Upon hearing the wording of the message, my ire rose. I was quick – perhaps too quick - but could not restrain myself.
“You may remind the Cardinal,” I snapped succinctly to the messenger, who blinked at me incredulously, but had the sense to keep his tongue – hence possibly his head – “that no one joins the King in his privy chambers unless expressly invited.” With that I smiled and extended my arm graciously to encompass the King, saying, “His Grace the Cardinal shall report here where the King be already,” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The messenger peered uneasily at Henry for some sign of confirmation that these orders were, in fact, valid, whereupon Henry, straight-faced, acknowledged agreement with an emphatic nod. The already-flustered messenger thanked the King, then, uncertain of what was expected of him in this unusual situation, afforded me a respectful bow and hastily retreated from the room.
I quickly placed my hand on Henry’s arm.
“Henry, I am most sorry! I should not have jumped in as I did. But you must know how much it irks me when the Cardinal – when anyone, for that matter - presumes to tell you what you should do!”
Admittedly, it did not occur to me that perhaps I had just committed the selfsame offence.
I gave Henry an apologetic look … then started giggling uncontrollably. “I am sure that poor messenger had no idea at all what was happening, or from whom he should receive his orders. His head was spinning to and fro as if watching a play of tennis, trying to work it out!”
Henry chortled along with me. “Your invective was well worded, sweetheart. I am sure I would have said mostly the same thing. That is, had I been given the chance…” He raised an eyebrow in my direction. We burst into laughter together. My Henry was beginning to learn his betrothed was no wilting flower. “On the contrary, I am glad we have made a start at having you recognized as someone of great importance to me, even if at the expense of a soaking young page!” And he continued to chuckle good-naturedly.
Shortly after that, a crier heralded the Cardinal’s arrival, and following a nod from Henry, Wolsey entered the chamber. At a glance, I could see he did not look well. His skin was pasty, and his face and hands appeared puffed and swollen. He lumbered over to Henry, bowing as low and deferentially as he could manage - only raising himself with difficulty when Henry spoke his name.
“My dear Thomas, how very good to see you again,” Henry began kindly while I looked on pleasantly from my position at Henry’s side.
The Cardinal’s response came only after a perceptible hesitation: preoccupied as he’d so often been in the past, with looking down his sharp nose at me. This time, however, his expression was not that of haughty superiority. With a start, I recognized it.
It was the look of fear.
For several more weeks, we remained at Richmond, where Henry and I continued to enjoy competing: at bowls when the weather permitted or, when it did not, at shovel-board or cards. I never held back and put all I could into each game. I knew he loved that about me; our sport invariably providing us with great fun and jollity. At times, we wagered on the outcomes of our games.
Of course, I knew the supreme wager Henry longed to make above any other, but I did my best to redirect him.
But inevitably the day came when it was decided that Henry and the court would go to Greenwich, and there spend the remainder of the autumn and the Christmas season. Katherine would be joining him there, and I dreaded having any contact with her. For that reason, and because Henry and I felt it would be best for me to remain out of immediate view while we waited for a hopefully positive answer from Rome, I planned to retreat to Hever.
On our final evening together, I determined I would leave Henry with an image of me at my best. I donned a gown of russet velvet, beautifully accented with emerald green flowing satin sleeves. My headpiece was of gold tissue covering a crescent-shaped hood and adorned with several stones of topaz. On this evening, I wore a long, delicate golden chain about my neck, from which hung a sizable topaz. My hair was brushed straight and silken, and my complexion positively glowed. I added extra kohl to my eyes and lashes, planning to adopt a dark and mysterious look. I had smoothed my hands with oil, and buffed my nails earlier in the day, and now my emerald ring was eye-catching with the deep green satin of the sleeves. I added scent, feeling melancholy that this was the last time I would prepare myself to see my beloved for a while.
Henry’s stare as he watched me enter the chamber made my heart ache with love for him. His expression was one of rapture and, as his gaze travelled my length from head to toe, his adoration was plain. My happiness at being by his side was mitigated by the knowledge that we must separate. I felt a vicious prodding of resentment against Katherine, wondering why she could not simply accept that her husband was hers no longer, obey him as she had once promised to do, and retire quietly to some distant abbey. But even that thought was banished as Henry gathered me in his arms and gently traced my lips with his finger, then kissed me ardently and with great emotion.
Hever
November 1527
Mother and I passed the remainder of the autumn together at Hever, with an occasional visit from my sister Mary and her two children, little Catherine and baby Henry. It was a welcome diversion, their coming to stay, since I loved caring for and playing with my niece and little nephew. Oh, how such vicarious joy made me long for children of my own.
The weather, already dismal, became progressively colder, much more so than was typical for late November. I did my share of pining and sulking, I’m sorry to admit, but it was difficult being apart from Henry after we had spent every day in each other’s company. I missed him mightily and thought of him constantly. How much I concurred with the painful truth in the motto ‘Always toward absent lovers love’s tide stronger flows.’ So I bore my heartache with conviction.
The separation also precluded me from attending a grand event held at Greenwich in mid-November - Henry’s investiture in the French Order of St Michel. This, and François’ equivalent initiation into the English Order of the Garter, further sealed the alliance between the two monarchs. It was celebrated by a tournament, a grand banquet, and masque at the banqueting and disguising houses at Greenwich, and, as was Henry’s custom, no expense was spared to mark this event in grand style. I desperately wished I had been there.
In Kent, we made merry as best we could at Christmas, but it was so bitterly cold that we even limited the number of rooms we used in the house to conserve wood and maximize heat. On the day following Christmas, a courier arrived, practically frozen, with a package for me from His Majesty the King. While the pathetic, shivering man sat by the fire, eating and warming himself to prepare for the return trip to Greenwich, I ran to my chamber to compose a short message to be sent along in reply. I scribbled a note of thanks for His Grace’s kindness in thinking of me and promised to compose a longer letter on the morrow.
Once the messenger was sufficiently revived to be sent back out into the grey, frozen landscape, back to my chamber I went and settled myself next to the hearth to open the parcel. I peeked inside the leather pouch to find a long narrow box of deep green velvet, tied with a scarlet riband. I held my breath as I untied the riband and opened the box to reveal a breathtaking bracelet of some twenty-five diamonds, large and clear, set in gleaming silver. Looking at it in disbelief, I did not know whether to laugh or cry! Also inside the leather bag was a small scroll of parchment. Unrolling it, Henry’s strong script greeted me. It merely said:
To be worn by my dearest love, the most beautiful woman in the world.
I missed him so very much, and I longed to be his wife.
I found it terribly hard to be patient: to wait passively to hear some news of what was happening in Rome, when instead I wanted to be planning my wedding celebration and trousseau. It was all too frustrating to learn finally that the efforts of Dr Knight had not been as significant as we had hoped. I now
knew that I would have to stay ever more closely in touch with how this campaign was being waged if I were to look forward to a successful outcome and any hope of becoming a bride.
It seemed Henry next intended to send Stephen Gardiner, Wolsey’s secretary, along with Edward Foxe, Bishop of Hereford, to Rome with a new strategy to convince Pope Clement that his marriage was unsanctioned by God. This I knew because Henry had written me a letter in which he described the mission of Foxe and Gardiner, painted in a very positive, hopeful light. In fact, to keep me fully briefed, he had them deliver the letter to me in person at Hever before they set out for Rome. While the two statesmen waited, I carefully read Henry’s personal assurances that everything possible was being done to move the matter toward a favourable conclusion.
Sitting as close as we safely could next to a sparking fire, my mother said to me one evening, “Anne, as often as we have talked about your hope and plan to marry the King once he is awarded a divorce from Katherine, we have never discussed the fact that the marriage would make you Queen Consort.”
She did not look up from the tiny stitches she was making to seam a linen shirt for my father. She hesitated for a few minutes, then stopped her needlework and fixed her direct gaze on me. “Well, what think you on that? Is it the hope of being Queen which motivates your desire to marry Henry?”
I put down the embroidery I was working on and returned her uncompromising look.
“Mother, you are the only person in the world to whom I could say this with the chance it would be believed. A crown is not my reason for wanting this marriage, though I am no fool and know full well what it would mean for the Bullens and Howards. I am now twenty-seven years old. I have maintained my virginity, though only God knows how difficult that has been – and all because I have valued my maidenhead enough to resist the men who wished to take it from me. I have waited long for the great love of my life, and now he is within my reach! Never would I have expected this love would be for the King of England, nor could I have planned it. Yet I do love Henry with all my heart, as do I believe we are destined to be together. It is only that desire - to be a wife and, above all, to be the mother of the sons and daughters we will have together which motivates me.”
I paused. It was so important that she of all people understand.
“In my heart and in my mind, to be a Queen without the true love of a husband is but an entrapment in a life of unhappiness. Do not forget, at a tender age I had the opportunity to watch closely the fates of both Mary Tudor, the French Queen, in her marriage to the ancient and ill King Louis XII, and then poor Queen Claude to François I. Both were Queens - yet neither was happy.”
“I do believe you, Anne, of course, I do. Because I know you so well, I do not doubt that the love you bear Henry is the root of your desire to be his wife. But are you truly aware of how your quest will be viewed by others at court? Not only the English court, but as far away as Rome? And in France and Spain? You will not be regarded as simply a girl who wishes to marry a man she loves! Yours will be a complicated life: you will be the object of backbiting and calumny … and in that way, I do worry for you, Nan.”
I went to her and hugged her close. “I know you do, Mother. And indeed, I know there are those who already resent me, even though Henry’s intent has not been made public. But as I see it, there is little I can do except to walk the path which is laid before me. I love Henry and, God willing, I intend to be his wife. And if God’s plan is that I become Queen, I will rule with every scrap of ability He has given me.”
“Then, in that case, my daughter,” my mother announced, and kissed my cheek, “I will be there for you, to support and defend you always. You may come to me with any confidence you wish to share, and it will be kept. And when and if I can, I will advise you if asked.”
She stood back from me then, still holding my hands in hers.
“I do have one certainty: should God Almighty place you in the position of Queen, together you and Henry will create a magnificent destiny for England.”
Windsor
March 1528
At last, and after what felt like an eternity, two things improved my life immensely. First, the numbing winter finally relinquished its grip on the English countryside. The second, and by far the best, was the invitation from Henry for my mother and me to come and stay with him at Windsor.
My excitement knew no bounds as Charity helped me pack gowns, riding and hunting clothes, articles for the toilette, and jewellery.
“Milady,” she said with nervous excitement in her voice, “then we truly are to stay in the King’s lodgings?”
“Yes, Charity, that is what the King’s message to me said. The note read that he would have me, my mother - and, of course, you - join him at Windsor in the royal lodgings to celebrate the end of winter.”
I looked at her with fondness. “I know – I am excited too. As much as I love Hever, I shall not be at all sorry to be in new surroundings after being closed up in this house all winter long.”
We were warmly welcomed by the staff at Windsor Castle upon our arrival, and shown to lodgings in the tower adjacent to the great gate. The tower had beautiful floor to ceiling windows in the base court area, and hallways fanned from this room, each containing chambers. My mother’s lodging was halfway along the gallery hall, mine nearer the King’s, and both had stained glass windows which opened on one side to the lovely courtyard, and on the other, windows which afforded views of the massive round tower. At the foundation of the tower were the tennis courts Henry had built. My sequence of chambers included a sitting room, a large and well-furnished bedchamber, a small chamber for Charity, and a large bayne. When I saw it, my lips curled in a smile like a cat which has got the cream. After having experienced life with one’s own personal bath, it is most difficult to do without!
We had only just settled in when a discreet knock at the door brought a note from the King.
Milady, will you join me for supper this evening at 8 of the clock in my Privy Chamber? I wait with great expectation to see you.
H. R.
The prospect of renewing our heady romance was ever so enticing. With a sigh of contentment, I turned to the agreeable task of choosing my gown and readying myself for the reunion ahead.
On that evening, we behaved like two giddy young people in love for the first time. We hugged and kissed constantly, giggled at trifling jokes and danced. Henry lifted me as if I were a mere child and swung me around till I collapsed in a dizzy, laughing heap at his feet. I had never had such a wonderful time with anyone in my life. We so enjoyed being together, and put great value on every private moment we shared, since they were but limited.
Later I revealed, “Henry, there is something I want desperately to try.”
“And what might that be, my love?” he replied, cupping my chin in his hand and smiling down at me.
“Tennis! I want to learn how to play tennis! It looks such fun …” I put on my prettiest pout. “And it is so completely unfair that women are denied the chance to play!”
Henry exploded in laughter. How I loved hearing his roaring, mirthful laugh – it sounded like no one else’s and was completely catching. “Well then, I shall teach you,” he said, adding in a clandestine tone, “We will sneak into the tennis court at night when no one is abroad.”
“You really will?” I was elated at the prospect of such an adventure after the confinement and boredom so recently escaped. “But what shall I wear, though? I will have a terrible disadvantage in my petticoats!”
“Perhaps the tailor can make you a petticoat of light fabric, which is divided in the middle as if it were to be worn for riding astride a horse?” he suggested, ever the innovator.
“That is a wonderful idea!” I agreed and determined to place my order for such a garment the very next day. “And because you are so kind as to teach me, I promise not to beat you - or at least not in the first few
games!” I teased with a wink. At this, he grabbed and kissed me.
The weather’s transformation was well-nigh to miraculous. It was as if the harshness of winter had laid the groundwork for an early and particularly lovely spring. The air was warm, and the sun gently gilded the damp earth. The grass quickly began to green, and crocus was everywhere, blooming in profusion. Daffodils had poked through the crusted ground, and in areas kissed by a steady sun, had begun to unfold in their gorgeous yellow cheerfulness.
It was a special time. Henry and I were able to ride out almost every day, alone together, only followed in the distance by his mounted guard. We explored Windsor Great Park, riding across broad meadows and lawns and into the wooded byways which I loved so much. To me, there was something very mystical about riding along trails in those hushed, deep evergreen forests. The sun cast motley shapes on the budding leaves of the trees and across the sous bois, the mossy, living floor under the forest canopy. The muffled thud of the horses’ hooves released the sharp, clean scent of pine as they stepped on the carpet of needles. While we quietly walked our horses, my gaze swept the woods from side to side, on the lookout for wildlife of the forest: baby fawns, squirrels, an occasional bright red fox and, if we were lucky, an elusive owl.
During these rides, Henry and I had some of our best, most interesting conversations. We spoke about the Great Matter, of course, and I encouraged him to trust his instincts and be less dependent on the opinions voiced by Wolsey. We talked about religion, and I described my puzzlement as to why any educated English person should not be able to read the Bible for him or herself. I asked Henry if he knew why Arundel, the Archbishop of Canterbury, had forbidden the translation or reading of an English Bible as a matter of law over 100 years ago. Henry agreed with me in principle, but maintained his allegiance to the Catholic doctrine which prohibited such practices. We also enjoyed discussing the theories of humanism, and Henry told me that he had always been fascinated by the works of Aristotle, especially his writings on logic and ethics as a basis for humanist precepts. While I had read some Aristotle as a part of my early education, I admit I had never been an accomplished student of his work, and recognizing his evident interest in the subject, I determined to refresh my knowledge.
Struck With the Dart of Love Page 12
