by G Lawrence
I agreed, and we went on to talk of other matters, but I was sad. George did not recognise his own faults in this relationship. Whilst Jane, clearly, had overstepped many boundaries, I suspected that all of this bitter spite and underhandedness was born of her love for him and jealousy of others. If he would only take the time to show some kindly affection to his wife, even if he did not love her, then their marriage would likely be a happier one, and Jane would be an easier woman to live with.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eltham Palace
Late Summer 1528
As the fields of wheat and barley about Hever began to crackle under the hot sunshine, Henry sent a message that I should meet him at Eltham Palace. The sweat was dying down in the city, he wrote, but Eltham was far enough from the heart of London to remain protected from any lingering outbreaks. My servants took me, and my mother, as a chaperone, to meet him.
Henry had not yet arrived when we reached Eltham. I had been here with the court before, of course, as Christmas was often spent here, but in their absence the palace was more beautiful, more silent and calm than I had known. In the wake of the illness that had beset me, I relished the tranquillity of the great, empty palace.
This was an ancient palace where generations of kings had lived and held court. This was where Henry had spent his childhood. The great hall, its stupendous roof towering over all beneath it, had watched over the young Henry as he impressed the philosopher Erasmus with his intelligence. The moat stretched around the palace and made it like an island standing in the middle of the most beautiful of lush, green parks. Great gnarled oaks were dotted through open parkland and clumped here and there to form small woodlands. The inside of the palace was hung with tapestry and rich, painted cloth, and in the apartments Henry had ordered to be made ready for me, there was expensive carpet made in the Turkish fashion, hangings of velvet decorated with gold tassels, and the walls were lined with open cupboards of silver and gold plate.
When I arrived, the servants were still cleaning some of the tapestry. Such glorious and expensive items required the kindest and most delicate of care. Murk and grit were teased from them with pieces of moist bread, and then the crumbs swept away with fine horsehair brushes. The floors were made of fine oak, but had been painted to look as though they were marble, the finer work being done by teasing grey and black paint through white with the feathers of swans and geese.
Portraits of Henry’s ancestors, his mother particularly prominent, were dotted throughout the palace. Henry kept many portraits of his beloved mother here, at Eltham, where he perhaps remembered her best. That great queen had died in the Tower of London, making the ultimate sacrifice for her husband and her country. When their eldest son and heir, Arthur, had died, leaving Katherine a widow, Queen Elizabeth had tried to bring forth another male heir. But she had died in the attempt, and the child, a girl, went with her to the grave.
Henry did not speak of his mother a great deal, and perhaps that silence, more than anything, told me how special she had been to him, and how much he had loved her. The pain of his grief and loss caused him to close up like a clam when it came to speaking of her… With Henry, it seemed, it was always easy to tell how much he had adored someone, by how little he talked of them when they were lost to him. I was to learn this better, over the years I spent with him.
Walking through the empty palace, the faces of Henry’s mother, father, sisters and brother staring down on me, I felt as though I were standing shoulder to shoulder with Henry’s family. I whispered to the portraits of Elizabeth of York, asking her to love me, as she had loved her son, and to approve of our match even from Heaven. It was not rational, I know, but more often than not we creatures of this flesh do things which are not rational, but which make sense to us all the same.
I stood in the place of Henry’s childhood and breathed in the fresh, clean air that surrounded me. The servants were apologetic that they had not finished all their tasks, and scurried to complete them swiftly, but I told them it was better all was done properly, and since my apartments were ready in any case, it mattered little to me.
On the night I arrived, I sat alone by the ornate fireplace, staring into the flames. My mother was already a-bed. We were to sleep in the same bed, as much for propriety as for warmth and comfort. I watched the reflection of the flames dance over the cast iron fire dogs on either side of the hearth. A decorated screen was usually used to cover the fire in summer, but I had asked for a fire laid this night as mist had rolled in, making the air unusually chilly. The screen, set to one side, had feet fashioned in the likeness of dragons, and upon its centre was Henry’s royal badge. It made me feel closer to him, being thus surrounded by his emblems.
Outside in the hallway, torches were set into iron brackets on the walls, but in my rooms Henry had paid for white wax candles set into silver candlesticks and suspended on candelabra from the ceiling. Their light was gentle, warming, and lulled me into nodding at the fireside, a goblet of wine in my hands. I sat upon one of the fine, but few, chairs in the room. Furniture was not plentiful at court; since so many people came to wait upon the King, it was more important to fit them in than it was to decorate the palace with chairs and tables. Henry had chairs of estate in various rooms, and his beds were, of course, his most expensive and highly decorated items of furniture. But aside from that, it was generally cloth and plate which made the rooms glorious.
Each room shone with cupboards and sideboards stuffed with glorious plate; cups, dishes, goblets, plates and ornate salt cellars were a true mark of wealth. A rich man could show off much of his collection thus, and still host an entertainment without using any of the plate he had on display. Being the King, Henry’s collection was magnificent. Henry loved clocks, too. He had many standing clocks which chimed upon the hour or the half hour, and were adorned with rubies, diamonds and pearls set into their faces. He had smaller ones which sat amongst his collections of silver and pewter, and clocks that charted not the hours of the day, but the movements of the seas. He loved these clocks almost as much as he loved his most valuable tapestries, one set of which could cost as much as a new warship. Later, when he arrived, he spent much time showing me not only the magnificent faces of these clocks, but their inner workings, too. I was fascinated by the delicate, intricate, whirring innards, and he gloried in explaining them to me.
Henry had ordered my chambers to be adorned with scores of plump and beautifully coloured cushions, so that mother and I could sit upon them if we wanted to sew or read together. There were decorated mirrors of highly polished steel, with Venice gold set about them, fashioned into the curling fronds of grapevines. They hung beside the portraits of Henry’s family, and amongst the many beautifully drawn maps of the world upon the walls.
Eventually, coaxed into sleepiness by the warmth of the fire, I went to my bed, taking with me my new maid, young Kate, to help me undress. Wiping my body with linen cloths infused in rose and lavender water, I climbed into my night gown and cloak. Kate brushed my hair, using a cloth underneath to catch any dirt or pests pulled loose by the bristles of the brush, so she would not make a mess for the other maids. If pests were found to have snuck into my tresses, then I would need to wash my hair in an infusion of lady’s bedstraw, but most of the time I was free of such insects, unlike many at court. Diligent nightly brushing of a hundred strokes or more not only kept my hair free of dirt and unwelcome inhabitants, but made it shine beautifully too.
I cleaned my teeth with the silver toothpick Henry had given me, and wiped them with a small cloth covered in clean soot which Kate gathered from the wax candles by holding a polished bit of metal against them as they burned. I had learned this method in the court of Mechelen, and always held that it made the breath sweet and the teeth shine white. I would usually chew a small stem of rosemary afterwards, which, although pungent, made my breath sweet in the morning.
My mother was already deep in slumber, and barely moved when I slid underneath the covers. Th
e scent of cloves was on her breath, as her preferred nightly routine involved a tooth powder of cloves. This sweetened her breath, but also provided relief, as her teeth sometimes pained her. I reached out for her, wanting her to take me in her arms. Everything was changing so fast, but there is something constant in the arms of a mother which never changes. Perhaps that is why we long to return to our mothers in times of trouble. They take us back to a place where we were safe, where we were innocent… the perfume of their skin and the warmth of the breath against our heads… that feeling of certainty in a world of change. I nestled against my mother, inhaling the faint rose scent wafting warm from her skin, and in her sleep she put her arms about me as though she felt my need. That night I slept like a child, wrapped in the warmth and comfort of my mother’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eltham Palace
Late Summer 1528
Two days later, I was sitting in the gardens near the palace with a book, quietly reading, when I heard a soft footfall and turned. Henry stood with his back to the sun. I blinked; for a moment it was as though I saw a vision of Hercules, or Alexander. As though Henry were a god of old, crowned by the glory of the sun.
“Anne,” Henry murmured and ran towards me. I went to rise but he was by my side before I could get up. I laughed with joy as he thumped to his knees and covered my face and neck with kisses, his hands cupping my chin and stroking my cheeks. Eventually I pushed him away and laughed.
“This is no way for a subject to greet her sovereign!” I cried. “You should have allowed me to stand and honour you, my lord.”
Henry had not moved his hands from my face and he shook his head. “You rise to no one, my Anna.” His hands dropped from my face and he suddenly seemed downcast and subdued.
“Henry…” I moved towards him with fear in my heart. “What is it?”
Despite his warm welcome, the manner in which he was acting was strange. I feared for a moment he had decided to abandon me, to abandon the chance of leaving Katherine. Perhaps Wolsey had got to him… burrowed into a place in his heart where his fears were deepest hidden, and hardest to remove. But, as he spoke, I found this was not the case. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
“I thought I had lost you,” he muttered. There was blank desperation in his eyes. “They would not let me come to you,” he said heatedly. “You must believe me, Anne, I would have been with you as soon as I heard but they would not let me. All I wanted was to ride to you and I could not. The simplest of peasants could have run to his sweetheart but I… I, the King! I could not.”
He grabbed me with a violence that almost scared me and forced a kiss on my lips; it was not a kiss of love, but one of possession. When he released me there was a look in his eyes that I had never seen before, a look of determination and of defiance. I reached out and stroked his face.
“Henry,” I whispered. “I would not have wished your life in peril for any comfort that I could have felt with you by my side. Your advisors were right, you cannot be put at risk; there must be an heir of your body to succeed you. God saved me because He approves of our union, of that I am sure. The humblest peasant could run to his lover because his life is of no importance. But to me, to God, and to all of this realm, you are the most precious person. You must not risk yourself, even for me. You are the only one in this world who matters!”
He shook his head violently. “But that is what I feel for you, Anne! Without you there is no world, without you there is no life and no future for Henry of England. From now on you will not linger in the confines of your parents’ house as I live in the prattling court without you. We shall never be separate again. From now on there shall be Anne and Henry together. In the open! In full view of the world! What have we to be ashamed for? I will not be parted from you again. From now on you shall be recognised as the most important person in my life. All others will bow to you, or answer to me.”
“We must still exercise caution, Henry,” I implored, unnerved by the passion of his words. “Or we risk opening both of us to slander by those who support Katherine and the Emperor.”
“Damn them!” he shouted, rising, blood flooding into his face. His eyes danced with blue flame and he clutched his hands into fists as he strode around me.
“Damn all of them to hell!” he cried. “Damn all these people who stand in our way, in the true way, in the only way! Damn Katherine and the Emperor and all who would stand against us! All my life I have been ordered around and told what to do by everyone and I am the King! The King! Shall I have nothing my way in my own kingdom? Since I was a child, I have been told what to do, first by my father….” His face twisted with scorn and derision. “… My wise father… who told me to marry the woman who has cursed my life and murdered my seed! And now foreign princes think they can give orders to Henry of England! I shall be master in my own kingdom! I shall rule where I have right and marry where I choose! You are mine, Anne. I will have no other. God has saved you to be my rightful wife. I know this to be the truth now! He made you sick to show me how easily I could lose the true way when I do not act fast enough. I will not lose you. I will have my way!”
I stood and ran to him. He held me in his arms and kissed me again. There was fire in him and passion in his eyes and in his lips. “You are mine,” he said again.
“I am yours.” I was crushed against his hot body. “I am yours, Henry.”
“My will shall be done, Anne!” he proclaimed. “My will, and no other. I will have what I want! I will have you.”
“I am yours,” I whispered again, feeling as though I was placing my seal on a pact that could not be broken. “Your will be done, Henry of England.”
His embrace was fierce as he held me. There was a strength, a determination within him that I had never felt before. I welcomed it… I welcomed his fire.
His will would be done. I would be his Queen, and he would be the King he had always been destined to be… A king who would rule alone, a king who did not bow and scrape to the wants and wishes of other rulers. We were joined, and there was no one who could set us apart… Not now.
“Your will be done,” I said, as though Henry were God Himself.
Chapter Thirty
Eltham Palace
Late Summer 1528
We stayed together at Eltham for a week. During that time we discussed Campeggio’s arrival. We were anxious for the papal legate to get to England and commence work. Henry assured me it would not be long before we were wedded, and bedded.
“This is all but a formality,” he said carelessly waving his hands, causing their many rings to glitter in the hazy light from the windows. “Wolsey tells me Pope Clement has already decided in our favour but he must appear to investigate the matter fully.”
I nodded, although my lack of faith in Wolsey’s ability and in his desire to achieve this end for us must have shown on my face. Campeggio had taken England’s summer plague as another excuse to pause on his journey. He was just outside France now. He sent word that he would resume his journey once it was safe to do so. Henry had written to urge him on, assuring him that the plague was abating, but I knew that Campeggio would continue to delay. There were too many considerations pressing on the Pope for me to believe that he had, indeed, already decided to support us. In truth, I was not sure if Campeggio’s dawdling was due to the Pope, or Wolsey. Either could be working against me. My lack of faith in Wolsey had only been compounded by hearing that he had sought to use the plague as a tool to pick me from Henry’s side… I had not told Henry I had heard of this, yet. But to me it was clear as ice that Wolsey was not working for us…
Henry found my lack of faith in Wolsey disappointing. He sighed and left my chambers to go to his, leaving me pensive. A glorious writing desk was placed in the room, made of dark walnut and bearing the arms of both Henry and Katherine. It seemed, even here, as though she were taunting me with her presence. When I had come here first, full of hope and happiness to see Henry, I had not noted Katherine’s ba
dges, or her initials entwined with his in wood or plaster. Now, I saw them everywhere. Perhaps my dissatisfaction had given me new eyes. I was coming to hate seeing them, these small reminders of Katherine everywhere I looked. When I mentioned this to Henry later he frowned. “When you are Queen, my love,” he said, gripping my hand almost painfully in his, “I will tear them all out, and replace them with yours.”
It made me feel better to know that one day my initials and symbols would sit where Katherine’s did now… but still, I did not like to see them. Henry was mine, not hers. I wished I could have ordered them all taken out now, but it was not within my power to do so. Other things, however, were within my power. I told Henry that I was going to write to Wolsey again regarding our Matter.
“My Lord Cardinal,
In my most humblest wise that my heart can think, I desire you to pardon me that I am so bold to trouble you with my simple and rude writing; esteeming it to proceed from her that is much desirous to know that your grace does well, the which I pray to God long to continue. I am most bound to pray for you for I do know the great pains and troubles that you have taken for me both night and day. These are never likely to be recompensed on my part, but alonely in loving you, next to the King’s grace, above all creatures living. And I do not doubt but the daily proofs of my deeds shall manifestly declare and affirm what I write here to be true. I trust that you do the same.
