by Diana Rubino
Topaz rose to her full height and swept past her, down the aisle. Her palm flattened against the chapel door, she paused long enough to hiss, "Very well, then. Then this is farewell, for I doubt we shall ever see each other again upon this earth!"
With that she was gone in a whoosh of green like the furious whirlpool of the ebb tide swirling out of the Thames. The door slammed shut behind her.
Amethyst did not let Topaz's theatrics affect her. Topaz could never bid her own sister farewell in such a flippant way. As she sat there with her mind spinning with all she had discovered, Amethyst found herself wishing the King had returned unexpectedly. He could have talked Topaz out of this madness; she knew he could. He could even get her to like him; that was the beauty of Henry's charm.
As she returned to her chambers, she realized this would be a bad time to visit home. If Topaz's rebellion were to take place any time soon, Henry would surely hold Amethyst partly responsible, even though her return home had nothing to do with Topaz or her insane plans.
So she stayed on, trying to make the best of what she did share with Henry, and waiting to see what the Pope's next move would be. And her sister's…
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Hampton Court Palace
The divorce trial was suspended until October, further frustrating Henry and Amethyst. Catherine, as smugly as her position would allow, and in her mind, remained Queen.
On the advice of Henry's council, and because Henry simply could no longer rely on him, Wolsey was arrested for treason. He never made it to the Tower. He died almost immediately after being seized.
Cardinal Wolsey was gone, and Hampton Court Palace, with all its splendid gardens, mazes and rich furnishings, now belonged to the King in its entirety. Court was being held here, and Amethyst was given apartments much closer to the King's chambers, but still not adjoining, as she'd requested. The Boleyns, permanent fixtures now, had apartments at the opposite end of the palace.
One day Henry told her, "I am bringing the case before the universities of Europe and soliciting their advice. A theologian at Cambridge, Thomas Cranmer, came up with the idea. He believes the weighty consideration of many clerics upon the question will sway the Pope," the King told her on their first full night in residence at Hampton Court. "I was at my wits' end, at the complete end of the road. Cranmer is a godsend."
"Mayhap this is finally our answer, my lord," she said, unbuttoning his linen undershirt and brushing her fingers over his broad chest, as she always loved to do.
"I am overjoyed that another answer has come at last," he replied, his breath coming more deeply as she aroused him. "I only wish I had been the one to think of it."
"You may be potent, my lord, but you are not omnipotent," she teased.
"Only you can make me realize that, my lady," he said, as she wrapped her arms around him.
"So how long do you think it will be?" she asked, through his kisses.
"Please, Amethyst, don't talk. Just make love." His breath was hot against her neck, but she managed to push him away.
"And why is Anne Boleyn still here? I thought you were sending her back to...wherever she came from."
"Anne...who? Oh, God's foot, I've forgotten all about her!"
"Well, she hasn't forgotten all about you. On that last hunting trip you took, she asked just about every courtier in sight when you would be back."
"So, perhaps she has a liking for me," he said with a shrug.
"And do you have a liking for her?" Amethyst demanded waspishly, as she held herself back from his kisses now.
Henry glared. "Are you accusing me of a dalliance with her?"
She shook her head. "Nay, but it would be much more comfortable if she would just go home."
She could feel the swell of his desire shrink with every passing second. Damnation, why had she not held her tongue. He looked around the room, and she knew he was looking for a goblet of wine.
"Just tell me!" She gripped his forearms, the pads of her fingertips yielding to hard muscle. "What is she to you?"
"Nothing!" He shook her hands off and ran his fingers through his thinning, but still very golden red hair. "You can shrink the most throbbing male member to a sheer mushroom cap, do you know that? You have completely obliterated any tinge of desire in my body by your incessant whining about this bloody divorce, and now Anne...what's her name!"
"You well know what her name is, and until your great matter is settled and she is in a litter on her way back up the River Styx, you shall not touch me!"
"Wench!" he spat, frantically searching for something to hurl against the wall.
Without another word, she returned her chambers to pack—for good this time, she insisted as she stormed out the door.
Warwick Castle
Amethyst and Matthew were walking around the grounds of her beloved home. She hadn't heard a word from Henry since her departure six weeks before, but Matthew had been extremely pleased at her arrival back home. "This is where you belong," he'd said.
She felt deep down in her heart that Henry would be back for her. The tension brought about by the divorce had been taking its toll on their health, causing Henry to overeat to the point of sickness. But once he calmed down…
"Oh, Matthew, you were right, 'tis good to be home!" She gazed wistfully at the castle, its towers proudly jutting into the sky sporting erect crenellations. They strolled across the Pageant Field and headed for the Peacock Gardens.
"I miss the King so, but perhaps with me away from court, he will be more able to concentrate on getting this matter resolved, and then I know it will happen much faster!"
An unsettling thought trampled upon her once more, as it had pervaded her mind during the entire journey home—Topaz would be arriving tonight. She was visiting the local shires distributing alms to the poor, and making her rounds of "house calls," caring for sick animals along the way. But she would be back, and then what?
"Matthew, I am so sorry the turn your marriage to Topaz took."
"'Twas simply one of those things, Amethyst." He spoke lightly; she did not detect any hint of remorse. That tone of sadness that rendered a voice ragged was simply not there.
"We have completely different outlooks on life, on what is good for the kingdom, on who should be on the throne." He turned to look down at her, and the sunlight glinted off his hair, which had turned to platinum in the brilliant gleam. The breeze tousled his hair, sending his sharp woodsy scent through her head. His jaw was relaxed, his facial muscles pleasantly slackened as he took his ease with her. It was the happiest she had ever seen him.
"Shall we sit?" he suggested.
"Aye."
They'd reached the edge of the Peacock Gardens and a few of the birds were lazily basking in the sun.
They sat upon the grass rather than a bench and she lifted her face to the sun.
"The truth is, I am not sure she ever loved me, Amethyst. She never told me so."
She recalled her conversation with her sisters the night before Topaz had married him. She could never tell Matthew about Topaz's breezily selfish reasons for marrying him. That would hurt him terribly.
So she said instead, "Topaz doesn't show her deeper emotions easily. She has always kept a distance from others, even when we were growing up. She was usually off on her own, studying or attending to her pets, as if she didn't belong to the family. Especially when Warwick Castle became ours again, she became more defiant than ever, calling the King a hypocrite. Her lifelong passion is to reign as Queen and to rule the realm according to her beliefs. It doesn't leave room for much else, least of all love."
"I daresay she is a devoted mother. Those lads have everything they could ever want; the best tutors, the finest clothes, toys and ponies and pets galore, but she never gives herself to them totally, as she's never given herself to me. She only went so far, and up went the wall I could never penetrate. Perhaps it is not love that she needs as most of us do."
"Nay, Matthew. We all need love. I nee
d it, you need it, God knows even the King of England needs it. But Topaz was always above that. Her heritage is her passion. I've never told anyone this, Matthew, but... Well, the truth is that part of me wants so badly for her to succeed, because I can see why she believes so strongly. I love my father, although I never knew him. But of course, Henry is our King and so will be his son.
"'Tis a terrible feeling I harbor every time I'm with the King. It's as if Topaz is looking over me, chiding me, like I'm betraying her. I want to be queen, but his queen? I dread to think of what Topaz will do when Henry and I finally do marry and I take the place she's always wanted for herself. I don't want to be queen as much as I want to be his wife."
"Well, your being queen consort will not be much of a threat. In fact, it makes perfect political sense compared to him marrying any other woman in the realm."
She frowned. "But that's not why he and I–"
"I now. You're a gift in your own right. 'Tis not as if you are trying to become queen in your own right, as she is. She tried to convince me," Matthew said, plucking some clover from the ground, twirling it in his fingers. "But I believe if your father had meant to be king instead of Henry Tudor, 'twould have happened that way. But it was fated to happen the way it did. Best to leave it in the hands of God."
"Aye, I'd heard my father had been a simple-minded man. He might not have been a good monarch at all."
"So few are."
"Or just a puppet to his minister and we would have ended up with yet another civil war with all manner of candidates trying to put forward their own claims."
"Aye."
"Do you believe Topaz would be? A good queen, I mean?" she asked, for the first time, really challenging Matthew to dig into his conscience.
"I believe she would make a fitting queen, Amethyst. She carries herself royally, she possesses strength and a willful nature that few of us have. Her ideas are radical, the changes she proposes would be sweeping. But not now. She was born too soon, much too soon. This simply is not her century; it is not her time. England is not ready for a queen like Topaz. I just do not know why she cannot see that."
"She will, Matthew. It will take a rebellion and a failure for her to see that the natural course of history will not accelerate because of the actions of one woman from Warwickshire."
"So tell me more of this Nan Bullen anyway, speaking of mysterious women," Matthew said. "You told me the Boleyn family had managed to get themselves court appointments, but that is all."
She shrugged. "She was one of Catherine's ladies-in-waiting, who spent half her life at the French court. Their name was originally Bullen but they Frenchified it, to appear more genteel, I suppose. She speaks with this dapper French accent, throwing in a oui and a c'est bon or two every now and then. She saunters about with her nose wrinkled up like vinegar is wafting through the air. Nearly her entire family's bouncing round court, but I have not seen much of her, though. She sits on the sidelines quietly. I really believe the King fancies her, for all he protests he does not care what any of them do. Not in the way he loves me, but she is such an enigma, he seems fascinated by her. He gazes at her not with the love two people share, but with an open curiosity, as one gapes at a distant star, or something he does not understand."
"Have you seen them alone together?"
She shook her head. "Nay, I do not believe he desires her physically. His life is just so fraught with these divorce problems, and as hard as it is for me to be patient, I try to be there for him. He sometimes forgets he is the King, only in front of me, of course, and I can sense his helplessness in dealing with all these outside powers...Rome, for instance, and Catherine's stubbornness. I do pray his disposition will relax when we are finally married, and when I am with child, and the sooner the better, I say."
"But how can he think he is not married to Queen Catherine?" he asked in wonder.
"In his eyes, he insists their marriage never was. It is against Biblical edict to marry a brother's wife. It is considered a form of incest, or at the very least consanguinity, being too close by blood.
"In the beginning, he insisted it was a question of conscience. He appealed to the Pope with this angle, telling him...and me, that he could not in all good conscience stay married to Catherine, because she is his brother's widow. That the marriage was cursed as a result, resulting in many dead children. And that he therefore can no longer perform his marital duty because he is so weighed down by his misdeeds and losses. The conscience part sounds very convincing when presented to the Pope, but deep down, his motives are selfish.
"No one else knows this. Ironically, Cranmer's idea of soliciting the advice of the universities turned out to be a good one, for it made the Pope even more adamant against the King's divorce. This is exactly what Henry needed, for the Pope to refuse him when he was at the end of his rope, to provoke him to take this final, most drastic measure."
"What is that?"
"He has chosen a London lawyer, Thomas More, to replace Wolsey as Chancellor, and has chosen a Thomas Cromwell, one of Wolsey's former henchmen, to help him carry out an elaborate scheme, one which I believe the King is executing out of desperation, for I do not believe he really wants to do this."
Matthew sat silently, intently waiting.
"He is planning to declare himself head of the Church. His own Church, with nothing to do with Rome. A Church of England, in fact."
"Is such a thing possible?"
"With all of the Protestants on the Continent behaving in a similar manner, why not."
"But Henry has always been so devout–"
"Aye, save when it stands in the way of what he wants most. Cromwell even suggested dissolution of the monasteries, for they are corrupt agents of the greedy Roman sphere of influence."
"Are you saying the King would be like the Pope? As well as the King? That is rather ambitious."
"He can handle it, Matthew, believe me. He is planning to take all the money the church has been sending Rome throughout the ages and from now on deposit it in the royal treasury. He talks of destroying the abbeys and monasteries, throwing the monks out into the streets to fend for themselves, melting down bells in order to make cannons and building coastal forts to defend against the French. He is not doing this out of power, hunger or greed. He simply wants a divorce, a divorce attainable only through a break with Rome, and being the determined soul that he is, always used to getting his way, he will stop at nothing to get it. So he will rant and rave and let a bit of agitation be fomented in order to show the Pope that he means business. If the Pope does not call his bluff, he will get his divorce."
"And if he does? Does call his bluff, I mean? What will this do to the kingdom?"
She hugged her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the balmy rays of the sun. "I shudder to think of it. Just go along with him, Matthew. Do as I do and agree to whatever he wishes, and you will always be safe."
"What of Queen Catherine in all of this?"
She shook her head. "She's even more insignificant now. She has been banished from court and has been languishing... Oh, I do feel so badly for her! Henry will not let her see Mary, and although I have tried to convince him that they would both be so much better off together, he storms out of the room."
"But you always come back and appease him every time."
She smiled to herself. "But he is going to come back tome now."
Matthew gave her a long, appraising look. "I hope so. But if he does not, well, look to your own safety, my dear."
"I have more to fear from my own sister," she said with a laugh.
"Pardon?"
She shivered again at the recollection of how close she had come to dying. "Only that if she embroils us in her plots, we could all end up in the Tower."
"In that case, perhaps you should leave here, come stay with me–" His eyes began to glow.
"Thank you, but pray calm yourself, my dear. Whatever happens, I am sure of the King's love. Naught shall be amiss for me, I promise."
"I pray you are right. But where Topaz is involved, there is bound to be mischief most wicked."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Topaz arrived late that evening, wearing a blood-splattered apron. Amethyst looked upon her sister in shock. Her imagination immediately began to run wild.
"What has happened!"
"Dear sister!"
Topaz approached Amethyst for a warm embrace, and Amethyst backed away, the red-brown stains coming into focus just as they'd soaked through the linen. "I daresay I doubted we would ever meet again. I am glad you came to your senses and left that wretched court."
