The Scandal of Christendom

by G Lawrence

  There was, on the surface, much to be joyous about. We had won, had we not? Henry was Emperor and Pope in his kingdom, and England remained at peace. We had a babe in the cradle, after less than a year of marriage, and Henry visited my bed every night. He processed down the hallways of court in his nightshirt and overcoat, his men marching at his side, allowing everyone to see the frequency of his visits. Most of the time, Henry spent the whole night in my bed and everyone was watching to see if I showed signs of pregnancy. To all outward appearances, he was just as much in love with me as he had always been, and we were well on our way to making another child. This time, everyone swore, I would bear the long-awaited son.

  But there were problems. Henry was often too tired, he said, and just wanted to sleep. What had happened to the man who could not keep his hands from me? Was I no longer desirable as a woman, because I was a wife?

  Although it was not a practice the Church smiled on, I had to take wilder and wilder steps to rouse him… straddling him or offering that he take me from behind. I was not quite sure what he thought of me for suggesting these outlandish positions. He was titillated, to be sure, whilst we were in the throes of lust, but after, I wondered if he looked down on me for playing the whore in our marriage bed. But it was necessary. Something was different. I had to find ways to make it exciting, to rouse his slumberous shaft into action. At times it took a long to time coax him, where before he would have leapt upon me like a rutting stag.

  I suspected it was to do with Henry’s diet, and the weight he had gained. He was running quickly to fat. This was sapping his energy and making him less able in bed. At times, he could not sustain an erection, and the more frequently this happened, the less interest he had in trying. He was embarrassed, at times, even to try.

  But he would not speak of it, and when I tried, he would leave me. Henry thought if he spoke of his trouble, it would become real. As long as he ignored it, it was not.

  Fortunately it did not happen every night, and using all he had taught me, I managed to coax him into bed, sex, and the necessary end to bring forth a child. But I was becoming increasingly concerned. And I, too, was finding less pleasure in our bed. It did not seem spontaneous anymore. It felt as though we were working. That is not the way it should be. Although Henry did not realise, I started to feign noises I once would have made without prompting to pretend I was achieving pleasure. Perhaps there was too much in my mind to allow such unbidden, wild joy. Or perhaps my partner had become too obsessed with his own end, in more ways than one, to consider mine.

  Sex was no more about simple pleasure and the expression of our love. There was business tarnishing the experience; necessity was in our bed. When Elizabeth was conceived, there had been none of this. Perhaps this was why she had come so easily to my womb. Elizabeth was a child made from love and desire, not one forced into existence by necessity and need.

  It was not always like this. Sometimes, when Henry held me, when he stroked my skin and took his time, I found the silver horse I had ridden into bliss. Sometimes, as I sat atop him, my legs clenched about his waist, my hands upon his chest and my hair wild and free about my shoulders, there was nothing but the two of us, nothing but sensation, nothing but love.

  At the best of times, Henry made the world go away. At the worst, it felt as though the whole world and every soul in it were in our bedchamber, leering at us.

  Chapter Seventy

  Greenwich Palace

  Christmas 1533 – Winter 1534

  Christmas was a merry affair, made all the sweeter for I carried a secret. I had missed my monthly bleed. It should have arrived before Christmas, but it had not. My breasts were sensitive, just as they had been when Elizabeth was inside me. I had told no one, but I was almost positive I was with child.

  I wanted it to be a surprise, and had even prepared a gift for Henry for New Year’s to offer him a little clue. I wanted to delight him, to surprise him, but swiftly I realised this pleasure had been stolen from me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked my sister in a low whisper. “How can you know I might be with child when I have only been sure for a few days?” Mary had exhibited pleasure when I told her about my condition, but told me that she already knew.

  “Sister, you are the Queen,” she whispered. “Do you really think anything you do is private? The women who wash your personal items talk, you know. And they talk not only to me, but to Henry’s men. He sends them to enquire about your courses.”

  I blinked in astonishment. It should not have been a shock. Everyone at court had known when Katherine’s monthly bleeding had failed. Why should it be so surprising that my towels and linen pads were checked?

  “So, think you Henry knows already?” I asked.

  “Why do you think he has been so merry these past few days?” she asked with a giggle. “Oh, sister… do not chide me. The times when you are naïve are sweet because they are so rare.” She looked concerned as my face fell. “What is it?”

  “It is just… I wanted to tell him,” I mourned. “Not some man in his service. Not some washerwoman. Me! Should it not be my place to inform my own husband of this great pleasure? Will we have nothing private ever again?”

  “There is much you have that is private,” she said. “But you are to bear the heir to the throne. That is not, and never will be, a private matter, Anne. As much as you belong to Henry, you belong, too, to England.”

  “I was going to surprise him,” I said glumly. “I had a gift prepared for New Year’s; a little riddle. I thought to tease him...”

  “Do not change your plans,” she counselled. “You know well enough how the King enjoys masques and disguisings. He will love to play the part of the unknowing husband, to please you. You will grant him only more pleasure by playing along.”

  “It seems that is all there is, now,” I said in a despondent voice. “Games. Tricks… Riddles… Sometimes I think we have lost all that was honest.”

  “With all due respect,” Mary said with an impish smile. “My glorious sister, Her Majesty the Queen of England, speaks rot.” I could not help but laugh at her audacity. My sister went on. “You are allowing one misfortune to cloud your happiness. This is a moment of triumph! You have only just given birth to a fine daughter, and now, three months later, you are with child again. That is something to celebrate, surely, especially if your difficulties in the bedchamber are as frequent as you say.”

  I waved a hand at her. “Shush. I cannot have anyone report I have spoken of that to you.”

  “No one will,” she said. “But let us return to the point in hand. It is regretful that some of your privacy is gone, Anne, but think of all you have in its stead. You married the man you loved, and have one beautiful daughter, and another child swiftly on the way. You are the highest woman of England. Henry adores you, and now that you are to give him his son, he will love you all the more.”

  “But when I become great with child, he may stray again.”

  My sister put her hand on my arm. “If he does, it is only for lust,” she said. “The Church enjoys telling us women are the ones suffused with such blinding passion that they cannot help but entice men into sin, but anyone with a mind knows it is not so. Most men cannot help themselves, Anne. Their infidelity is sanctioned by society and by the Church so deeply, that they think men who remain faithful are strange and outlandish. If Henry uses another woman whilst you are with child, it means nothing. You grew a hard skin to protect you before you were Queen. Do the same now. Build a fortress about your heart. Protect your love for Henry, for it will happen again, and you must find a way to cope with it.” She screwed up her lips. “Carey kept a mistress,” she said. “And I had to bear that.”

  I opened my eyes wide and she smiled. “What?” she asked. “You are shocked? You think he would have waited for me whilst I shared another’s bed?”

  “It seems there is much I once thought of marriage that is now proven false.”

  I looked away, unconsciously placi
ng a hand on my belly. I longed for a son, and yet I knew that when I was pregnant, Henry would betray me. Could I ever grow used to that? Could I ever watch him leave a room, wearing a happy smile on my face, knowing he was off to see his latest whore?

  And how could I really enjoy being with child? Would I come to resent my children for giving their father an excuse to betray me?

  I could not resent my children. I could not! They were the innocents in this. Elizabeth, and all those who would follow her, were not to blame. Henry was.

  I heeded Mary and went ahead with my plans. The gift I had ordered for Henry was made by Holbein. It was a fountain with a gilt basin. A board of gold stood in the midst of the brim, smothered with rubies and pearls. Plumes of water shot from the breasts of three naked women, done in classical style, standing at the foot of the basin. It was a lavish gift, and a bold statement, for it was clearly a fertility symbol. I knew Henry would understand.

  I had it hidden in a chamber within my suite, ready to have it taken to the gardens on New Year’s Eve and have it installed by Henry’s gardeners. There was a great deal of movement in and around my chambers by Henry’s retinue in preparation for the unmasking of my present. When Henry arrived to visit me one morning just before Christmas, I laughed to see his eyes widen as he saw several of his groundsmen depart as well as Norris and George.

  “What is going on here?” he asked, setting his hands on his ever-expanding waist. “Have you commandeered all my servants, madam, as well as your own?” I knew he was teasing me.

  “Never you mind what is going on, my lord,” I said, rising and walking briskly to kiss his cheek. “This is the season of secrets and surprises.”

  “So… my wife keeps secrets from me,” he said, taking hold of my waist and holding me at arm’s length. His blue eyes sparkled. Mary had been right; Henry loved this pretence. He believed that I thought he was unaware of my condition, and relished playing the part of the unknowing husband.

  But I also realised it was not merely a game of love. It was one of power. Now that he could use his servants to spy on my every move, my secrets were mine no more. I have no doubt that part of his delight, a large part, was due to the promise of a son. But there was another part of him that delighted, once again, in thinking I was a fool and he the wise, all-knowing master.

  *

  On New Year’s Day, when the whole court turned to me to see what I would give Henry, I smiled and produced a blindfold from the sleeve of my gown.

  “This is my present?” Henry roared with laughter. “A strange gift, my love.”

  “All will become clear,” I whispered in his ear. Henry chuckled as I tied the blindfold about his head.

  I took him outside. There was a great deal of tittering and giggling as, arm in arm with Henry, I led the court, out into the gardens. Anything unusual was exciting at court. So often we were all cooped up together like chickens in a hen house that any diversion was welcome. Nan and Elizabeth Browne shushed courtiers who were gasping at the glorious fountain as I moved Henry into position. I walked behind him and smiled at everyone. Taking hold of the ribbon which bound his eyes, I leaned forward. “I am with child,” I breathed into his ear as I pulled off the blindfold.

  A sound, like a sigh combined with a moan, emerged from his mouth as the blindfold fluttered to the ground. He stared at the fountain, glistening gold in the afternoon sun. His eyes roamed over the naked women and the plumes of water that shot from their breasts, twinkling against the cloudless sky. He stood there for a while as I watched him. There were tears in his eyes.

  He turned to me. “This is the best present I have ever received.”

  Henry took me in his arms and kissed me as the crowd cheered. Everyone gathered to admire the fountain, peering closely at its many glorious, fine details. But as the event drew to a close, and Henry made ready to take a stroll with his men, I heard one person who was unimpressed.

  “It is hardly the present of a virtuous Queen,” Norfolk muttered, rubbing his bilious belly as the court departed. “More like that of a salacious mistress.” Beside him, Gardiner sniggered into his sleeve.

  I glanced at the fountain. How could anyone think something so beautiful was immoral? Had Henry thought the same as Norfolk?

  I consoled myself that even if some had thought the gift risqué, many more had appreciated its beauty. And Henry could not have been more joyous. That night, I received a surprise visit from a wandering band of players. These bedraggled travellers called on us for mercy. They were talented men, honest souls, but without employment, they said, as they stood at my chamber door in masks and hoods.

  “We must ensure such decent souls are welcomed,” I called. “Allow them in, Nan.”

  As they entered, I struggled valiantly to prevent myself from smiling. By God’s Holy Cross! Did Henry and his men think they could fool us? They were sniggering like schoolboys. When they finished their first tune, I praised them. “I am sorrowful that my gracious husband is not here,” I said. “He is a skilled musician, and loves to hear talent in others.”

  A man, clearly Henry, stepped forwards. “I could never allow a lady as beauteous as thee to be sorrowful,” he announced.

  “And how will you relive my despair, good knight?”

  “By bringing you your heart’s desire, great Queen.” Henry swept his cowl away and we all gasped as though utterly amazed. When he came to me he was grinning like a cat who has claimed the best cushion. I tittered and giggled like the others, claiming I had not suspected a thing. I played my part.

  I followed Katherine’s example.

  When Henry turned away to converse with George, I had to force my lip from curling up into a sneer. Once, I had thought this boyish play of Henry’s was charming. But in that moment, I realised how ridiculous my husband was.

  *

  I squealed as others about me burst into roars of laughter as the latest gift from Lady Lisle, who was desperately trying to convince me to take one of her two daughters on as a maid of honour, raced free and shot straight beneath my skirts.

  “What a favoured little beast,” laughed Tom, “to become swiftly so intimate with his Queen!”

  Courtiers screamed with laughter. I laughed with them, although some of my ladies looked shocked. My women hunted for a safe and respectable means of extracting the little, shaking hound from beneath my huge gown and grand farthingale.

  “Gentlemen,” I shouted over the din. “I must ask that you vacate the chamber for a moment, whilst this diligent hound is found, for I am sure you would suffer no indignity to your Queen?”

  Their laughter left the room with them. “Now,” I said. “Where is the little pest? I can feel him shaking. Do not be so rough, Jane!” I scolded as my sister-in-law tried to pull the poor dog out by his tail. “He is scared. Obviously he thought I was the one best placed to protect him, and ran for cover!”

  When Nan managed to extract the little dog, he was handed to me. He stared up with huge, lost eyes, and attempted to bury his face in my armpit. “There now…” I said gently. “There is no need to be afraid, little one.” The dog removed his head gingerly and blinked at me. He could be no more than a few months old, just old enough to be weaned and taken from his mother. No wonder the noise in the chamber had terrified him. “There is nothing to fear,” I said, holding out my fingers for him to sniff. He looked up and I could have sworn that the little dog nodded.

  “Did you see that?” I asked Mary and Jane. “He is a canny little thing, this pup. I swear he understood what I said.” I had owned many hounds before. Spaniels for company about court, and greyhounds, mastiffs and deerhounds for hunting, but never had I met a dog like this one. He seemed to know just what I was thinking. From that first moment, all I wanted to do was protect him, and I believed immediately, all he wanted was to make me happy. He cocked his white head to one side.

  “Pour quoi?” I said. “It looks as though he is asking why, does it not?” My ladies laughed. “Why do you have no cau
se to fear, little one?” I asked him. “Because I am with you, and I will never let harm come to you. You have lost your mother, it is true. I understand your sadness, as I cannot be with my daughter all the time. But we will look after each other.”

  Over the days that passed, the little dog cocked his head so often that the name stuck. Purkoy, he was named and never had I loved a creature so dearly. Purkoy came with me everywhere. He slept on my bed on the nights Henry did not visit me, which had only become more frequent after Henry learned I was with child again. But if I could not rely on the loyalty of my husband, I could always count on my little friend. He seemed to know when I was upset, uneasy or scared, and just by shoving his tiny, soft head under my hand, could make me feel better. I have been told that mothers who miss their children find others to adore in their place. I missed Elizabeth with a raw, naked, desperation. Purkoy filled a hole in my heart.