by J P Ceark
She ignored his bargain. ‘I’d be content to remain at court,’ she replied.
‘You’ll place Anne before the King?’
She thought for a moment with little love for her sister, then replied, ‘Aye.’
March 1539
Greenwich Palace
The barge had stopped. The red brick palace lay on the bank of the river, a small wooden pier protruded with royal standards at either end. It was unavoidable to see the palace, lit within and a foreboding presence upon the river. For many people court seemed glorious, but Mary had lived within those walls and found nothing of the promises it tantalised. Her emotions were as distant as her past was. It no longer held the same excitement and somehow that made her sad. It was an acknowledgement of all that had been and an acceptance that it would never be again.
Together Amy and Mary made their way across the pier. A guard lowered his halberd, blocking their entrance. Mary gathered up Cranmer’s seal and letter from her satchel. He eyed the seal and granted admittance. They left the perimeter of the main palace and walked through a courtyard and then down a red-bricked alleyway to reach the army barracks. She exposed the seal and letter once more to those who queried her entrance and was finally ushered in.
The army barracks were jostling with men and women of the court, most arising to start their day. The quarter was meant for foot soldiers but their wives were also stationed there. As promised, a room did wait for Mary and a letter from Cranmer was also within.
Mary,
Come to me by late afternoon in the presence chamber. I fear I must tell you your father has been gripped by fever for two days now, any reconciliation is perhaps lost.
I’ll speak more on this soon
Your friend
Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury
‘It must have been heart breaking for you,’ Amy spoke, changing the subject as she dwelt on her mistress’s story. ‘To be isolated of affection or kindness …’
‘Well, it was in that time I learnt an invaluable lesson. Never rely on anyone but yourself! Remember that, dear Amy. Even when you’re happily wed, be a person of ability. Think for yourself, live for yourself and never try to prove yourself. Father was right in that respect: we are insignificant; try to prove otherwise and be disappointed for the rest of your life. Accept the need for the improvement of mind but don’t seek applause for it.’
Amy began to unroll the blanket onto the palette bed. ‘Are you sad not to be staying in the main palace?’
‘He fears the King seeing me … I fear the King seeing me. Let us sleep now, later today we’ll try to walk about the palace.’
February 1526
Greenwich Palace
Henry gave a light tap on the door. He proceeded to enter without command and smiled with delight when seeing Mary, but excitement rushed through his blood when Anne stood forward to greet him. He took both of their hands and kissed them.
‘Such pleasant company, how fortuitous.’
‘Your Majesty,’ they both spoke and curtsied low.
‘What were you speaking on before I interrupted?’ Henry asked while looking in the direction of Anne. ‘Mary gives me information about the court I would otherwise have missed and she is a dear friend to me,’ he justified.
‘She has always been generous, Sire,’ Anne quipped. Henry blushed a little as Anne had intended. ‘But she is a dear sister.’
‘Though I and everyone else in the family wish I be more like Anne,’ Mary said as she smiled at Anne, but a note of exasperation was heard.
‘What attributes do you have for your recommendation?’ Henry enquired with interest.
‘I could not presume to know, Sire,’ replied Anne.
‘She is greatly clever, Sire. Oft she is reading on subjects which confound me. She is loyal to herself and those fortunate enough to name her a friend.’
‘A credit to your father,’ Henry summed up.
‘I cannot think why my sister praises me so highly? I must accept her reference to be the truth,’ she laughed, causing Henry to do so.
‘And yet unwed,’ interjected Mary. ‘Who is deserving of her? I cannot think?’
‘What suitors have you?’
‘My heart was taken by Henry Percy but his father rejected the match,’ Anne stated.
‘On what grounds?’
‘Money, Sire! Love comes at a price, does it not?’
‘Aye, but it is a price worth paying.’ He smiled at her, his eyes searching hers. ‘I should not have given up so easily.’
‘Defy his father? I could not ask him to condemn himself.’ Her voice had lost its strength. ‘Nor you, Sire. You followed your father’s advice …’
‘Aye,’ he agreed, not speaking his regret.
‘There is also Thomas Wyatt,’ Mary spoke, reminding Henry and Anne she was still about them.
Henry gave an involuntary laugh, causing Anne to suddenly feel defensive. ‘Now there is an unhappy marriage, he can’t be of good company, for his wife deserted him first chance she got.’
Mary laughed but Anne did not. On sensing Anne’s lack of amusement, Henry stopped. ‘Forgive me,’ he began, but Anne smiled to settle him.
‘It is of no consequence, he is a dear friend but cannot be anything more. I should never become a mistress to him; I should never have any cause to marry other than for love and I shall never settle to please others. I know my talent and good reputation can be applied to any court in Europe, what need do I have of a husband? I can achieve much more alone; marriage can only be for the unity of two souls needing to be in possession of one another.’
‘You see love in its truest form … I realise this may be of little comfort to you, but what I would give to have my time again. Do not spurn your suitors, Anne, one can offer you all the love and devotion you wish for, should you encourage them.’
Mary knew that look and had heard those words. Heat raged through her. ‘Are we going to play cards?’ she enquired sharply while laying the deck before them.
‘Aye, let’s begin the game,’ ventured Anne with her dark eyes narrowing upon the King.
March 1526
Greenwich Palace
The morning was fresh and bright. Mass had just taken place and Mary joined Anne and the other ladies to sit out and enjoy the sunshine. The Queen had excused them but told them to take the maids of honour pastries from her private kitchen, where the girls had cooked their delicacies.
‘I suppose Father has informed you of his scheme?’ Mary asked Anne while staring at her sweet treat. She was suddenly too despondent to enjoy it.
‘Aye … don’t look so glum. I have no intention of following anyone’s whim. See the peacock?’ she asked while looking over at a group of gentlemen, the centre man being the King. ‘Observe his metamorphism, from peacock to tit.’
As he came ever closer, with his smile wide and eager to speak with her, Anne approached.
‘Sire, how now?’ She curtsied low, her own amusement not being his but both were enthralled to the other.
‘Well, Mistress Anne, and yourself? I come to call upon the Queen.’
‘Pity, I thought you came to call upon a tart?’ Anne held up her pastry. ‘Try a taste, Your Majesty. I think you will concede it’s a pleasure to savour.’
‘And what are these called?’ he enquired.
‘Maids of honour … does it take your fancy?’ she continued with cheeky amusement.
‘I do enjoy a maid of honour,’ he replied, then bit into the small pie. She smiled at him while he ate it. He then asked, ‘Should I be in your company tonight?’
‘To play at cards?’ she asked with sudden innocence.
‘Only if you intend to cause a royal flush?’
‘I’m not so fortuitous, Sire … and neither will you be.’
He laughed gently, too amused to feel disappointment. ‘Be at your sister’s rooms tonight … I’ll try and win my hand.’
‘Be warned, Sire,’ she whispered. ‘I hold all the
aces.’
‘Methinks you’ll hold a King too,’ he whispered.
Both were smirking as Anne returned to Mary. Walking in the right direction of her sister, she looked away from her as if to hide her guilt at the enjoyment of the attention.
‘If you chose to have no part in this performance, why encourage him so?’ Mary asked indignantly.
‘We must fill our lives with some diversion,’ explained Anne.
‘But do these men have to be victims of your cynicism?’
‘Men are either incredibly cruel or incredibly stupid. There is nothing more to them,’ Anne stated with resolute conviction.
March 1526
Windsor Castle
The weeks went by and Mary had to host Henry and Anne nearly every night. Never did she join him in the presence room, never did he acknowledge her in public spaces. These secret glances were for themselves, but Mary saw them and suffered the gnawing agony of envy. For all of you that know of jealousy, know that goodness has deserted you. Through green eyes see evil, think evil and do evil. Then be condemned by evil.
Mary believed Anne’s motivation was to castrate him, to see the King demasculinised for some strange revenge of male domination. Anne took his ego, the flaw of humankind, and sought to deceive it with flatteries and delusions.
Mary sought respite from her own resentments and returned to her empty room; yet even there, a reminder waited. For within her room, upon a small table, sat an invaluable object. She picked up the bright gold whistle and opened each small gold faucet that revealed a toothpick, an ear scoop and knife. The pleasant small object lay heavy in her hand. She could feel her heart thumping, overwhelming her senses. She read the note written to Anne.
Hot tears rolled down her cheek. She tried to control her hatred; she willed herself to escape her torment and not dwell upon the hurt, but how she craved them all dead.
* * *
It happened to be much later in the evening when Anne appeared in her sister’s rooms. Happy, carefree, light of the burden Mary held within.
‘What is that?’ Anne asked with curiosity, fingering the gold whistle.
‘I believe it’s a present, Anne.’
‘He must think a lot of me! I’d not believed I’d charmed him so … should I whistle? Will he come running to me?’
‘That is the not so subtle notion,’ answered Mary.
Mary imagined the cogs in Anne’s intelligent mind spinning around. She wondered how far she could actually get until her nerve would give in.
‘Come on, let’s go find the King!’
‘For what purpose?’ Mary asked with exasperation. ‘He will arrive for you or send someone on his behalf. It’s not how it’s done — to boldly search for him yourself.’
‘This is how I do things. He has left a present, I wish to say thank you. Come along …’
* * *
The corridor leading to the King’s room was some distance; she blessed the long walk. Yet when Mary looked out of each lattice-designed window she passed, she could only see the rain falling outside, a reflection of her mood. Somehow they arrived outside his door despite Mary’s desire to distance herself.
All seemed quiet. Anne peered into the rooms, no one of note or recognition caused her to delay her search. She knew the King’s apartment’s vast rooms, where two guards stood outside. She dared not approach them for fear of mockery at her clear intention to converse with the King. The shame of being named ‘foolish’ by the court again rushed over her. Mary saw her sister’s eyes filling with tears and realised she was ready to end this puerile lark.
After attempting to compose herself, they both could hear the commotion outside; the King was back from hunting. They waited for the noise to calm and then attempted to escape but the court, on hearing the door open, turned and all of them stood looking directly at Anne and Mary. Henry smiled broadly and told the others to move along but most lingered nearby.
‘Mistress Anne, you received my gift?’ Henry enquired.
‘Indeed, Sire, it was most generous and thoughtful of you,’ she replied.
‘I make no pretence of my admiration and growing affection for you, Mistress Anne.’
‘This is why it should offend me,’ she stated, unable to hold her composure. Mary creased her brow with confusion but Anne carried on in her angry, agitated state. ‘What do you want with me? You wish for me to be your mistress? Or just a passing fancy? A whim of entertainment? Forgive me, Sire, but you shall have to look upon someone who values themselves less, for I will not surrender my dignity — not even for a King.’
He looked as though a hundred cannons had just blown up in his face; rain dripped from his hair and he was sorry the gift had not provoked the reaction he had longed for. ‘Well, Miss,’ he began in a confused manner. ‘Forgive my advancements, I saw you in such a light that I thought you would enjoy to be my mistress, for did you not once say ‘a wife is the duty; a mistress for pleasure’? I will admit to you, that every thought of you brings me pleasure.’
‘I said that some time ago,’ she chastised.
‘And I remembered it. In truth I have admired you for a long time … I …’ He could not go on. Stunned and wet, he went to return to his rooms but glanced back at Mary. ‘Forgive me, Madam Carey, your husband is well? Your children?’
‘Aye, Sire,’ Mary reassured him. ‘Please, Sire, we’re sorry to disturb you.’
He nodded and began to turn away, but just as sudden he turned back to walk close to Anne and lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. ‘The gift was a token of my love … my adoration … my devotion. My heart is yours, Mistress Anne.’
Mary looked away.
March 1539
Hever Castle
‘I hear horses! In the courtyard. Who comes?’ Thomas yelled out. He sat up in disorientation.
‘They are leaving, My Lord. It was a letter from Mary,’ Robson confirmed. ‘Should I read it to you?’ he enquired.
Thomas thought carefully before answering, ‘No, I should read it.’ His mind had not yet calmed but his cynical nature had returned.
‘Father,’ he read aloud. ‘I hope this letter finds you still on earth, Cranmer has explained the severity of your health and know it brings sorrow to my heart. I travel now to Hever so I might comfort you. Should I not receive you in time, I must write my gratitude for your bestowed wealth. It’ll serve my children well. Your daughter Mary.’
Thomas looked up from his letter, his face gaunt and unreadable as to his emotions. Robson waited for him to speak.
‘She writes well,’ Thomas finally said. He gave a peculiar breathless laugh.
‘What amuses you, My Lord?’ queried Robson.
‘Oft when I hear the horses’ hooves echoing over the drawbridge, I think of the time the King came to Hever. Such a spectacle. All these men thundering through, just to see Anne.’ He gave that laugh again. ‘I wrote to the King inviting him on a visit while he was on summer progress. I believed that was my chance to regain a position at court. My mind was set upon the look on Wolsey’s face when I returned to court. It still makes me happy … the thought of it.’
‘I remember the time well, My Lord … I thought you a little reserved when the King arrived.’
‘Ah! Because I was using Anne … but it was only meant to be for that summer. He had fallen in love — a demanding love. I had no thought of the consequences. They shared an intoxicating emotion. I should have known the depth of it,’ confessed Thomas.
April 1526
Hever Castle
Anne and Mary had returned to Hever while the court began their progress. Elizabeth was tutoring Catherine Carey as she had once tutored her own daughters. Baby Henry slept soundly and Anne saw the pleasing sight. ‘I should like that,’ she whispered to Mary.
‘To be a mother?’ Mary asked with surprise.
‘Aye, you’ve been fortuitous. Two lovely, perfect children. I too feel envy,’ she admitted.
Mary felt the swell of silent
emotion affect her. Anne, with kindness and instinct, took her sister’s hand and led her towards the serenity of the garden for fear of upsetting her mother.
‘My chances of becoming a mother diminish each passing year. I wish to be settled, married. Yet now I must stir the pot and serve Uncle and Father their ridiculous schemes, taking me further away from my hope. I dream that I hold a soft child in my arms. I kiss their little nose and stroke their little soft hands. I smell their head and rock them to sleep.’
‘I hadn’t believed it of you …’
They walked together for a time, away from the castle, away from the pain they had caused one another.
‘It’s a strange sensation, when you realise you long to be a mother. It’s a sense of bonding but also of overwhelming love for something that you can bring into existence. But it won’t be for me … I should be alone,’ Anne admitted.
Mary felt shamed, though still in resentment, but not taking any pleasure for the hurt to be reversed. She concluded that neither of them brought any happiness to the other’s life. There was only suffering to be felt.
‘Well met, methinks,’ said Wyatt, walking strikingly fast towards them both and placing himself close beside Anne as if a husband of familiarity.
‘What are you doing here?’ Anne enquired, taking a rapid step away from him.
‘I came to check on my property … and my house,’ he added while regarding her.
‘I was never your property,’ she replied, knowing what meaning he was alluding to. ‘And if you say different, I will condemn you to the King!’ she spat with spite.
‘My, my, you do care what the King thinks of you. No wonder he continues to speak of visiting Hever.’ He nodded in the direction of the castle.
