Above All Others

by G Lawrence

  “And I, Anne.” He rested his head against my breasts. “And I…”

  “So when do you send your men to Rome?”

  He leapt up suddenly, with me in his arms, and bore me across the room as though I were a corn doll. “Enough woman!” he roared, laughing, bouncing me up and down. “Enough! I shall send them this very day if it will make your tongue stop!”

  I giggled as he swept me about the chamber. “I know of other ways to ensure my silence, my lord,” I whispered huskily to his ear. He dropped my feet to the floor and put his eager lips to mine. For a long time we kissed, our bodies close. Then, as always had to happen, he stopped and took my hand. We walked to the table to play at cards.

  Later that night, as we sat by the fire and sipped sweet wine from Alsace, he told me that Wolsey and he were working hard on the briefs for Rome. Wolsey was insistent that they be perfected before being sent out. Whilst Henry seemed assured these delays were in our best interests, I was not so sure. I worried that Wolsey was impeding progress … I was sure he was dedicated to Henry’s interests, but the problem was that Wolsey believed his interests were also those of his King. Wolsey viewed me as a threat. Quite apart from his dislike of my family, the Cardinal worried I would shake his hold over Henry and Wolsey did not want anyone having more power than him.

  In addition to the presents sent by my often absent love, Wolsey, too, was sending me gifts. The influx and regularity of the Cardinal’s presents increased noticeably each time Henry made the long trip in the dead of winter from London to Kent. Every time Henry was with me, Wolsey’s servants arrived to offer me more fine goods… This pleased Henry, which I suspected was the point. The Cardinal wished to dupe the King into thinking he was honouring me. Whilst I saw through Wolsey’s duplicity, I cannot but admit that the cloth and jewels he sent to me were just as fine as those that had been presented to me by the King. Wolsey was easily as rich as Henry; many suspected he was far richer. I spent much time that winter occupying myself, my mother and our maids in making clothes of my own designs, from these fine riches sent by the King and his Cardinal.

  Winter is a good time for dressmaking, as long as one has a good fire to sit at. We would talk, go over my designs, try parts of the gowns on to see how they looked and note where they needed adjustment… There were merry times, but I missed Henry. I missed the court. I missed George who was still seeking to reclaim his place in the Privy Chamber by ingratiating himself with the King. I had not asked for favours for my family as yet… I was a little nervous to do so. I did not want Henry thinking that all I wanted him for was the power to elevate my family. I was considering making a few small requests, but to ask for George’s restoration to the Privy Chamber would be to directly flout Wolsey, whose ordinances of the last year had taken George from his post there, along with many others. The purge had been officially intended to reduce the number of servants in the King’s household and save the treasury money, but we all knew it had, in fact, been intended to reduce the number of influential men about Henry, leaving Wolsey a clear field in which to gallop with the King’s love and favour by himself. I was not yet willing to go against the Cardinal in such a direct manner. But I had already had a few letters from distant cousins and courtiers. Perhaps it was time to try a small request, and see where it led.

  In those hours and days, sat before the fire in the great hall at Hever, I made fine hoods, lined with pearls and gems. I designed glorious gowns of velvet and silks, with slashed skirts and striped kirtles, and long, delicate, elegant hanging sleeves. I sat embroidering grapevines and honeysuckle flowers into the gorgeous cloth I had been given, my mouth full of pins held fast by my closed lips, thinking of Henry. In my heart, every gown I made was part of my trousseau. Every stitch plunged into fabric as I imagined my life to come. Every dress worthy of a queen… and that queen would soon be I.

  Despite the delays, I kept the same thought in my head. It would not be long now…

  How little I knew, then.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hever Castle

  Winter 1527

  For days the skies had been heavy, grey and leaden. When I awoke one morning, I could smell that familiar metallic scent which told me that we would have snow before the evening came. I dressed in my warmest clothing; a good, thick kirtle of English wool under a thick velvet dress of deepest black with heavy over-sleeves of red velvet. I wrapped a fur-lined cloak about my shoulders; another present from Henry. Bess trembled with the cold even in her warm woollen dress, and I put a cloak about her shoulders, telling her to build the fire, to warm the room throughout the cold day.

  In the great hall, the huge fire was roaring, and I watched maids scurrying here and there, carrying baskets of food and armfuls of wood. I heard my mother’s voice calling out instructions to those who passed her in the kitchens, and went to find her. “Everyone is most active this morning,” I observed by way of greeting as I kissed her.

  The kitchens were warm and steamy. Pottage was simmering with tiny onions bobbing to its savoury surface, and a great pike was being turned on the spit, basted by one of the maids and dripping sizzling fat into the red fingers of the fire. Maids were making pastry, rolling it out in white flour and crimping the edges in pie dishes, and others were bashing and banging dough to bake bread. They sang as they worked; songs of the court. I heard a maid singing one of Henry’s songs, Pastime with Good Company, and I smiled to hear it. Great baskets were filled with small white and lilac turnips and purple carrots, which waited to be cleaned and cooked. The steam-filled air was rich with scents of sage, thyme and rosemary; smells I have long associated with winter and the comforts of my mother’s kitchens.

  My mother smiled. “Your father is due to arrive this evening, and with good news, apparently. He brings George, Mary and Will with him too. We will be a full house of family come dinner time!”

  She looked so pleased that I hardly wished to mention about the snow, but I knew that if I did not say, she would worry all the more when she saw it begin to fall. “We’ll have snow before nightfall,” I said. “Hopefully they will be here by then.” She glanced worriedly out of the window and narrowed her eyes at the heavy clouds. “Does Mary bring the children?” I asked, hoping to distract her.

  Mother nodded, absently. “Yes,” she murmured and then tousled her head. “I should not worry,” she said, still sounding anxious. “They will be here by the afternoon, and snow will not fall until the night, I am sure.”

  “I am sure, too.” I smiled, taking off my fine cloak and finding an apron. “What can I do to help, then?”

  Father arrived in the late afternoon, just ahead of the first flakes of snow, with George, Mary, Will and little Henry and Catherine. We feasted that night on pottage of carp and leek, roasted salmon and sharp-sweet pickled cowcumbers on toasted bread. Baked pike with sweet butter and onions followed, along with whiting pie, roasted eels, smoked herring and piles of shrimp. Glistening cabbage, and turnip and carrot slathered in golden olive oil and salt accompanied this feast of fish, for during Advent we did not eat meat.

  Father was in an unusually good mood, and when I asked him of it, he chuckled. “Wolsey has exchanged the Bishopric of Durham for that of Winchester,” he explained. “Winchester is the richest See in England, so the butcher’s cur has made a goodly deal.”

  “Why should his better fortune make you happy, my lord father?” I asked, spearing a roasted eel its sticky sauce with my knife and placing it on my pewter plate. I cut it in half, savouring the rich scent and picked it up with my fingers, as was customary. I ate delicately, being careful not to overfill my mouth.

  “Because Wolsey has decided to offer me the revenues from the See of Durham,” father continued. “He offered them to the King first, of course, but as Wolsey made the offer he told Henry that he believed they should be mine… and the King was most happy that I be granted them.” Father sat back, wiped his mouth on the linen draped over his shoulder, and then sipped at his wine. “They br
ing a good increase to my fortunes.” He looked at me and smiled. “Your position with the King, my child, is beneficial… All will be looking at us soon to see how they can win our favour. Others will seek to offer us rich rewards in return for our support.”

  I disliked the gloating tone of his voice, but I could not disagree with him. My father was never one to miss an opportunity. I wondered how much he had made from this offer of Wolsey’s. The Cardinal was clearly attempting to crawl into our good graces.

  “On that same vein, sister,” interjected Will, “there is something I was hoping you could consider petitioning the King for, for my family.”

  “What are you in need of Will?” I asked. “I thought the King had provided well for you and my sister?”

  Will shook his head. “Not for my own, immediate, family,” he explained. “The favour I wish to ask is for my sisters…” He picked up his goblet and sat back, one hand rubbing his stomach, swollen now with a great deal of good meat and wine. I had never seen any man who could eat as much as Will, aside from my own beloved Henry, of course. I wondered at times where on earth all the food they ate went. They both ate like horses set loose in a meadow of sweet grass and buttercups, and yet never seemed to gain an ounce of fat. But then, they were both active men who enjoyed the hunt and many sports… so perhaps that was why they did not become portly as did the likes of the flabby Cardinal.

  “My sisters, Eleanor and Anne, took the veil some years ago,” he said, sipping his wine. “They serve at the Abbey of Wilton. There is a rumour that the Abbess there, Dame Cecily Willoughby, is sickening. My sisters say she has been growing steadily worse of late. A new Abbess must be appointed if she dies, and I was wondering…”

  “If one of your sisters could gain the post?” I finished.

  Will nodded. “It would be of great advantage to my own line,” he admitted. “But the Abbey is also highly thought of, wealthy and well-respected. To have a member of the family installed as Abbess there would only add to your influence and supporters about the country, sister, and you know the nobles often listen to the counsel of Abbesses and Abbots. This could be of advantage to us both.”

  I picked up my own wine. “It sounds, as ever, Will, like a good idea.”

  “I am pleased you would think so.” He looked warmly at Mary who gazed back with happy eyes. I wondered which of them had first had the idea. It mattered little. The Careys were a good couple, ever working together for their mutual comfort and happiness. I had no doubt that if Will had not had the idea himself, Mary would have encouraged him to ask for the favour.

  “When we hear that the Abbess has indeed passed,” I assured him. “I will speak to the King. And I am sure that he will be happy to listen, you are after all one of his favourites, Will… I wonder that you would not petition him yourself?”

  Will regarded me with amused eyes. “There is but one voice His Majesty longs to hear now, Anne,” he said. “And but one pair of lips from which he will grant any favour asked.”

  “How does the King?” I asked.

  “Fractious, without you,” Will sighed. “In some ways, sister, you have done a disservice to those who wait upon our King… He used to be an easy man to please, but now, he is restless and distracted. He plays at cards and loses vast sums to his men because he pays no attention to the game… We used to be able to take him out hunting or riding to calm any mood, but now, even that does not work.” Will’s eyes glowed in the light of the candles. “He is like every man when he falls in love, sister… He is undone, without you.” I blushed rosy pink, and sipped at my wine to cover my confusion. “He sits beside Katherine like a man sitting aside his own grave,” Will went on, glancing at my father who nodded in agreement. “The celebrations at court this winter have been few and far between, and at each one, Henry sits there tapping his feet impatiently on the rushes, his eyes lost to another place… All know that he is not there in spirit. Katherine knows it too. She tries to bring the King closer to her with protestations of love and devotion, but he cringes from her. The more she tries to cling to him, the more he flies from her.”

  “No man wishes to be clung to like a ship engulfed by a sea monster,” said George, the lightness of his tone belied by poorly concealed bitterness. “When a woman clings and wails on a man’s arm, he loses respect for her, and any attractions she may have had otherwise fade in the light of his disgust for her.” His jaw twitched. I knew then that he was not talking of the King, but of himself and Jane. She was not here. She had been left at court for the winter. I wondered if George had even invited her, so indifferent did he seem to his wife.

  “True enough, George,” agreed my father, pulling another thin slice of pike from the well-carved pile on the table. He wiped its flesh in the remains of the sauce on his plate and swallowed politely before resuming his speech. “When a woman becomes as a limpet clinging to her master, he can have no respect for her any more. Women should, of course, be prepared to bow to the will of their husbands, but they should not hang off of our arms like drowning souls to a splinter of wood on the sea. We all have a dignity to maintain. Our wives should understand that…” He looked warmly at my mother who had a small frown forming between her eyes. “I am happy to see that the women of my own house are always careful of their dignity.”

  “Some more so than others,” muttered George, draining his cup.

  “Well…” said Will, looking away from George who was staring darkly ahead, lost in his thoughts. “Katherine’s behaviour is certainly doing nothing to help her. He flinches from her, as he longs every day to ride to you, Anne. Strange, is it not, that when we are offered something in wild abandon it has less value to us than that which we cannot have easily?”

  I shrugged. “That which we cannot have easily is more worthwhile to possess,” I said. “Just as doing what is wrong is often easier than doing what is right… The Scriptures show us that more often than not, this the way of evil… that goodness is often the harder path, and evil the easy one. Perhaps, with time, Katherine will come to see this also, and agree to step down.”

  “I think once she realises she has lost the love of the King, and will only lose his friendship and respect if she continues, then she will give in,” said Mary, washing her fingers delicately in the perfumed water of the fingerbowl. “The Queen is no dullard. She has pride and dignity. Surely, soon enough these qualities will win out and she will obey her husband, as she promised to do upon their marriage.”

  I lifted my goblet to Mary. “I hope so, sister.” I beamed suddenly at my family. “To the Queen’s dignity and pride… May they bring her to the path to goodness!”

  They all laughed, even my mother, who looked slightly uncomfortable as she tittered. I drank deep and hoped that my sister was right.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hever Castle

  Winter 1527

  Through the snows of winter, when all but my mother had returned to court, there another visitor came to Hever.

  I had been reading a new book George had left for me, a French translation of the Epistles of St Paul, when the clatter of hooves sounded in the courtyard. I ran down without even looking from the window, thinking it was Henry. But when I came into the courtyard, my cheeks flushed pink with excitement, I found it was not Henry… but Tom Wyatt.

  He climbed from his horse; crystals of ice frozen to his saddle fell and shattered upon the dirty snow of the cobbled ground. As he saw me standing there, looking confused, he made a short bow and smiled uncomfortably. We had little been in company with one another since his return from Italy. He had not sought me out when I had been briefly at court, and my brother brought no news of him either. In letters I had from my good friend, Margaret Wyatt, there were but spare mentions of Tom. All seemed to know that since Henry had proclaimed his love for me, there was small room in my life for this once-ardent suitor.

  “Master Wyatt.” My skirts brushed against the wet ground as I curtseyed. “You have come far in inclement weather to visi
t us.”

  There was a question in my tone which he did not miss, and he nodded. “There is something I would talk to you of, Anna.” He brushed the earth of the road from his coat. “And I did not wish to do so by letter.”

  “Will you come inside?” I asked with strained formality, stretching out an arm towards the doorway that led to the warmth of the great hall. Tom followed me quietly. As we sat at the fireside, I called for refreshments. I could not meet his eyes, so uncomfortable did I feel. I called for Bess. I did not want any hint of impropriety here… and certainly not with the man who had caused such furious jealousy and anger in my now-betrothed. But Tom, as it transpired, was here to speak about something else.

  He removed his cloak and gloves, took a cup of ale and then stared at the fire for a moment as I watched him. Still as handsome as ever, I thought. There were rumours at court that Tom had a mistress now, although I knew not her name. Perhaps this was but a polite visit, the kind made between neighbours… but then, as he turned to me, I realised it was not.