“Come in,” she called.
The ladies came in with sheepish eyes, but they were surprised to find the bed barely slept in. The King had left at some point during the night, and Anne looked as if she hadn’t been touched. Her hair was still neatly plaited. There were none of the tell-tale signs that the wedding was consummated.
“Are you ready to get up, your grace?” Jane was already by her side, but Catherine could see she was just trying to be the first to get a look at the sheets to confirm everyone’s suspicions.
“Yes.”
They helped her wash and dress and then proceeded to mass as would be the habit every day.
Now Queen Anne looked serene during the ceremony. She was likely warned to conform to the English way of worship or else she would displease the King.
No one else’s thoughts were on prayer that morning, though. They all wondered what had taken place the night before. Everyone thought of the King — perhaps he had been struck with impotence. After all, the pain in his leg was hurting him so badly.
Before noon, the news was spread around the palace that the King found his new wife so distasteful that he could not do the deed. He had claimed out loud that he did not think she was a virgin at all. No one informed Queen Anne about this. For once, Catherine had to agree that blissful ignorance was preferred in this case.
That very same day, the Flemish lords who had accompanied her left. Now she was left with only Mistress Loew and the ambassador Karl Harst.
As she settled down to begin her royal marriage, the machinations of the court began stirring. With the King so displeased and already wanting to escape his wife many sensed an opportunity to rise to power.
Chapter Eight
Everyone seemed to pick the same enemy: Thomas Cromwell. Simply, by being the King’s favorite, he had made himself unpopular. His policies against the churches and monasteries had made the King rich but filled the people’s hearts with fury. He was seen as the enemy of England, and now he was left weak. He had been the one to suggest the Cleves marriage, and, more than that, he had pushed it forward.
But nothing was done in the open. Cromwell could still be dangerous, and the King’s foul mood could turn yet again. So day by day, courtiers slowly dropped a word in the King’s ear whenever they could. Or made a complaint.
“Master Cromwell knew about the Queen’s unsuitability.”
“Cromwell thinks to rule in your place.”
“Cromwell is pushing forward heretical policies.”
Catherine heard whispers such as these all day long.
With the court separated into those who supported the marriage and those who were against it, Anne was unable to make any headway with her husband.
Henry visited her bed several times a week, but, still, Catherine and the other ladies found her untouched in the morning. With every day that passed, it seemed that the King found her more and more distasteful. He avoided her rooms and rarely spoke to her while they dined together. He even refused to admit her Flemish ambassador, claiming he was too busy. Catherine often spotted Karl Harst hunkered down on a seat at the back of dining hall each evening, eating as if he had not eaten all day. It was likely he had not.
It was no secret that the King refused to pay him any wages for his work, and, likewise, his master, the Duke of Cleves, refused to do the same. The Duke felt it was the responsibility of his sister to pay for his upkeep, but, since she was given no money of her own, she could not oblige her brother.
Catherine and all the ladies had been witness to the letters she received from home berating her for her failing to help Cleves. Often Anne would shed a tear and look imploringly at Mrs. Loew for help. How could she make her brother understand that, though the King gave her dresses and jewels to wear, he had not given her any money nor had he even made plans to have her crowned yet?
The one thing the whole court was concerned about was the fact that the King seemed unable to consummate his marriage. Everyone wished to see another son born to the King to secure the line of succession and maintain peace in the realm.
Strangely, Anne was the only one who acted as if there was nothing wrong with her marriage. It prompted Lady Rutland to speak with her one evening as the ladies sat together working on shirts for the King.
“Your grace, is all well between you and his majesty?”
“Oh, he is very kind,” Anne assured her. Her English was improving, though it seemed that the accent was here to stay.
“But at night? — When you are alone? — Do you not want children?” Lady Rutland was driven to speak more plainly by her innocence.
“Very kind. When he comes to bed he kisses me, and he takes me by the hand, and bids me 'Good night, sweetheart'; and in the morning, kisses me and bids me 'Farewell, darling’. I pray to God that I shall have a child soon.”
All the ladies balked.
“Your grace, there must be more than this, or we will never have a Duke of York, which this realm desires so much.”
“I shall pray.”
Jane Boleyn spoke to stop Lady Rutland speaking further. “We shall all pray, too.”
“Amen.” The women gave each other a knowing look. Her innocence was a disaster whether she was pretending at it or not. But either for decorum’s sake or due to political alliances, no one else spoke, and they turned back to working on embroidery.
With Lent upon them, some of the ladies from the Queen’s chamber were invited to take part in a masque. Catherine was honored to be among those chosen. The court would soon abstain from any frivolity, so this would be her last chance to enjoy herself as she tended to not go on hunts. Her horsemanship skills weren’t up to par, and she found being in the saddle uncomfortable.
They practiced with the Master of Revels directing them around. While the fool was just as busy distracting them with tricks and juggling.
The masque would be titled Blooming Roses — about young loves encountering each other for the first time, only for the sin of jealousy to come between them and try to separate them. A model garden was being built and the girls would emerge from behind rose bushes, in brightly colored dresses, then the men would enter and they would perform a dance. At the sound of the drum, a man in black would appear and steal the girls away from each man in succession as they tried to escape him. It would conclude with a knight appearing and slaying the man, picking from the girls a favorite to crown the loveliest.
So far they hadn’t been able to get through the ladies emerging without giggles and interruptions. Mistress Loew, whose task had been to oversee the maids in waiting and ensure proper decorum was maintained, was kept busy reprimanding them when some like Kitty became too forward with the gentlemen.
“Master Farlyton, perhaps the girls should practice without the men?” she suggested, and he was inclined to agree with her.
“A pity,” a familiar voice said. Catherine looked to her side and saw that Francis was beside her now.
“How come?”
“I just traded Culpeper for his place, but now I won’t be able to dance with you.” That meant he would be her partner for the masque.
“That’s a shame,” she said, trying not to look flattered by the fact he kept going out of his way to be with her.
He disappeared with the rest of the men, and she had to concentrate now on dancing. Later that day, she asked Anne Basset what she knew of him.
“Is he… married?” Catherine wasn’t sure how to word the question.
“Not that I am aware. He is the King’s companion and among his favorites, but I’ve never seen him with a woman or heard any gossip about him.” Anne gave her a knowing smile. “Has he caught your eye? He is not that bad looking, but he doesn’t have many credentials to recommend him. You could do better.”
By that, she meant he was not rich. Catherine shrugged.
“I was merely curious. I would never do anything without my family’s permission.” That was true. She had been witness to the consequences of disobedience too ofte
n. But now she knew she had no reason to hide from his smiles and company.
The Queen came out of her private rooms looking flushed, and Catherine went to her side.
“Can I help you, your grace?”
“I don’t know — what is the word for frömmigkeit?”
Catherine could only shake her head at the strange German word. Anne waved Mrs. Loew over to her and asked her.
“Ah! Piety. What were you trying to say?”
Anne fiddled with one of the rings on her finger, and she explained in German. Catherine furrowed her eyebrows not able to comprehend. All she could determine of the conversation was Princess Mary.
The two women turned to her and Mrs. Loew asked her quietly, “The King is not happy with the Princess Mary because she is too pious?”
“No, only because she follows the old way. Her mother’s religion,” Catherine said.
“He will not allow her to court because of this?”
Catherine struggled with how to answer the blunt question. It was more complicated than that. The Princess had fought with her father for years and refused to recognize the new church or his marriage to Anne Boleyn. It was no secret that she remained a staunch Catholic, though she had managed to reconcile with her father after signing a document submitting herself to his authority.
“She has argued with him.” Catherine decided to impart this knowledge to them, for she had heard it spoken about in the halls. “He wants to betroth her to the Duke of Bavaria — a Protestant.” Her voice getting lower as she stressed the word Protestant.
Mrs. Loew translated and Catherine saw a look of understanding cross Anne’s face.
“Would not be a good match,” she said in her stilted English.
“The King knows best.” Catherine would never say anything to incriminate herself.
Anne smiled knowingly. “Thank you, Lady Carey. You are very good.”
Catherine bobbed a small curtsey and retreated.
Later, she found Mistress Loew and took a seat beside her at the table.
“Can I help you?”
“Would you teach me some German?” Catherine kept her tone sweet and innocent.
Mistress Loew was still skeptical. “Why?”
“To help the Queen, and I love to learn.” Catherine didn’t break eye contact with the stern woman.
“I shall teach you a little. You are a good girl, not like the others.”
Catherine knew she was referring to Kitty and Anne Basset, whose talents for flirting and dancing were well known.
It was agreed that she would sit with her before bed going over some German words and phrases. Catherine knew that with this she would be able to understand the Queen better as well — her uncle’s instructions were at the back of her mind. She was to find out everything she could.
If the Queen wrote messages in German, perhaps she would be able to know what they said.
The day of Shrovetide was upon the court before they knew it. During the day, they walked to the lists and watched the men joust and hold mock duels before the cheering crowd. Then, before dinner was the masque.
Catherine was dressed in a light gown of orange organza — the ladies around her, including Kitty Howard and Anne Basset, wore similar gowns in different colors. They looked like flowers indeed. They wore their hair loose with crowns of silk flowers on their heads. She spied Francis dressed in a suit of the same shade of orange as her dress. He caught her eye and gave her a wink.
They took their place before the Queen and the waiting court on the elaborate stage. The Master of Revels announced the start of the masque and off they went dancing through their steps.
At the end, there was applause, and the white knight, who remained masked, was given a wreath of flowers to award to the loveliest girl. He stopped before Kitty Howard, who curtseyed very low and thanked him oh so very much. Catherine saw how she leaned herself forward to give the knight a good view of her breasts.
As instructed, the girls asked in unison for the brave knight to reveal himself, though they all knew who it was already. They applauded as the King showed his face, his cheeks beet red from exertion.
He returned to his seat beside the Queen, but Catherine saw how he looked after Kitty hungrily. There was a time when she had thought he preferred Anne Basset, but Kitty had managed to win his attention.
The Princess Mary had attended the day’s celebrations, but she looked pale and her inattention to what was going on around her made Catherine suspect that she was very much concerned with the potential betrothal with the Duke of Bavaria.
Her uncle caught her attention and motioned with the crook of his finger for her to join him at his table. Catherine made her way over as inconspicuously as possible. She curtseyed before the great Duke, and he greeted her with a smile.
“Court life suits you, niece.”
She nodded, waiting for him to get to the point.
“Are things the same in the Queen’s rooms?” His voice was so low she could barely hear him.
“Yes.”
“The Princess Mary has spoken to her of the Duke of Bavaria?”
“She knows of it and that the Princess does not wish to marry him.”
“She does not?” He pinpointed that, and, from his smile, she knew he thought he had caught the Princess in disobeying her father.
“What I meant to say is that the Princess Mary has reservations about the match. I doubt she would ever disobey the King.”
“Has the Queen said anything to the King?”
Catherine shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps she should be encouraged to do so.”
“But…”
He turned his pointed gaze to her now, fully giving her his attention. She bowed her head apologetically.
“Perhaps she can stop the engagement. It would suit or purposes either way.”
At Catherine’s inquisitive gaze, he graced her with an explanation. “I am traveling to France to meet with the King and discuss a possible treaty. An alliance with a Protestant Duke would not look good. And any further trouble between the newlyweds would be helpful too.”
It was no secret that her uncle held to the Catholic faith in his heart, though he prayed according to the King’s wishes
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Good.” He waved her away.
Catherine walked away with a heavy heart. She struggled with what she was instructed to do. It sounded too dangerous, and she had just gained a foothold with Mrs. Loew. There was no reason for her to betray the Queen by giving her bad advice.
The next day she realized she needn’t have bothered with keeping her own mouth shut, for Lady Rochford was by Anne’s side, ready with the suggestion that she should talk to the King about Princess Mary.
“I shall see.” Anne’s response was hesitant and noncommittal. Catherine hid a smile by searching through the box for another color of thread. The Queen was smarter than she looked. Even in the short time since she had met him, she knew that Henry did not like to be crossed.
Anne had been shocked to see the easy way the court kept Lent. There was no red meat but plenty of chicken and other pheasant. The food was just as rich and bountiful as ever before. She refused to touch many of the dishes and sipped at broth and bread.
“How did you keep Lent in Cleves?” Catherine asked Mrs. Loew.
“Only fish and very plain food.”
Catherine nodded. She was starting to get a better picture of the strict world of Anne’s upbringing.
One day, the King announced he would visit the Queen’s room in the evening, and her rooms were in chaos as her servants set about tidying up and arranging for extra tables and chairs to be brought in. The ladies changed their gowns, and then they all waited patiently for his arrival.
As he entered, everyone curtseyed low. Catherine’s attention was on the men who had joined him. To her disappointment, it did not seem Francis was among them.
The King kissed Anne’s hand, and s
he flushed at the contact but had the good sense to smile at him and not pull away.
“Would you like to play cards?” she asked him.
They sat down at a table and began a game of cent. She won but had the good graces to call for another game, and, this time, Catherine, who stood behind her, watched her make poor decisions in order to let her husband win.
“You must teach me to play, your majesty.” His chest puffed out at the compliment, and for once he smiled at her.
“I am the best after all.”
They spoke amicably before the rest of the ladies and courtiers. Then he asked her if she would like to accompany him for a glass of wine in one of her more private rooms. Of course, they wouldn’t be fully alone. Mistress Loew motioned for Catherine to follow them in, holding the goblets on a silver tray while a manservant carried in the jug of wine.
She stood with her back pressed against the wall, ready to serve but listening to every word and watching every gesture.
“You have befriended the Princess Mary.” The statement almost seemed like an accusation.
“Yes, I hope that pleases you.”
“I am surprised she would be so friendly to you.”
Anne seemed to gulp back a comment at the insult.
“Anyways, I have been negotiating an engagement between her and the Duke of Bavaria. Perhaps you can speak to her to prepare herself for marriage. I know it has been put off for far too long.”
Catherine could sense the challenge in his voice but Anne seemed unconcerned.
“Perhaps Princess Mary would like someone else? The Dukedom of Bavaria very far.”
The King’s grip on his goblet tightened.
“What are you saying, Madam?”
Anne met his fury head on. “She would not be happy.”
“Her happiness is in serving me and the country.”
“Yes, of course. But perhaps another prince would be better.” Anne still did not look away.
Now Catherine’s eyes remained focused on a spot on the floor, ready for one of the King’s rages.
“They told me you were docile, Madam, but I see that, among the other lies, you are not.” He gulped down his wine.
The Lady Carey Page 11
