by Alison Weir
Needing a change of scene, and having no stomach for repeatedly running into Sir Thomas Cawarden, she sought refuge for herself and her household at Hever Castle, where she could grieve in peace. She wanted something to mark the King’s passing, so she commissioned a local artist to paint her in her mourning weeds, seated on her great chair. She hung the portrait in her bedchamber, alongside one of Henry.
Every day, as she walked through the castle, the memories of his visit were vivid. She imagined she heard the clatter of his horse’s hooves as he rode into the courtyard. Almost it was as if he walked beside her in the long gallery. He had been such a solid, reassuring presence in her life, and in the life of the kingdom, that it was hard to believe he was gone. She had loved him more than she had realized.
* * *
—
It was as the Lady Mary had feared. It had been proclaimed that, under the leadership of Queen Jane’s brother, Edward Seymour—who had promptly created himself duke of Somerset, and been named Lord Protector—the Council was to rule England in the name of the young King Edward VI. One of its first decrees was that the Protestant faith was to be the official religion of England; Catholicism and the Mass were outlawed.
Through Sir John Guildford, Anna learned what was happening at court. It was amazing how many people had kept their Lutheran leanings secret under King Henry and were now hastening to express their zeal for the new religion. Queen Katharine was among them. Sir Thomas Cawarden had quickly made his strong Protestant convictions clear, and was high in the graces of the Council and the young King, who had given him lands near the royal palace of Nonsuch in Surrey.
“Not only does he have the use of a fine house at Blackfriars, as Master of the Revels, but he also boasts he now has estates in seven counties,” Sir John told Anne over supper the night after he returned from one of his regular visits to Whitehall.
“Hopefully, he will not be satisfied to remain as my steward at Bletchingley,” Anna said.
“Alas, Madam, it suits him very nicely. He is well entrenched in those parts, where he has much influence.”
“Then I shall stay here at Hever. I was thinking of going to court to congratulate King Edward, and remind him and the Council that I exist, but with all these religious changes, it might be wiser to stay away. Without a queen in residence, there would be no place for me at court anyway.” And, she thought, possibly no welcome. She had found out that King Henry had been dead for four days before anyone thought to tell her. She had a feeling that, for those now in power, she had ceased to be of any importance.
She had decided that, if she was asked to conform to the new religion, she would pay lip service to it, to stay safe. God would know what was in her heart. In the meantime, she had bidden Sir Otto Rumpello, her new German chaplain, to continue to celebrate Mass. Surely no one would object if it was in the privacy of her own home?
No one did. Probably no one cared enough.
She was more worried about money. Mr. Chomley having retired, her trusty countryman, Jasper Brockhausen, had replaced him as cofferer, and yesterday he had come to her with his account books.
“Madam,” he said as he laid them before her, “we have a problem. While the late King lived, your annual allowance of four thousand pounds was paid regularly, and he often supplemented it with grants. But, since his passing, the payments have fallen into arrears. There is a deficit of a hundred and twenty-six pounds in the annual accounts.”
“Oh dear,” Anna groaned. “Our finances are tight enough as it is.”
“They are.” Jasper’s sandy eyes were full of concern. “Sir John says prices have doubled in a decade. He blames the old King, for debasing the currency.”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, and I suppose, if I am feeling the pinch, the Council is too. But I have no choice. I must appeal to them for help.”
She sent Sir John Guildford and her other household officers to present her petition. They returned the same day, and her spirits soared to see them looking more buoyant than they had when they set out.
“Their lordships were sympathetic,” Sir John told her. “They have confirmed all the grants made to your Highness, and are granting you an extra one hundred and eighty pounds yearly. These arrangements will remain in place until the King reaches his majority at the age of eighteen.”
“Oh, that is such a relief!” Anna cried. The normally reserved Jasper smiled at her.
But Sir John had not finished. “The Council suggested that the grant of another estate might make up any shortfall.” He appeared to be choosing his words with care. “Madam, they have decided that you should rent out Bletchingley to increase your income, and take Penshurst Place and park in Kent in its stead. It is a fine house…”
Anna was not listening. Rent out Bletchingley, after she had done so much to it? Of course, it made sense practically. Yet she would have preferred to have rented out Hever. She could not rely on a tenant to keep in check the pretensions of Sir Thomas Cawarden; the man was too intimidating. Besides, she loved Bletchingley.
“Madam?”
“Yes, Sir John?” She tried to focus on what he was saying about the glories of Penshurst.
“Madam, I had no choice but to agree to the exchange on your behalf. I have here a letter from Lord Protector Somerset for you.”
She read it quickly. The Lord Protector and his fellows considered that Penshurst would be perfect for her, for it was near to Hever. Her eyes widened in outrage as she read that Somerset had thought it good to “plant” Sir Thomas Cawarden in Bletchingley. Worse still, he required Anne to surrender to him all her interest in the house and its lands, in return for a yearly rent of £34. In Sir Thomas, she was assured, she would have an honest tenant who would see her revenue assured, and the arrangement would be in keeping with the late King Henry’s wishes, which the Lord Protector doubted not that she would wish to respect.
She was shaking by the time she got to the end of the letter. He had won. He had wrested Bletchingley from her; now it was as good as his, and he could live there in great style at a very reasonable rent.
She was not going down without a fight.
“I will consent to this on two conditions,” she declared. “First, that Sir Thomas agrees I can stay at Bletchingley whenever I wish, and that when I do, he will take himself off elsewhere; and second, that he will give me each year twelve haunches of venison from the deer park. The venison is very good there, as you know.”
“I do not foresee any difficulty with those conditions,” Sir John said.
“When is Sir Thomas to be planted in Bletchingley?” she asked bitterly.
“Two days hence, Madam.”
“Really? He has been busy!”
* * *
—
She was still smarting over being displaced by the scheming Cawarden when, a week later, an emissary from her brother arrived at Hever. It was the learned Konrad Heresbach, Wilhelm’s former tutor, now his councillor, a man she had once known quite well.
She led him to her parlor, where a fire was burning on the hearth.
“It is so good to see you, Herr Doktor. How are the Duke and my sister?”
“In good health, Madam. I have letters from them for you, and also one from the Duchess Maria.” He opened his scrip and handed them over. “The Duke has sent me to console you in your bereavement, to look to your welfare and ensure that you are managing financially. In Germany, we hear there is great inflation in England.”
Anna told him about the accommodation she had reached with the Council. She did not say how unhappy she was about it, for, on the face of it, it seemed a sensible arrangement.
“King Edward did tell me you are now well provided for. I had an audience with him in London before riding down here.”
“What did you make of him?”
“He is a remarkable chil
d, very learned and self-assured; sharp-witted too, and zealous for the Protestant faith. But there is a coldness there, a lack of feeling.”
“Unlike his father,” Anna observed.
“Now there, by all accounts, was a terrifying man!” Heresbach said. “I have heard him called the English Nero.”
“He was always a friend to me,” Anna said. “I think he had many frustrations in his life, which made him what he was in his later years. I miss him greatly.” She could feel the ever-ready tears threatening. “But I am cheered to see you. Please stay for a few days, and consider my house your own.”
* * *
—
Three days later, after Dr. Heresbach had departed, satisfied that Anna was well provided for, she decided to move her household to Penshurst, a grand house of mellow sandstone, with four corner towers and a magnificent beamed hall. The gardens were glorious, arranged like a series of open-air rooms bordered by box hedges, and they were just coming into bloom as she and Otho wandered from one to the other, exploring, and snatching an occasional kiss.
“It is not such a bad place after all,” he said, pausing by an ornamental fountain. She sensed a suppressed excitement in him, as if he were about to tell her some good news.
“True,” she agreed. “It’s not Penshurst that annoys me; it’s that man getting his hands on Bletchingley.”
“Forget him,” Otho urged, drawing her into his arms. “It’s idyllic here.” He kissed her tenderly. Always he aroused her, yet still she resisted her desire for him. Being caught out in any misconduct might give the Council an excuse to withdraw her settlement.
“You are preoccupied,” he said, as they strolled on.
“Yes. The steward told me that this house, like Bletchingley, once belonged to the Duke of Buckingham, who was beheaded for treason. It seems I am fated to acquire houses with a sad history.” She looked around her, listening. There was nothing but birdsong and the coo of a pigeon, but she lowered her voice. “There is something else. My brother writes that the Emperor has destroyed the Schmalkaldic League. He is determined to crush the Protestant religion. My brother-in-law, the Elector of Saxony, is now a prisoner. He and my sister Sybilla are very close, and I am concerned for them.”
“Understandably,” Otho said, and put a protective arm around her.
“There is nothing I can do, and I imagine Wilhelm is powerless in the face of the Emperor. Thank goodness Kleve never joined the Schmalkaldic League.”
“I have news too,” Otho said. “Hanna is dead of a fever, God rest her. I wish I could mourn her more than I do.” He turned to face her, taking her hands and gazing at her with longing. “Anna, you realize what this means? We are both free. Will you marry me?”
No wonder she had sensed his excitement. A surge of happiness, the first she had felt in months, rose in her. She wanted to laugh out loud, dance, cry, and sing, all at once.
“Say yes!” Otho urged, his eyes shining.
“I so want to,” Anna breathed. “I would say yes now, but there are so many considerations…”
“Such as?” He was still smiling at her.
“I might lose my allowance, my houses, and the means to support my household.”
“You were assured that you could marry again. It was one of the terms of your divorce settlement.”
“Yes, but this new government might seize on any excuse to rescind that.”
“You could send Sir John to ask permission to remarry.”
“I could.” She wondered what was holding her back. She needed time to collect her thoughts.
“Think on it, Anna! We could be a family. Johann is sixteen now; he will have completed his apprenticeship and can come here. I will myself go and fetch him.”
“That would be wonderful!” she cried, ecstatic with joy.
“Say yes!” Otho pressed her. “I know I could make you happy. Think on it.”
She did think. She thought about little else in the days that followed, as Otho prepared for his journey to Kleve. He had the perfect pretext, that he was going to attend his wife’s funeral. Most of the household, having seen how it had been between them, thought it a noble gesture.
* * *
—
“The court is in an uproar!” Sir John Guildford announced, as he joined the household at table in the solar, having just returned from London. “It’s emerged that the Lord High Admiral, Sir Thomas Seymour that was, secretly married Queen Katharine not long after King Henry’s death.”
“He took a risk!” Thomas Carew observed, passing the salt. He had proved a most reliable servant, and had taken on several of the steward’s duties after Mr. Horsey had died last year.
“Aye. The Protector is furious that his own brother should have presumed so far, especially since, if the Queen proved to be with child, there might be a chance it was the late King’s—and that would have implications for the succession.”
“What will happen to them?” Anna asked, jolted into a new awareness of how perilous it was for redundant queens to attempt matrimony.
“It’ll be the Tower for them, mark my words,” said Mother Lowe, ladling some pottage into her bowl.
“It could be construed as treason,” Sir John said. “Impugning the succession is a capital crime.”
Anna made up her mind. When Otho returned from Kleve, she would tell him marriage was out of the question—at least for now. In its present mood, the Council might not look kindly on it, and she dared not risk being forbidden to marry Otho—a bastard whom some might deem no match for a princess—or wedding him without permission. She might lose her settlement and so many depended on her.
She had been counting down the days until his return, desperate to see her son, but now she was half dreading it. She must do her utmost to convince him they were better off as they were. It was enough to know he wanted her as his wife.
* * *
—
As the tall youth bowed before her, Anna’s heart felt as if it would burst. Her eyes met Otho’s, and she could read in them the answering emotion he was feeling, and the triumph.
“Welcome, Johann,” she said, yearning to embrace her son, but knowing she must not. He looked up, in awe of her, and she could see both herself and his father in him, yet not so plainly that people would notice. She was filled to the brim with love for him. That feeling had not lessened since she had seen him as a young child; indeed, it was fiercer. She could not believe he was here.
“I hear you are a journeyman swordsmith,” she said.
“I have just completed my apprenticeship, my lady,” he said in German, in the deep tones of incipient manhood. “My father wanted me to practice my craft and gain customers, but I wanted to see more of the world, as I told Herr von Wylich. I am very grateful to him for bringing me to England to serve your Highness.” Anna marveled that he spoke so well and courteously.
“And your parents, they are happy about this?”
“Yes, my lady. My father says I must appease my wanderlust before I settle down to my craft, but I am not so sure now that I want to be a swordsmith. The world is full of opportunities!” He smiled, and Anna melted.
“We have not the wherewithal for you to make swords here anyway,” she said, “but you may serve in my chamber as a groom. If you give good service, you can look for preferment.” She could not give him any higher position for fear of arousing suspicion. Already Jasper had expressed surprise that she was taking on a new servant.
“It is as a favor to Otho,” she had told him. “He is anxious to find a place for a young kinsman.” Which was true.
When, reluctantly, she had sent Johann off with Mr. Carew to settle in, and she and Otho escaped to the gardens to sing their son’s praises and catch up on news, she knew she had to tell him of her decision. She could put it off no longer.
“Dear heart, we cannot marry
just now.” As she explained why, he looked as if she had dealt him a mortal blow. “It’s not that I don’t love you,” she said, when he opened his mouth to protest. “I do! But for the present, I want us to go on as we are. I could not bear to lose you. If things were otherwise, I would marry you at once—need you doubt it?”
His face was filled with such pain that she felt it physically.
“My Anna!” he said brokenly. “All the time I was away, I was cherishing the thought that, when I returned, you would be my wife, and mine entirely. Will you not reconsider? Queen Katharine took a foolhardy risk in marrying so soon after King Henry’s death. We would not be taking such a risk. Who cares what the likes of us do? You are thirty-one, I am thirty-three; we are no longer young, and we don’t have time to waste. Go to the Council! Ask them. It can do no harm. It’s not as if we’ve taken matters into our own hands.”
He was right.
“I will,” she said. “For you, I will ask.”
“For us,” he corrected her, and drew her to him.
* * *
—
She told her household she was going on a hunting expedition, and then, with Otho and just two grooms accompanying her, rode northward toward Greenwich, where the court was in residence. It took them three days, and they had to stay overnight at wayside inns. To Anna’s dismay, when she got to the palace, she found long queues of petitioners waiting to go before the Council. Fortunately, an usher recognized her and arranged for her to be seen next.
Seated at a long table was the Lord Protector himself, with Sir William Paget on one side and Sir Thomas Wriothesley, now Earl of Southampton, on the other. The previous Earl—the Admiral who had brought her to England—had been dead these five years.
“My lady of Cleves,” said the Protector, giving her what passed for a smile. “How can we help you?”
