by Alison Weir
Anna was choked—just when she had determined not to be. “I shall miss you too, Liebling,” she murmured. “Take great care of yourself. Maybe, next year, it will be you setting off on your wedding journey.” She had a sudden vision of the years flying by, and of them all getting older, but staying the same in memory. “Come and visit me in England if you can.”
“I will, I will!” Emily cried, face wet, hood askew.
The worst parting had been saved for last. Anna knelt for her mother’s blessing, for one final time.
“May God preserve and keep you, my dearest child,” Mutter said, her voice unwavering. “May He bless you all the days of your life, and keep you safe on your journey, and bring you to a happy and fruitful marriage.”
Anna stood up and embraced her, gazing into that beloved face. For the first time, she realized that Mutter was growing old. She would be fifty soon. Pray God they would meet again in this life. She felt tears welling once more. It was like a dam in her, waiting to burst.
“Farewell, Anna,” Mutter said, tracing Anna’s cheek with her finger. It was the tenderest gesture Anna could remember her making. “Go and be a good queen, for Kleve.”
“I will, dearest Mutter,” Anna promised, her voice unsteady. “Farewell.”
She climbed into the chariot, settling herself on the crimson velvet cushions. Mother Lowe was seated opposite, with Susanna Gilman. They had placed stone bottles filled with hot water by Anna’s seat to keep everyone warm.
Anna pushed back the window blind and forced herself to smile at her family. She did not want their last memory of her to be of a tearful face. There would be letters, she reminded herself, although Mutter had said she would wait until she heard that Anna was safely in England before writing to her. Anna suspected Mutter did not wish to unsettle her, in the early days of their parting, with thoughts of home.
Trumpets sounded some way ahead, and she heard the driver crack his whip, and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones as the great parade moved forward. She waved to Mutter and Wilhelm and Emily, feeling as if her chest would burst with emotion, and then her chariot was lumbering through the gatehouse, at the heart of the great procession that was to accompany her to Calais, and then England.
Before and behind her she could hear the thundering of the 228 horses conveying her retinue of 263 persons, and the marching tramp of the soldiers of her escort. Wilhelm had provided her with a hundred personal servants. They included her cofferer, the broad-set Jasper Brockhausen, with his wife Gertie, both of whom she had liked on sight. She had her own cook, Meister Schoulenburg, under whose fierce tutelage she had spent many an industrious hour in the palace kitchens. And, at Mutter’s instance, Wilhelm had allowed her to bring the good Dr. Cepher. She had also her own chaplain, secretary, grooms, pages, and footmen. Her brother-in-law the Elector had lent her thirteen trumpeters and two drummers to proclaim her coming at every place she stayed en route. It was they who had sounded her departure.
Most of her German train would return to Kleve after the wedding. She prayed, though, that King Henry would allow her to keep Mother Lowe and some of her maids, and Dr. Cepher, at the very least. But not, please God, Otho von Wylich.
* * *
—
Their progress toward Flanders was slow. The first night was spent at Duke Wilhelm’s castle of Wijnendale at Ravenstein. They covered only three miles on the second day, and lodged in Batenburg Castle in Guelders, on the banks of the Meuse. Anna retired quickly to her chamber, where she would not have to worry about running into Otho von Wylich.
The next morning, Dr. Wotton asked to see her while she was eating breakfast.
“Your Grace, I have received word from England. His Majesty has decided not to have your marriage solemnized at Canterbury. He considers that your Grace should have more time to recover from your journey, and will receive you at his palace at Greenwich, where you will be married.”
“I am content with whatever his Majesty thinks best,” Anna said, secretly glad of the short respite, for trepidation was building in her already at the prospect of meeting her future husband.
They had passed through Tilburg and Hoogstraaten, and were now making for Antwerp. As each mile took Anna further from all that was dear and familiar, homesickness threatened to engulf her. It was all right in the towns, being feted and feasted; but on the long stretches of road, and in the night, she had too much leisure to brood on everything she had left behind.
“This journey is taking a frustratingly long time,” she complained, lifting the blind and peering out at yet another endless expanse of flat frosted fields. “We will be very late arriving at Calais. It is December already. The King had hoped for us to be married by now.”
“It cannot be helped,” Mother Lowe said.
“But I do not like to keep him waiting,” Anna fretted.
“Men need to be kept waiting,” Susanna observed. “It increases their ardor. They do not value what they obtain easily. By the time your Grace gets to Greenwich, the King will be in a fever of impatience!”
“Or annoyance!” Anna retorted. “I will tell Dr. Olisleger and Dr. Wotton I do not mean to stay at Antwerp more than one day. With luck, we may be in Calais six days afterward.”
She shivered. The stone bottles, which were refilled with boiled water each morning, had cooled, the blinds were next to useless at keeping out drafts, and they were huddled in cloaks, hoods, blankets, and thick gloves. Almost, Anna wished she had gone by sea!
* * *
—
As they neared Antwerp, Dr. Wotton rode alongside the chariot. “Your Grace,” he called, as Susanna pushed back the blind, “when we are four miles out, the English merchants of the Company of Merchant Adventurers will meet you to escort you to your lodgings.”
“That is most gracious of them,” Anna replied, “but I hope they will understand if we do not stay long. Time is pressing.”
“Yes, Madam, but we may be at the mercy of the weather. The lack of wind concerns me.”
“Oh, dear.” Anna’s spirits plummeted.
“Do not fret, your Grace. His Majesty is a seasoned sailor; he understands these things. And I bring good news too. The Emperor’s representatives will conduct you from Antwerp to Gravelines. They will join your train at Antwerp.”
“I have heard that Antwerp is a prosperous and wealthy city,” Anna said.
“It is one of the greatest trading centers in Christendom, with more than a thousand foreign commercial houses, many of them English. My Lord Cromwell and the English merchants have worked together to ensure that you are well received. Look, I see the merchants in the distance!”
Anna too could see a party approaching, and behind them the mighty walls and bastions of Antwerp.
The Saxon trumpeters blew a fanfare when the chariot drew to a halt and its blinds were thrown up. Anna alighted as the fifty Merchant Adventurers in their velvet coats and gold chains bowed low. The governor of their company, Master Vaughan, knelt to kiss her hand.
“Welcome to Antwerp, your Grace!” He beamed.
Although it was still afternoon, the merchants had brought with them a procession of eighty torchbearers to light her way into the city. At the Red Gate, the Emperor’s representatives, the Count of Buren and Ferry de Melen, with a handsome Imperial escort, were waiting to ride into the city on either side of Anna’s chariot.
“My lords,” she said, “I am indebted to his Imperial Majesty for his kindness in sending you both to me.”
The two men bowed. “It is our pleasure as well as our privilege,” the Count said.
Anna was astonished and moved to see so many crowds thronging the broad streets, cheering and waving heartily to her. Was this a foretaste of what it would be like in England? she wondered, raising her gloved hand in greeting and bowing her head graciously from right to left.
“I nev
er saw so many people gathered in Antwerp at any entry, even the Emperor’s,” Count von Buren exclaimed. He pointed out landmarks as they passed slowly through the crowds into the center of the city. “The English House, where you will lodge, is along here.”
Moments later, Anna saw before her a grand facade, three stories high, stretching for what must be a hundred yards. It was surmounted by the stepped gables so popular in Flanders.
Governor Vaughan came forward. “Welcome to our humble house, Madam.”
“But it is the most handsome lodging,” Anna smiled, as he showed her into her beautifully appointed rooms, “and I am so grateful to you for all your care for me.”
He bowed, and announced that open household would be kept in the English House for one day, for Anna and her train. In the evening, there would be a great feast in her honor. But of course, she must rest before they threw wide the doors to those who wished to be presented to her.
Anna was too wound up to rest. She bade her maids help her wash and change, then went downstairs and asked to see the garden behind the house, which she had glimpsed from her window. Governor Vaughan and Dr. Wotton showed her the way, and walked with her around the covered gallery bordering the garden. It was packed with stalls and booths, where a few vendors were hastily shutting up shop.
“We have over a hundred stalls, Madam,” Vaughan told her. “Here we sell our good English wool cloth to merchants from all over Europe.”
“Wool is the source of England’s wealth,” Dr. Wotton added. “It is much in demand everywhere.”
Anna would have liked to explore the garden, but he asked that she come inside, as people would be waiting to see her. After that, she was swept up in a whirl of receiving, pleasantries, and feasting. So many had come to greet her, or just to stare curiously at her; the benches around the laden tables were crammed with her hosts, and with dignitaries and officials, the good and the great of Antwerp, all eager to make her acquaintance. She barely had time to eat. With Susanna translating, she was learning fast how to make small talk with strangers while appearing to delight in their company. It did not come easily.
It was after midnight when she fell into bed. She must be up early tomorrow, for the open house was to last until late afternoon, and they must stay another night before they could be on their way again.
* * *
—
As many people flocked to see Anna on the second day as they had on the first. When she was at last free, dusk was falling, and her head was spinning as she led her attendants upstairs to her chamber. The fire was roaring up the chimney, making her swelter in her black-and-gold finery.
“I must get some air,” she said to Mother Lowe, who was sitting sewing, very red-faced. “It’s stifling in here!” She reached for her cloak.
On her way downstairs, with Susanna just behind her, she encountered Dr. Wotton.
“Your Grace!” he greeted her, with his ever-ready smile. “I was on my way to find you. May we speak?”
“Of course. Come with me to the garden.”
“I’ve had a letter from Lord Cromwell,” he told her as they walked along the graveled path, past curiously shaped parterres and ornamental trees in large pots. “His Majesty is anxious to learn of the German customs your Grace might wish to follow in England, to help ease your transition into your new life. He asks in particular about one called ‘breadsticks.’ ”
Susanna laughed. “He means Brautstückes!” she told Anna. “Dr. Wotton, it means ‘bride pieces.’ In Germany, on the morning after their marriage, a man of rank gives his wife a gift. It might be money, land, or jewels. He also gives Brautstückes to her gentlewomen, usually rings, brooches, or garlands; and to the men who serve her, gowns, doublets, or jackets of silk or velvet. This is what the Elector of Saxony did when he married the Lady Sybilla.”
“Mayhap his Majesty will give your Grace Brautstückes on your wedding morn!” Dr. Wotton smiled.
“That would be most thoughtful of him,” Anna said. “I very much appreciate his Majesty’s care for my happiness. I am as impatient to meet him as he is to see me. We do leave tomorrow, I hope?”
“Yes, Madam, and I trust we shall be at Bruges on Saturday.”
“And from there it is not far to Calais?”
“About seventy miles, Madam. The best part of the journey is behind you.”
“That is a relief!”
Dr. Wotton excused himself, and Anna and Susanna continued their walk around the garden. They encountered Anastasia von Schwarzburg walking back toward the house with Gerberge, another of Anna’s young gentlewomen, giggling together. They reddened, and hastily curtseyed, when they saw their mistress.
“Hurry in,” Anna urged. “If Mother Lowe catches you out unsupervised, you’ll get a scolding!” The young ladies thanked her and ran to the house.
“You had best go after them, and make it look as if they were with you,” Anna told Susanna. “I’ll wait here for you.”
It was bliss to be alone, if only for a few moments. Anna stood there in the middle of the garden, which was lit only by the glow of the lights blazing from the windows of the house, from which there issued the sounds of supper being prepared. Someone was tuning a lute.
A man stepped out of the shadows. “Your Grace, forgive me!” Suddenly, Otho von Wylich was on one knee before her.
Anna was so astonished she did not know what to say. “Forgive you?” she echoed.
“For startling you, my lady, and…for my youthful self.” He hung his handsome head; his hair was still long and wild.
“Oh…Do rise, please.”
“I wanted your Grace to know that I did not seek this position, or wish to discomfit you in any way. It was my kinsman, the Erbhofmeister von Wylich, who put me forward, and the Duke approved. I would have excused myself to you before, but it has been impossible to get near your Grace, and…well, I confess I was reluctant to face you. I owe you the most profound apology for what happened when we were young. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
He was so changed, but there was something of the unruly boy he had been in the man he was now. And while his had been the greater sin, for he had known what he was doing while she had not, she had been complicit. And he was happily married now.
“Willingly I forgive you,” she said, and gave him her hand to kiss. She felt a frisson at the touch of his lips, and drew it away. “It is on one condition: that you vow never to speak of it to anyone.”
“Of course,” he said, his blue eyes full of understanding, and something else—surely she was mistaken in recognizing it as more than admiration? “I solemnly vow never to speak of it. I too have my reasons for wishing to forget what happened.” His smile was self-deprecating. Anna was tempted to tell him that he had a son, but saw Susanna returning and knew that he must never find out. She felt a lump rise in her throat.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, as Susanna approached. “I will consider your request, but I should warn you there is no place at present for your wife among my ladies.”
Otho took the hint, and bowed. “Thank you, Madam.”
“A good-looking young man, that,” Susanna commented as they continued their circuit of the garden.
“Indeed,” Anna agreed. “He is a cousin of mine.” She was suffused with all kinds of emotions, but the one that was paramount was relief. Otho was no threat to her—and her fear of him had vanished.
Chapter 7
1539
Anna arrived in Bruges a day late, cold, damp, and dispirited at the delay, and retired to her chamber, too tired even to think of seeing some of the wonders of the famed city.
She was cheered by the delivery of a crate of wine, a gift from the civic authorities, and gratefully accepted a glass, and then another, and another. The first helped her to relax; the second gave her a glowing feeling, and after the third,
she was positively merry. She and her ladies spent a very convivial evening telling each other jests over supper.
From Bruges, Anna journeyed to Oudenburg, Nieuwport, and Dunkirk. On Monday, December 8, her chariot was halted by fast messengers from Calais. The Lord Admiral and his suite had been there some time, they said, and were being entertained while they waited for their new Queen. Dr. Wotton, seated on his horse beside her chariot, had a letter from the Admiral. “Lady Lisle has received many gifts for your Grace, and is preparing a fine table for you,” he recounted. “I hope you like venison and wild boar!”
Anna smiled. “I’m sure I will enjoy her hospitality.”
“Her ladyship is a forward woman.”
“I will not mind, if it means I am at last on English soil,” Anna said, as the procession began to move on. “The delays must have cost my brother a lot more than he anticipated.”
“We shall be in Calais on Thursday,” Wotton assured her, spurring his horse, “and once your Grace enters the English Pale, you and your whole train will be at the King’s charge. With luck, we shall cross the Channel on Saturday.”
The next day, Anna reached Gravelines, where the captain of the town had ordered a shot of guns to salute her. Here, she would rest for two nights and prepare herself for her official reception in Calais. Only sixteen miles further to go…
Early on Thursday morning, the Count of Buren and Ferry de Melen said their farewells, having seen Anna safely through the Emperor’s dominions. She thanked them heartily, and walked out to the waiting chariot.
It was not quite eight o’clock when, just past Gravelines, they reached a great turnpike. Here, with her trumpeters and drummers going before her, Anna passed into the English Pale. Waiting to receive her was a large company of mounted men, gentlemen-at-arms wearing velvet coats and gold chains, and a guard of archers in the King’s own livery.
A tall, middle-aged man with aristocratic features stepped forward and bowed low before her. This must be the King’s Deputy, the Governor of Calais. She had been told that Arthur Plantagenet, Viscount Lisle, was uncle to his Majesty, being the bastard son of King Edward IV.
