And it seemed that there was an understanding between us that day that we should be together always.
Being in love changed everything. I even looked different. I was absent-minded. “What is the matter with Anne Boleyn?” asked my companions. “I believe she is in love.”
Was it so obvious?
I would wait for the coming of the Cardinal and, if for some reason he did not come, that was a sad day for me, one to be got through as quickly as possible.
We sat in the gardens and talked. People noticed, of course.
I told him how I had come to Court full of misgivings because I had feared they would try to force me into a marriage with James Butler. I had determined to hold out against that, but I was delighted that the matter had been set aside and James Butler had now left the Court, presumably to return to Ireland.
Then he told me that when he had been a child his father had talked of a marriage for him with Lady Mary Talbot, who was the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury.
“I suppose he thought that an alliance between Northumberland and Shrewsbury would be a good one,” I said.
“There is only one I would take for my wife,” he replied; then we clung together and I thought: This is perfect happiness. This is how it will be for evermore.
What a lot I had to learn!
I could not imagine that my father would put any obstacle in our way. It was clear that the need for me to bring the Butler estates into the family was no longer acute, and my father had lost official interest in the match—I presumed because of some change in the Irish situation. He could surely raise no objection to a match with the Northumberlands. They were one of the most noble and ancient families in the country. No doubt the Howards would consider themselves superior, but the Northumberlands would certainly not agree. As for the Percys accepting me …well, it was true that my origins were not the most noble, but my father was rising high in the favor of the King, and my sister was certainly a woman of some consequence at Court. How strange that I should have counted Mary's affairs a boon. But I was in love. I was ready to accept anything which brought me to the goal on which my happiness depended.
In the apartments of the maids of honor there was a great deal of gossip, and they were naturally interested in my relationship with Henry Percy.
I was unprepared for the storm.
One day Henry did not arrive in the Cardinal's company when the great man called on the King. My disappointment was intense. What had happened? Was he ill? That was my first thought.
I asked one of the young men who was in the Cardinal's household.
“He is not ill,” I was told. “He has greatly displeased the Cardinal, so I heard.”
“Then where is he?”
“He is not in attendance on the Cardinal.”
I was very anxious. What would happen? Would he be sent home? To displease the Cardinal was often to displease the King. If he were sent back to Northumberland, perhaps I could join him there. We could be married. But marriages were not arranged as simply as that. What could this mean? What could he have done?
For the rest of the day I was in a state of terrible uneasiness. It will pass, I kept telling myself. After all, even Wolsey must take care how he treats the son of Northumberland.
The next day the Cardinal came and I was watchful in the gardens. One of Henry's friends came to me and told me that Henry would try to come and see me, but it must be secret, and if he did not arrive I must understand that he had failed in his attempt to reach me.
Now I knew that something was seriously wrong.
It was difficult to contrive the meeting, but the maids of honor were ever ready to assist lovers, as were Henry's friends, and by a certain maneuvering they helped us to the meeting. It was brief and completely shattering.
He came up the river to Greenwich and we went to a secluded part of the gardens. I could see that he was in great distress.
He said: “They are determined to stop us. The Cardinal called me to him and addressed me in a most hectoring and insulting manner. He said he marveled at my folly in attempting to contract myself to you. He said, had I forgotten the estate to which God had called me, for when my father died I should inherit one of the noblest earldoms in the kingdom, and therefore how could I think of marrying without the consent of my father and also that of our King. I had offended not only my father but the King in this folly. He suggested that the King had a special interest in your future. I know not what he meant by that.”
“I do,” I said bitterly. “He can't forget that I once played a little game with him. He liked it not and ever since has been determined to repay me for my insolence.”
“Then everyone is against us. I never thought of this opposition. Your father stands high at Court; he is in the King's favor; and your mother was a Howard. I could not believe this. I would pass over my inheritance to my brother. I wish I were not the eldest son. I told the Cardinal that I was old enough to choose my wife and I would beg the King's favor for the match. I was sure that, if he did give it, my father would also.”
“And then?” I asked.
“The Cardinal looked very shocked. I was not alone. That made it worse. Several of our company were there witnessing my humiliation. He turned to them and said: ‘You saw how this foolish boy lacks wisdom. I thought, Henry Percy, that when you were made aware of the King's displeasure you would have repented your folly and sought at once to end it.’ I told him that you and I had already plighted our troth and I could not give you up. Then he said he would send for my father. And that is what he has done.”
We looked at each other in despair.
“What can we do?” I asked.
He shook his head. “There is nothing we can do.”
“Do you give up so easily, Henry Percy?”
“My dearest, we could run away together. How far do you think we should get? We should be put in the Tower for that.”
“Why should they behave like this? Am I so far below you in birth?”
“I would not care if you were a serving maid. But I do not think that this is a case so simple.”
“But your father wanted you to marry Mary Talbot.”
“It was long ago that that was talked of. I will see my father. I will talk to him. It may be that I can explain to him. It may be that when he sees you…”
“But the King …”
“It may be that the Cardinal only mentioned him to make me give way. I cannot see what interest the King could have.”
“I think he seeks revenge on me.”
“But, my dearest Anne, there are many ways he could have done that had he wished. He could have refused to have you at Court.”
“I do not understand him. I see him watching me sometimes and there is anger in his eyes.”
“It is your fancy. Wait until I see my father. Do not give up hope, my love.”
“No. I will cling to it. I cannot bear to do anything else.”
“I must go. The Cardinal must not know that we have met.”
We parted.
A fearful premonition was creeping over me that there was some evil force working against me.
I did not see him as I had hoped. But I heard what had happened.
It seemed that my enemies were going to extraordinary lengths to ruin my life.
As the meeting between the Earl of Northumberland and his son did not take place in private, there were gentlemen of the Cardinal's entourage to bring news of it to the ladies of the Queen's household, and from them I learned what had taken place.
The Earl must have been amazed to receive a summons to come to Court just to listen to an account of the misdemeanors of his son in engaging himself with a girl who was not considered worthy of the House of Northumberland.
The interview took place in the great hall of Wolsey's palace. The Earl had previously been in consultation with the Cardinal for some time; then he went into the gallery where his son was called to him.
The Earl berated Henry, cal
ling him proud, licentious and an unthinking waster. Such abuse, as all must know, was so untrue that it astonished and maddened me to hear of it. His son had no regard, went on the irate Earl, for his father or his King. He might have brought disgrace on his father and his noble house. He had done his best to ruin them both. But by good fortune, his sovereign and the noble Cardinal had seen fit to warn him of what his profligate son was doing; and therefore he had learned of what sorrow was being brought to his house. He had come to tell his son that he must desist from his folly without delay. He was considering disinheriting Henry and naming one of his brothers as his successor, for the Lords of Northumberland had great duties in the North and these cold not be performed by a profligate waster.
Poor Henry! I could imagine his distress to have his character so misrepresented simply because he had fallen in love and wished to marry. I knew that he was not quick with words as I was; his temper did not rise as mine did. It was those very differences which had attracted me. I wished I had been there. I would have told the Earl—and the Cardinal, too— what I thought of them. I knew in my heart that my poor Henry was not fitted to deal with them.
I could imagine his standing there accepting the abuse, stammering that he loved me, telling them of my perfections. That was not the way to handle them.
And then the Earl turned to the Cardinal's servants, who were listening to this harangue, and told them not to make excuses for his son's faults, and to treat him harshly when the need arose. Then he went out to his barge in a state of great anger.
I sought to cheer myself. It was not the end. The Cardinal's men had been told not to spare him, which meant that he would stay in the Cardinal's household. At least he would not be far away.
But even that hope was soon past.
A few days later I heard that Henry was banished from Court and that he had already left for Northumberland.
I wanted to see the Cardinal, to demand to know what it all meant. Why was everyone so determined to destroy my future happiness? I would have them know that I had Howard blood in my veins. Perhaps they would care to throw insults at the Duke of Norfolk. In private I stormed; I raged; I made up conversations between myself and the Cardinal in which I flayed him with my tongue until the man cringed; but of course it was only my own angry face which looked back at me in the mirror, not the bland one of the great Cardinal. In my thoughts I argued with the King. Why did you have to do this to me? I know you have not forgotten that time at Hever. I see you watching me. Is it possible that a great King could want revenge just because for a few minutes a young girl made him feel foolish?
But these imaginary conversations did nothing but increase my fury.
I was very sad, very hurt and very angry. I supposed it was called broken-hearted for I was listless and had no interest in anything.
My father summoned me to his presence.
He looked at me coldly. “So you have disgraced yourself with young Percy,” he said.
“Disgraced! We were to have been married.”
“Foolish girl. You should know that the marriage of the future Earl of Northumberland must be arranged by his family.”
“We are as good as they are…almost.”
“You have displeased the Cardinal.”
“Why should my affairs displease him? If he is so worried about my low birth, let him look to his own.”
“You are too forward. You are lacking in modesty. Your presence at Court is no longer needed.”
“Do you mean…?”
“What I mean is that you are to leave at once for Hever.”
So I was banished too.
It did not matter to me very much where I was. What was the use of being at Court if he was not there?
Over the moat, under the portcullis, into the familiar courtyard …I was home, banished from Court, banished from joy for ever more.
My stepmother greeted me with pity and affection. She knew of the broken love affair.
“You will feel better at home,” she told me. “I will look after you.”
I fell into her arms and, for the first time since it happened, I was weeping. I think I alarmed her, for it was so unlike me, and as always with me, my tears were more tempestuous than those of other people—just as my anger and my pleasure seemed to be.
She was a great comfort to me. I was able to talk to her. She understood how much I had cared for him and why. I told her of our meetings and our plans; and she listened and wept with me.
She assured me that I would recover in time. “Time is our friend in trouble,” she said, “because it tells us that the sorrow cannot last for ever.”
I was sure mine would.
“I shall never forget him,” I told her. “He was not in the least like the man I should have expected to marry. He was no great warrior. I am surprised that I could care for such a man as he was… but as soon as we were together I knew that I was for him and he was for me. He was not like any of the others and nor am I… but the difference between us was great. Oh, it is good to talk of him … to someone who I think will understand.”
“There, my darling child,” she said. “Talk to me. Tell me… and if you would be quiet, then we shall just sit together… close like this… and you will know my thoughts are with you.”
I do not know how many weeks passed thus. I lost count of the days. Sometimes I lay in bed from sunrise to sunset; and my stepmother would come up and sit by my bed.
“There is nothing to get up for,” I told her.
And she would sit there, so that if I wished to talk to her I did and if I was silent it did not matter.
I have never forgotten what she did for me at that time.
Then one day a messenger came from Court from my father.
Among other things he brought a letter for my stepmother. He wished to know how I was faring. Was I sulking in my disappointment?
“She should be told that Henry Percy is now married to Lady Mary Talbot for whom his father has always intended him.”
So it was really over. Before that, I had had wild hopes that some miracle might happen, and that one day I should see him come riding into the castle.
This was the end… and I did not care what became of me.
I do not know how I lived through the weeks that followed. I was ill for a while. I had some sort of fever and I lay in my bed unsure where I was for long stretches of the day—for which I was grateful.
Mary Wyatt came over to Hever to see me. She read to me and we talked a great deal about the old days when we had all been so happy.
“Thomas is at Court,” she said. “He writes more now. He produces many of the entertainments there. The King likes his work.”
I did not want to hear about the Court.
Mary went back to Allington, but it was comforting to know she was not far away.
My stepmother tried to interest me in some embroidery stitches she had learned. She was working on an altar cloth for the church and wondered if I would care to help her.
I worked with her listlessly, taking no interest in it.
And so the weeks passed.
Then one day a messenger came from Court. We were to prepare for a visit from the King. He would be with a hunting party in Kent and as he would be near Hever he would spend a night at the castle. My father had written out a list of instructions for my stepmother. It was possible that the Cardinal would be a member of the party.
I felt sick with rage.
“I shall not see them,” I said. “I shall take to my room and they must be told that I am ill… which I shall be at the thought of seeing them.”
My stepmother reasoned with me. “You cannot do this. It will not be allowed. You will be commanded to come down to greet the King.”
“I refuse.”
“Have you forgotten that when the King came before you stayed in your room pleading illness?”
“I remember the occasion well,” I said grimly.
“You must steel yourself, my love. It will no
t be so bad. Remember, it is only for one night. It will soon be over.”
“No,” I cried. “I will not.”
The next morning I had a return of the fever, and this was not feigned. I think I must have conjured it up. I lay in my bed, hot and uneasy, assuring myself that in no circumstances would I see the royal party.
What if they forced me? They could, I supposed. They had shown me how powerful they were. If they were capable of ruining my life, they could surely insist that I leave my bed and join them.
I lay there fuming with hatred. I was not calm and gentle like my stepmother. I could not mildly accept the fate which had been thrust upon me. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw the sinister figure of the Cardinal. How I hated that man! How dared he humiliate my lover! How dared he speak of me as he had!
How I should love to have my revenge on him! If ever the opportunity arose, I would gladly take it. I would never forget, never forgive.
It was absurd to think that the King was interested in my affairs. It was the Cardinal who was making the trouble. After all Henry Percy had been of his household. He wanted to have charge of all those there; he looked upon them as his minions. He was an arrogant man.
And as I lay there I thought: There is only one way to be sure. I must not be here when they come.
I rose from my bed. I felt better now that I had a plan of action. The fever had miraculously subsided, so it must have come to my aid as it had now so conveniently left me.
I put on my riding habit and rode over to Allington Castle.
Mary received me warmly.
“I must talk to you,” I said. “I need your help.”
“You know I shall be happy to give it.”
“The King's party is coming to Hever. The Cardinal may be among them.”
“What an honor!”
“I do not see it as such, Mary. I cannot be there. I cannot face them. I think if I did I should do something … say something which would damn me and my family forever.”
The Lady in the Tower Page 17
