by J P Ceark
Katherine observed the first few dances but soon disappeared as if wearied from childish spectacle. The Cardinal was quick to lead the Emperor and his aunt away from the high spirits, to keep company with them and to discuss other important matters while showing off his palace.
Mary noted Henry’s eyes leave her to observe Katherine’s retreat. He hid his face behind the mask once more, as if to hide his impure thoughts. Mary noticed his musky scent lingering around her. George turned away along with the crowd of dancers. As Mary did the same, she came face to face with the masked King.
The musicians began a slow beat to begin with, making Henry stand directly in front of and uncomfortably close to Mary. Her wrist went up to touch his as to the direction of the beat and they began to slowly circle one another.
‘Katherine named you temperance but I would like to name you kindness. Do you know why?’ Henry enquired.
‘I cannot reason?’ she answered.
‘I had hoped you would begin to show some kindness towards me, unlike the other night.’ He blushed a little.
She smiled. ‘I will show kindness towards Your Majesty. I will speak gently and list all your merits, as the most superb man and the best King. There … is that not kindness for you?’
‘I beg of more kindness,’ he whispered.
‘Aye? The kindness of virtue or of sin?’
‘That is for you to decide. If sin be a woman, she would be the most desirous yet; if virtue be a woman, she would be without temptation,’ Henry explained.
‘Queen Katherine is a very virtuous woman,’ she clarified with some thought.
‘Aye, ‘tis true … and I have no desire for her and much for you.’
‘Making me the sin,’ she spoke directly.
Henry chuckled. ‘A sin worthy of the worst punishment,’ he reassured her.
‘I’d dislike to see my King punished. Better I stay away and not put temptation before you,’ she said diplomatically.
‘Temperance indeed,’ he mocked. ‘You still refuse my advances.’ He glanced down at her while holding her body tightly to his. ‘You still wound my heart?’
‘Aye, Sire. I shall never go willingly to you,’ she reproved bluntly, causing Henry to lessen his grip.
‘Fading hope, Madam,’ he replied coldly, but she smiled at him and pinched his wrist.
The music paused once more. Henry kissed her hand. ‘I want a lover, not a tease.’
She stood alone in the middle of the crowded hall. She searched for Anne among the people and spotted her with a young man. He was gazing at her, mesmerised by her. ‘What of the King?’ whispered George suddenly behind her. ‘I am to escort you to his chamber?’
‘He has not invited me,’ she declared. ‘And that is the way it has to be. Uncle has achieved his want, and Father believes of my disgrace—’
‘It has been arranged, you are to be with him tonight,’ George pressed with growing frustration.
‘Only if you drag me there,’ she whispered.
George reached out to grab a bowl of rose water. In a moment of anger he threw it at her. She was momentarily stunned but soon reached the bowl to retaliate. The bowls of scented water were dotted all around the hall and most would dip their fingers in and sprinkle upon the reeds in order to refresh the scent. Seeing the scene, others took the bowls and splashed those around them, causing indignation for some and high merriment to others. Henry could see the commotion and ran to be involved.
‘Where is my household?!’ Henry yelled, his cheeks burning red with excitement. ‘Protect the ladies from the damage done.’ He grabbed a bowl himself and the war of rose water began across the hall. Oh, the joy and folly of youth! Through the laughter and frivolity, Mary felt herself being directed away from the Great Hall, Henry embracing her, kissing her wet cheeks.
‘I’ve rescued you,’ he said proudly. ‘Even when spurned I’ll always rescue my sweetheart.’
Her resistance was weakening. His bejewelled hand held her as though it would always support her. His words were tender and his kisses pleasing. Being desired is powerful, being desired by power is more so.
She followed him towards his state rooms, his gentlemen of the bedchamber stopping before the bedchamber door. Once alone, she undressed before him. He threw various garments from his body and rushed to hold her again. His hands lingered on her, arousing her, tormenting her, causing tightening sensations of pleasure within.
‘I’ve spent nights dreaming of this moment, from first I saw you,’ he whispered.
‘Aye, Sire. Mine own eyes looked on no other.’
‘What of Francis?’ he asked directly.
‘I was unwilling and … unmoved.’ She lied.
He breathed a throaty laugh.
She moved to be upon the bed, to feel the weight of him upon her, to have relief. He did as she beckoned, but at the point of expulsion, he released her, drawing away to finish alone.
‘Sire?’
‘I must spare the Queen any humiliation.’ He kissed her lips gently. ‘My gentlemen will return soon, I’ll help you dress.’
July 1522
Portsmouth, Dockyard
‘Two warships, this one is rigged, cannon deployed and eager to set sail upon the enemy,’ spoke the craftsman. Thomas felt the smooth wood, its cold sturdiness from the dark oak. It creaked as he walked around the ship and noticed the strong scent of linseed oil. ‘Aye, it’ll leave the wood once out at sea,’ the craftsman reassured, but Thomas cared little.
‘And the other is crafted to the same standard?’
‘Aye, though a little behind schedule. Another six months perhaps,’ he shrugged with indifference.
Thomas bent low to view out the cannon window; he could see the other ship being rigged, cannons missing.
‘Six months is too long. Be done in two or else work without a wage.’ He turned his back on the craftsman so as not to see the disdain, but he would not lose profit. ‘These ships are to be bought by the King, a decent addition to his fleet.’
‘A prize, Master Boleyn! Though the King does have the likes of the Mary Rose, a magnificent ship. Unless he plans to go to war?’
‘I could not say,’ Thomas rebuked.
‘A huge cost to the purse though, Master. I wonder what the Treasurer makes of such a big outlay, unless for good reason,’ he continued to dig.
‘I have it on good authority, the Treasurer is encouraging the King to buy my ships,’ he smirked with private knowledge. The King would pay a heavy price for the defamation of himself and his daughter. ‘Have the names been registered?’
‘Aye,’ said the craftsman recalling from memory the names given to each ship. ‘The Mary Boleyn and the Anne Boleyn.’
‘Good.’ Thomas walked the gangplank out from the darkness of the ship back into the light and air. He breathed in slowly and thought on his profits to quell his bitterness.
‘‘Tis a good thing the King can afford two warships, for the people won’t want to give money to support it. Most struggle as it is. How is it the rich get richer and the poor get poorer? Surely money should be as the oceans, abundantly flowing for all to sail upon?’
‘You think the people would protest against the King if he were to raise funds for a war?’
‘Most certainly, if it’s not His Majesty taking three pence in every pound then it’s the Church charging us for our sins. We are forever filling the palms of people above us, who have more than us, and yet they protest charity is for the poor. Not in this life!’
Thomas doffed his cap to the craftsman, eager to be away from the line of conversation. The King didn’t have the money to fund a war and voices within the council were pressing for one.
He walked down the gangplank and looked over at Robson waiting with his horse and his servant’s mule. He took back his horse once more and they rode a mile or two to an inn to meet his head of retinue, Musgrave.
The venue was heaving with merchants and sailors, lads as young as six chasing the horizon bey
ond these shores to make a fortune.
Musgrave walked before his master, heavy and broad. ‘Private lodging!’ he yelled to the landlord.
‘Aye, this way,’ came the landlord’s reply as though disinterested.
The room above the inn was a single space consisting of a table and chairs. No fire warmed them, though the chimney stack protruded from the wall. It gave some heat to an otherwise cold room.
‘Bring lunch of mutton broth and bread.’
The landlord nodded, muttered something and left. Thomas threw down his satchel and held his furs about him. ‘Only when I’m away from court do I see the abysmal existence of the ordinary life … and yet when I’m there, I detest its nature.’
‘‘Tis true of us all, Master Boleyn. We believe life is better elsewhere but it’s never so.’ He sighed heavily. ‘From here we go back to Kent?’ he queried just to change the subject.
‘Aye, I’m to interview a priest to come into my service.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to travel with you?’
‘Aye, I’m sure. Robson will accompany me and then we are to go on pilgrimage. No, I want you to keep an eye at court. Report to me on my children and of Surrey’s interferences with them …’ Thomas noticed a shift in body language from his servant, being a keen study of the unspoken language. ‘Why be peculiar? What is it that you know?’
‘It came from George; Anne has put in a petition to Earl Surrey to support a marriage between her and Henry Percy—’
‘The heir to Northumberland?’
‘Aye, the very one.’
‘He’s a member of the Cardinal’s household?’
‘Aye, and he is reported to be besotted with your daughter. George schemed for the Earl Surrey to throw his weight behind the marriage, in order for Mary to continue to speak well of him to the King. Yet the Earl has refused and the Percy boy is convinced the Cardinal will never agree. I doubt it will reach the King’s ears.’
‘Is there any impropriety upon Anne’s name?’
‘None, Master. She is eager to marry him though.’
Thomas smiled with satisfaction. ‘Clever George, to blackmail his uncle. I thought him meek. Ha! It’s good to know Surrey was caught in his own web. Though he won’t go against the Cardinal; he’s fallen foul of Wolsey and needs to retain the King’s favour.’
‘What discord between Cardinal and Earl Surrey?’
‘The Cardinal is trying to delay war with France. Yet when Surrey escorted the Spanish fleet across the English Channel, he decided to continue onto France and burn and pillage the French villages. The King was satisfied but Wolsey has marked him.’
‘Ah, not one to follow orders …’
The food was brought in with an ale keg. They remained silent while servers were around them.
Thomas and Musgrave bowed their heads in prayer and after the strangers were gone proceeded to eat.
‘So …’
‘So?’ asked Thomas.
‘What of your daughter, Anne? Should I protest for or against her?’
‘I’d protest nothing. Besides, I’m too occupied with the King’s business. I’ll be glad to travel to Spain and away from their domestic disputes. Just make it so she stays of virtuous repute. She knows of my opinion.’
March 1539
Dover coaching inn
The inn had been a good resting place; both Mary and Amy felt able to continue with the journey after nourishment and some hours of respite. Though it was mid-afternoon, Amy was in higher spirits. She took up her satchel and willed her mistress onwards to the waiting post. There was no one else about. Birds could be heard calling and other noises of unknown pedigrees, but the women were soon contented as a small pinprick of candlelight could be distinguished far in the distance. Ten minutes went by and the vehicle was slowing for their journey.
‘Where you be stopping?’ the cart-man asked.
‘Gravesend.’
‘Aye, I go as far as Maidstone, lassie. You’ll ‘ave to find other means,’ he explained with indifference.
She gave him a fee of a few groats and together she and Amy placed themselves onto the wooden bench. They sat together, facing two other travellers as the horse gave a jolt. Mary held her furs close against her from the cold.
‘Would you prefer to stop at Maidstone and then travel across to see your father?’ asked Amy.
‘I think not, I said I would meet Cranmer and so I must. We will go to London first.’
‘But if your father is very ill and dying,’ she whispered so not to disturb the two other people, ‘time is fading for you both to say goodbye.’
‘We said goodbye to each other a long time ago, it needs not to be relived.’
‘Why was he so against your relationship with the King? Especially since Anne then formed one too?’
Mary looked over at the two men on the other side; both appeared to be asleep so she answered her maid’s question.
‘You would have to ask him of his discontent, but Anne would never have been connected with the King if I hadn’t been his to begin with. He blamed me for Anne’s rivalry. He was oft abroad, I only knew of his irritations and never his contentment. Although I never knew him to be angered by Anne. Even when it came to light of her entanglement with Henry Percy. He had left for Spain without a word of disapproval. Anne believed this to be support and fought like a tempest of which no one had ever seen. I think this was when Henry was first intrigued by her, for her passion, her strength, but also because the rest of the court mocked her. The King helps the weak for he appears strong. When I spoke on the events, Henry would always take Anne’s side, yet when I asked him to overrule the Cardinal, he said no. I knew then a kindling had caught light and I would soon be cast aside, yet I accepted that long ago … He had any woman who took his fancy and whoever gave small resistance for a moment or two. I was aggrieved and gave him false impression I had returned to my husband. Henry had added more estates for William to manage, inhibiting any chance of reconciliation.’
‘What happened? What did Anne do after the Cardinal said no to her marriage to Henry Percy?’
‘She cried, it was rather pitiful. The affair had been going on for over a year; she had been living with false hope. When Percy finally approached the Cardinal, all was lost. He begged upon his knees in front of the Cardinal, surrendered all his dignity in order to marry Anne, but Wolsey was unmoved, threatened to send him home to his father, disgraced and ruined. His father would cut him from his inheritance; as such, their hope died. They could’ve had a good life, with fortune and love. Little to disturb their happiness … but it was not to be. Had Father even been in England at the time, I doubt he would have shouted too loud for acceptance of the marriage, he isn’t a man to act out of loyalty or love to save his family.’ Mary turned from Amy to look about the scenery in the cold afternoon glow. The anger had risen in her. ‘No, I will never speak to my father again. We’ll go to Greenwich and then return home.’
‘You feel your father could’ve saved Anne from her execution?’
‘Perhaps not … but he could have protested her innocence. Instead he sat in judgement of her accused lovers and found them guilty. Then fled to Hever while George and Anne were condemned to die ... He’s a coward.
November 1522
Valladolid, Spain
A long table rested before them. Emperor Charles sat dominantly centre. Next to him, though lower than him, was Chancellor Gattinara. The other men sat around them were the men Thomas had greeted in England earlier that year. He doffed his cap in respect to them. Sampson walked forward to present their papers.
Thomas was still surveying the Emperor’s advisors and registering the overwhelming presence of the clergy. He sniffed in distaste, causing Sampson to stare with reprimand.
‘Sir Sampson, Sir Boleyn, welcome to Spain!’ The Emperor stood from his throne, an appearance of respect for them. ‘I understand your voyage was a testing one! God has endeavoured to bring you safely to my shores.
A good sign of His favour towards us!’
Thomas sensed his slow pulse quicken with anger. The sudden pressure within him caused him to swoon. He felt someone grip his arm but he heard screaming. Images of the ocean turning black under the stormy skies repeated in his mind and then, with panic, another memory eclipsed the fear. His priest, rosary in hand, praying, praying, praying out of despair, out of terror. The priest was hoisted by the water as if weightless and thrown into the mast Thomas was clinging to. Blood and wood splintered as wave upon wave crashed into the ship. He felt the cold water envelope him to oblivion. Yet when he opened his eyes, a row boat bobbed about: a small distance from him was Robson and other members of the crew. He was looking out to sea from the shores of Ireland.
‘Thomas!’ yelled Sampson. ‘You’re to take further rest!’
Thomas remained dazed while slowly returning to present day. He stood suddenly, and angrily brushed Sampson’s hand from his shoulder. ‘An involuntary seizure, I’m well again,’ he confirmed.
‘Lack of substance, I believe,’ the Emperor assumed.
‘Aye,’ voiced Thomas, his rage still at the surface. ‘It was difficult recovering under house arrest by your rebels.’
‘The King of England was most pleased when receiving you and your court on your way to Spain. Though the last visit was not as splendid as His Majesty would have liked. The friendship he feels and the love he possesses for you, his nephew, is beyond all the magnificence our court could show!’ Sampson spoke.
‘I received the greatest of warm relations. My regret is that I couldn’t stay longer, but as you see, domestic disputes occur that need immediate action.’
