The Lady in the Tower

by Виктория Холт

  So there I was, no longer suffering from the scars of a broken love affair, surrounded by a group of admirers, excelling in dancing and playing the lute, the center of attraction.

  I reveled in this new situation, and following on my long exile it was particularly alluring. I was going to enjoy it.

  And then suddenly I realized what was happening.

  It was unlikely that the King would be unaware of one who was often to the fore in the festivities.

  In the dance, where partners were exchanged from time to time, I found myself face-to-face with the King. He dominated the Court, of course, not only on account of his size. He scintillated. He took my hand and said: “It pleases me to see you at my Court, Mistress Boleyn.”

  I bowed my head.

  “Your Grace is kind.”

  “I like to be kind…to those who please me.”

  I lowered my eyes. My heart was beating wildly. There was no mistaking that expression. I had seen it before in those little blue eyes in the garden at Hever.

  He was holding my hand firmly and smiling at me.

  We danced and I was passed on to my next partner. I was very disturbed. I knew what was coming. He had finished with one sister and he would try the next.

  “No,” I said to myself. “Never.”

  I did not sleep very much that night. I tried to recreate in my mind that scene in the garden, recalling, as far as I could, every word that had been spoken. He had gone along with the play-acting for a while and then he had grown angry. I had offended him by feigning a headache. “Tell her she should not linger too long in the rays of the sun.” He had said something like that.

  I will never submit, I told myself. And the result? Banishment. Back to life at Hever.

  Well, that was better than being taken up for a while and then being discarded, as Mary had been. Was this why she had been given her congé? Perhaps he did not want to be engaged with two sisters at the same time.

  I had to be prepared. I had to be strong.

  It was not long before he made his intentions clear. He did not send for me, which he could easily have done, but he was aware that if it were known that he had summoned me to his presence there would be talk. He always deceived himself that members of the Court did not know of his actions, whereas they were never in doubt. It might be that already someone had interpreted the glances which he had sent my way and they were saying: So Anne Boleyn is to be the next. I imagined the chortles of amusement. Meet and fitting! Off with the elder sister first and then on with the younger.

  But it should not be so.

  He contrived to come upon me one day when I was alone in a chamber close to the Queen's apartments.

  He was smiling, looking at me with those eyes, which seemed too small for his large face, shining so that they glinted like aquamarines, the little mouth which could at times look grim, slack, in a satisfied way.

  “Ah,” he said. “Mistress Boleyn.”

  “Your Grace,” I said, bowing.

  He came toward me, overpowering, glittering, menacing to my mind.

  “I have seen you at Court,” he said, “and it pleases me.”

  “Your Grace is kind.”

  “But it is not our first meeting, eh?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  He pointed a finger at me in a jocular manner. “Our first meeting… I remember it well. You played a little trick on me.”

  “Your Grace, I was young and foolish…”

  “And you are so no longer? You are an added glory to our Court. Your voice delights me. I can hardly think of one who plays better on the lute.”

  Now was the time to say that none could excel His Grace—but I did not.

  I stood there, tense, wondering what I must do.

  “Because your singing and playing have pleased me, I should like to show my pleasure. So I have brought this for you.” From his pocket he drew a necklace of diamonds and emeralds. He held it before me, his eyes shining with pleasure… his hands ready to clasp it around my neck.

  I drew back. I said: “Your Grace overwhelms me with his kindness.”

  “’ Tis but a trifle,” he said.“’ Tis nothing to what I do for those I care for.”

  “My lord…my King …” I stammered, for I knew now what role I had to take. “Your bounty overwhelms me, but I cannot accept this gift.”

  “Cannot accept it? What mean you?”

  “Your Grace …” I lifted my eyes to his face fearfully, as well I might. The little eyes were beginning to cloud a little, the mouth was hardening. “I…I am a simple girl…I cannot accept such a gift…even from Your Highness. I could only take such jewels from the man who would be my husband.”

  “This is nonsense.”

  “My lord … it is what I have always believed. I could not in honor accept such a gift. I trust Your Grace will understand the feelings of a simple girl who has been brought up to respect her honor and preserve it until she shall bring it to her husband.”

  He was bewildered. I looked at him in trepidation.

  “Then,” he said, “I have been mistaken.” He thrust the necklace into his pocket and strode out of the room.

  I was trembling. What now? I visualized being sent back to Hever. The Court life which I was beginning to enjoy, and which had done so much to lift me out of my melancholy, was over.

  Perhaps I had been wrong. My father's advancement and that of George would be over. But I could not help it. I had to let him know that I was not like my sister and I was not prepared to demean myself for any man… not even the King.

  I waited for the blow to fall. Nothing happened. I helped Thomas and George write the masque. I went about my duties in a daze, expecting every day to be told I must leave the Court. Then I began to think that he had forgotten the incident. It had not been of any great importance to him. If only that were true. But I noticed him at the festivities; he would sit, frowning every now and then, and I would find his eyes following me.

  Once we were partners in the dance as we had been before. “You flouted me,” he said. “It is not the first time.”

  “I humbly beg Your Grace's pardon,” I said quietly, “but I must be true to my principles.”

  “I like not those who disregard my wishes.”

  I thought then that he was probably thinking of a greater punishment than exile. He was really angry with me.

  And still nothing happened.

  Then one day he sent for me and I was prepared for the worst. We were alone in a small chamber. His mood had changed. He was no longer angry, merely sorrowful.

  “I am the King of the realm, am I not?” he asked.

  I lowered my eyes. Such a question was obviously rhetorical.

  “I have given my life to the comfort of my people, and yet there is one among them who would cause me great pain.”

  I raised my eyes and looked at him in surprise.

  “Have done,” he said. “You know to whom I refer. It is you, Mistress Boleyn. You have plagued me ever since the first moment I set eyes on you.”

  “Your Grace, I meant no…”

  “I know now why I have been so patient. I have been lenient. You have flouted me. In your father's garden you mocked me… then you pleaded a headache to avoid my presence. I should have commanded you to appear. I should have confounded you. But what did I do? I said, ‘She is but a girl. Let be.’ And I was tender toward you, was I not? And did you show me gratitude? No, you prate of your principles. You could have gone off to the wilds of Ireland, but I stopped that. You might have married that sniveling Percy, but I saved you from that, too. And why? Because I could see that you were different from all others, and where I wanted you to be was at my Court. I could see that you were saucy… haughty, too. I like that not in my subjects… and I let you go. I said I would forget the feelings you had aroused in me. And now here you are, back in my Court, and I can no longer hide from myself… nor from you… the true state of my heart. I am in love. By the saints, I never felt this for
any other. I want you, and when you are mine I promise you I will forsake all others.”

  I was surprised, but I was not unprepared for I had thought often of what I must do if confronted by such a situation. True I had not expected him to be so definite or vehement in his protestations, but I was ready, and I knew what I must do and do it quickly.

  I said: “I think, my noble and worthy King, that you speak these words in mirth, to prove me, without intent of degrading your princely self. Therefore to relieve you of the labor of asking any such question hereafter, I beseech Your Highness most earnestly to desist and take this my answer—which I speak from the depth of my soul—in good part. Most noble King, I would rather lose my life than my virtue, which will be the greatest and best part of the dowry I shall bring my husband.”

  He could not believe he was hearing all right. I wondered how many times he had been repulsed. Surely this was the first.

  He must be furiously angry to be so rejected. I was really rather surprised to see the softness of his expression. Later I learned of that sentimental streak in his nature which so oddly mingled with the cruelty of which he could be capable. His character was such a mass of contradictions, which was why he was such a dangerous man to deal with. He could respect virtue while he was planning an onslaught upon it.

  “Rise,” he said, for I had knelt as I spoke.

  I did so, and for a few seconds we stood looking at each other.

  Then he said: “You speak with conviction.”

  “I mean every word I have said.”

  His mouth hardened. “I shall continue to hope,” he muttered.

  With great daring I replied: “I understand not, most mighty King, how you should retain hope. Your wife I cannot be in respect of mine own unworthiness and also because you have a queen already. Your mistress I will not be.”

  He looked at me as though I had struck him. Then abruptly he left me.

  I was in a terrible quandary. I could sense danger all around me. I was amazed that I could have spoken so boldly to him, but what else was there for me to do? The only way I could please him was to submit; and there would be the story of Mary Boleyn all over again.

  I tried to reason with myself. Was I attaching too much importance to the matter? He had had mistresses before and although he was not as promiscuous as François had been and liked to conduct his affairs with a certain secrecy, it was well known in the Court that he was attracted by women.

  It was only my determination not to be one of them which had given me the courage to speak as I had.

  Perhaps he would accept my refusal and put me out of his mind. François might have tried some trick if he were really eager; I did not think Henry would. I thought his pride was such that he would dismiss me from his mind. If he would only do that and allow me to continue with my life at Court, I should be greatly relieved.

  I decided I must confide in someone, and there was no one I could trust as I did George.

  I sought him out as soon as possible.

  “You look disturbed, George,” I said when I saw him, as indeed he did.

  “As I might well be,” he answered.

  “You, too!”

  “You mean you are also. What ails you?”

  “Tell me your trouble first.”

  “It is Jane, of course.”

  He was referring to his wife. I knew their marriage was a stormy one. I had never liked Jane Parker and had always thought it was a pity he had married her. So did he. It had been considered a fairly good match— otherwise my father would not have agreed to it. Jane was the daughter of Lord Morley; they were a noble but impoverished family and Lord Morley had been unable to meet my father's demands for the dowry. The King had actually come to the rescue and made up what Morley could not afford. It was a sign of the King's favor toward the Boleyns at that time—and all due of course to Sister Mary. What a pity it had worked out as it had!

  Jane was as different from George as one person could be from another. She was dull and stupid; she could not understand his wit and she was very jealous. I think she loved him passionately but, being Jane, did not know how to attract him. Her possessiveness made her repulsive to him, and it was true, of course, that he was not the most faithful of husbands.

  “Another of her jealous outbursts?” I asked.

  “If only she were not so stupid, it might be worth while reasoning with her. She never understands anything. She gets an idea in her head and goes on repeating it.”

  “Has she discovered you in some misdemeanor?”

  “She does not need to discover. She invents. She says that I care more for you than for her.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes, you, sister. She says I am dancing attendance on you like Wyatt and the rest of them, and she reckons I should have married you instead of her.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “Did you tell her that a man may not marry his sister?”

  “You cannot tell Jane anything. Now tell me what is bothering you.”

  “It is the King.”

  He stared at me.

  “He has made a proposition to me.”

  “And you?”

  “I have told him it is impossible.”

  “I knew, of course, that he was interested in you.”

  “How?”

  “It was obvious. He watches you all the time. Mary has been dismissed. He has not been interested in her for some time. It had to wane, but, being Mary, so easy and always ready to placate, he must have found her soothing. She became rather a habit with him, and the affair dragged on… almost like a marriage. She was so undemanding. But since you have been at Court, he has been rather unnaturally abstemious.”

  “I can't believe this is because of me.”

  “He has a sentimental streak. He has romance in his nature. He has changed quite a lot. He is quieter… thoughtful. It seems to me that he must truly be in love.”

  “Kings don't fall in love like ordinary mortals. They just look at the object of their desire and say, Come.”

  “And you?”

  “I have told him that I will not be his mistress and I cannot be his wife by reason of my lack of royalty—my unworthiness, I called it, and I reminded him that he already has a wife—so the matter is closed.”

  “By my troth, you are a bold one.”

  “I meant it, George. But I am uneasy.”

  “As you might well be.”

  “What do you think he will do?”

  “It's hard to say. He has done nothing so far. I expect the Boleyns will be out of favor. A pity… when I was just beginning to make my way.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  He put his hand over mine. “I am joking,” he said. “It is a tricky matter to flout the King.”

  “I know. I did it before. That was long ago on our first meeting. I pretended I did not know who he was. I was, apparently, saucy. He forgave that. But did you know that it was he who stopped the Butler marriage?”

  He looked at me in amazement.

  “Yes… and my marriage to Henry Percy, too.”

  “I wondered about Butler. It was very mysterious. Our father was most put out, but Wolsey warned him not to mention the matter to the King. Piers Butler has been enjoying the estates ever since. So … that was the explanation!” He looked at me incredulously. “But it was so long ago. Why has he left it all this time? I'd say he must be very much affected by you.”

  “I was exiled to Hever…He came down soon after. I was at Allington while he was at Hever. But I never heard anything afterward. That was three years ago. If he was interested, he has a strange way of showing it.”

  “It is very strange. I have no doubt that he is greatly taken with you now … and I understand it. Nobody at Court could be unaware of you. You are the leading light. You have many admirers, and the King has always liked to be at the head of the chase. And … he expects to win. Everyone must stand aside while he claims the victory. It has ever been thus. I can only think that he ha
d some notion about the closeness of your relationship to Mary. I believe it might be considered some sin or other… almost as though Mary were his wife. He would have very strong views on matters like that. To tell the truth, Anne, he always has one eye on Heaven, assuring God and the saints that what he is doing is all for the good of his people. He must justify himself. It's strange really. He has power… complete power over us all… and while he uses it to his own ends, he wants to deceive the heavenly hosts into thinking that he is acting according to his conscience. It has to be stretched sometimes but he is a man who knows how to be lenient with himself…”

  “What shall I do, George?”

  “You will have to wait for him to make the next move.”

  “And when he does?”

  “It depends on what that move is.”

  “If he is annoyed, and I somehow think he will be, for it must be a bitter blow to him that someone refuses him, what do you think he will do?”

  George shrugged his shoulders. “It will be a blow, yes, but you tackled it in the right way… all that talk of virtue will touch him. He'd think of the recording angel up there making a few notes, and in his heart he knows that when his time comes he can't take his crown and the power and the glory with him. Wait and see what comes next. He may accept what you say and give you up as the one prey he was unable to catch. On the other hand, when he thinks about your temerity in refusing him, he may trump up some charge and have you dismissed from Court. I think you must be prepared for that. Your presence here would remind him of his failure and I do not think he would like that.”

  “I should hate to go, George. It was so dull… but now it would be more so.”

  “There is an alternative.”

  “What?”

  “Follow in our sister's footsteps.”

  “That I should never do! And you should know better than to suggest it. I have been so ashamed of Mary. It is so humiliating… that…and what happened at the French Court.”

  “Those French gallants were not so gallant after all, I know.”

  “All talking of her in that ribald way!”

  “Henry would not do that. He does not discuss the details of his amours with anyone. It would be against his image of himself. Besides, I am sure he convinces himself that he is quite faithful to the Queen.”