Struck With the Dart of Love

by Sandra Vasoli

  What a magical evening we had together! Never had I envisioned a betrothal as enchanting as mine was, even though it was secret. When I finally left Henry’s apartments later that evening to return to my chambers, I was flush with happiness. I did spend some considerable time, once by myself, admiring the beauteous ring, and how well it looked on my slender hand.

  The very next day Henry called a council meeting of the guests after the morning meal. Not one to waste a precious moment, he provided an account to everyone concerning the actions which had already taken place in the quest to nullify his marriage. He then opened the floor for discussion about the existing plan conceived by Cardinal Wolsey, and its merits - or lack thereof. It quickly became all too apparent that Wolsey himself had dedicated very little time to the matter, and had, instead, passed off the fact-gathering, planning and execution to Dr Stephen Gardiner, his Secretary. Henry fumed, having been previously unaware of this fact, and paced back and forth in agitation. He decided to have Sir William Knight, his personal secretary, take dictation for a letter, and wrote to Wolsey demanding that Gardiner appear for questioning. A courier was then summoned to deliver the letter promptly to Wolsey in Paris. As the meeting continued it became increasingly clear that the individuals in the room on that morning held little respect or friendship for the Cardinal.

  As for me, again I invoked the wisdom of Marguerite and kept my council, holding my tongue and my opinion for the present.

  We enjoyed a magnificent sojourn in Essex that August. The dry and dusty heat of July had yielded to more temperate, yet still sunny weather. Frequent, short bouts of showers turned the landscape brilliantly green once again, and we spent almost all our waking hours outdoors. Henry and I both particularly enjoyed activities which took place outside and we were in high spirits when we were able to spend a good part of each day sporting. But I think my favourite thing to do in those early weeks following our secret betrothal was to walk with Henry and our greyhounds through the verdant, blue-green woods on the estate. It was during those strolls, nurtured by the cool and quiet of the forest, that we spoke of many things, planned our future together, and deepened our relationship with mutual respect.

  One afternoon several of us had returned from a long and strenuous hunt, and we were filthy and ravenous. We agreed to meet for an early supper after we had washed and prepared for an evening of singing and dancing.

  I revelled in the bliss of my private bayne, and used Marseilles-made olive oil soap scented with lavender to wash, including my hair. The weather was so fine, even in the late afternoon, that once combed out, it dried quickly in the warm air. In the more relaxed surroundings of court in August, personal preparations were much less involved, and I loved it. I dressed in a gossamer gown of pale blue lawn with sleeves that felt loose and comfortable. My small blue French hood was simple, and my hair tumbled free beneath it. The intimacy of the occasion, and indeed of the company, permitted us to dress much more informally, and what a welcome change it provided for those few weeks of summer. My cheeks were by now so naturally rosy that I needed no rouge. That evening, I wore one piece of jewellery only: my emerald ring. It commanded attention against the cool hue of my gown and was all the more pronounced by the absence of another adornment. It was simply magnificent, set in the finest yellow gold, flanked by two diamonds, and of a size which covered my finger from knuckle to hand. It was the most entrancing, alluring deep green, and it must have cost a fortune. When I glanced down and caught its gleam, I felt about to burst with pride.

  After a most agreeable supper of roasted capon, baked sturgeon, and salatt of lettuces, spinach, and beetroot grown in the estate gardens, we took up various instruments to begin the music. I was surprised to learn how many of our company had talent at playing one or more instruments. For example, Lord Oxford, John de Vere, proved excellent on the recorder while Brandon, Lord Suffolk, showed himself able to beat the tambour as well as any travelling minstrel! Gertrude, Lady Exeter, had a lovely singing voice and announced that she, Oxford, and Suffolk wished to perform a new tune, the lyrics of which were composed by Will Somers, the King’s fool. I knew Somers was very clever at reciting witticisms but did not know that he was a composer of songs as well. The piece was called The Hunt Is Up, which seemed quite fitting for today. They began a ramping melody, with the tambour maintaining a cadence which made everyone want to tap their foot along as Lady Gertrude sang:

  The hunt is up! the hunt is up

  And it is well-nigh day;

  And Harry our king is gone hunting

  To bring his deer to bay.

  The east is bright with morning light,

  And darkness it is fled,

  And the merry horn wakes up the morn

  To leave his idle bed.

  Behold the skies with golden dyes,

  Are glowing all around;

  The grass is green, and so are the treen

  All laughing at the sound.

  The horses snort to be at the sport

  The dogs are running free

  The woods rejoice at the merry noise

  Of hey tantara tee ree!

  The sun is glad to see us clad

  All in our lusty green,

  And smiles in the sky as he riseth high

  To see and to be seen.

  Oh, how we all laughed and clapped and cheered when they finished and, though we danced and sang for the rest of the evening, it was that tune which ran through my head all the next day.

  There was a cluster of us who met on a daily basis to discuss the King’s situation, and how we might best plan for the required outcome. I attended these meetings, although it was never openly stated that Henry and I were betrothed and intended to marry as soon as his divorce from Katherine was finalized. It soon became evident, however, that everyone present during the August gathering surmised the truth.

  We received a response from the Cardinal earnestly refuting Henry’s assertions; describing in detail the great flurry of activity which he claimed was underway in support of the King’s case. I was not to be fooled. On hearing the letter read aloud, his contrivance was as plain as his long beak of a nose. Henry recognized the same, I believe, although I noticed that as soon as the group began to claim Wolsey’s deficiencies and his unsuitability to direct the matter, the King proved most loath to denounce the man. Although clearly unhappy about his chancellor’s negligence, whenever others commented upon the lack of attention Wolsey paid to matters important to the King, Henry visibly disengaged from the conversation, sometimes rising from his chair and wandering about the room fitfully. I wondered why.

  Later that same day, I walked and talked with my father in the gardens. I recalled, with some contrition it must be said, the terse conversation he and I had shared some months ago in the gardens at Hever; the one in which I denied any involvement with the King, and testily informed Father that I would decide my matrimonial fate. We settled in an alcove, and Father turned to me and said, “Anne, I am aware of the promise between you and His Grace.”

  In complete astonishment, I asked, “How is that, Father? Henry and I agreed to keep the news private!”

  “He is the King, sovereign of us both, but that does not exempt him from the courtesy of involving his beloved’s father in hopes and plans for a betrothal. He sought my approval before he ever spoke with you.”

  Apparently, there was much yet for me to learn about my intended. By God’s eyes, he was a study in contradiction! Powerful and utterly commanding, yet tender and sentimental; quick to raise a temper, but very sensitive and forgiving. I loved him all the more for it.

  “I assume, then, you approve of this match! If I may ask, Father, why do you believe the King to be so tolerant of Wolsey’s foibles? We can all see how frustrated he is with the obvious mishandling of the nullity suit. I find it hard to justify. If the bloated Cardinal were my chancellor, and I were to find that he gave a matter important to me such short shrift,
he would have been dealt a vicious tongue-lashing. And he would quickly find himself lighter of a great deal of his cherished wealth!”

  “Do I approve? My Anne, the fact that the King reveres and loves you so gives me great joy. I am made happier still by your obvious return of those feelings. I can picture a bright hereafter for you and the King, and the creation of a noble dynasty for the Boleyns. But make no mistake, Daughter: there are challenges ahead. It is an exacting path you must walk, fraught with peril - and the rest of us with you. You must keep your wits about you at all times, Anne. There will be many, both male and female, who will become insane with jealousy over your position and influence with Henry. It will be difficult to know whom to trust. Your mother and I are, and will be, there for you always, but take care in selecting others for sharing confidences. And you must learn to read the King as you would a very familiar book. His grand qualities are many, but he is mercurial, and his mood can change like the wind.”

  I nodded in agreement, but swallowed hard, thinking more circumspectly about my position.

  My father continued, “In response to your question about Wolsey, Daughter, keep in mind the extent of his influence over the King. The Cardinal has ever been a mentor, servant, assistant, and in a way, a father figure. He was at court during the King’s father’s reign and was well in place as a key figure when Henry’s father died, and young Henry ascended the throne in 1509 as but a lad. They have been together for some eighteen years, and, Henry has come to depend on Wolsey almost like a second father.”

  “But, do you not see how Wolsey plies the King to his advantage?” I asked.

  “Of course, I do! As do many others who are close to His Grace. But such a revelation would fall on deaf ears, and most likely incite wrath in rebuke. That is unless the King sees it clearly for himself. Do not overstep your bounds with this, Anne. You best be patient and allow Wolsey to place the rope around his own neck.”

  Intuitively, I felt that outcome unlikely: Henry may never be completely aware of how subtly the Cardinal played him. It did not appear to me that Henry realized just how cleverly Wolsey had learned to serve his own needs and desires, and all through the largesse of the King. But I resolved to allow the situation unfold as it would.

  Henry replied to the letter, graciously wishing the Cardinal well, and thanking him profusely for the good work he was doing, both on his Matter, and for managing the increasingly tricky diplomacy between France and the Empire, on England’s behalf. The praise was deceptive; our meeting then resumed, devising the replacement of Wolsey in directing the King’s Matter.

  Those late summer days flew by, but I did my best to enjoy each one and keep it tucked safely in my memory. The King and I delighted in each other’s company.

  We had just finished dinner when Henry beckoned. “Anne, come with me. I have a surprise for you.”

  I followed him through the door and around the north side of the building, across the expansive lawns until we reached the mews where the royal falcons were housed. Henry disappeared inside for a moment and emerged with a small leather-wrapped parcel which he presented to me. Curiously, I eased the drawstring of the pouch and withdrew a fine pair of white leather gloves, embroidered in gold and lined with velvet. In the packet also was a white doeskin hawk’s hood, embellished in gold. I glanced at Henry uncertainly, not knowing quite what he expected me to say. Excitedly he ducked inside once more, and, after a moment, reappeared with a beautiful grey bird on his gloved hand. “This peregrine falcon is for you, Anne, so we may go hawking together.”

  “Oh, Your Grace!” I dropped into a curtsey. “I thank you with all my heart. What a beautiful creature - and such a thoughtful gift! But … I am not very skilled at hawking, and wish you would teach me. Will you?”

  Henry replied, “Of course, Mademoiselle. There are not many sports, it seems, in which you require much instruction. But I do indeed relish the opportunity to be the only man to instruct you in any sport we have yet to play!”

  And he gave me a bold wink as we proceeded to the fields with the hawk.

  Oh, I will say this - it was not easy resisting Henry. During that special time, with less staff about and court protocol eased, and in Katherine’s absence, he and I spent much private time together. We were fervent about one another. Our kisses were perfection, and I cannot express how much I longed to lay with him, body to body, unfettered by clothing. I knew, though, that unless my head prevailed, all would be lost. So using all of the cunning and discipline I could muster, somehow, I managed to escape his lustful embraces before I lost all composure and completely surrendered. I hoped against hope that, wondrously, the divorce would be attained. But I remained too much a realist to delude myself with the belief that it would. I knew restraint was going to be required, but, God’s eyes! Over that lush summer break, I wanted to release all self-control and live passionately! I knew, also, that I had better contrive a plan by which I could be close to Henry in private without compromising my virginity and, ultimately, the chance to bear his child – his son - within the confines of marriage.

  As day followed day, I learned a great deal by having the uncommon opportunity to watch the King and some of his chief courtiers at work. What perplexed me most was the nature of their interaction. It was soon apparent that Henry vacillated between acting the all-powerful commander and a man who craved validation in his role. As we sought the ideal plan to convince Pope Clement to allow Henry a divorce from Katherine to marry again, I silently wondered why Henry was so wanting of approval. Most often, he desired corroboration from his council members and preferred not to stand alone in his decision-making. And he was anxious – almost desperate – for the Pope’s assent in this situation. I knew his strongly entrenched Catholic roots drove him to seek the Church’s approval, but so were we all brought up as Catholics in a Church-dominated world. More and more I felt that the paradox of ultimate authority between the Church and the monarchy was reinforced unnecessarily by the Vatican. It seemed to me that the King of England, whose motto was Dieu et Mon Droit, God and My Right, should simply assert that it was his God–given right to do what was best for the future of his realm.

  But then, I was a mere woman …

  We were to depart Beaulieu the next day. I was sorry to leave because it had been a time of closeness between Henry and me, with that delightful informality that I would much miss when we all returned to court. Resulting from the discussions, the decision was taken that Dr William Knight, the King’s secretary, would be sent to Rome with direct instructions from Henry, instead of receiving them from the Cardinal. I felt more satisfied with this approach, which effectively removed Wolsey from the subsequent negotiations. I could only imagine - indeed, relish - the thought of Wolsey’s chagrin when he learned of this dissolution of his authority!

  I remained cautiously hopeful that Dr Knight would have some success on his mission to the Vatican. As a counterthrust to that strategy, though, Queen Katherine had implored her nephew, the Emperor Charles, to help in what she deemed a disgraceful affront to her integrity and her position as Henry’s rightful wife.

  This, in its turn, represented a considerable setback to our plans, particularly as Pope Clement, still imprisoned and with Rome remaining in turmoil at the hands of Charles, was unlikely to align himself with Henry and thereby risk angering both Charles and his aunt.

  Richmond

  September 1527

  I travelled with my father and a few other members of the Beaulieu company to Richmond, where Henry intended to hold court for the coming month or two. Katherine would not join him for a few weeks yet, so I looked forward to spending what time with him I could. We hunted and hawked, played games of cards and chance, and discussed what had commonly become known as his ‘Great Matter’. We were anxious to have Dr Knight reach his destination in Rome and make positive impact on the King’s behalf. Henry had received another letter from Cardinal Wolsey, who was plainly d
istraught about his waning position of control. The letter was an entreaty to his King for renewed confidence in his commitment and abilities, and I could tell, had been laboured over by Wolsey to create the desired result.

  As we supped in Henry’s chambers one evening, I ventured to ask, “Do you feel the Cardinal’s influence and standing with the Pope are sufficient to gain the end you desire, Henry?”

  He replied without hesitation. “No, I am not certain of that at all. I will have to follow the situation with great vigilance. God’s blood! He surely should have influence and access after all the time and money he has spent there!”

  I replied, “I am but an inexperienced woman, Your Grace, and cannot advise you on matters I know nothing about, but at the least I will provide all the encouragement I can, and be a support to you whenever possible.”

  The King turned to look at me in disbelief, then roared a mighty laugh as only Henry could. “You …? You are anything but an inexperienced woman, my Mistress Anne! Your intrinsic knowledge could be well deployed to rule nations! I would not want to go head to head with you on any matter. No, my dear, I both solicit and respect your views.”

  Oh, when I was with Henry, he made me feel as if I could accomplish anything - anything at all. At that moment, I happily envisioned us as a loving royal couple, married for many long years, surrounded by our children. Our sons!

  On 30 September, Cardinal Wolsey arrived at Richmond upon the King’s command. Henry and I were in the music room in the late afternoon, working together on a new composition. An esquire announced a messenger, and the young man entered and stood before us, sodden from his journey in the steady rain, and dripping freely on the Turkish carpet.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low. “I am sent by Cardinal Wolsey, who wishes to meet with you to provide you a report of his travels. The Cardinal wishes to be advised of the hour at which he should report to Your Grace’s privy chamber for the meeting.”