It took an extra moment as the boys had to readjust the now loose jacket around me, tightening buckles and securing the sleeves.
Looking behind me into a small mirror, I saw how the jacket now hung about my form. Oh, I was not the size I had been in my youth by any means, but the jacket did attest that riding out, leading an army, and eating the gruel that came with a campaign had helped me.
“That is enough,” I finally said, waving the boys off. Both fell back immediately, bowing their heads.
“Arrange for the tailor to be brought,” I ordered the older one. “This jacket will need to be adjusted.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the boy murmured. I took one more look at myself in the mirror and left the room.
I could hear Anne’s chambers before I reached them, golden candlelight spilling out of the doors. It seemed the musicians had already arrived. As I approached I could smell the roasted pig that waited within for my supper. I had not heard much laughter at battle; it seemed foreign to me, and there was even a small shriek from one of the ladies as I approached the door. I could hear Anne’s gruff voice administer a rebuke but could not make out the exact words she said.
“His Majesty, the King!” a herald announced when I reached the door.
I had not been amongst the court for months, and it at first shocked me how they immediately stopped everything and turned to bow. Even the dancers, in mid stride, had let go of their partners and turned, their bows or curtsies deep. I had grown used to the informality of Guînes, where I was still given respect but not the absolute silent awe that came with the court.
Their groveling did not stop me for long and I quickly strode into the room, allowing my gaze to roam the room while I walked to Anne. Her court had finally come together; she had a large number of ladies-in-waiting who were scattered about the room, distinguishable by their dress. I noticed in the row of dancers three young women whose mothers must have sent them to the court for the first time; they could be no more than sixteen. One of the bolder ones, with rich brown hair, dared a smiled at me. I returned the kind gesture but continued to Anne, who had fallen into a curtsey of her own.
“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice still deep and accented. “I am pleased to once again be in your most gracious presence.”
It took me a moment to recover my voice, startled that Anne had learned to be a courtier this quickly. Once again she had surprised me.
I gestured for the court to rise as I took the higher throne that sat on Anne’s dais. It had been years since I had been to the queen’s rooms and as I sat I wondered if they had kept this same chair here since Jane had died. I felt sure they must have put it away, but I was suddenly haunted by the image of the king’s chair, always kept in readiness within the queen’s chambers, sitting empty while there was no queen.
I turned to Anne, knowing that any conversation she might engage me in would distract from my musings.
“I am pleased to see you returned from Kent,” I said with an inclination of my head.
Anne made the guttural noise I always associated with her and turned in her throne to speak with me, flustered.
“It was not a good idea, Your Majesty,” she said with a huff. “Lord Cromwell and I argued about it. However, Archbishop Cranmer and I were only two voices among many frightened men. I do hope when you return to France, we are left with more —“ Here, Anne pursed her lips, pausing to think of the correct word.
“Capable advisors,” she finally finished. During her diatribe Charles had approached the dais, sweeping into a bow. However his back had stiffened upon hearing Anne so readily criticize my advisors in front of the entire court.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I left the court with the advisors it needed,” I snapped back. “And you were not one of those advisors.”
Anne, who finally realized she had insulted me, did not respond. I bit down on the anger I felt, not wanting the court to gossip. Yelling at her in her own chambers would accomplish nothing. I concentrated on breathing, angry that she had made me defend my own councilors when I was still angry at them myself.
“Your Majesty, I know you have seen to those who have disappointed you, taking care to guide those wayward opinions that do not suit what your majesty needs,” Charles inserted smoothly. “I am pleased the Queen is not one of those who have disappointed you.”
I give Charles a sharp look, he was quite aware with how disappointed I was in the Queen at that moment. However it did dawn on me that she was probably not used to being rebuked; certainly none of the men I had left her with would dare do so. It seemed that while she had learned some arts of statecraft, she had not acquired what was needed to converse with a king.
But I did not want to quarrel and Charles had given me an opening.
“Yes, I was pleased with your actions while in Kent,” I responded, not willing to fully sanction what she had done while presiding over the cases of heresy. That would be a discussion for Cromwell and Cranmer, there would be little need to talk to Anne.
“I thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, looking down. Now that I turned to gaze at her, I could see a deep blush covering her cheeks, and I could only hope that she was not about to cry from my admonishment.
“And I am most pleased with your actions regarding Prince Edward,” I continued, purposefully softening my voice. “And with the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth. It is thanks to you that their safety was assured.”
Anne glanced back up at me with a smile. It amazed me that one who had given me such drastic insights into my court and kingdom could be so easily cheered.
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” she said. “I wished to ask that Prince Edward and the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth could join our court for the Christmastime festivities.”
I was about to object when Anne placed her hand onto my arm and continued.
“I know how anxious the ladies have been about their father, whilst you have been in France. And Prince Edward was so proud of you; I know he would want to hear the tales of your military conquests.”
It was very well done. Obviously Anne had been given some instruction on how to speak with me and she had been a good student. I felt flattered despite myself. And all she asked was for my children to return to court – children she had taken under her wing.
“We will write to the Lady Mary and to the Lady Elizabeth,” I said. “And ask them to join our court for the month of December. The Prince may join us for the Christmas feast, if there is no sign of illness and he is doing well.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Anne said, bowing her head, turning to smile slightly at Charles, who also looked pleased.
“Your Majesty,” he said, still smiling at Anne. “I hope Queen Anne might be spared to join me for a game of cards. I believe I had promised to teach her how to play Brag.”
A few of the nearby ladies agreed to join in on the game, and soon Anne was seated at a small table, with Charles Brandon at her side, carefully pointing to the cards in her hands. I looked back to the brunette who had early smiled at me but saw her sitting in a darkened alcove with one of my gentlemen ushers. I considered the effort it would take to approach her, flirt, and invite her back to my chambers. Instead I stood and, with a sigh, retreated to my rooms alone.
***
Christmas arrived quickly. I was so distracted by the preparations for our spring attack that I barely registered the arrival of my daughters – Mary on the first of December and Elizabeth four days later.
I only saw Anne a few times through that month and Charles always made sure he was in attendance when I did so, smoothing over the rough edges that came with any conversation between me and my wife.
It wasn’t until the day before Edward was due to arrive that my anger once again reared. I had spent the morning hearing a case of Cromwell’s against heresy and had called for the accused, two young men who had been holding mass, to be burned. I had joined Anne for the midday meal and the second course had barely been served when she ha
d started in.
“I wish to plead for the lives of John Lithow and Charles Pickney,” she had said bluntly. I sighed, knowing she would be unhappy with my decision but hoping that she would be smart enough to hold her tongue.
“My decision has no effect on you,” I snapped back.
“But Your Majesty, your decision affects the people I am suppose to rule, therefore I believe it does concern me.”
“They do not need your rule,” I countered back quickly. “They have the rule of a king. A woman, no matter who she is, could not supplant that.”
Anne bit her lower lip, and I hoped she would drop the matter. The rest of the court had fallen into a quiet whisper, and I knew they were hanging on every word that had been said. My humiliation at not being able to control my wife’s tongue rose up within me and I could feel the anger only growing as she began to speak again.
“They were not preaching Catholicism, merely speaking of it with four other young men.”
“Men who were in their service,” I responded bitingly. “Men who look to them for guidance. That is preaching.”
“Your Majesty, I believe you are wrong –“
A collective intake of breaths resonated around the table as most of my courtiers had heard what she had said, forcing my anger to go bubbling over. I slammed my hand onto the table, causing a tray of gravy to tumble into the lap of the Countess of Hertford, who shrieked as if she had been stung by a bee.
“You will not speak that way to me again!” I thundered, before thrusting my chair away from the table. I stormed from the room, pointedly ignoring the Countess who now had all eyes on her as she lamented her dress.
I reached my chambers in rapid time, the servants who crowded the hallways all but leaping out of my way as I thundered around corners. I went immediately to my window and looked out across the country I was attempting to protect from not only the French and Spanish, but heresy too. It took Cromwell only two minutes to appear behind me, having left his own meal where he had been seated farther down the table.
“Your Majesty —“
“By St. George, is there nothing that could be done?” I yelled, turning around to the smaller man. “You tell me this marriage is necessary, that there is no way it could be undone. You who freed me from the oppressiveness of Catherine, who took care of that witch who seduced me, can find me no way out of marrying a simple girl from Cleaves? At least the women who came before her knew their place!”
“Your Majesty, you know the reasons this marriage is necessary,” Cromwell answered, trembling but firm. “And I have received word just this morning from the good Duke of Cleaves, who has already sent two chests full of plate to pay for a larger army for your majesty. And he has begun to raise men himself. He talks of attacking France in the Spring.”
“Truly?” I asked, feeling the anger leave my body. “He has promised all this?”
“Yes,” Cromwell answered, reaching into his robes to pull out a thick letter. “I planned to show this to your majesty during our meeting this afternoon.”
I ripped the letter from Cromwell’s hand, a small corner of it staying between his thumb and forefinger. As I read the letter, I saw that Cromwell spoke the truth. And certainly more money would follow. I threw the letter onto the table next to me.
“Then leave his damn sister where she is.”
***
I received the Prince into my presence the next day, pleased that my three-year old could bow as well as any courtier. I was able to spend the entire afternoon with my son in the nursery, even playing with a small set of knights Charles had given the boy last Christmas. Though his governess said he played with them often, they were still in fine condition; he obviously did not tear toys apart for the sake of destruction.
I had refused to see Anne since her foolish words to me, and did not expect to cross paths with her before having to preside over the Christmas festivities together. Leaving most matters to Charles, two days later I once again snuck away from my afternoon duties, anxious to see my son. I waved off the herald that stood outside my son’s rooms, remembering the terrible call of “His Majesty, the King!” that always preceded my father’s terrifying entrances into the nursery. I instead crept into the outer room and, finding it empty, continued back toward Edward’s sleeping chambers.
“I am most grateful to see you in such good health.”
I paused outside the slightly opened door, my hand ready to push through. There was only one voice that would have stumbled over the “h,” drawing out the last word in that sentence. Anne was inside with my son.
“I am most pleased to see Your Majesty as well,” came the sharp high voice of my son.
“Ah, my boy, you do not need to call me Your Majesty,” Anne replied, a smile in her voice. Silence followed for a moment and thru the crack I could see my son thinking, worrying his lower lip until Anne reached out to stop him.
“Then shall I call you mother?”
I felt as if I had taken a fall from my horse as the air left my body. That my son would ask this of a woman who was so unlike his own mother, would see this awkward princess as a substitute for the queen his mother had been, shocked me.
“Oh, no, little one,” Anne replied, and I saw as she dropped to her knees before him, taking his small hands into hers. “You might call me Anne or stepmother if you wish. But I could never take the place of your mother, Queen Jane.”
Edward bit his little lip again until Anne once again pulled it out.
“My mother was very beautiful,” he said, but the sentence sounded almost like a question.
“Yes,” Anne answered. “Shall we sit, and I can tell you all about her?”
Nodding, Edward led Anne over to the window seat, and gestured for her to sit beside them. I had to shift to see them and was spotted by a maid, who wisely did not announce my presence.
“Your Mother was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom,” Anne began. “Which is why the king chose her amongst all the ladies in England to be his bride.”
“Did she look like you?” Edward asked.
“Oh no, she was much more beautiful than me. She had blonde hair, like you, and was lithe and willowy.”
Here Edward pulled a piece of his own hair in front of his eyes and examined it.
“And when she spoke, everyone listened, her voice was so beautiful,” Anne continued.
In truth Jane had had an awful voice, refusing to sing, even when she was a maid in Catherine’s court. But Anne would not know this, and Edward would know it even less.
“Your mother was a wise queen, as well,” Anne said, when Edward looked back to her. “Ambassador Chapuys called her the Peacemaker, because she reunited your sister Mary with the king.”
“I like Lady Mary,” Edward said nodding. “She was friends with my mother?”
“Oh, yes,” Anne answered. “You will have to ask your sister for stories about her. I know that they were great friends.”
Edward looked down, kicking his little feet. Gently Anne reached out, wrapping her arms around him as tears began to slip down his face.
“And I know that your mother loved you very much,” Anne said, speaking so softly I could barely hear her.
“How do you know?” Edward answered, hiccupping. “She did not even know me.”
“Because how could anyone help but love a prince such as yourself?”
Edward laughed a little and leaned further into Anne. Reaching up to my own face, I found tears there as well, which startled me. I had not cried over Jane since she had left me.
With a sigh, I backed away from the door, turning to the window in Edward’s outer chambers. Left in the relative privacy of the small room, I wiped away my tears and tried once again to bury the memories of Edward’s mother.
Chapter Nine
April, 1541
The time with my family moved swiftly, as it always seemed to do. Edward had returned to Richmond Palace after the Christmas festivities, but I had since ridden there twice
to see the boy. Anne had continually pushed back the departure date for both of my daughters and they remained with the court, though I planned for them to return to their own establishments once I left for France. I still worried about their attendance at court when the Spanish could attack at any moment.
It was a cool spring morning, and I was taking the rare walk among my gardens when Cromwell approached me, a small smile upon his wide face. Although it usually meant good news, I never liked to see Cromwell smile. The twist of his lips never seemed to fit his face correctly.
“Your Majesty,” Cromwell said, dropping into a quick bow. I motioned for him to rise and join me in my walk, circling one of small lakes outside Hampton Court.
“I have received excellent news,” he began, taking pace a step behind me. “Our ambassador writes that Emperor Charles is currently in Italy. It is true he has raised a large army, but he has vowed that he would lead this army to Jerusalem to fight the Turks.”
“It makes no sense,” I responded after a moment. “Charles swore only last year that he would attack England. We know Francis is expecting him.”
“Perhaps the bad weather drove him off,” Cromwell said with a shrug. “There are few winter storms in the Holy Land. And this would not be the first time that Emperor Charles proved false to an ally.”
“Yes,” I snapped back, angry at the memory of Charles abandoning such an agreement he had with me fifteen years ago. “However, we have heard nothing for weeks except that Charles was amassing a huge force. We have done nothing but prepare for that force to attack here in England. How can you feel so confident that he is not lying to our ambassador?”
“Because he did not speak to our ambassador,” Cromwell responded. “This vow was not to his people but to his Pope. He, along with all of his top generals, swore during a mass that they would lead an army to Jerusalem to fight out the evil that had recently overtaken the Holy Lands. They were blessed by the Archbishop of Rome in this mission.”
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