by J P Ceark
‘I thought to press her case now, as the Queen has opportunity to meet with her and make a decision as to her future,’ Thomas justified once more.
‘I shall make arrangements for it to be done,’ the Cardinal assured.
‘Thank you, Your Grace. Where would we be without your charity?’ Thomas answered with the note of sarcasm only Wolsey would detect.
* * *
Mary pushed past attendants and lackeys through the narrow corridors. The heat of the summer sun was forcing her to sweat; she could feel the water gather and drip from her forehead.
Queen Katherine’s rooms were to the front of the building on the first floor. After a long walk Mary arrived in her audience chamber. The Queen had many more women in attendance than usual including herself, her mother and aunt, along with her usual ladies in waiting and her Spanish ladies. With a renewed determination to elevate her reputation with her father, Mary volunteered to aid the Queen whenever an opportunity arose. By doing so, it created a gentleness in Queen Katherine towards Mary.
‘Your Majesty, the final trunk has been located and will be here shortly.’
‘It contains lighter gowns,’ Queen Katherine explained. ‘A style my mother wore in Spain,’ she sighed. Her soft Spanish accent seemed to acquaint with the lazy heat of the day. ‘And more of my Spanish headdresses.’ Her eyes rolled up to view the symbol of her pride and exposed her displeasure that Henry would consider offending her native Spain. She then smiled to herself, aware of her public political statement. ‘Finally you get to see your sister: I bless your union,’ she added, changing subject.
‘Most Gracious Majesty,’ Elizabeth Boleyn curtsied.
‘I do wonder if she will be supportive of the French or the English side,’ spoke Mary aloud, causing glances of indignation from her mother.
‘English surely,’ Katherine spoke with a bemused look.
‘Anne is French in all but blood …’ Mary could not continue as her mother interrupted.
‘Anne is a good girl, of good training and good patronage. She is obedient and helpful.’
‘Mary, is not your husband about?’ spoke the Countess of Surrey. ‘Is he in good health?’
‘Aye,’ answered Mary with a look of bewilderment.
‘I hear he is to joust … go and find him. Tell us who he rates.’
Mary curtsied low to the Queen and left the presence chamber but hovered near the doorway to overhear their talk.
‘She is a little lost, Your Majesty,’ Elizabeth began to explain. ‘With no occupation at court.’
‘And why is that?’ Katherine asked directly. ‘I have enjoyed her company.’
‘My husband lacks the Cardinal’s patronage, Your Majesty, and since the honour is so great to serve you, my husband and I had hoped for our unmarried daughter to have that honour.’
Katherine nodded at that. ‘What of your eldest, Lady Boleyn?’ A note of pity could be detected in her voice.
‘He declines, Your Majesty. I hope I’m beside him when the time comes … however, prayer is a great comfort and hope is forever with me.’
Mary wished to hear no more. She felt deeply for her mother’s pain and became uncomfortable with listening to her grief.
* * *
William found Mary leaving the castle as if by chance meeting. They strolled out of the courtyard and into the fields and around the tents; a number of people occupied the pathways and drank the wine gushing from fountains.
‘Is it wrong I only think of the night and wish the day away?’ William stated as Mary realised their chance meeting was not a coincidence.
‘I too wish the day away.’ She gave a smile. ‘It is too hot!’
William blushed with her teasing. ‘You know what I meant.’
‘When is King Henry to meet Francis?’
‘He is to ride out on the seventh. My name has appeared in the list of men to accompany King Henry. There is some fear of an attack.’
‘You think it could happen?’
‘Anything could,’ he reasoned.
‘The Countess of Surrey asked if you were in good health. I can only think she wanted to change the subject from Anne. Or has there been a complaint, husband?’
William laughed gently. ‘She is evaluating her betting. She is far too young for your uncle.’
‘Then I don’t judge her gambling, for something must amuse her. He certainly cannot.’
‘Indeed, she has been unfortunate with her spouse but I think marriage is a good existence, is it not?’ He asked her.
Mary forced a smile in return.
* * *
A few days had passed. The English court had settled into their temporary accommodation and the meeting which had been arranged for months would now take place.
Henry mounted his horse, both of them glistening in the sun. Every inch of him was covered in cloth of gold and his beautiful bay horse was decorated with the same cloth plus gold bells that jingled as he trotted forward. The Queen and her ladies looked out from the windows of their castle and noted the splendid array of the men below.
Cannons boomed from the turrets and the gentleman below rode around the many pavilions and tents which dotted the landscape. With the King gone, the Queen sat back down and began to sew her husband’s shirts, while a young lady read passages from the Bible, passages which were prayers for her husband’s success and safe return. Her ladies copied her example, sat on their stalls and picked up their embroidery, while listening to the rhythm of Latin.
The Countess of Surrey had opened every window in the Queen’s apartment, yet the air was still and each of them was suffering. After some time, the silence was broken by one of the Queen’s Spanish ladies.
‘I believe, Your Majesty, the meeting must have gone well, for word would surely have reached you if it had not,’ said Maria.
‘I pray it may be so,’ replied the Queen, her back rigidly straight in her chair.
A few more hours had passed and the Queen had remained concerned; without the relaxed softness within her face, Katherine looked wearied and old beyond her years. Her hair had more flecks of grey than of auburn and her once slender frame had become rotund with years of failed childbearing.
A presence could be heard approaching as the castle was prone to echo. Some went to the window but none could see the intruder. All of them waited for the person to arrive before the Queen.
Thomas Boleyn arrived into the presence chamber looking dishevelled, sweaty and short tempered.
‘Ambassador Boleyn,’ she greeted with a weary tone.
‘The meeting has been a great success, Your Majesty, and King Francis sends his compliments. He invites you to dine with him and Queen Claude tomorrow.’
‘Charming,’ she replied curtly.
Thomas flinched slightly at the Queen’s temper. ‘If I may … I would also like to introduce my daughter?’
Katherine smiled at this and motioned for Thomas to do so. He hurried outside the room and then hurried back, this time with Anne beside him. She curtsied low to the Queen.
Her difference from the other girls was instantly apparent; their fashions and cut of gown embodied the cultural influences of different countries. The headpiece was a curve, embroidered with gold and sewn-on pearls. Katherine was still defiantly wearing her Spanish fashions.
Elizabeth Boleyn sensed tension. The other women were taking an instant dislike to her. They were all for Spain.
‘My daughter, Your Majesty, Anne Boleyn,’ spoke Thomas. ‘I have it on good authority from Cardinal Wolsey that she will join your household. I hope she will serve you as faithfully and as well as my wife and sister-in-law do today.’
‘We feared we had lost you to the French!’ spoke Katherine glancing towards Mary, the only person to acknowledge her in this public audience.
‘I have great admiration for French culture, Your Majesty, though it could never replace the love I feel for my country, my origins. I have missed it, as you’ve missed yours, I’m sure.’<
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Katherine looked stung. She had given much to England and yet was still viewed as an outsider, an imposter, a foreigner. ‘I do miss Spain, but anyone would,’ she reasoned sharply. Katherine motioned for Jane Parker to step forward. ‘Perhaps you, Jane, could acquaint Mistress Anne with court duties?’ Jane curtsied but Anne looked to her mother. ‘Your mother will be returning to her duties at Hever,’ Katherine clarified, knowing of the sadness that had accompanied Elizabeth on the journey to France. ‘Jane has been worthwhile to your sister,’ she reassured Anne.
‘Aye, the dearest friend,’ Mary confirmed.
‘She’ll be a worthy recipient of Mistress Parker’s tutoring, Your Majesty,’ Thomas reassured her. ‘Now I must return to the French court to make arrangements. Tomorrow are the jousting tournaments and from then a banquet.’ He gave a low bow to leave the royal presence and signalled for Anne to curtsey. Anne gave a quick glance at her sister before disappearing.
‘William is partaking of the jousting, are we allowed to watch, Your Majesty?’ Mary enquired.
‘You speak of the King’s cousin, Madam Carey? Your husband?’ she replied, half listening.
‘Aye, Majesty,’ spoke the Countess of Surrey. ‘My Lord, Earl Surrey, believes him to be a great jouster,’ she confirmed but exposed her true motivation to the Queen. ‘We should love to show our support and cheer for him.’
‘To gamble on him,’ Katherine said disapprovingly but confirmed the ladies’ hopes. ‘All my ladies can observe the tournaments.’
* * *
As the days went on both France and England basked in the excitement and merriment from the days of tournaments: feasting, drinking, dancing and all other revelries. After early morning Mass, the Queen and her ladies broke their fast. Most were chatting in high spirits while others served the Queen. Those nearest to the window started to move excitedly, glancing outside. Elizabeth implored the Queen to discipline them.
‘What arouses you all?’ Katherine asked.
‘Your Majesty, it is King Francis on a mule! He is riding towards the castle.’
‘Is that so,’ Katherine spoke and adjusted her headdress as she did so. ‘Let us pay court to him. Come along, we must greet him.’
Elizabeth could feel the colour drain from her face. She glanced towards Mary who stared back with pleading eyes. They followed the other women and progressed with the Queen through the castle and into the open courtyard as Francis made his way through the first two turrets.
‘Princess of Spain, Queen of England! Good lady to my beloved brother King Henry! Salutations!’ He dramatically swung his legs from his mule and fell to his knees in front of Katherine, taking her hand to kiss.
Elizabeth felt herself staring at him; the man who had seduced her daughter brought shame into her heart and a vehemence still not healed within the family.
‘Come, let us walk the grounds,’ said Katherine as she motioned Francis away from the castle and into the throng of tents and fountains spurting wine. Mary pushed the Countess away from her mother and looped her arm with her to be close to the Queen and the French King. She could hear their voices, but despite her desire, he wouldn’t turn to view her.
‘I realise your reluctance to support a French and English alliance, I truly feel for your anguish. Yet your nephew is inexperienced and is likely to fall victim with his own people. He was born in the Netherlands, can he even be considered Spanish?’ Francis began.
‘He is made from my sister’s blood, her Spanish blood. The blood of Catalonia, the blood of Aragon. Aye, he is Spanish!’ She felt her temper rising and knew it was a test of her nerve and her resolve to not be induced. ‘Still, this matter is for my husband,’ she concluded.
Francis laughed. ‘I like how women say this, yet we know no decision is made without a woman venturing an opinion. I cannot take offence, but what I must implore upon you is your judgement in this matter. The King of England, the realm of England, should seek its best advantage to succeed and prosper. I have stated this and have made promises your nephew cannot. King Henry should secure our friendship—’
‘Henry is a man of excellent judgement and England shall always have the hand of God above her. Success for England is not expected, it is known.’ She glared at him with unflinching defiance. ‘Now you are in the minds of the English, Sire, whomever my husband allies himself with, England will succeed.’
‘I pray that to be true,’ he mumbled before returning to his first thought. ‘Your nephew is a shrewd man, I will say that much, but your husband and I are of the same mind. Spanish power is far too reaching, and to then add to that power the title of Holy Roman Emperor, well his position in the world becomes … threatening.’
Katherine decided to change tact. ‘I cannot speak for any man, Prince, but if I were to die for one man it would be for my husband. Whatever threatens him threatens me, and I fear often for his soul … A vow of peace has been made from the orders of the Pope, perhaps it is God’s wish our countries remain in solidarity. Should we not be aiming for that instead?’
Mary listened intently but Katherine’s soft Spanish accent was almost hypnotic; yet Francis did not give up.
‘Of course, good lady, I admire your Christian values and I must concede your female charitable character does soften my instincts. In truth though this is not how the world works. I am sorry to highlight the inferiority of your beliefs. Every country should work for their own success; to put reliance and trust in another is predictably to see it fall—’
‘Ah,’ interrupted Katherine. ‘It is how it looks to the rest of the world though, is it not? The first to swing the sword is the first to be condemned!’ she retaliated.
‘Only if he loses,’ Francis reasoned then smiled in a carefree fashion.
Mary could not get his attention; only matters of state interested him. She felt her mother pull on her arm. To not listen in and with the added distance, Mary could no longer hear them.
June 1520
Ardres, France
‘Ten ducats on King Henry!’ shouted Mary.
‘Is it wise to gamble with your husband’s money?’ asked Anne.
‘King Henry is taller, broader and more muscular. He’ll win,’ she reassured.
‘Very well, same wager,’ Anne said, taking the handwritten receipt. ‘There’s George, go to him; he has a good view.’
The two kings were stripped to their breaches, their chests oiled and shining. They circled each other, though both smiled with the anticipation. ‘Wrestle!’ yelled the regulator. Henry made a dash forward, taking Francis by the shoulders, and the two were locked in hold.
‘Come on! Throw him!’ yelled the crowd.
Francis went to lift Henry but struggled to take his weight. Henry stood firm and shoved Francis back. They met once more, circling and locking into one another. Their shoulders and arms strained with muscle and tension.
The crowd roared louder as Francis seemed to be overcome by Henry’s solid body. They broke and reached forward again, each taking a foot forward to trip up the other. ‘Throw him down!’ yelled Mary, pleased that Francis was struggling against her King.
Henry made Francis take his weight but misjudged his footing, so Francis used the sudden weight against Henry. Henry fell onto his back with a hard thud, taking Francis with him. He was held for a moment and the fight was won by King Francis.
‘Another!’ shouted Henry, springing to his feet.
‘I quit when I have won!’ Francis spoke, disappointing the crowd. ‘I knew I had the advantage as you sprained your wrist jousting but I doubt my luck would hold for another round.’ He tried diplomatically to soften his rival’s defeat.
‘Archery then?’ concluded Henry, still struggling to compose himself.
‘Because I am blinded in one eye!’ Francis yelled to the crowd, pointing to his blackened eye which he too sustained in the jousting, though neither rode against the other nor were the weapons sharp. ‘Alright brother, a contest on archery.’
; The crowd moved hurriedly towards the archery tent. George grabbed Anne’s hand and moved with the sea of people towards the next event.
‘Mary, come along!’ shouted Anne.
Mary had spotted her husband and instead went against the crowd to reach him. ‘Husband,’ she curtsied.
‘Henry was none too pleased with that,’ William whispered. ‘Place a good wager on him to win the archery, Francis will not allow him to lose again.’
‘Are you not watching?’
‘I am still in the jousting tournament. I won this morning and looking to get in some practice.’ He kissed her hand and disappeared.
Mary found Anne and George in the tent but they were far from her; she dared not try and push her way through the crowd in order to reach them. Instead she made her bet and watched from a distance as King Henry won against King Francis.
Henry showed his pleasure at having his reputation restored. King Francis took a raspberry leaf and Henry a hawthorn and both held them equal to one another. A promising declaration of unity, but Henry’s face told another story — Francis had won a battle resulting in him losing the war.
* * *
This day would be their last in France. As both courts made their way to Mass, the choir of the Chapel Royal sang. Cardinal Wolsey led the service in; as nobles bent their knees, he advanced through the chapel under his elaborate cloth of gold canopy. Eyes narrowed on him but this only fed his superiority.
‘These beautiful days of carefree bliss will come to an end tomorrow,’ Mary whispered to her sister.
‘Plans are arranged that I will return to England,’ she reassured her.
A flash of light hit near to the chapel. A beautiful exotic creature had emerged briefly in the morning sky by the trickery of flames. The shape of a salamander was awakened, then disappeared. ‘A stray firework,’ supposed their mother, Elizabeth.
