made a great show of friendship to unsettle Charles. Henry appointed François to the Order of the Garter, and François responded in kind by granting the Order of St Michael to Henry. Neither King c
ould leave his country to receive the honour, of course, so it was done by proxy. There was a feast at Greenwich Palace to mark the occasion. Tournaments, jousting, wrestling competitions and mock-battles went on. Cheering crowds screamed, beside themselves as they watched Henry joust, and win against every opponent. Men selling fresh-baked pies thick with gravy, pork and dried apple vied with those selling hot spice ale and wine. In the upper stalls, where the nobility was seated, all food and drinks were brought to us, provided by the King’s purse.
George was riding in this joust. He cut a handsome figure in his new armour, riding out to accept a ribbon tied on his lance by a pretty girl. Jane stood near the Queen, her face resolutely turned from her husband as he begged a favour from another woman. When I glanced at Jane, I could see tears in her eyes not caused by the cold wind. She blinked them away and went on with her duties.
Katherine sat in the stalls, watching her husband compete, wearing an unreadable expression. Friendship with France was not pleasing to her, particularly at this time when she knew Henry was questioning their marriage. She cheered her husband and laughed with her ladies Marie de Salinas, Margaret Pole and her Moorish lady of the Bedchamber, Catalina de Cardones. Only a keen eye could catch the glimmer of sadness which rested about her. Mendoza regarded Henry with displeasure. Despite being an ambassador, the man was not very talented at disguising his emotions, particularly when it came to his beloved Katherine.
Henry had a great display created; two trees made from silk. One was a Tudor hawthorn, and the other, a Valois mulberry. They stood with their silks wafting in the autumn winds as celebration went on about them. That night, we danced in a masque. All the court came in disguise. Henry and I partnered each other, our masks covering our identities for the sake of propriety, as we moved together as one.
As winter approached and storms forced the court inside, I found my close proximity to Katherine unbearable. When it was fine weather there were many opportunities for us to be outside, and somehow, out in the fresh air, with space about us, my proximity to Katherine was not so claustrophobic. But as the winter came, as we spent much time in her over-heated chambers, I felt increasingly ill at ease.
I made up my mind to return to Hever. Henry was to be at Greenwich with Katherine for the Christmas celebrations, and pressed me to stay, but I was considering the notion of remaining at court dangerous. Henry was not subtle, even when he believed himself to be. It was becoming increasingly obvious to the whole court that the King loved me. When news of the envoys to Rome came out, people would question if I was really just a mistress and if the Pope heard rumours of scandal, he would never grant the annulment. Henry and I parted at Richmond. We promised to write every day, and I begged Henry to keep nothing from me.
“Please, Henry,” I pleaded. “You must understand that to hear any news, good or bad, is imperative. Do not keep me at arm’s length. You must understand this is of the utmost importance to me.”
He smoothed my hair from my brow. “I promise, my love,” he said, kissing my lips gently, his hand under my chin. “I only sought to keep certain things quiet until we knew more of them. I did not want to trouble you. I know this weighs as heavy on you as it does on me.”
“But we are in this together… as one.” I protested. “And so we must share all together.” I smiled up at him, running a finger along his golden-red beard. “For better or for worse, my love,” I said. “Why not start as we mean to go on?”
Henry agreed with me, moved by my desperation. As we parted, he told me he would come and see me, in secret, during the winter, and later we would find a way to be brought together again.
“It will not be long now, my love,” he said. “It will not be long.”
Chapter Eleven
Hever Castle
Winter 1527
That winter was bitterly cold. The Thames froze over, its lapping waters and strong currents frozen by winter’s wandering hand. Its banks shone with white frost and silver ice. Along the riversides, the rotted husks of thick summer reeds stilled, petrified by the cold. A great fire was built on the deep ice of the frozen river and whole boar and mutton were roasted upon it. They say the flames of the fire could not melt that thick, frozen water. Every drip of fat from the roasted beasts fizzled into the ice only to become a part of the ice-covered expanse.
Along the coast, the sea froze where it met the shore. Waves were made immobile, stationary, as though God had brought them to an unnatural death. The white plumes of frozen waves rubbed shoulders with black rocks, sand and pebbled beaches, making it seem as though Time itself had stopped.
I awoke each morning at Hever to the sight of my breath puffing out of my mouth in white clouds. Thin ice gathered on the tops of our washing bowls, and frost covered each window in fronds shaped like fern and grapevine. Bess shook by the fire as she coaxed the sleepy embers to life in the watery light of each dawn, and often, we waited together in my bed for the fire to burn hot enough to warm to my chamber.
Each day, I would ride out over the crisp and frozen lands of the Boleyns. I rode to the hilltops and sat on my mount, looking out at the small villages and hovels of the poor, painted silver with ice and snow, wondering how they managed at such times. My mother had ever-ordered that the leavings from our tables at Hever were to be distributed amongst these villages, so that they could share in our prosperity. We gave alms at Mass each day, and I prayed for these peasants morning and evening, asking God to help them through this winter.
Sometimes, as I rode out, I would marvel at the beauty of the landscape. Cloaked in this snowy cowl of whiteness, every branch and beam, every twig and blade of frozen grass glittered with unearthly beauty. In the evening when everything was still, when I was on my return journey to Hever, I felt I might lose myself in wonder; as though Anne Boleyn may be swallowed whole by the beauty that surrounded her.
Snow fell as I rode; delicate flakes of icy crystals floated from the skies. I would catch these on my dark leather glove to admire their shapes and forms as they melted away. The sharp, crisp snap of the frozen earth under my horses’ hooves was delicious and the air about me was refreshing. Being far from court irked me, but I understood I must keep some distance from the King. Henry wrote, true to his promise, every day, sending me letters, poems, and gifts. When I laid these offerings out in my chambers, I was amazed at the sheer quantity of items now in my possession. As well as all that glittered in gold and silver, there were reams of stunning cloth. There were pearls, golden rings, and small gemstones to be sewn into gowns. There were woollen blankets, linen for my table and threads of many colours for embroidery. There were books, and a fine portrait of Henry, which I hung in my room. My personal wealth was growing as the King showered me with signs of his love. But it was his letters I clung to, more than his gifts. His deep, dark scrawl on creamy parchment. His words of love and devotion. His promises that all would be well. Those were what brought me comfort that cold winter. It will not be long… Those words became like a prayer in those long, cold winter nights. It will not be long… That was how we reconciled our passion into reason… It was how we survived.
And, true also to his word, Henry came to visit. Officially, he was staying at Penshurst Place, but more often than not, he slept at Hever. My father entertained him royally when he came, and although Henry loved the feasts and the games my father put on, sometimes he found my father trying. “I think, at times, that your father wishes to keep me all to himself,” Henry murmured into my hair as I sat in his lap by the fire one night.
I giggled. “Do you think you will be able to resist his charms, my lord?”
Henry’s great laugh bounced about the room. “There is but one in this house I yearn for…” His hands stroked my shoulder. “One whom I long to see, every day, whether she is near me or not.”
“It cannot be long now, can it?” I asked anxiously. “When will you send our delegation to the Pope?”
He sighed, pulled from his lazy lust by my demands. Henry
turned mockingly irritated eyes on me. “Other maids would gasp and faint to hear such words of love from me, lady.” He waggled his finger at me, a bright garnet ring twinkling in the firelight. “You, it seems, are unmoved by my declarations of love.”
I jumped free of his lap. “Other maids?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips and tilting my head to one side with faked anger. “What other maids are these? Speak now, Henry of England, and tell me if you have played me false, or I will track these jades down and feed them to my hounds!”
He saw the teasing in my eyes and shook his head with affection. “Ah, Anne…” he said, holding out his hands to beg me back to his lap. “There is no one else in the world like you… and therefore, there will never be anyone else for me but you. All others become as cupboards and sideboards when you walk into a chamber… They are lifeless, solid, and graceless when compared to you. You are the only woman in the world. You are the only one for me.”
I fell back into his embrace and kissed him soundly. “Good!” I cried. “For if there were others, Henry, my love would not be yours any more…” I kissed him again, putting my hands to his chin and lacing my fingers into his short red-gold beard. “If I do not fall and faint at your words, my lord, it is not because I do not love you. It is because I am hungry for this time of waiting to end. We have waited too long already. I hate the times when we are apart. I hate not being able to be at your side, where I belong. I love you, Henry… I am eager for our life together to begin.”