Truth Endures

by Sandra Vasoli

  The pages announced Ambassador Carlo Capello. I smiled as he entered for I very much liked this charming, quick, well-mannered gentleman from Venice. To my mind, he represented all that was attractive about the flourishing - nay, even intriguing - capitals of the Italian regions. I had read a great deal about Venice as well as Florence and had oft thought how wonderful it would be to go there, and to see those marvelous sights for myself.

  With a deep bow and a very pleasant greeting to Henry and me, Capello began his audience by thanking both of us effusively, on behalf of the Venetian Signory, for the great love we bore their state. Henry nodded encouragingly. Indeed, there was little which aggrieved Henry these days, ecstatic as he was about impending fatherhood, and his elegant Queen beside him.

  I seized the moment. “Signore Ambasciatore! We welcome you and thank you for your service. The King’s Majesty and I are kindly disposed to the state of Venice, as I hope you know. I am personally humbled by your respect, Signore, for I well know that God inspired His Majesty to marry me: most certainly His Grace could have found a greater personage than I, but he would never have come across someone more anxious and ready to demonstrate a Queen’s love towards your Signory. Will you most kindly do me the favour of reporting this message to them?”

  “Ah, si, Madame, si, si! I will do so immediatamente. The illustrious gentlemen will be overjoyed at your compliment. Molto grazie, Your Highnesses.”

  I knew he longed to kiss my hand but, showing great restraint, he bowed as deeply as was humanly possible and backed from our presence smiling broadly.

  Henry looked at me with unabashed admiration. “Well done, my love. And now, as that was our last audience of the morning, I shall take myself to the hunt field. Are you feeling good this day? Hearty?”

  “Yes, Henry. I will assuredly be fine until you return.” I grasped his hand as we shared that loving look known only to husbands and wives. “Off with you, then, and I shall see you this evening.”

  On 5 July, I remained inside, protected from the heat which shimmered on the stone pathways around and about Windsor. It was a remarkable day for two reasons. The first was the announcement of the death of Henry’s sister Mary, the wife of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, who had herself been Queen of France as a young girl, and in whose entourage I had served. She had been ailing for some time. In recent years she had borne no love for me, so I concede forthrightly that I grieved little at her passing. It seemed that Henry was scarcely moved, either.

  The second, and by far most significant event of the day, was the release of an official proclamation issued by King Henry VIII which blazoned the following message:

  Whereas the non-legitimate marriage between the King’s Highness and the Lady Katherine Princess, relict-widow of Prince Arthur, has been legitimately dissolved by just ways and opinions, the divorce and separation having been made between his said Highness and the said Lady Katherine by the Right Reverend Father in God the Archbishop of Canterbury, Legate, Primate, and Metropolitan of all England; and therefore the King’s Majesty has espoused and taken for his wife, according to the laws of the Church, the truly high and excellent Princess, the Lady Anne, now Queen of England, having had her solemnly crowned and anointed, as becoming the praise and glory and honour of the omnipotent God, the security of the succession and descent of the Crown and to the great pleasure, comfort, and satisfaction of all the subjects of this realm;

  It has been ordered, amongst other things, for the perfect and secure establishment of what is aforesaid, that no person or persons, whatever their state, grade, or condition, shall attempt …to instigate any act or acts, or derogate from any of the said processes…, concerning the said divorce, as also the solemnity of the legitimate marriage contracted and concluded been the King’s Highness and the said Queen Anne, under pain of incurring the penalties and provisions comprised in the Statute of Provision and Præmunire.

  By reason whereof, and because the said divorce and separation is now made and finished, and the King’s Highness is legitimately married, as afore heard, it is a thing therefore evident and manifest that the said Lady Katherine may not for the future have or use the name, style, or title, or dignity of Queen of this realm…, but by the name, style, title, and dignity of Princess Dowager.

  Considering which, the King our most excellent lord, whom we ought greatly to fear, although he in nowise suspects his loving-subjects of having attempted any act or acts, or any other thing that can be done, moved or said, contrary to the true intent of the said Act, nevertheless, in order that his said humble and loving subjects may have clear, open, and manifest notice of the great perils, damages, and penalties which are specified in the said Act has ordered a proclamation to be made for the open clearness and publication of the aforesaid things, so that all his loving subjects, as likewise others, if they choose, may escape and avoid the said great pains, perils, and punishments above specified.

  God save the King.

  And God save anyone – anyone! – who would dare to cross him.

  Palace of Placentia

  Greenwich

  Late August

  and September 1533

  The birth drew nigh. I remained appreciative of my condition, surely, but rued that my pregnancy had come to its term in late August, as it was hot as Hades that year, and I grew terribly uncomfortable. My ladies did all they could to assist in keeping me cool, applying damp cloths to my head and neck, and constantly providing a stool or bench to prop my swollen feet. At night I rolled from side to side, futilely seeking a suitable position for sleep. I wondered just how women willingly chose to give birth time after time. I had always wished for more than one child, but, dabbing the sweat from my forehead and neck and turning on the mattress for the hundredth time I readily dismissed the notion, determining that I would think on it once this baby was safely delivered. And so day followed discomforting day, inexorably proceeding to the moment when I would take my chamber.

  Workmen were, even at this late date, placing the finishing touches on the luxurious suite of rooms in which I would be confined, along with my close ladies-in-waiting and a bevy of midwives, until I gave birth. Once I retired to these rooms as was customary, in great likelihood two weeks or more before my expected delivery, no male would henceforth be admitted. I would not see Henry’s, or any man’s, face until I had been delivered of a child. The mysteries of childbed were the domain of women alone.

  Instead, Henry and his closest companions would hear Mass every day, praying for my safe delivery and that of our baby son.

  Henry and I left Windsor and were rowed to Whitehall, where I gathered items I wished to have with me in the chambers during my lying-in. I wanted to be certain I had specific books and other reading material, a particular lute that I enjoyed playing, and a favourite book of hours for my devotions, amongst other things. Also at Whitehall, I would be reunited with my two dogs, the white greyhound Jolie and my adorable little spaniel, Purkoy. I missed them so very much since they had spent the summer being cared for in Westminster. But I had insisted they be allowed in the privy chambers with me during my confinement since they would afford me great joy and keep me well entertained.

  Henry had put Cromwell to the mission of gathering certain jewels and plate previously belonging to the Lady Mary when she had been a young princess. Katherine caught wind of this and informed Cromwell’s agent that the collection had somehow disappeared, even though she made noise that she would act the dutiful wife and provide Henry with anything he desired. All this while her servants paraded to and fro bearing new livery embroidered with ‘H’ and ‘K’! Being present when Thomas reported this to Henry, I snorted loudly with contempt and did nothing to hide my derision. The woman had become utterly simple-minded during her exile. Either she had lost her senses, or she was possessed of a lionheart - I knew not which but cared even less! She had ceased to worry me and, despite her, my infant prince would have clothing,
jewels and plate of a magnificence which would astound the world. We certainly did not need Katherine’s and Mary’s cast-offs.

  Once I had collected the belongings I wished to have with me, we set off for Greenwich. All that remained before I took to my chamber was to confirm the lists of ladies who would be permitted to come and go within the apartment. I had included several ladies known at court as highly captivating in the art of gossip, several who excelled at storytelling, and a few most accomplished musicians. We were amply equipped with cards and games. Accompanying us would be Jane, a fool to whom I had taken an affectionate liking. She would have an official position in my household, and as she delighted me and my close companions with her giggles and innocent witticisms, it seemed perfect to include her. And I had arranged for official reports to be delivered to me, should something of significance occur within the realm while I was in confinement. I wished to be entertained as a form of distraction, but I very much wanted to remain aware of the state of the kingdom.

  On Tuesday morning, 26 August, I attended the service with Henry and other courtiers in the Royal Chapel. Afterward, we were served spiced wine in my Watching Chamber. I was restless and apprehensive, and hated saying my final goodbye to Henry while others surrounded us, but that is what I was required to do.

  I looked deep into his eyes while clinging to his arm a moment too long, but at last, I gathered myself and, along with my closest friends, entered the Queen’s Chambers; the great door creaking to behind us.

  Once the portal had been closed, it took some minutes to adjust to the dim light within. The suite of chambers, positioned along the easternmost side of the palace, overlooked the expansive gardens, but there was no view of the late summer blooms to be had, for every wall, every inch of floor, the entire ceiling - even the windows themselves - were draped in rugs and arras of incomparable richness. Certainly, once our eyes had become accustomed to the candlelight, we delighted in the dazzling colours of the tapestries that provided some compensation.

  The ladies who attended me, and who would regularly stay with me in the apartment until after my delivery were Nan Cobham, who, along with Eleanor Paston would act as the chief midwives. Eleanor - Lady Rutland - had six children of her own, and was very knowledgeable about the medical assistances women required to aid labour and childbirth.

  Nan Cobham, also a mother of six, had been trained by other vastly experienced midwives and had been called into service at the deliveries of many noblewomen. I had confidence in them both. Also, Lady Bridget Wingfield had been my friend for some time, and I found her demeanor to be serene and calming. She, too, had borne multiple children, and the combination of her temperament and her familiarity with birth gave me a sense of assurance.

  Also amongst the select few was my sister-in-law Jane Rochford. I had warmed to Jane in recent years: although we had not started our friendship on good grounds, I now saw her as caring for my brother George, which was important to me. I’d decided, therefore, to include her even though she and George had no children of their own. And of course, there were my dearest Maggie, Lady Lee, and Anne Zouche. Jane the Fool would also remain in attendance to keep our spirits high with witty observations, and my lady mother would visit me though she was too apprehensive to be present for the birth itself. I would be happy to see her when she chose to call upon us.

  As Eleanor, Bridget, my maids Lucy and Emma, and Jane busied themselves unpacking and arranging my personal items which had been delivered earlier in the day, Maggie, Anne and I, followed closely by Purkoy and Jolie sniffing into every nook, examined the surroundings which would be home to me for the coming weeks. The rooms were richly arrayed, to be sure. The scheme followed closely the Ordinances published by Henry’s grandmother, the indomitable Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, in 1486 when her daughter-in-law Elizabeth of York was pregnant with her firstborn son Arthur, Henry’s deceased brother. This dictum was entitled ‘Preparation against the Deliveraunce of a Quene, as also for the Christening of the Child of which she shall be delivered’.

  In the style and manner characteristic of the doughty Countess, the lists were exacting and particular, and in my case, they had been followed precisely. The centrepiece of the largest chamber was the Queen’s bed: new, and utterly enormous. Henry had spared nothing to ensure that I would be comfortable and have plenty of room in which to stretch out. It was arrayed with luxurious crisp white sheets which could be seen peeking from under a crimson velvet counterpane embroidered in gold and edged with ermine.

  Atop the bed were four large down pillows, both long ones, and square, covered in fustian. The mattress itself was of a thickness and fluffiness rarely seen. Somewhat wryly, I reflected that the contrivance sat so high I would need a stool to climb in. Its sparver, the gorgeous circular curtain which hung from the ceiling and surrounded it, was of crimson satin embroidered throughout with the arms of the King and my emblems, beautifully edged with a fringe of blue and gold silk. It presented an imposing sight – almost too magnificent to sleep upon!

  Nearby stood an ornately carved sideboard upon which sat bowls of gold, and one of silver gilt. In the adjoining wardrobe hung mantles of velvet and satin, all edged in ermine, for me to snuggle into as I rested. At the foot of the immense royal bed was a pallet, also generous in size and appointed with the same extravagance - sheets, down bolster supporting crisp-laundered pillows and a delightfully soft counterpane, but in blue rather than crimson. One of the ladies would be with me, sleeping in that pallet at all times. The rest of my ladies’ beds had been dressed in nearly the same level of finery but placed in an adjoining chamber.

  It was customary to keep the windows draped, mostly to avoid draughts which were thought to be harmful during the labour and delivery of a baby. In January, this may have been sensible, but this was August, and such a counter-intuitive practice made no sense to me, in fact, I thoroughly disliked it. Longing to gaze out of the open window to the lawns and gardens below I made my disapproval known but, Queen or no, was soundly overruled. The windows remained hung with heavy tapestries with the grudging concession of one, where I might go and draw a quick breath and peek at the sun when necessary.

  We kept ourselves well occupied. It was too dark to sew or embroider, but we listened to music, played cards, gossiped, and read. As my term drew near, mostly I read from books of hours, praying diligently for the healthy delivery of my child, and that I might bear him with grace and courage. I also regularly read the Bible and treasured having my favourite with me: that which had been translated into French by the scholar Jacques Lefévre d’Etaples. Henry and I shared the two beautiful volumes, both bound extravagantly in rich, soft brown leather. On the cover of the first book was embossed the scripture ‘For the law was given by Moses’, and on the reverse cover of the second, ‘Grace and Truth were realized through Jesus Christ’. Each book bore our initials, H and A, imprinted with the Scripture, in gold.

  There was ample time, also, to reflect. Often, my mind would strive to imagine how the birthing would be. But I had no physical experience of such magnitude with which to compare, so I remained perplexed, even though I had asked every mother present to describe her labours, over and over.

  To distract myself from the ordeal to come, I spent time each day contemplating exactly how my court should conduct itself, and what I would like to accomplish. Before my confinement, I had given each and every member of my household a beautiful girdle-book of psalms which they wore attached to chains about their waists. Furthermore, I encouraged my ladies to study them meticulously so that we could discuss passages together. Resolute that mine would be a court which would do much good for the impoverished in the realm, I believed strongly in giving to the needy. So my ladies would sew to provide clothing and other necessities – especially, I thought as I sat in the opulence of my surroundings with women there to serve my every need – for those poor mothers who had little to ease their childbirth, and even l
ess to provide for their infants. It was a cause which inspired me greatly, and I determined to make a difference using the power God had bestowed upon me.

  I had already set expectations that the behaviour of my all female retinue would be genteel and refined at all times, although this in no way meant we would exist in a sombre, sanctimonious setting as did Katherine and her lacklustre attendants. I loved laughter, visual beauty, witty and brilliant conversation, courtly romance, music, and dancing! All would play a significant part in my surroundings and in my households as I built the dazzling court I envisioned, alongside Henry.

  On Sunday, the third day of September, we had just finished dinner when my mother, Nan Cobham and I were informed that we had a visit from Elizabeth Brereton, the wife of Sir William Brereton of Henry’s Privy Chamber. Immediately I requested that she be admitted since I wanted to observe her and share conversation one last time before my baby’s arrival. Out of several candidates, I had chosen Elizabeth to be wet-nurse for the infant. The selection of a wet-nurse was an important decision made by noblewomen who were about to give birth. Most aristocratic mothers did not feed their children unless absolutely necessary. Queens certainly would not do so since it was known that, during the period of nursing, conception was suppressed and bearing royal heirs was a primary function for a queen. Thus the choice of who would nourish the new prince was a crucial one. Her temperament must be altogether pleasing and calm. She must be healthy above all, and possess no vices which could plague the quality of her milk. In my opinion, she should, additionally, be literate and well spoken. And she must be available, and have a proven history of producing ample milk, as my baby must never go hungry.