by G Lawrence
That night we feasted on all manner of fine fish and beasts of the seas. It was Advent, and so we were not permitted to consume flesh. But it mattered little for the fish served at court was every bit as fine as the flesh. We ate of sallats of imported olives and capers and Alexander buds cut long and cooked with whelks. There were stews of seethed shrimp in ale and pottage of ray and plaice. Then came baked oysters in their shells served with lemon juice and salt and boiled cockles in beer and pepper. Sturgeon, the fish of royalty, was served in aysell to the top table alone. Roasted salmon with cinnamon and ginger was brought out along with pike in mustard sauce, skirrets with vinegar and oil and bream in white wine. Trout pâté, baked porpoise, stewed herrings with onion and sugar and pies of whiting emerged from the kitchens. Laver bread shone purple-black and was served with cockles. Tarts of winter greens and warm sallats of purple and white carrots sat happily next to golden fritters of gourd and apple. Baked artichokes were served in slices, beside buttered greens on diced bread. Apple tarts, poached pears in red wine, walnut comfits and wobbling quince jellies were served last, alongside great pies of preserved cherries. Chapuys mentioned sardonically to Norris that it was as though the celebration were a wedding feast for Henry and me.
I cared not for his sarcasm. I was happy. Happy to see me and mine honoured. Happy to sit beside Henry in my rightful place. I ate, I laughed, I danced through the night in the purple gown that had caused so much gossip, and all the time Henry was at my elbow; flattering me, praising me and showing his love for me to all. Although we were no nearer to our goal, his open devotion and love for me made me feel as though we were.
After the feast, Henry led the members of my family and his own personal friends to a banqueting room, where we continued to drink wine and eat from dishes of sweet confection. The tasty treats were taken from the sideboards at the edge of the room, as the servants had been dismissed for the night. Suckets of fruit in syrup were eaten with sucket spoons of pewter and silver. Marchpane, jellies and biscuits were plucked at with eager fingers. Henry fed me kissing comfits of sugar fondant with his own fingers, and mounds of syllabub naughtily called ‘Spanish paps’ by the court, wobbled on their plates. The white flesh of highly expensive imported nuts of India was flaked so that we could pluck at the dry, sweet and creamy morsels. Comfits of pippin and caraway seed were passed around informally, as we jested and chattered. At the end of the evening I was presented with a golden cup of hippocras, as though I were the Queen in truth. Much of the food offered at such events were intended as aphrodisiacs, and when the other company parted from us, Henry and I made our way to my chambers, where he lifted my skirts and made me breathless with the magic of his gentle kisses and clever fingers. Later, somehow hungry again, we sat together, eating from a plate of aleberry pudding made of bread soaked in ale and baked with melted, salted butter and sugar, exhausted and content in each other’s company.
When Henry wanted a dish such as this in the middle of the night, whole rooms of his kitchen servants had to be roused from their beds and ordered to produce whatever tempted him. To Henry, who was so used to such things, this was but normal, but to me it was always amazing. He was kind and gracious to them when they arrived from the kitchens, bleary-eyed with tiredness, carrying his food. Henry always thanked them handsomely, often offering them a coin in reward. They never seemed unhappy in their task, and the fact that Henry remembered most of them by name and asked after their families always made them feel special. They loved their King for these small attentions. It was not only because he paid their wages and gave them lodgings that they adored him; he was interested in them and often spoke to them informally. It gave them a chance to touch the hand of the power that ruled them; a time to know that he was also their friend. He could make anyone feel like that, Henry… it was one of his powers. Be in his company for a short while, and you felt as though you had known him all his life. And to be wooed by him, as I was, was often to feel as though you had been enchanted by magic.
Just before Christmas, Wolsey fell ill at his house in Esher, and his doctor asked Henry to send his own physicians to the Cardinal. Hearing this, and fearing for the man, Henry agreed to do so. “God forbid that he should die!” Henry said to the whole court as he received the news. “I would not lose him for twenty thousand pounds!”
I was less than pleased at this public statement and it set off rumours that Henry was going to reinstate Wolsey. Doctor Butts wrote to Henry saying that he thought Wolsey’s illness was, in part, produced by his mind and the troubles which he faced. He urged his King to write to the Cardinal. “If you would have him dead,” he wrote, “I warrant he will be within these four days if he receive not comfort from you, and Mistress Anne.”
I was sure that the Cardinal was faking illness in order to attract Henry’s sympathy, but Henry was bowled over with concern. He asked me to write to Wolsey, with him, and to send a token to him, so that he might rest.
“He is but a sick, old man, Anne,” Henry pleaded. I saw the pale concern on his face, and quietly, I took a tablet from my waist; a jewelled ornament of gold and rubies, which Henry had given me some time ago and Wolsey would recognise. I unhooked its chain, and handed it to Henry.
Henry was so pleased with me that he was for a moment rendered speechless, and I put my quill to the letter Henry was preparing for the Cardinal, assuring Wolsey in the usual flowery language of court that I prayed for his recovery. Henry set down words, in his own hand, telling Wolsey of his concern and love, and the messenger rode for Esher that night. But Henry was not done, for he sent cartloads of furnishings, plate, linen and furs to Wolsey. Henry also sent items of food, such as a deer he had killed himself. It seemed to me that the Cardinal’s little ploy to engender the King’s sympathy had worked only too well.
After several days of treatment, and being leeched by the King’s doctors, Wolsey rallied. Soon after, I received a letter from the Cardinal, expressing his delight in my gift and wishing to be of service to me. “As the full favour of our lord the King rests in your hands,” he wrote. “And his happiness doth also abide with you, Lady Anne, it is my duty and greatest wish to be of service in all matters.”
I wasn’t fooled. The old bat just wanted another way to wing back into the arms of the master he had lost. I was not about to offer him a roost.
Henry did not think the same as I, however. Although Wolsey was officially still in disgrace, there were many hints that Henry might soon welcome him back into favour. Henry made ominous remarks; the Councillors he had now were not “the best he had had,” and, “there were others who understood the will of the country better than those now advising him.”
It was obvious he was referring to Norfolk, who was woefully inadequate for the task of replacing Wolsey. Henry did not know whom to turn to. More was opposed to the annulment, Norfolk was useless, my father was so busy he had little time to take on anything else, and Suffolk was a beautiful, but brainless, boy masquerading as a grown man. Henry was starting to think the only course of action was to recall Wolsey. He never said such a thing to me, but I could see it in his eyes.
It was around this time that I learned of the secret gifts and messages Henry had sent to Wolsey upon his fall, and after. It was George who discovered this, after talking to Norris. I was horrified. It seemed that all along, Henry had been planning to one day reinstate his chief advisor. Wolsey had fallen, but apparently not far enough. I had not ever wanted to move against him unto death, his disgrace had been enough for me… But that winter I worried and I wondered. Was simply removing Wolsey enough to make me safe? Would I have to go further? To bring Wolsey to death, in order to be secure in my position beside the King?
Chapter Sixty-One
York Place
Winter 1529-1530
At Christmas, I declined to attend celebrations at court since Katherine was there, and took to York Place, which was becoming my own centre within London. Henry dutifully celebrated Christmas with his wife, but on New
Year’s Day he sent me many gifts, including over one hundred pounds in spending money for my games over Christmas.
I put on a pageant for Henry on one of the nights he could escape his wife. It was an allegorical piece and I designed all the costumes and constructions myself. Brave knights dressed in white robes fought for the possession of a castle called “Good Justice” from satyrs. The satyrs wore mottos such as “False Hope”, “Bad Religion” and “Deception”. The knights wore ribbons that said “True Faith”, “Ardent Loyalty” and “England’s Pride”.
Watching from tiered benches, the audience was offered a show which represented the struggles between Henry and me, and Pope Clement. When the knights won the castle of Good Justice, they took hands with beautiful ladies from my household and brought them out to dance. Upon the breasts of my women were mottos of “Joyous Marriage”, “Mother to True Heirs”, “Peace” and “Unity”.
Henry applauded the pageant loudly, and came to dance with Nan, who was playing “Mother of True Heirs”, saying to me after, that this was the figure he was most drawn to. I pressed my hand into his. “Our sons will be magnificent creatures, Henry,” I whispered. “I dream of them when I rest in my bed. I long to carry them beneath my heart, and to know the weight of them in my arms.”
His eyes became haunted, looking on my natural and growing desire to be both a wife and a mother. He squeezed my fingers painfully. “You shall hold them in your arms soon, my Anna, I promise you. I forget, sometimes, in my own desire to have a son, that you, too, long for children.”
“Every day, the yearning is stronger,” I said.
“I will not let you down, my love,” Henry replied. “One day, you will have all you want.”
“And what of you?” I asked, smiling. “Should you not have all you want too?”
“You are all I want.” He lifted my hand and kissed it gently.
We rose to join all the court in a brawl; a round dance that had originated in the peasantry, but had become popular at court. Then, Henry and I danced a passamezzo together, a more lively version of the stately pavane. Then followed a saltarello, a dance in which we pranced and tripped about one another, with Henry lifting me, almost flying through the air at times, through the leaps and jumps. There was none at court who could best me for the agility of my body and the nimbleness of my feet. When the dances began and ended, all at York Place curtseyed and bowed to Henry and me… in reverence to their King and Queen…
In the New Year, Henry again added to my father’s titles. He was made Lord Privy Seal, making him England’s third highest-ranking officer of state. My father wanted further recognition of our family’s new status and George was made the English Ambassador to France, a most advantageous placement for such a young man! Our family resided now amongst the highest powers in England. George was also made a member of the Privy Council; possibly the youngest man to have ever sat upon it. Boleyns now surrounded Henry. My father, George and I were now his closest friends and advisors. Erasmus himself sent his portrait to Henry Norris, whom he knew to be our friend, and dedicated a book to my father.
George was immensely proud of his new titles, and before he left for France to present his new credentials, many at court started to complain that of all the haughty Boleyns, George was the one most affected by the sin of pride. Tom spoke to me, concerned that George’s new attitude was hardly winning hearts. “He roams about with such a look on his face, Anne, that all would think he was the King himself!” He shook his head and glanced at me worriedly.
“He feels pride where pride is due, Tom,” I replied, pulling a golden stitch through a piece of cloth. I was embroidering a cushion for Henry’s bed with our emblems of the falcon and the rose shown together. “The King shows trust and honours my family. I would hope that you were pleased to see us rise.”
“I am pleased for you, in some ways, Anne,” he said, looking uneasy. “But in others… I know not…”
“What do you mean?” I looked up as I pulled another stitch through the cloth.
“You have become so… hard…” He bit his lip as he finished speaking.
“I have had to grow a thick skin about me, Tom; such may make any woman less yielding than she was before.” I glanced at him and sighed, putting my embroidery aside. “I am ever as I have been,” I told him. “But this Matter of the King’s marriage, it has taken more from me than I could ever tell you. Perhaps God seeks to test me, test my patience and my resolve.”
“Perhaps…” he said softly. “But I would not that in all of this you become something you are not, Anne.” He shook his head, and went to leave, but at the door he turned back. “Perhaps it was all ordained, Anna,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked again.
“The Chateau Vert… do you remember? That pageant when you first came to court? Do you remember the role you played then?”
“Perseverance,” I said and then laughed as I understood his meaning. He grinned to see me smile.
“That is a sound I hear not enough of these days, Anna… your laugh… I would that we heard it more.”
“As would I, Tom,” I said. “As would I.” I stood from my chair and crossed to him, taking his arm. “Do not think that I have changed so much as to forget your good friendship to me. I am still a friend to those I love well, and I am gentle with them… But to my enemies, Tom, I cannot afford such grace.”
“I know, Anna,” he said, stroking a hand on mine. “Just try to remember the love of life that ere you enjoyed, and to try to remove some of the disdain from your face when you come to court.”
“My face but mirrors what I am shown,” I murmured sadly.
He took hold of my chin and lifted it to face him. “Then look more upon the faces of friends, my Anna, and all will be well.” He kissed my hand and took his leave. My visits with Tom were all too rare these days, but I treasured each of them.
By February, Henry was spending all his time at York Place with me. We spent day after day reviewing the renovations and embellishments we had initiated in the palace. The Boleyn emblems, and my own, were painted, carved and moulded onto every available space next to Henry’s own heraldic symbols. We also, of course, talked about the Great Matter.
Henry had begun, publicly, to question the Pope’s authority. He was frustrated at Clement, but recent struggles aside, Henry had long resented the authority of the Church over certain issues in his realm. Early in his reign, Henry had supported a ruling that the decrees of the Church and Rome were admissible in England only with his express approval. He had never denied the spiritual authority of the Pope, but had said even then that the kings of England were appointed by God, and therefore had no superior but God within their realm. These events came back to him now, and added to his growing belief that Clement was not the one who should decide on his Great Matter.
Henry was becoming increasingly bold. Whilst most people held that papal authority was granted by God and therefore immovable, Henry was heard arguing that his authority was also granted by God. Who, therefore should decide but the King, on what was right in his own kingdom? The Pope ruled in Rome, but Henry ruled in England. He began leaning further towards the ideas that we reformers held dear.
To him, Henry’s Great Matter became primarily about his right, as King, to do as he willed. To me, it was about the change that we could set forth in England; a chance to establish a reformed Church, free of corruption, existing only for the service of God. Encapsulated within our desire to be married, we had each found our higher mission.
Clement believed that Henry was blustering when he spoke bitterly of removing Rome’s authority for good from England, but many of us were most interested in Henry’s new leanings. Perhaps there were other ways for us to achieve what we wanted here… Perhaps if Henry could be persuaded, then another path would be opened to take us to our goal.
But it seemed to me that many in our faction, Suffolk and Norfolk most notably, had small interest now in pushing for the annulment.
They had achieved the removal of Wolsey, and their own ascent to power. Now that they were each in their own position, they were not overly keen to place me on the throne. Norfolk especially did not like me; he hated the way I talked to him, the lack of respect I showed to him, and he was having trouble convincing Henry that he was competent to replace Wolsey. Why should he trouble himself much with my cares? It became obvious that Norfolk had had no real intention of seeing me placed on the throne. Although I had never harboured a great deal of trust in my slippery uncle, it was a surprise to find that he so quickly took off the mask that had concealed his true intentions.
“Norfolk shows but small interest in the King’s Matter lately, my lord father,” I complained as he visited my chambers. “I thought that he was as set on Katherine’s removal as are the rest of us, but it seems that all he said, of the Scriptures and all else, was but a feint to enlist our help in removing Wolsey. He has used us as his soldiers, father… as his pawns.”
My father snorted. “Norfolk knows nothing of Scripture,” he said dismissively. “The man has never read the Bible… He picks up what he knows from others and uses their words as his own. It is how he appears cleverer than he is. This I have learnt well enough of late, struggling aside him on the Council to cover his blunders.”