Anna of Kleve, the Princess in the Portrait

by Alison Weir

  “To remove now, Madam, might be to fuel the rumors. If you were to seclude yourself at a distance from the court, people may jump to the wrong conclusions.”

  “Well, I will think on it,” Anna said, exasperated. “Tell me, Dr. Harst, you do believe me blameless in this?”

  “Yes, Madam, I do.” His expression was sincere, she was gratified to see. “Forgive me if I seemed to doubt you. Believe me, I will do all in my power to refute the rumors.”

  Anna was overjoyed when, on a gray and windy December day, Otho presented himself in her chamber, where he found her surrounded by her ladies. He had been gone for weeks, without word, and she was in a fever of anticipation, wondering what he had to tell her.

  “Otho, dear cousin, this is a pleasure,” she said as he bowed before her. “I do hope you have had a good journey. How is my brother, the Duke?”

  As Otho’s blue eyes sought hers, she saw in them the memory of what had passed between them, and her heart leaped. “The tide was with us, Madam, so we made excellent speed from the Zuyder Zee. And I have much in the way of news for you. Some is for your ears alone.”

  She caught his drift. “Ladies, please leave us. My cousin and I would speak in private. Frances, please pour us some wine before you go.”

  They waited until the last footsteps had echoed away. Anna held out her hand, but Otho bent to embrace her and kiss her long and lovingly on the lips. She had missed him dreadfully, and ached to continue, but her need to hear about Johann was paramount, greater even than her desire for his father.

  “Did you see him?” she asked eagerly.

  “I did,” he smiled, “and I have talked with him on several occasions and become his friend, as he assures me. He is a fine boy, and shows great promise. Anna, I can see both of us in him, but not so plainly that people would guess. The Schmidts are good people, the house is clean and the father’s trade thriving.”

  “But is he happy?”

  “Yes, happy in the sense that he knows no other life. I think he could benefit from a sounder education, for he is intelligent, and forward for his age.”

  Anna was twisting her rings. “Does he love the Schmidts?”

  “Yes, I believe so. They are kind to him, and indulge him a little, but the father is strict when teaching him his trade. Johann is treated no differently from the other apprentices. Anna, he is happy, for now. I asked him, by way of a jest, if he would like to come and live in England with me, in a great palace, and serve the Princess of Kleve, and he laughed and said he would like that very much. So I said that, one day, we will consider it, but in the meantime he must serve his apprenticeship, and serve it well.”

  She was conscious of a searing sense of disappointment. Almost, she had wanted Otho to find the boy keen to leave his foster home, so that he would have had to bring him to England. A place could readily be found for him at Hever or one of her other houses, where no one would guess who he was.

  “I wanted him with me,” she said, near to tears.

  Otho took her hands. “Anna, you must be patient.” Reluctantly, she realized he was right.

  “How long? Can an apprenticeship be broken?”

  “In theory, Johann is bound by his indenture for seven years; in practice, palms can be smoothed.”

  “Seven years?” she cried.

  “Anna, calm yourself.” His arms enfolded her again. “I promise you, as soon as the time is right, I will fetch him.”

  She clutched at him, kissing him fervently, overcome by the moment. “Thank you, my dear heart!” Their kisses grew violent, and then they were coming together in a tangle of laces and heavy skirts, both consumed with desire, and aware of the need for haste.

  * * *

  —

  Having spent the last Christmas miserably immured in Calais, Anna was determined that this one should be celebrated in true German style, and that her whole household should enjoy it. Early December found her in the kitchens, standing beside Meister Schoulenburg at the long table, making spice cakes and gingerbread, and humming as she did so, for she was happy in the knowledge that, at last, she was loved for herself. Otho made her feel cherished and protected. If only they could see each other openly, and not have to snatch time together at opportune moments, how wonderful life would be. But they had to be so careful, and that meant a considerable degree of self-denial. Yesterday, however, they had ridden out hunting in the park and managed to lose Anna’s attendants, and, for a brief, breathless moment, they had made love in an old hut screened from view by trees. It had left her sleek and contented, like the cat stretched out by the kitchen fire.

  On Christmas Eve, Heilige Abend, Anna’s household watched curiously as she set up a little fir tree in the hall, and decorated it with apples, nuts, and some paper flowers she had made.

  “Martin Luther may be a heretic,” she told them, fixing candles to the branches, “but he started a delightful custom that we in Kleve like to observe. One night, he was walking through a forest when he looked up and saw thousands of stars twinkling through the branches of the trees. It inspired him to set up a fir tree in his house, lit with candles, to remind his children of the starry heavens whence our Savior came.”

  Some looked dubious, clearly wondering whether any deed of the arch-heretic Luther could be accounted good; but others were smiling.

  “Pray light the candles, Sir William,” Anna said, and the chamberlain came forward with a glowing taper. The tree did look pretty, and even the dubious admired it.

  “And now I will give you all your presents, like the Christkind, the bringer of gifts.” Anna smiled. This too, she knew, was not their custom, for they exchanged gifts at New Year, but it would be an extra treat for them. It would be compensation for her absence after New Year—for she was going to court, having accepted the King’s invitation.

  She had chosen her gifts with care, commissioning silver-gilt cups and goblets from a goldsmith in nearby Kingston, and was thrilled to see faces light up as she presented them. Gertrude and Katharina exclaimed in delight. Even Wymond Carew thanked her effusively. It had been worth the expense.

  Then it was time for supper, and sausages, as was traditional. Anna presided at the high table in the hall, the Advent wreath with its four candles sitting proud on a platter before her. After supper, flushed with wine, they all sang carols, some of which, she was surprised to find, had both German and English words. As she looked around the hall, at the laughing faces of her servants and the handsome features of her lover, she felt truly contented.

  * * *

  —

  A week later, New Year’s gifts for Anna arrived from the King: jewels, bolts of rich fabrics, several fine pieces of gold plate, and money too. He had been lavish! She saw her ladies staring at the exquisite presents, and her heart sank. Heaven forbid that the gossips got to hear of it, for they might raise another bruit that Henry would take her back. She now wished she had not sent him those two great horses in their velvet trappings. No doubt that would be misconstrued too!

  As she sat in her chariot, wrapped in furs, on the third day of January, making the short journey to Hampton Court, she felt a certain trepidation. Would she find the palace a hotbed of gossip about her? Would people be pointing the finger and laughing behind their hands? God, let it not be so. She was praying too that the meeting with Queen Katheryn would not be an occasion for any awkwardness, now their positions had been reversed. Certainly there would be no resentment on her part; she was approaching it with a willing heart.

  As she rode with her small entourage through Kingston, she saw a horseman approaching, and recognized Lord William Howard, the Queen’s uncle, who hailed her jovially.

  “My Lady Anna, well met! How fortunate that I was passing this way. Let me escort you to the court.”

  Anna thanked him, and he turned his horse and rode ahead, alongside Otho and Sir William Goring.
At Hampton Court, he led her to the Inner Court, where she was received by the Duchess of Suffolk, the Countess of Hertford, and other ladies, who conducted her to her lodgings. She was gratified to find that she had been allocated a spacious apartment with luxurious furnishings.

  It was good to see the Duchess of Suffolk again, and although Anna would dearly have liked to complain about the Duchess’s husband getting Wymond Carew to spy on her, now was not the occasion. They chatted for a while, catching up on their news, while Anna’s maids fussed about her, making sure that not a hair was out of place. Lady Hertford, whom Anna barely knew, stood silently appraising her, making her feel uncomfortable. Heaven forbid she was looking for signs of a pregnancy!

  “We should make haste,” Lady Hertford said at last. “The Queen awaits your Highness.”

  The ladies escorted Anna to the Queen’s apartments. It seemed strange being here again; the last time she had occupied these rooms, she had been in constant perplexity about her marriage to the King and her future. It seemed a long while ago now.

  When she was announced in the presence chamber and walked to the dais, she saw that the gorgeously attired little Queen looked as plump and pretty as ever, and had acquired a consciously regal manner. Anna knelt at her feet with as much reverence as if she herself was now the maid-of-honor.

  “Oh, please, my Lady Anna, do not kneel to me!” Katheryn cried, bending forward to raise her. “I am so happy to see you! I have dearly hoped that we can be friends. You were always a kind mistress to me, and now I long to do you favor in return.” She embraced Anna and kissed her. You could not help liking the girl. Her charm was irresistible; she was like an eager puppy. Anna could see how she had cast an enchantment over Henry.

  “Make way for his Majesty the King!” an usher intoned, and there was Henry, stumping into the room and beaming broadly.

  “Welcome, Anna, my dear sister!” he said, opening his arms to her and pressing his lips to hers. “I see you two ladies are pleasantly according together. The horses are splendid—I cannot thank you sufficiently. My love…” He broke away and folded his arms around Katheryn. His lust for her was palpable. Anna had never seen him like this. The courtiers were exchanging knowing grins.

  Henry led them in to supper, with Katheryn on his right hand and Anna on his left. His presence chamber was festooned with evergreens, and filled with a seasonal aroma from candles set amid festive arrangements of pine cones, spiced dried oranges, and juniper berries. Anna was delighted to find the Lady Mary present, and they exchanged warm greetings. Then she was shown to a seat near the bottom of the high table. It was no less than she had expected, and she was still close enough to talk to the King and Queen. She relaxed and began to enjoy herself, and had to suppress a smile when she noticed Messire Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador, and other courtiers observing her carefully. What had they expected, a catfight between her and Katheryn?

  During, and after, supper, the conversation was lively, with much merriment, and Anna found herself getting on very well with Katheryn. Even Mary seemed to have forgotten her reservations about her young stepmother, and joined in the laughter.

  Anna was aware that Henry had aged a little since she last saw him. She caught him wincing once or twice, and guessed his bad leg was paining him. But Katheryn seemed oblivious. She was prattling on about the coming Twelfth Night celebrations, her latest gowns, the wonderful poems written by her cousin, the Earl of Surrey, and the gifts the King had showered on her at New Year.

  “Are we going to dance?” she asked. “Oh, Henry, please say we can dance. I love it when you lead me out before the court!”

  He smiled at her indulgently. Anna would never have dared call him Henry in public, but he did not seem to mind.

  “I think I am rather tired and would prefer to go to bed,” he said. “But you ladies can dance together.” He signaled to the musicians in the gallery, and they struck up a lively tune.

  “Oh, thank you, Henry!” Katheryn cried.

  “Don’t be too late,” he said, caressing her cheek as he rose to leave. Everyone stood, but he waved them down. “Be seated, my friends! Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  When he had gone, Katheryn held out her hand. “My Lady Anna, please dance with me!”

  Anna had practiced steps with her ladies at Richmond, anticipating that there would be dancing during the court festivities, but she had not anticipated being singled out like this. She glanced pleadingly at Mary, but Mary merely smiled encouragement.

  Anna steeled herself. “It will be my pleasure,” she said, taking the Queen’s hand, and they stepped down to the floor, all eyes upon them.

  “The pavane!” Katheryn cried, and the music began, slow and stately, to Anna’s relief, for she knew the paces. By the time the measure had ended, she was feeling more confident, and when the Queen called for a lively branle, she entered into it with enthusiasm. Katheryn danced prettily, as she did everything else, and Anna could not hope to match her, but what did it matter?

  The courtiers were flushed with wine and clapping heartily. Soon, at the Queen’s invitation, many couples took to the floor, and Anna found herself brushing shoulders with Otho. He was partnering one of the maids-of-honor, which caused her a pang, for the girl was looking up at him adoringly; but when they next passed, he sent Anna such a longing look as to set all her senses singing, and she gave him a secret smile.

  At that moment, she spied Chapuys watching her again. Had he noticed? She prayed not, else that brief exchange would soon be all over Christendom. She must be more circumspect, she chided herself, and warn Otho that he must try harder not to betray their love in public.

  But, oh, she wanted him. She wanted him badly, and she knew he wanted her too. They had had too little of each other.

  When the dancing had ended, the wine was all drunk, Katheryn had finally, reluctantly, gone to bed, and the great palace had settled down to sleep, Anna looked out of her window, and there was Otho, standing in the courtyard below. Flinging on her cloak, pulling the hood down to hide her face, she tiptoed through her lodging, praying she would not wake her women, then down the stair and out into the night air. She saw Otho put a finger to his lips and nod in the direction of the guards standing at the entrance to the royal apartments. She drew back into the stairwell, and he followed, closing the door and taking her there and then, without warning. It was glorious, all the more so for being illicit. She was sure no one saw or heard them.

  * * *

  —

  The next day, Anna dined with the King and Queen, again amid much conversation and laughter. In the afternoon, when she and Katheryn were playing backgammon in the Queen’s privy chamber, an usher arrived holding the leashes of two sweet little lap dogs. He bowed to Katheryn.

  “Your Grace, the King has sent you these gifts.” He passed her the leads and handed her a velvet pouch, from which she pulled a ruby ring, exclaiming in delight. The puppies were sniffing at the rush matting.

  “Oh, they’re adorable!” she cried, sweeping them up on her lap, where they crouched, quivering, their silky ears pressed back. “Oh, you silly things, you mustn’t be afraid of little Kafwyn,” she murmured, nuzzling their smooth heads. She looked up. “Anna, don’t you just love them?”

  Anna reached over to pet the little creatures. “I do. They are so pretty.”

  “They are yours!” Katheryn announced impulsively, plonking them on Anna’s lap.

  “Oh, but I couldn’t…”

  “I want you to have them.” She was like an eager child. “And the ring!”

  Anna was astonished, and thrilled. The ring was exquisite, and she could not imagine two more delightful pets than the little dogs. “Thank you!” She leaned forward and kissed Katheryn. “I’m so grateful, and really touched.”

  Katheryn turned to the messenger. “Pray thank his Majesty for his goodness to me, and say I will tha
nk him properly when I see him later.” She smiled archly.

  The usher bowed. “I will, Madam.” He turned to Anna. “The King sent this for your Highness.” He handed her a scroll bearing the royal seal. It was a grant of an annual rent of five hundred pounds. She could have bought over a hundred horses with that sum! “I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude to his Grace,” she declared—and she said the same, later on, to Henry himself, when he came to bid her farewell and himself escorted her to Base Court, where her party’s horses were saddled and waiting.

  “Prices are rising,” he said. “You may find that the settlement I made on you will not be sufficient. But do not worry. I will supplement it as necessary. You have only to ask.”

  She kissed him, moved by his thoughtfulness, resolving to make some gesture in return. When she got back to Richmond, she searched out an exquisite French Book of Hours Mutter had given her. It would be the ideal gift. Inside, she wrote: “I beseech your Grace humbly, when you look on this, to remember me. Your Grace’s assured friend, Anna, the daughter of Kleve.” Then she wrapped it in silk and arranged for a messenger to take it to Hampton Court.

  “You were a great success at court,” Mother Lowe observed as they watched him depart. “Do you know what people were saying? That the King likes you so much that he will have two wives!”

  Anna laughed. “The very idea! He seems a changed man. He really is like a brother to me. I am glad the Queen makes him happy.”

  Mother Lowe gave her a shrewd look. “And there is one who makes you happy too, if I am not mistaken.”

  Anna felt her cheeks burning.

  “I’ve known you all your life,” Mother Lowe said. “You’re glowing with it, child. Anyone can see the looks you give each other. Be careful, Anna. He is married—and he brought you down once before.”