by G Lawrence
My lord, I do assure you, I do long to hear from you news of the legate; for I do hope, as they come from you, they shall be very good. I am sure you desire it as much as I and more, an it were possible.
And thus, remaining in steadfast hope, I make an end of my letter,
Written in the hand of her that is most bound to be,
Your humble servant,
Anne Boleyn.”
Beyond all the praise and the flattery that was standard fare in letters from one noble to another, there was urging, and there were veiled warnings. The letter reminded the Cardinal I was waiting for news. It reminded him that I held the King’s love and implied he did not yearn for the annulment as I did. It was subtle, but I added another element to the letter that was less so. I pressed Henry to add a note at the end. I wanted the Cardinal to know we were together, to know how close we were… to know he had failed to sever me from the King’s side.
Henry took up my quill with reluctance. He hated writing. The only letters I had ever known him to write personally were either love letters to me, or angry missives scratched out when someone at court had wrought his displeasure. Still, he did as I asked. He did not like to deny me anything.
“The writer of this letter would not cease, till she had caused me likewise to set my hand, desiring you, though it be short, to take it in good part.
I ensure you that there is neither of us but greatly desireth to see you, and are joyous to hear that you have escaped this plague so well, trusting the fury thereof to be passed, especially with them that keepeth a good diet, as I trust you do.
The not hearing of the legate’s arrival in France causeth somewhat to muse; notwithstanding, we trust, by your diligence and vigilancy (with the assistance of Almighty God), shortly to be eased of that trouble. No more at this time, but that I pray God send you as good heath and prosperity as the writer would.
By your loving Sovereign and Friend,
H.R.”
I read over the letter, and was satisfied. It showed that Henry and I were together, were writing to the Cardinal as one, and that we were both keen to hear about the proceedings. I smiled as I sealed it with red, dripping wax and pressed my seal on it. Wolsey was about to learn I was not so easy to get rid of as he might have hoped.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eltham Palace
Summer’s End 1528
I was determined to ask Henry for help for my widowed sister now that I was reunited with him. Two days into our stay, when we rode together in the great park, I raised the subject. “My lord…” We slowed our horses to a walk, turning them as we approached the edge of the deepening forest. “Would you grant me a favour?”
“You know that all you wish for you just have to ask,” he declared passionately. “I will give you all that you wish for, my Anne.” Henry did not like being unable to please me by hurrying on Campeggio’s arrival. In the absence of being able to please me in this way, he wanted to make up for it in any other way he could.
“It is a favour… for my sister.” I saw a flush parade across his cheeks. His jaw clenched.
He gazed at me steadily, a hint of warning in his eyes, as I started to speak of her. Although his relationship with Mary had been acknowledged, although not by name, in the draft dispensations that had been sent to the Pope, we had never actually spoken of her. For me there was a sense of jealousy, embarrassment, and some fear that he might remember her charms; all those paranoid feelings that love can produce in a person. For Henry, it was different. He saw himself as a knight, a true Christian knight. His affairs were kept quiet… apart from me, of course, but then he saw me now as his wife… But his affairs outside of the marriage bed were quiet. Mary was over for him now. He had enjoyed her once and now she was gone from his mind. That was the way, with Henry; he left behind all he did not need. It was therefore with some delicacy that I raised the subject. I was reminding him of something he did not wish to remember.
“What of Lady Carey?” he asked stiffly.
“I am sure my lord knows that William Carey, my brother by marriage, sadly died of the sickness that threatened my own life.” I hoped that reminding him of how close he had come to losing me would soften his temper. “Mary is now a widow and of much diminished means. Will was a good friend to you, my lord, and his children need your help. My sister has two children to care for, and my father says he is unable to help her.”
Henry stopped his horse and looked at me slowly. I had been careful. I had avoided any acknowledgement that Mary had been his lover. There was a hint of embarrassment in his expression, but he looked relieved that I was not about to say anything that should upset his private fantasy of knighthood. I loved him for the boyish look of gratitude he gave me then. With Henry, I had learned, it was often safer to avoid seeing the past truthfully, and merely presenting it to him as he would like to believe it.
“Why can your father not support his own daughter?” Henry asked, ducking under a branch as we rode about the edge of woodland on the crest of a hill.
“He says he has not the means,” I lied smoothly, not wishing to say that my father considered Mary’s woes of small importance at this moment. Perhaps if my father were to gain some reward, then Mary may stand a hope of benefiting also.
“The Viscount Rochford cannot support a widowed daughter?” Henry leaned back in his saddle and rubbed his hands together. His eyes narrowed as he looked out into the woods. There was good hunting to be had and he itched to do it. We had not ridden as we used to at Windsor and other places when we had met before, as I sometimes tired easily after my brush with the sweat, and he was concerned for my strength. But he longed to return to such days. Henry was always easiest to approach when in the saddle, for he wanted nothing more than to be hunting and so decisions came quickly to him here. I wondered if Wolsey knew this secret about his lord and master, as I did.
“I shall bestow another gift of land upon your father,” he said, “and instruct him to use some of it to care for the widow Carey and her children.” He grinned, somewhat sheepishly. “They are the cousins of the future prince of this realm… It will not do to see them in rags and tatters, will it?”
I felt so warm towards him then. He would ensure that my poor sister was cared for… I knew that he would. I smiled and leaned over, across my horse to claim a kiss from his lips. His hand grazed my breasts and his fingers crept down the centre of my gown. I pulled back to see the glazed look of desire on his face, the look I was now so used to seeing, and whispered softly, “thank you, my lord.”
He removed his hands from me, his face happy and excited, but cautious. At Eltham, we had not been as intimate as we had been before, for his fear that he would tire me. But I knew he was impatient. I knew he wanted me. A touch of wickedness rose in my spirit. I would show my beloved that I was hale and strong once more! I wanted him to touch me without terror…
Without warning I kicked my horse and I flew through the woods faster even than I had intended. I heard him laugh as his horse pounded behind mine and gave chase through the trees and out into the fields, scattering hares and birds as we raced with no aim and no goal. I heard him shout with panic as my horse galloped straight for a tree in the centre of the field. I ducked under the branches of that great oak and smoothly pulled my horse to stand under the cool shade of the tree. Henry’s roan stomped to my side a moment later, the rider laughing. “You ride like the Devil was behind you, Anne!” he exclaimed, gazing at me with raw admiration.
“I simply wished to show my King that I am not as fragile as he has thought me,” I purred. “And then perhaps His Majesty will dare to kiss and hold me as I have so longed for him to…”
He all but flung himself from his horse and pulled me down. The strength of his arms was awe inspiring as he plucked me from my saddle and lay me on the floor, my back against the twisted oak trunk. He fell upon me and covered my body with his. He moved against me, covering my face and throat with kisses and my body with the desperate stroke
s of his hard hands.
We embraced with a wild and unreserved passion; my hands in his hair, his fingers tugging at the fastenings of my gown. He moved my legs apart with my gown still covering them, and lay between them. I could feel his eager hardness against my thigh and I did not care. I did not care! I was untamed and reckless. We had come so close to losing each other, and now, all the desperation and horror of that was released.
He put his head to my breasts and groaned, deep and hard, as his body rocked against mine. My body responded to his in ways I did not understand, but just seemed to know, instinctively. There was an aching in me that called out, urging me on, pushing my hips up towards his. My clothing was awry and my hood tumbled from my head, and I cared not. He put his fingers through my dark, unbound hair, kissing me so hard that I thought he would hurt me… but none of it hurt… Every sigh of pleasure that I made only excited him more. I could feel him, desperate and solid against me. He wanted me.
He moved my hand to his breeches and pushed aside the fastenings of his codpiece so that my hand was over his manhood. I felt his body quiver and he moved my hand with his, back and forth along the hard, yet silky surface as he grunted words of love and desire into my neck. “Please, Anne,” he almost whimpered, his voice muffled. “Please… help me, my love… my only love... my Diana… My Queen.”
I felt his body quake with every stroke. I was an innocent at this, but it seemed that I was pleasing him greatly. His hands rummaged up through my skirts and I felt a sudden dart of fear as I thought perhaps he might seek to take my virginity from me in this rough field. In that moment, I knew I was not ready. But that was not Henry’s intent. His clever fingers sought out parts of me I barely knew existed. His fingers hunted through my skirts and into my most intimate parts. As his fingers began to stroke and move across me, tickles of pleasure ran through my skin.
Icy sparkles of frost seemed to emerge and explode on my skin. I shivered and cried out. Breathy sounds of pleasure came from my lips. I was nothing anymore. I was not a person. I was sensation alone. I washed on a wave of pleasure, my eyes closed and my head tipped backwards. He brought me to a pinnacle of pleasure where I lost myself in a silver world of bliss. I felt him stiffen. He rolled to one side, spilling his seed onto the ground.
We lay together after that, the King of England and his future wife, sprawled on the ground, half-dressed and spent on the dirt under a tree in a field. I had never known that such pleasures existed… Women at court and my sister, had spoken of the enjoyment of the wedding bed, of course… But I had never imagined it to be like this. I put my arms about him and heard his heavy breathing against my chest. He kissed me gently, his eyes closed. I could not feel bad for what we had done. For so long we had had to satisfy ourselves with but kisses and small pleasures. The force of desire had built in us for more than a year, and still we were not able to be together as man and wife. For the first time in so long, I was at peace. I felt more tranquil than I had ever been. We had not done wrong… I was still intact. We had not endangered my womb and none had seen us here. I ran my hands through his hair and smiled.
“You have been keeping things from me, my love,” I muttered huskily, teasing him. “You did not tell me that there were things a man and woman may do together before marriage, things that would not make a child... I thought that we would have no secrets from each other… yet you have been keeping much quiet!”
He laughed, and the sound rumbled against me. “In some ways, my Anne, I am surprised that I should ever need to tell you anything… You seem to know all!” He lifted his head from my chest and looked at me with peaceful, lazy eyes. “And yet, I am glad that I shall be the one to teach you some things, especially about the ways in which a man and a woman may be together.”
“We shall still have to be secret,” I whispered, “and safe.”
He took my hand and kissed it. “I would have no one doubt the validity of our marriage,” he agreed, “nor the intact nature of your reputation. But if you were willing, perhaps sometimes I might… teach you, as you say, in private and without risk of a child… until we are married.”
I smiled saucily. I felt naughty, and it was a surprisingly good feeling. “You know me, Henry.” I twirled his hair in my fingers. “I thirst to learn new things.”
He pulled me, giggling, under his eager body once more. We stayed a long time beneath that tree that afternoon, and he showed me much I had never imagined. When we returned to Eltham that night I looked into my mirror and saw a different woman there; one who understood the pleasures that my brother and sister had experienced long before me. That night, Henry came to me, and brought me to ecstasy again. He loved being my guide and finally we had found together a way to release at least a little of our tension.
But we were careful. Although I now allowed Henry to touch and to embrace me and I did the same for him, it was never to go past that point. Although at times in the heat of our passion, he begged me to let him, I did not. Although at times I was tempted to give in, I did not.
In the days that followed, we were alive with passion and excitement. We became mischievous and naughty. My mother made herself scarce and each night Henry taught me more. When he knew servants were in a neighbouring chamber, he would press me up against the door and we would pleasure each other; stifling our cries of enjoyment and giggling together about it afterwards. I was a quick pupil. There was a power to the art of pleasure which I enjoyed. A teasing, taunting, thrilling power. He felt it when I was at his mercy, just as I felt it when my King was within mine. I understood now why courtiers of both sexes risked so much for the act of love. I understood now the great and overwhelming pleasures that one person could take in another. But we were careful even as we were reckless; we were passionate even as we were controlled.
But all our time was not spent only in pleasure. We talked of the Great Matter often, I with my worries and doubts and he with his convictions and certainties. When we returned to court from Eltham, I was at his side constantly. Neither he nor I would have it any other way. Katherine was barely to be seen at court, keeping to her own chambers, but Henry and I were always together, playing at bowls, hunting, riding, playing and singing with his men and my ladies. We were a merry band at court as the last days of the summer turned to the golden warmth of early autumn. And I was becoming increasingly aware of my growing influence and power.
At my request, my cousin, Francis Bryan was appointed to the Privy Chamber to replace my dead brother Will. Mary was being supported, albeit grudgingly, by our father through the difficult time of her new widowhood. Henry commanded my father to take her in. She went to Hever with her children and there she was cared for, and looked after. Despite her duties as a chaperone, my mother went to Hever often to see her grandchildren. I had other ladies, and Kate, my maid, with me, so it was possible for my mother to take long visits home, and spend time with little Henry and Catherine. She cherished her time with them, she told me.
“You will understand when you have children and grandchildren of your own, my child,” she said. “There is nothing like the feeling that either brings to you. Your children are amazing, the most astounding thing that ever happens to you. Every day is a new discovery… You see the world fresh through their eyes. And when there are grandchildren, it is as though you have all the benefits of being a parent, but with hardly any of the responsibility… The best match possible!” She laughed heartily, and I was pleased to see her so happy. Her strange illness had abated over the summer, as it always did, but she was not looking forward to winter, for in cold times she often suffered. And yet she had not caught the sweat… strange how at times the frailest of us seem to be the strongest…
I was in a strong position at court. Henry granted me anything and everything he could and there was support growing for me in many areas. Those who wanted a secure future for England, those who did not favour Spain in alliance, those who had gained through friendship with my family… Oh yes… I had supporters, and the
y were growing in number. Katherine did had many, of course, but when I came to court that autumn, I was bolder than ever I had been before. I was secure in Henry’s love, and we told ourselves that soon, soon, Campeggio would arrive.
Everyone knew what was going on. Everyone knew everything although nothing was said out loud. Everyone knew that Henry loved me and that, if I got my way as it was whispered in the corridors of every palace and every dull hovel in the land, I should be Queen before the year was out.
But Katherine was popular about the country. Her people hated me. They thought I was an upstart. They thought I was a whore. They called me a witch and a Jezebel. They thought that my influence over Henry could never last. But they all watched me carefully, for no one had ever seen the King act like this before.
Change was coming and, like the beasts in the wood that look to the skies before a storm, all were watching to see which way they should run.
