by G Lawrence
I nodded to her. “Of course, Your Majesty,” I said.
She nodded happily and shook herself. “My mind wanders in my excitement,” she laughed and touched the hand of Lady Margaret Pole, turning her eyes and attention from me as the barges carrying the Emperor and his retinue docked at the waterfront.
The arrival of Charles was greeted by fanfares of trumpets and great cheering. Henry, who had ridden ahead to greet the Emperor rushed forward to take his hand and help him to the shore in a great show of friendship. As Charles came to the waterfront, he bowed to his aunt, asking for her blessing.
“I give it to you with great joy, my beloved nephew,” she said, stepping forward so that he could kiss her. Behind her, Lady Margaret Pole brought forth the little Princess Mary, who tottered forwards with wide eyes to meet the man she may well marry when she was old enough. The Princess greeted Charles with great dignity, for a six year old, and he was polite and charming to her in return, giving her a little jewel as a present which she kept forever after in a pouch worn on her side. It was a momentous occasion for all in England, as we were all quite possibly looking on the face, and much over-long chin, of our future King. It had been four years since Katherine last conceived a child, and if no more heirs were to come of this royal marriage, then Charles could inherit the Kingdom of England to add to his other lands if he married with our princess.
Even though we were not supposed to know of it… it was a thought that caused some rumblings of fear about the court and country even amongst the celebration and entertainments. Would England become but a small part of such a large empire? Would her glory be forgot? Her men become but servants to a vaster empire?
Henry was keen to keep such fears hidden. He little wanted the Emperor to see anything but the glory of England on that visit. Endless rounds of entertainments were given; jousts, feasts, banquets, masques, hunting trips… The days were filled as were the nights!
During a joust at Greenwich, Henry was arming himself for a match against the Duke of Suffolk, when a messenger from the French ambassador arrived. Henry invited the Emperor to read the missive with him, and together, they announced to the court that Henry had sent a messenger in his stead to François at Lyons, listing many grievances Henry had against the French King. He had also declared that Henry considered François his enemy. Nobles cheered the news about the jousting ring, calling for war. The match went ahead with the Emperor Charles smirking greatly. His purpose in coming to England had been achieved; we were now to war with France.
I heard the news with dismay, even though I had known that war between England and France was certainly on the horizon. I had hoped that it might not occur, but this was foolish. Within weeks our uncle, Sir Thomas Howard, was sent with the naval fleet to patrol the coast, and as the two kings went on with their merry dance of friendship through the country, England prepared herself for war.
Chapter Nine
Windsor Castle
June 1522
Along with the arrival of the Emperor’s party, came our father, returning from Burgundy to give his reports to the King in person on the alliance he had helped to negotiate with the Emperor and the Archduchess Margaret. He was often busy, and was due to go to Spain before the winter that year, to complete many more tasks for the King, but he found time all the same to bring me to him, and assess my person and my talents as he had done periodically when he visited me when I was young, in Burgundy and France. He spent some time catching up with Mary, George and our mother, and seemed satisfied that in his absence, his family had not disgraced him. I wanted to talk with him on the matter of my marriage, or proposed marriage, from which I desperately wished to be free, but he was distracted by his work, and, at least at first, did not seem to pay much heed to my worries. Perhaps he thought them unimportant.
Despite such concerns, the court was interesting to me and I felt increasingly comfortable there. I still did feel like a foreigner at times; my accent was hinted with French, my clothes and my manners were French and yet my blood was that of an English woman. You might have thought that my French ways would have made me unpopular at court, seeing as we were to war with them, but it was strangely not so. I was accepted as an English woman, and my French ways were simply something which made me slightly different to the rest of the women at court. My duties to Queen Katherine were not demanding. In all there were about thirty women serving the Queen at different times. Katherine usually had perhaps eight or ten women about her; the Lady Margaret Pole, and Maria de Salinas, the Baroness Willoughby de Eresby, Katherine’s closest friends, were with her the most, and Katherine had more ladies who could be called on to replace her standard flock if any were taken sick, had to attend on duties to their families or if there was a public ceremony of some kind. Most of our duties were menial, decorative or ceremonial and I had learnt my lessons well in France in attendance to Claude. I was efficient and discreet in my ways around the Queen’s chambers and that pleased her, but I was not one of her confidantes or close friends. Even with my duties to Katherine, I had some time in which to pursue pastimes with friends and admirers, which were growing in number around the court.
The court moved much in general, but especially so during the visit of the Emperor. We had spent time that year already at Greenwich, Richmond, Wolsey’s great houses of York Palace and Hampton Court, and then moved on to Windsor Castle where the two kings spent time hunting, and we nobles of the court were allowed to do the same. I spent much time with my own circle of friends when not with the Queen. Mary was often away from the chambers granted to her husband, occupying the bed of the King, although less so during the Emperor’s visit, as Henry hardly wanted his nephew to witness the existence of a mistress, and take offence on behalf of his aunt.
My sister’s ongoing relationship with the King was something, for which I must admit, I still felt a jealous pang. It had been long since I was that child who looked with hot eyes on the King of England, but he was a man to be much admired. Knowing that my sister was allowed to enjoy a relationship with such a man with our father’s blessing irked me, for I would never be allowed to occupy, say, the bed of Tom Wyatt under the same blessing. I had still not entirely reconciled my feelings of jealousy for my sister’s relationship with a man such as Henry of England. I told myself that such thoughts were foolish; but the heart does not care what is foolish and what is wise. It knows only what it feels and nothing more. There had been times, especially when I first heard of Mary’s affair with Henry, when I had envied her most heartily. He was a fine and noble man, aside from being a great knight and powerful king. When I remembered the feelings that had stirred within me when I saw him as a girl in the Court of Burgundy, I knew, most keenly, why a part of me envied my sister her position. But with the duality common to many such thoughts, I knew too that I desired to be a wife, not a mistress as my sister was.
Still, I was growing contented with life at court; friends who loved poetry and writing, like Tom, Bridget and Margaret gravitated to me. The Gentlemen of the Royal Bedchamber were always dancing attendance on we ladies of the Queen’s chamber; Will Compton, handsome Henry Norris and Edward Poyntz were the most attentive. There were many jousts and entertainments to enjoy during Charles’ visit and I lapped up the pleasure of all of them. We young creatures of court gathered in groups to walk in the gardens during times when we were free of our duties, and to talk on books and music. George and Tom recited their poetry, and Margaret and I would set it to music. We were a merry band who would take to the archery butts in the parks on Sundays, and practise our skill with the bow. We took hawks out into the parks to hunt wild birds, and rode out on swift horses through the countryside. We wagered on tennis matches, usually being played by our rakish cousin Francis Bryan and the King.
England was not France, but I was coming to believe that I could make a semblance of the cultured life I had enjoyed there, here. With the help of Tom we started to draw out ideas for entertainments that we would show to the King’s
close friends. Some were traditional in theme, but all came to have our clever little slants on their production. We also played games in and about the court; many were made up by Tom and George and sometimes involved childish-seeming games, such as hide and seek, but put together with riddles. One such game involved the ladies in Katherine’s household searching the court for Tom’s heart… which turned out to be a little inflated balloon made of stretched pig-skin, shaped like a heart and painted red. The riddle he gave to Katherine’s ladies read thus:
Help me to seek for I lost it there,
And if that ye have found it, ye that be here,
And seek to convey it secretly
Or else it will plain and then appair
But rather restore it mannerly
Since that I do ask it thus honestly
For to lose it it sitteth me too near
Help me to seek.
Alas, and is there no remedy
But I have thus lost it wilfully?
Iwis it was a thing all too dear
To be bestowed and wist not where:
It was mine heart! I pray you heartily,
Help me to seek.
The game caused quite a stir about court as people searched here and there, trying to find it. The idea was to ascertain who had the heart, and gain it from them. The heart could be either stolen by force, or won by a verse. The one who claimed the heart would then take it back to Tom, avoiding all others who might try to take it.
It may not surprise you that the little balloon was in my keeping. I gave it to Mary for a pretty verse of poetry; she guessed that I would have Tom’s heart in my keeping almost on the instance that the riddle was given out. George stole it from her, then Francis Bryan stole it from George. Jane Parker managed to trick the heart from Bryan, and returned it to Tom as fast as her feet could carry her… And then it was her turn to hide the heart with another, and the games began all over again. It was not hard to guess that it was George she gave her heart to, and so the games went on.
It sounds like a childish game for fools, perhaps, but if so, then, we were happy fools. It was a merry game, and went on for many rounds before anyone tired of it. And then we would think of another, and another, and all the court came to play our games and watch our entertainments.
I felt stretched mentally for the first time since leaving Marguerite’s side in France, and I smiled to think what she would make of our little writings next to her own works. The King’s sister, Mary, was pleased to be a part of such groups, and we often took our little entertainments to be approved by her, knowing that in turn they would be approved by the King. I was working my way into the centre of a new era at the English Court, one where I could use all that I had learnt in France and Burgundy, to make this court shine as they did.
I ceased to feel so homesick for France, although I worried still about the coming war; instead my heart was filled with England. The weather was getting better; through May and June the sun was starting to appear… What wonder the sun can be to the spirits! Our rides into the forest started to include meals in the cover of the woods, a diversion which Mary of Suffolk seemed to have made popular in England, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine after months of being cooped up in dusty palace rooms. Fresh strawberries appeared in pies on our tables at court, and beef calves mewed in the fields. The skies around us seemed suddenly filled with bristling bees and floating butterflies and in the woodlands and marshes, the sound of the cuckoo rang out softly. It was a time both of gentleness and activity, where all of England seemed to have woken to beauty. I must admit that in the parks and woodlands I felt myself more at home than I would have thought possible.
There was one thing that spoiled this happiness, however, and that was the appearance at court of the man proposed to be my husband. It was not that he was bad of looks or seemed evil of temperament, but I still could not believe that I should be sent away to live in the wilds of Ireland. Especially at a time when I was just starting to truly love England. My father introduced us at a courtly disguising in the Great Hall at Windsor Castle, and sent us off to talk to each other. Since his arrival back in England, I had had but little time to talk with my father, and to allow him to understand my opposition to the match. And now, here I was, already being shunted away, being asked to converse with the man who in my eyes, would steal me away from a life I was just starting to enjoy.
James Butler was young, with thick red hair and a fine build. He had rosy cheeks which were often given to a faint blush and a broad but pleasant face. He had good wide shoulders and a muscular quality to him which I did not find displeasing. He walked with a limp, from an old wound taken at Therouanne, which caused some in Ireland to give him the name, in the Irish tongue, Bocach, or the lame in English. He had been at court for some time, but seemed somehow newer than I. He was constantly delighted with everything, and, from the sizzling looks he gave me from under the cover of his eyes, he was not averse to becoming my husband. He told me that I should grow to like Ireland and that there were many entertainments there that should satisfy my love for courtly pleasures.
“But there is no court,” I said quite flatly.
He laughed. “Not such as there is here, no, but it is not quite the country of giants and rogues that you obviously imagine it to be.” He laughed again at the expression on my face. “You shall grow to love it! I hear that you love to hunt; you will love Ireland and her game. And after we have started a family, there will be much to occupy you. I may be away a lot and therefore you will have the privilege of running my estates, raising my children and holding my lands for me when I am away.”
I stood up, my heart pounding with anger. “You go too fast, Master Butler,” I snapped, feeling panic rise within me. “There are but talks of our engagement, and yet you converse already of our children? We are not engaged and yet you talk idly of giving your Irish estates to me to defend from attack? Do I look to you like a warrior or general? I am none such. Do not rush ahead with all the details of our life, when nothing has been secured in truth!”
I was furious and spoke harshly to him. There were few men that would have taken my words as calmly as he did, for he took my hand and pleaded with me to sit. “There is fire in you, Anna Boleyn,” he said and there was a sparkle in his eye and a roaming look to his gaze on my body that I understood well enough. I was sure he was already imagining the wedding night when I would have no choice but to subject myself to him in the debt of marriage. I am sure he thought he would tame my spirits, and well he might, if they were quashed in the wilds of Ireland. “The fire will serve you well in Ireland. Your pride does not displease me. I will be a good husband to you, I promise.”
“I will need more time to consider such a match, Master Butler,” I said stiffly. I caught my father’s watchful eye on us, and steered the conversation to lighter matters; the weather and the roads… the dance… such subjects of conversation that would not endanger my hands to slap this man about the face for his presumption, and enrage my father with my behaviour.
When James left me, with a kiss to my hand since I would not offer my lips, my father came to me to ask my opinion of this potential husband.
“Does my opinion matter, my lord father?” my voice was measured and that of a smooth courtier even though my temper was ragged and frayed. “It is my family’s choice that matters; I am but a humble daughter and will do as directed by those who know better than I.”
I drank deeply from my cup of bright ale; its sweet crispness was comforting and as the liquid swept down my throat I looked up on to the beauty of the tapestries that decorated this great chamber in which we mingled, watching the others dance with happy faces by the light of the great torches. I swallowed the lump in my throat, which rose, threatening to choke me. I did not wish to leave England. It had just started to become my home.
My father looked at me. “They taught you that evasiveness in France, did they?” he asked with a wry smile. Not looking for an answer, he continued, speakin
g softly, for James Butler was not far away. “Then I shall tell you what you really think… as every father should be able to of his children. You think that Ireland is a rough place and no home for you,” he said. “You think this Butler is a country-born clod and no man for you. You think that sending you to France and to Burgundy was a waste of time had you been destined for the fate of marrying an Irish lord to make Irish brats and live in the Irish bog.”
I looked at him for although his face smiled and his voice was smooth as a serpent, I was suspicious; my father had shown me in the past that he could hold furious anger well. I did not wish to be flung against a fireplace as he had done to Mary all those years ago in France. “Bogs are not overly appealing to anyone, I believe, father” I said smoothly. “Unless they be toads.”
There was a twitch around my father’s mouth that looked for a moment as though he might laugh, but then it was gone. “The lands and titles of the Earls of Ormond are ours by right and by law, daughter. The marriage proposed between you and the Butler boy is a diplomatic way to solve the problem. It has allowed discussion of these titles to open with the King and Cardinal Wolsey, and that is to our advantage. But marrying you off to the Butlers is not the route that I shall be taking unless there is no other option. This talk of marriage is but a mask; in time, we will have what is truly ours by natural right, and I will not sacrifice the hand of my one unmarried daughter to gain it.”
