Dear Heart, How Like You This

by Wendy J. Dunn

  George laughed, perhaps remembering back to our childhood when he would tease me by making me guess what his secret was until I could not take it any more and would wrestle him until he at long last told me.

  At last, he stopped laughing long enough to say: “My sister—your cousin Anne—is with child. And has been since December.”

  I stared at him, feeling my face go red with shock and embarrassment.

  “What! Do you mean…?”

  “Yea. When the storm returned the royal ship to Calais, my sister gave the King what he had wanted ever since he first saw her. But what good that has done both of them I do not know.”

  “Whatever can you mean, George?”

  “The King’s passion for Anne is over. Perhaps the wait was too long… Perhaps the first time had them, instead of ascending to the mountaintop, grovelling in the dirt. Who can tell? I only know that both Anne and the King had the foulest tempers by the time they returned to England… and she refuses to talk to me about it.” George paused, and considered me sadly. “I think, Tom, that if the King was a less prideful man, if they both could admit to making a grand mistake; if a child had not been made that night, then there would have been no marriage…”

  “So Anne has not found any happiness with her marriage to the King?” I asked.

  “Oh, she is happy enough about the coming child. You know, as I do, that Anne has always wanted a dozen children. But, aye, she wishes that things could be better between the King and her…” He contemplated me for a very long time, so long that I became bewildered as to what he could be thinking.

  Then he softly said: “I thank God that my sister has, in her life, been blessed with one day of true love.”

  ’Twas my turn to contemplate George. He lifted an eyebrow at me and I realised with a sense of shock that Anna’s and my secret had never been a secret from George,

  “So, you knew?” I hoarsely whispered, clearing my throat. It felt as if I drowned in a tidal wave of repressed emotion. I looked away from him to the window close by. It was completely grey outside, and I thanked my stars that I had arrived when I did. Snow looked very close at hand. Using my sleeve, I wiped my eyes, glancing back at George.

  “So, you knew,” I repeated, and I deeply sighed.

  “It was not hard to guess, Tom. How could I not guess, especially with Anne and you both looking like you had just trespassed where you should not. But, who am I to say nay? I know, Tom, how you love my sister. I have always known.” After a brief touch to my hand, George sprung up from his stool. “Where is that Gil? Surely obtaining food and drink would not take him all this time?”

  George went to the door, looking out.

  “Ah… Here comes the good lad now. The food looks good, Gil, but hurry boy; I am starving!”

  George came away from the door, closely followed by Gil carrying a loaded tray.

  “Bring it over to the fire,” George commanded. Gil placed the tray on a small table between us, and turned back to face George.

  “I am sorry I have been gone so long, my Lord. But you should have heard the foul temper of the Master Cook! It was hard to get from him what I needed.”

  “’Tis no matter, Gil, the wait has been well worth it. Could you organise my cousin’s gear and bed now, lad?”

  “Of course, my Lord. I will get the bedding from the next chamber.”

  Gil bowed slightly to us both, grabbed hold onto my saddlebags, and went back into the room from which he had first emerged.

  For the next hour George and I devoured the food that Gil had provided, conversing of other subjects that were safe to be overheard.

  I felt not overly surprised that George knew about Anna and me. I suppose I always suspected he discerned the truth behind our uneasiness on that long ago summer’s day. But, I also suspected that he knew, as I did, that such a matter needed to be left secret and seemingly forgot. Especially now that Anne was wife to the King.

  Eventually we had eaten all that there was to eat and I began to feel restless to see Anna. This desire I mentioned to George, who then got up and said he would take me immediately to her. Thus, without further ado, we went out of his chambers in search of her. It did not take us long to find her: Anna sat in her chambers, listening to a young man of no more than twenty sing and play his lute. When we were announced, the exquisite music came to a halt and Anne arose from where she was sitting.

  “Sweet cousin,” she said, holding out both her hands to me. I hurried over to her and took her hands, bowing over them. Anna then turned to the minstrel.

  “Go now, Marc. Tell my Chamberlain that I am well pleased with you. I will have you join my company. My brother, the Lord Rochford, will go with you, to tell him that I have said for you to be provided with suitable livery. You do not mind, do you George?”

  Her brother smiled at her, and shook his head.

  “Nay, sister. I will attend to it.”

  The minstrel bowed deeply, gave his thanks to her, and departed swiftly with George from the room.

  Anne turned back her attention to me; she had kept hold of one of my hands and now led me over to a superbly carved harpsichord.

  “Tell me, Tom, what do you think of this?” she asked.

  I looked at it, sat down, and began to play. Indeed, I began to feel enraptured by the wonderful sounds it made.

  Anne’s happy laugh reminded me of why I was truly here, and I turned back to her.

  “The instrument is simply splendid, Anne.”

  “It was a present from the King. The King is very generous, Tom. He even managed to find me sun-kissed apples in the dead of winter. He tells me that such desires means that I am with child.”

  With that remark Anne laughed again, and walked back to her chair. I stood for the moment at the harpsichord, completely transfixed by her words, and looked around at the roomful of people. It seemed to me that they all had just stopped what they were doing. The household stayed silent, as if they had heard every word that had been said and now absorbed the implications. ’Twas like the motion of time froze for one long moment. But then I felt it swing back into action, and people suddenly returned to what they had been doing just before these words had been said.

  I returned to where Anne was sitting to find that George had rejoined us also.

  I took her hand from her lap, and quietly said: “So, dearest Anna, you are with child?”

  Anne smiled brightly and gave my hand a slight squeeze before freeing herself from my clasp.

  “Yea, Tom. And not with just any child, cousin. I feel in my heart this child I carry is to be a very special child.”

  I smiled at her, and replied with a laugh: “All mothers feel like that about their children. Especially when the child is their first.”

  “Yea. But not all mothers can feel that they bear a child who will one day be the glory of all England—even the heavens tell me so, Tom. I remember well the comet last year…”

  Anne laughed, and George and I could but join in her laughter. Her hand then reached to touch my sleeve.

  “Do you doubt me?”

  For a moment, I enclosed her hand in mine, and smiled.

  “What is there to doubt? Perhaps one day I will say to you that you have been proved right… My father once told me a tale about William of Normandy, who became the first William of England. His mother also felt that the child she bore would one day be great, and we know that history proved her all too right. God, perchance, gives knowledge to mothers denied to us lesser mortals.”

  I winked at George, and he smiled at me in return, but I could not help thinking that Anna’s disappointment would be great if the babe proved to be a girl. However, after so many long years of waiting to be a mother, Anna appeared ecstatic to find herself with child. I would say nothing to darken her happiness.

  “Tell me of your wedding, Anne. George’s letter only gave me the barest details.”

  Anna’s smile became subdued.

  “Oh, Tom. It was not as I hoped it w
ould be. I so wished to have my marriage with the King celebrated in full light of day at Westminster, but had to be content with being wed before the break of dawn at Whitehall… No matter, what is done is done.”

  “I could not help being astonished how events, when they began to move, moved so fast.”

  Anne placed both hands on her belly and said: “Why astonished, Tom? Surely you know that the King would not risk this child to be born out of wedlock. He has enough of bastard slips… There is no child with more right than the babe I have here to sit one day upon the throne of England.

  George laid his hand on Anne’s shoulder.

  “Tell Tom how the King tricked the priest into marrying you.”

  Anne laughed again, her eyes lighting up as she looked from George to me.

  “I think it was the funniest play-acting I have ever seen! The poor priest wished to see the licence before he proceeded with the ceremony. My husband, the King, assured him that the licence could be found amongst his private papers, but to send for them would cause rumours to fly and secrecy thus destroyed. The poor man had no choice but to marry us; he could not very well call his own King a liar!”

  I picked up Anne’s hand again.

  “Anna, I have not had the chance to pass on my best wishes. Believe me when I say that I hope this marriage brings you every joy.”

  She placed her free hand back on her belly.

  “In September I will have my joy. That is all I wish for now.”

  Anna arose from her chair, gently freeing her hand from mine, and walked back to the harpsichord. She began to play a slow piece of music—a piece that sounded like a lament.

  I gazed at George and he at me; without having to speak one word, I knew he the same thought was in his mind, all our joys depended on what September would bring.

  *

  By the twenty-third of May, 1533, the ground had been prepared sufficiently for the King’s marriage to Catherine to be, at long last, declared null and void. Thus the King’s true and only wife was a girl who had once been my goodly playmate. Aye, unbelievably, that playmate had grown up to be Queen Anne of England.

  Thus, all was put in motion for the coronation of our new Queen.

  My father was still too ill to take part. This being the case, despite feeling cast down and ill at ease, I agreed to take on his duties of Chief Ewer. If I had any real choice in the matter I think I would have chosen to stay at Allington. I possessed many misgivings about Anne’s marriage to the King.

  Indeed, even at the beginning everything did not go smoothly. The King had been extremely annoyed to hear the barge that had been made ready for Anne had once been the royal barge of Catherine of Aragon. Anne had the former Queen’s insignia removed to make way for her own: a crowned, white falcon (it was so in Anne’s character to choose for herself a falcon!) with Tudor roses growing on the ground near its talons.

  It soon became well known around the court that the King did not take his anger directly out on his pregnant wife. Rather he spoke harshly to Anne’s Chamberlain, saying that there had been other barges available, barges that could have easily been made ready for the coronation of his new Queen. I could not help thinking that it brooked no good about his true feelings toward his wife. Nonetheless, this was still the barge used on the twenty-ninth of May, when Anne, looking completely ethereal in a gown of silver cloth, with her long black hair altogether loose and threaded here and there with the sparkle of diamonds, was rowed in great triumph to the Tower from Greenwich Palace.

  All down the Thames, other similar barges escorted Anne’s (or Catherine’s) barge, also done up in the highest style, belonging as they did to the high nobility of the land.

  Hundreds and hundreds of common folk were there also. But it was too easy to see who they supported in the “King’s Great Matter.” Here and there, I heard cries of “Nan Bullen, goggle-eyed whore!” but, other than those sorts of remarks, the crowds remained silent—a silence that but spoke far too loud their disapproval.

  Joyful music helped to distract from this ominous note to the coronation. And there was music everywhere, from the music played aboard the barges to the music heard in the streets of London.

  At last, the royal barge finished its slow journey and Anne arrived at the Tower, all its cannon firing their noisy, ear-hurting welcome. The sound of the Tower’s cannon was echoed further afield—ships docked in the Thames also saluted the importance of this day by firing their guns, as did the cannons at Limehouse.

  After the Tower’s Constable and his Lieutenant greeted Anna and her attendants, the Constable escorted my cousin to the King. I noticed that Anne held in her hands a golden purse, which she now passed on to one of her ladies. The King frowned when he saw this, but he came and put his hands—sparkling with jewels—on either side of her swollen belly; bending to brush his lips for a second to hers.

  I, who closely watched all this, could not help reflecting that it was as if the King said to all: “But for this child growing within this belly you would not be here!”

  The King took Anne’s arm and began walking with her.

  “How liked you the look of London?”

  “My sovereign husband, I liked the city well enough—but I saw a great many caps on heads, and heard but few tongues.”

  The King and his yet uncrowned Queen entered the refurbished apartments at Westminster; the great chamber and dining room had been specially rebuilt for these celebrations.

  *

  I sank my eager teeth in the soft manchet loaf, my mouth watering for more. Casting my gaze around the dining room, I again took in the decorations. Like all things King Henry commanded of his servants, no expense or talent had been spared. On the chamber’s brightly coloured walls not only suspended a long, wooden frieze, painstakingly carved and gilded with gold, depicting Bacchus and his followers—an over-abundance of playful putti acting the part of their audience—but also costly silk wall-hangings of royal emblems. Everywhere I looked proclaimed this new chamber a majestic place of wonder.

  Next to me, George made a pile of rose petals, gathering them from the thick layer strewn—intermingled with sweet smelling herbs—across the table. Paying closer attention, I smiled to see that he had formed a pattern of Tudor roses from the petals. I thought he shaped a pretty design, adding greatly to the gold thread embroidering the white damask.

  Seeing me watching him, George gave an abashed laugh, sweeping his hand over the petals. When he removed his hand, his fashioning lay no more, but the weight of his hand had left behind on the damask the colour of the deepest rose petal. The area in front of George now appeared streaked with blood. Not knowing why, I shivered, my heart growing cold and heavy in my chest. I took another bite from my bread.

  Freed from my duties for the night, George and I sat amongst handpicked friends of the King and Anne. I was included for the most part because of my close relationship to Anne (how close, it goes without saying; I prayed for Anne’s sake that the King will never, ever come to suspect). Near us, on the dais, set twelve steps higher than the four tables for guests, the royal couple relaxed for the evening—the King at his most hale and genial. That night we, the company of the royal couple, all enjoyed an elaborate meal; each course announced by a fanfare from one of the ten minstrels playing trumpet, pipe, harp or lute.

  Swallowing the last mouthful of loaf, I reached to take up a small cherry tart from the dish loaded with an assortment of fruit tarts, ignoring the fact my stomach groaned at the thought of more food. Tonight I had strived to quieten my fears by eating much and drinking deep. Dish followed yet another dish: steamed sole, roasted swan, huge sides of beef, succulent pork, venison covered with flaky pastry (one of the King’s favourite dishes) sweetmeats, and then various deserts. The King’s kitchens had left no room for complaint.

  All through the long night I had closely watched Anna. Maybe because of her pregnancy or nervousness (perchance a combination of both), Anne ate little of the feast set before her. Rather she
sat there bright eyed, drinking in everything with her eyes as if she could barely believe the events taking place. I found myself taking yet another tart to settle my unease.

  *

  The following day, the King and Anne spent resting up for the ceremonies on the morrow as well as seeing to the needs of the young men who would be knighted in honour of their new Queen’s coronation.

  Saturday arrived, with its flawless, blue-skied weather, to see all the court, either on horseback or in litters, gathered together to witness the making of a Queen. Because of Anne’s goodly belly, holding all the King’s hopes, a comfortable litter had been prepared for her, pulled by two white palfreys—above all picked out for this day not only for their gentleness, but also because of their training to not be startled by large crowds.

  For the occasion of her coronation, Anne wore a pure white gown and mantle, both trimmed with ermine. A canopy of silver cloth was carried over her litter, held by four knights of the realm, who themselves were clothed in scarlet robes. Her litter and horses, all covered with silver cloth, completed the picture she wanted aimed towards perfection. Though if Anna was striving to achieve an image of purity, I must be truthful and say her swollen belly added a wrong and jarring note.

  In a comfortable litter, provided for several elderly noblewomen, rode the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, dressed also in scarlet—the bright sunlight glittering the coronet of gold upon her head. The old lady had taken the place of her daughter-in-law, who had refused, despite her relationship of aunt to Anne, to have anything to do with a coronation replacing a very living Queen Catherine with Anne, the concubine and usurper. The Duchess of Suffolk also refused her brother’s invitation to attend this day, though she used her ill health as the excuse. Even so, it was plain to those of us who lived our lives around the English court that the Duchess would have refused to attend even if she had not been sickening.

  Nevertheless, despite the disapproval of many, from the ranks of nobility down to that of commoner, the whole day was full of bright colour and pageantry. Magnificent and priceless tapestries were hung along many of the main streets of London, and red wine flowed as if without end from many of its fountains.