by G Lawrence
“Bess?” I asked. I was most fond of her. She had been with me for many years now, since the first day I came from France to England. She had been in my service through many struggles, and had always been a loyal and good servant.
Bess looked around at me as though she barely saw me. Her eyes were glassy. Her disjointed gaze made my heart freeze. A ghostly sheen of glistening sweat covered her face. Her skin was so pale that I could trace all the veins in her face; a translucent pallor that made me suddenly, horribly, afraid.
“Bess,” I whispered, rising from my chair. Bess stood transfixed, staring, her body wavering gently as though she were a sheet drying in a light breeze. I ran three steps across the chamber and caught her just as she fell. I lowered her to the rush-mat floor where she reached a shaking, hot hand up towards me.
“The face of Death,” she murmured as her fingers stroked my face, staring eerily into my dark eyes. Then she fainted. Her eyes closed and her head drooped to one side. As I held her body, staring at her in horror, I felt the raging heat of her skin through her clothes. Bess burned.
I ran from the room screaming for my servants to bring the doctor. As we waited, I laid cool, wet cloths on Bess’ brow and opened the neck of her gown. She moaned and mumbled incoherently under the pressure of my shaking hands, but did not open her eyes. She was drenched in sweat. When the doctor arrived, his face crimson from hurrying across court, he banished me from the room, hustling me from the chamber even as I protested that I wanted to stay with my maid.
“You were a fool to stay in here when you saw she was sick!” he shouted at me. “Don’t you know there have been forty thousand cases of the sweat in London alone? Don’t you know what danger you have put yourself in?”
“I could not just leave her on my floor to die!” I cried into his enraged and surprised face. “She is my servant… my friend!”
“Not for much longer, my lady,” he said grimly and pushed me from the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Waltham Abbey
Summer 1528
I was hurried away from Bess and put into different rooms. I could not rest. I scribbled a note to Henry about Bess and then I paced backwards and forwards; a restless beast in a tiny cage. Henry was aghast to learn that one of my maids was sick of the sweat and, with other cases becoming apparent in Waltham, he ordered me to my family’s home in Hever.
Our parting was done by letter alone. Henry could not possibly see me now after I had been in close contact with one who presently lay fighting for her life. I was hurt, that he did not come to see me, but I understood. The threat was terrible and we were all in great peril. My packing was done hastily. My servants were pale with terror as they stuffed my gorgeous gowns, hoods and jewels haphazardly into cases.
Panic was rising in the court and in the streets beyond. I shuddered to see bodies being carried out into far off fields for burial in distant mass graves. The smell of burning vinegar and cloves filled the air, and beyond those smells, the stink of dread and the sweet, sickening odour of death lingered. I have never felt such fear before; for this was not just my fear, but the terror of an entire nation, as the sweat did its deadly work throughout the land.
Just before I left, a visitor arrived. As my servants ran, filling boxes and dismantling furniture, Tom came to the door. His face was covered with a strip of vinegar-soaked cloth. I was never so grateful to see anyone, as I knew he had been near to my brother before George had been taken ill. Tom had taken all precautions, he assured me. He had worn the cloth at all times over his mouth and nose when had spoken to George’s doctors about their patients. His pockets held oranges stuffed with cloves, sweetening and purifying the vile air that carried the sickness. He had not been in the same chamber as George, for to do so would mean he could not return to Henry’s side, but he had brought news of my brother.
“He has been gravely ill these last few days,” Tom said, taking me to a window seat to converse. I wrung my hands, willing him to say something to bring me hope. “But in these last few hours, the physicians who were tending him said there was an improvement in his condition. They tell us that should a victim survive the first days, there is great hope that he will recover fully.” He took my hand. “I believe your brother will live, Anna.”
I cried, weeping softly in relief, and he touched my shoulder gently. “I thought you would like to know.” Ghosting over his face was a shadow of the great affection he had formally known for me. I clung to his hands.
“You put yourself at great risk, Tom, coming here to deliver this news,” I said. “And whilst I have not always been good to you, this is the second time you have proved yourself a friend to me in a time of need.”
He smiled. “I was not always so good a friend to you either, Mistress Anne, so perhaps we are even on that score. But friends do what they can for each other, do they not? Whenever there is a need, I will be with you.”
I gulped through my tears. “My friend has returned, in truth,” I nodded, groping at his hands and squeezing them. “And in a dark time such as this, that is a great comfort.”
Tom paused. “I spoke with one of the Cardinal’s servants as he was leaving the court, a Master Thomas Cromwell. He informed me that the Cardinal has spoken to the King this day just passed.” He spoke hesitantly, unsure whether to reveal his findings. I looked at him questioningly, and he nodded, more to himself than to me, deciding to continue. “Wolsey said to the King that this plague… so much more virulent and aggressive than ever it has been before… could be taken as a sign that God does not approve of Henry’s desire to annul his marriage.”
“That snake!” I hissed, my tears stopping short. “He seeks to use this horror against me!”
Tom nodded. “I fear this may be the case,” he agreed. “Katherine, too, has taken up such a refrain, telling the King this plague is God’s judgement on his Great Matter… She joins her voice to Wolsey’s. For once, the Queen and Cardinal are in agreement. An unusual occurrence, since they each despise the other.”
“And what said Henry to this? Did Wolsey’s man tell you?”
Tom grinned. “The King was enraged,” he said. “He said there was none who could replace you in his heart, that he knew his Matter to be just. He responded to Katherine’s twittering by screaming at her that he believed this was a sign of God’s disapproval of their marriage, and the sooner he was rid of her, the better it would be for his country and for him.”
I stared at Tom. Henry had rarely been so bold with Katherine. Hopefully it marked a change in him… I was more pleased than I could say to hear he had defended me against both the Queen and Cardinal. “What said the Queen?”
“Nothing. She apparently burst into tears and went to the chapel to pray,” he said. “The King joined her there after an hour or so, and together they prayed, but I have no doubt both were praying for different things.” Tom lifted his shoulders. “The Cardinal attempted to talk to the King again later on, but he fled when he King bellowed that he would give a thousand Wolseys for but one Anne Boleyn!” With this, Tom chortled quietly. “And Henry went on to declare that no other but God shall take you from him! That closed the Chancellor’s mouth! Wolsey looked assuredly unsure of himself as he scuttled away from the King!”
“Good!” I exclaimed, squeezing Tom’s fingers hard. “Good!”
“The King will not abandon you, Anna; not now, not ever. He is set on this, on having you.” Tom sniffed. “I think he truly does believe that this plague was sent by God, to show him his path. Henry has spoken of it a few times since arguing with Wolsey, and you know what the King is like… once something is set in his mind, it cannot be undone.” He pursed his lips. “You should leave as soon as possible for Hever,” he said. “I will continue to send you all the news I have of George.”
I swallowed. “You put yourself in danger, Tom,” I whispered. “Are you sure?”
Tom kissed my brow. “Your brother is my good friend, Anne. I will remain close to him. I have f
aith that God is not done with me yet on this mortal plane. You go now, be safe, travel fast and stop nowhere along the road. The faster you are gone from London and this terrible plague, the better.”
I nodded. “I will do as you say, Tom. And thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you do for George. Let him know that I love him and I will pray for him.”
“Of course.” Tom rose and fixed the cloth about his face again. “The court will be moving once more, even as you do, Anna,” his words were muffled by the cloth as he bound it to his face. The scent of vinegar washed through the air, its powerful stench nauseating. “The King’s men are to accompany Henry away from all others, to try to isolate and protect him. Although such safeguards are for the King’s protection, I think he also wishes to avoid Katherine.”
“She goes elsewhere?”
Tom nodded, his brown eyes winking with a touch of amusement. “She goes elsewhere.” He stretched his arms behind his back. “Henry will send Katherine to Hunsdon. The rest of the court will leave for their own houses and lands in the country.” He looked at me, his brown eyes peeking over the top of the vinegar-soaked cloth. “The King is anxious for news that you have left, Anne,” he went on. “He wants to know that you are out of danger.”
“Tell him you have seen me leave this very hour,” I said and paused. Although it felt strange to say this to Tom, I could not help but blurt out; “tell Henry of my love for him. Tell him that I pray for him, and for England.”
Tom nodded and smiled, a little sadly, but he promised he would give Henry my message. I embraced him before he rode out. As I watched him leave, I wondered on the strength and courage of this friend of mine. And what a friend he was! To risk his own life to bring comfort and news to me! I was humbled by Tom Wyatt. I felt small compared to the greatness of his character. I made up my mind, should we all come through this awful ordeal, I would do all I could to aid him and his family. I could never repay him for this kindness, but I would try.
I was glad, too, that Katherine would no longer stay at Henry’s side, poisoning his mind with her tales of superstition. She was using this horror as a weapon against me, as was the Cardinal. So, Wolsey had finally revealed his true feelings then, in the midst of all this? He had petitioned Henry to give up the Great Matter, proclaiming that he, the odious and corrupt Cardinal, knew the mind of God! It seemed to me that if any understood the will of God, then it was Henry rather than Katherine and Wolsey. After all, this was not the first time that plague had ravished England under Henry’s rule… What, then, had brought those past outbreaks upon us? Was it not more likely the plagues that had occurred throughout Henry’s marriage to Katherine were signs that God was displeased with their union? And this one, here and now, this virulent attack came just as there were delays from the Pope, and subterfuge from the Cardinal… I believed in Henry’s theory; this was a sign that God wanted him to be rid of Katherine.
I barked orders at my servants, and helped them pack. We had to hurry. Much of my baggage was already on the carts outside by the time my father and his men came to escort me from Waltham to Hever. Like Tom, his face was bound with cloth, and he carried an apple stuffed with cloves and spices which he kept close to his face.
“The carts can come behind,” he ordered my servants. “Make your way to Hever with speed, and stop at no village or town on the way. If you have to camp, do so at the roadside and let no man approach you. If you do not do as I order, we will not allow you into Hever’s protection.” He stopped and nodded his head at a smaller cart trundling up behind him. “There is enough food and drink here to last you until you reach Hever,” he continued, staring balefully at the men in case they even considered disobeying him. “You have your orders; make sure you are, at all times, armed. Leave!”
“You have heard that George may be improving?” I asked him.
He nodded curtly. “I have visited him and seen it for myself,” he said. “But he cannot be moved. I think he is safe, but we cannot stay here any longer. We have to get you to a place of safety, my child… You are the prime concern for our family now.”
“You… went to George?” I asked.
My father’s brow furrowed. “I kept the ill airs of his chambers at bay with this.” He gestured to the vinegar and rose water soaked cloth. “And this.” He waved the clove-studded apple at me. “Everyone knows that if you do not breathe the air near to a victim, then the sweat cannot creep inside your body.”
I nodded. It was common knowledge that sickness passed through ill-smelling air. The pomander and cloth he used would have warded off the plague.
“We make for the Thames.” He looked about to check everyone was obeying his commands. “We will avoid the streets, and then you and I will ride on fast horses for Kent. My men will divide; half to come with us and half to guard your carts and mine.”
We did as he said, travelling down the river on a swift barge as my carts made for the nearest road headed for Hever. Then we rode fast and hard along the roads. Even with a cloth of vinegar and wormwood over my face, I could smell the scent of death on the roads. There were few towns not affected by this plague. We rode past villages where emblems of warning were hung on crude sticks, showing skulls, to demonstrate that the sweat raged within them. The sight chilled me. There were so many. Although I knew the sweat had been potent in London, I had not known it had reached so far into the countryside. I hoped it had not made it to the villages near Hever. Along the road there were also other parties of people; some poor, walking with bundles on their backs, and some, like us, riding on fast horses or oxen-pulled carts. We flashed past all of them, not stopping unless our horses needed water. Behind us my father’s men pulled more horses, so we could switch to fresh mounts when our first ones tired. Every now and then, as we passed poor peasants, they would stretch their hands out, begging for alms or aid.
“Leave them!” shouted my father, veering his horse from the outstretched palms of a woman with a thin and dirty face. He cursed at her. “We cannot risk to stop!”
I felt terrible, to ride past and not offer them anything, but we were going too rapidly for me to reach my purse, and father was right, we could not stop. We had to save ourselves.
We arrived at Hever, our mounts frothing at the mouth and ready to collapse. I was sorry to have ridden them so hard, but speed was all-important. I released them to the groomsman, and asked him to look after them well. They had saved us, after all. We found my mother there already; my father had sent her ahead of him with more of our servants. She was anxious for news of George.
“We have heard but little,” I said, taking my riding cloak from my back. My hot skin relished the feel of the air upon it. “But Tom Wyatt told me that he had news George was recovering. And father went to see George too. He said he believed he was improving. I believe that his constitution and his faith in God will prove him out.”
“You are right,” my mother said, clinging to my hand. “All sickness is in the hands of God and we are not to question His will. If George recovers then we will know he is blessed.”
Her face puckered despite her brave words. “I am sure that God will not forsake us.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hever Castle
Summer 1528
Two days later we heard from Mary; Will was sick of the sweat, and it was bad. She did not think he would recover, and she had sent her children from the house to a relative of Will’s nearby. She had stayed to nurse Will and for the moment, had no signs of having contracted the sickness. “It makes one realise,” Mary wrote, her tear-stains marking the parchment and blurring its ink. “How precious is our love. Should he recover, I shall never allow him to forget that I adore him and only him in this world. God grant me strength, Anne. I have never been so afraid.”
I wept for my sister, for my sick brothers, for the loneliness I felt to be away from the side of my love, for the fears of my heart and for my country. Henry wrote to me almost daily. His letters were impas
sioned and desperate. I was to send him word every day and was to be of good cheer, for few women had caught the disease and it seemed that I might be safe because of my sex. I was not to worry for he was shut in a small manor house far out in the country with only one servant now allowed to come to into his presence and therefore was unlikely to become ill. He wrote that he missed me, that he loved me. He sent fortifying herbs of manus Christi, pills of Rasis and instructions to eat lightly and drink wine, “I hear that it helps to prevent the sickness,” he wrote.
I had never felt as wretched as now, when I was apart from Henry, and peril had enveloped England. I wrote of my desire, stronger than ever, to be his wife, and that, if God should spare us, I wanted to grow old with him and our sons and daughters, happy forever in the knowledge that our marriage was meant to be. I was sick with worry for my family, for my friends and most of all for my Henry. I prayed for him at every hour, listening to fresh rain pelt the window panes. “God, in Your mercy, save our Prince,” I pleaded. “There is nothing and no one in this world more precious than he. I would gladly give my life to save his. Take my life, Lord, but save our King”.
