Dear Heart, How Like You This

by Wendy J. Dunn

  I found my cousin in his chambers, sitting with his lute near the fireplace, strumming and humming to himself.

  “Tom!” he said, stopping his playing when he saw me enter his rooms.

  I walked over to where he sat near a window, and pulled up a stool to sit near him.

  “You have led me such a search, cousin! I did not expect to discover you here, all alone in your chambers. If it was not that I found Giles running his errands for you, and got out of him where to find you, I think I would be still looking high and low for you.”

  George’s fingers strummed idly again at his lute, and then gazed bleakly up at me.

  “I had no wish this day to pander myself to the King and his court. How is my sister, Tom? Will she return soon?”

  “Did you not hear that we were coming here? Anne is back in her chambers now.”

  “What!” George jumped up from his chair.

  “Yea… We have been back an hour or more. Anne is resting, before she need face the King.”

  George sat back down, and the bleakness returned to his face.

  “Face the King… Aye, things have come to such a pass that my sister need fear to face the King…” George put his lute on the floor. He seemed very depressed, and I wondered what other grim happening had taken place during our absence.

  “Anne does not feel herself very secure.” I sighed, and picked up from the floor George’s lute and began to slowly play the Irish melody that had lightened Anne’s spirits.

  George touched the strings and said: “Peace, Tom. I find I cannot take any joy in music today.”

  He then tilted his head to look up at the ceiling, and raised both hands to cover his face.

  “Sweet Jesus, what am I to do?” he moaned under his hands.

  I got off the stool, putting aside George’s lute, and went to kneel near my cousin. I lay my hand on his arm and asked, “George! Tell me, cousin, what can it be that so troubles you?”

  He took his hands away from his face and looked down at me. His blue eyes were extremely bright as if tears hung there, ready to flow loose.

  “My sister loses her babe and almost loses her life, and what does the King do? Come to her side to comfort and console her? No! Does he send a message of love and sympathy? No! What does he do when my sister is near death? What else does the King do but find another woman to favour with his clumsy bed sports. Yea, Tom! Yea! That is what the King has done since the news came that my dearest sister had lost their son. Never mind how ill she was because of it. Tom, I think I begin to detest the King.” He had harshly only whispered those final words, but I still stood up and looked around to ensure that we were safely alone.

  “Oh, George. We must tell Anne before some other person does. She is so sick and hurt, that if the wrong person blabs, I feel she will lose her reason completely.”

  “Aye, Tom.” George stood up from his stool, and walked over to his bed to take up his cloak. “You are right, ’tis best we two tell Anne.”

  But we were too late. Some person had taken much pleasure in gleefully informing their sick Queen about the King’s new mistress. Thus, Anne had rushed to angrily confront the King, now returned from hunting, with the result that they had the worst argument of their marriage. The King had ended this interview by violently pushing away his very fragile and ill wife and saying as he left the room: “You have reason to be content with what I have done for you, and I would not do it again if the thing was to begin again. Consider, woman, where you have come.”

  George and I arrived in time to pick up the fragmented pieces of a woman whom we both so loved.

  CONTENTS

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  “Busily seeking continual change.”

  The King and Anne were very good at play-acting. Thus, it appeared to those who were not close to them that their marriage swiftly returned to normal. The King would say to all and sundry that Anne was the best of wives, while she searched long and hard for more gifts that would be pleasing to the King, her husband.

  But long months would pass before there was any sign of a new baby.

  George and I remained close to court, both of us very concerned for Anne’s well being. Her sudden bouts of hysteria, which I remembered so well from her breakdown over Hal, as well as make her fresh enemies, often threatened to destroy any chance she had of reclaiming the King’s shallow affections. Though the making or breaking of the King’s marriage was not the only event I had any concern in. My own life too had its share of drama.

  ’Twas not long after Anne’s miscarriage that I was walking through some alleyways of London at dusk. Suddenly, I turned a corner to be confronted by some drunken, brawling men-at-arms. Seeing that one of the men was someone I knew, a guard whom I sometimes spoke to at Greenwich, I went up closer to break them apart. Another man suddenly appeared on the scene. He must have thought I wished join the foray, because, before I knew what was happening, I had a man crouched before me, snarling and with a glinting dagger in his hand. I fast drew out my own dagger—wishing desperately that I had kept myself out of this predicament—and was soon engaged in fighting for my very life.

  The man immediately went for my throat. I bent back my upper body as far I could from his fast approaching knife, and stepped to the side. I then swung my own dagger up, to feel it go into the soft flesh of his belly. Frightened, I yanked the weapon out. Blood spurted out all over me, and I dropped my dagger in disgust. The man crumbled before me, emitting a scream that would have done justice to a fury straight from Hades, and I watched helplessly with shock as his life’s blood poured out of his body, into the dirt and mud at my feet.

  Holy mother of God, I thought. I never meant to kill the man! The noise of the brawling and sudden death had brought more men running to see the fun, including a troop of Sergeants of London. One of them came up to me; standing over the newly-dead man; he bent and turned the body face up.

  “Look who we have here! ’Tis Black Jack!” he cried to his mates, casting a wary glance at me.

  I began to think frantically: a friend of the man I killed? What if he decided to seek revenge? And here was I, with my dagger lying on the ground, too far for me now to reach without drawing their attention. I cursed myself for being the biggest fool born under God’s Heaven. Why did I ever see fit to leave my lodgings this evening? More importantly, why did I leave my sword behind? The only weapon left to me was my tongue, so I began, in earnest, to use it.

  “By all the Saints in Heaven I did not mean for this to happen! I tell you, it was an accident, if it was anything! The man came at me with a knife. What else could I do but defend myself?”

  The man straightened his form and wiped his bloody hands upon his tunic.

  “That sounds like Jack—fight first, ask questions after. But he is dead, and you are alive, so needs be that you may have to pay some penalty for being the winner of this fight.”

  “What in God’s good name do you mean?” I asked him, feeling like the situation was worsening with every new moment.

  The man shook his head, and pointed at the still form at our feet.

  “There is a dead man, mister, and though the City of London will always have a place for dead men, I am a Sergeant of London who tries hard to do his duty. And my duty now tells me ’tis best that you are taken to the Fleet, and let my superiors decide what best to do with you. But fear not; Jack was well known to us. Drink always gave him an evil temper, and many a man will thank God at his just passing. But justice needs to be seen done, so we will have you as our guest, but rest yourself easy. I swear to you, good sir, you’ll not regret giving yourself freely over to our care. Your visit at Fleet will not be a long one, of that I can assure you. Jack was no friend of ours.”

  The man before me was an easy man to be reassured by. Thus, without further ado, I allowed myself to be taken to the Fleet—feeling certain that my status at court would, in any case, make certain that my stay in the gaol would be a short one.

&nbs
p; This proved to be the case, and I—with less coin in my pocket but somewhat wiser about concerning myself in brawls where I had no business—was soon on my way back to Kent and home.

  In June, my increasing estimation in the King’s eyes was proved furthermore by his granting to me, for my lifetime, the command in time of war of all the able-bodied men of the counties of Kent. The King even went so far as to approve my request that I have a small band of men dressed in my own livery.

  My climb upon the ladder continued even higher the following year, for at the beginning of that year I was made High Steward of the West Malling in Kent. And then, the most glorious honour of all: I at last gained my knighthood at Easter.

  After my knighthood, I returned to my home, and it was not until the summer of 1535 that I was commanded by the King to accompany the court on a progress to Severn and then down to Hampshire. When I made my return to court, I was relieved to find that Anne was somewhat restored to the King’s favour. When the King and Anne were together it seemed to me that this progress was for other reasons than the official one given. It was as if they had selected this time to rediscover each other and make anew their tottering relationship. Indeed, sometimes the King and Anne were as merry as when they were first courting.

  For certes, the whole progress had with it a feeling of a happy holiday. But then, perhaps this too was easy to understand; Anne and the King were engaged in pursuits that they both enjoyed to the full: riding and hawking in the best possible weather. Aye, this was a joyful and restful time for us all. It did not even seem that the King was overly concerned about dealing with state business.

  In September though, we stopped for a while at Winchester, where Anne watched with much delight the consecration of not only Hugh Latimer, but two other of her favourite clerics as Bishops. Anne had told me, so long ago, that she saw the King’s passion for her as a way for the new religion to take deeper roots in England. Much of her time as Queen she spent ensuring that this would indeed be the case.

  After the consecration of the Bishops, the court went to stay at Wolf Hall, the family home of the Seymour family. The King spent some of his time there dealing with the official business that had proven to be unavoidable, but still the holiday feeling lingered on. Around Wolf Hall were wondrous hunting woods, and many of our days there were spent, either on foot or on horse, hunting after all sorts of wild game.

  Anne and I enjoyed these days to the full, but the King came not, and I wondered what matter of importance could be keeping him from the hunt.

  Little did we know that the King had found other game to pursue without having to venture out of doors. And, perchance, the pursuing was not only on the part of the King.

  One day, while we were chasing our quarry, the weather began to take a nasty turn. Most of the party that had gone to hunt with the Queen decided, after looking at the grim, grey clouds coming fast over the far horizon, to back up their tracks to where they had first set out not long before.

  I rode my horse alongside Anne’s, and we, not caring about the increasing strength of the wind or the darkening of the sky, allowed our horses to move slowly along the paths that took us back to Wolf Hall. Soon we were far behind the rest of the company.

  Anne was dressed this day all in green. No longer in masculine attire as I remembered from our youth and childhood, but upon her dark hair (tightly plaited around her head, and thus in no danger of escaping) she wore an over-large cap—a cap I would swear to have seen upon the head of the King only days before.

  Despite the rain beginning now to drizzle, and the skies that became more and more dismal, we had no sense of hurry, no urge to make quick our return. Anna and I had ridden our horses in our youth and childhoods in worse weather than this. Thus, we were content to allow our horses to choose the speed that they would like to trot. This leisurely ride also gave us an opportunity to talk together, an opportunity fast becoming something of a rarity, so difficult was it to gain a moment of privacy in our hectic lives at court.

  “See how swiftly the rabbits run!” Anna said, laughing, gesturing her head slightly not to the ground but to the retreating backs of the courtiers, as Urien, her wolfhound, began to sniff out the nearby foxholes.

  I laughed with her, but noticed that we indeed were being fast left far behind. Inside of me began to grow a surge of warmth and contentment.

  Hold still this moment. Hold on tight to it. Treasure it. Remember it. As you will always treasure and remember that other summer’s day when you thought you had gained part of your heart’s desire. So much has turned and changed since that day became but a cherished memory. Verily, ’tis not often now that you are so utterly alone with her—this woman beside you who has always held your heart.

  I looked at Anna, held onto her vision of loveliness with my eyes, and said: “Do you remember how many times you and I came home to Hever completely drenched from our rides together, Anne?” Being thus alone with my beloved, I could not help but feel very nostalgic for other times long past, even Urien made me remember Pluto, Uncle Boleyn’s long dead wolfhound, a dog so loved by his youngest daughter.

  That daughter glanced at me, and smiled.

  “Yea, Tom. I remember. And I remember how dear Simonette would scold us dreadfully, and make us take off our wet clothes, and threaten that we would be forbidden our horses if we came home so wet again.”

  “But she never did,” I said with a laugh.

  “Nay. She never did.” Anne glanced at me again, but this time appeared both sad and reflective before beginning to speak again.

  “I think Simonette knew that riding gave to me an outlet for this wild spirit of mine. Tom, you are so very lucky not be cursed with a foul temper!” She had been speaking with her eyes directed towards the track before us, but at these final words she looked wildly across at me.

  I gazed at her again, and smiled to reassure her.

  “I never noticed it when you were a child.”

  “Nay, Tom, as a child there hardly ever was a reason to lose such control upon myself. In sooth, when I was a child, Simonette, Father Stephen, my brother and sister, and you too, Tom, surrounded me with much love. It little prepared me for the world that I was one day to face.”

  “But, if it was not for that love, Anne, what wells of joy could we look back on now? My dearest dark Lady, when I look back on our childhoods, I remember such a golden time. It is like the landscape you have left behind is filled with blessed sunlight, where everywhere you look is full of beloved things, even if the landscape you have before you is dark and unknown. I take so much satisfaction that our beginnings were so lacking in unhappiness.”

  “Yea, Tom. Perchance you have the right of it. But I know that my beginnings prepared me not for disappointment and despair. And when those two things struck me down in my life, well, Tom, you know—if anyone knows—how it shaped and twisted me… I would wish, and do pray for Elizabeth, that she is wiser than I, and makes not the same mistakes as her mother.”

  Suddenly, it was as if the courtiers racing ahead had realised that the Queen was being left further and further behind. A group of them now swung back and began to return fast to us.

  I sighed. So brief a time!

  Anne gazed long at me and smiled, such a tender and loving smile that my heart caught in my throat.

  Calling, “Urien!” she turned her eyes from me and moved her horse to swiftly meet up with the approaching courtiers. I stayed back, to linger, and watch her safely from a distance.

  I thanked God for the rain. It did much to hide the tears now falling from my eyes.

  I returned to Wolf Hall, sometime after the rest of the royal party, to discover the place in something of an uproar. It appeared that the King had been unaware of the Queen’s early and unexpected arrival, for the Queen discovered him embracing and kissing the quarry he had been pursuing during her absence. When the Queen had entered into the room, the two parties had guiltily separated from each other. Anne, it was said, spoke not one word
, but turned upon her heel and returned hence to her chambers.

  It astonished me utterly to hear who this quarry was. Where once the King’s vision had been enraptured by the sight of a very young falcon flying high and free, so much so that he brooked at nothing to capture it and make it his alone, now his vision remained land bound. The woman who now interested him was alike to Anne as a falcon is to a field mouse.

  Jane Seymour was the eldest child of the house. Indeed, the woman must have been at least twenty-seven, thus well past her youth and not much younger than Anna. And, as for her looks! I think the King had begun to lose his eyesight! Jane was so fair and whey-faced that she seemed completely colourless. Even her eyes were such a faded blue that those “windows to the soul” were not worth a second glance. Aye, not to me at least, who had long gloried in my beloved’s bright and bold beauty.

  More opposite to Anne you could not get, and perhaps that is where the attraction lay. Yea, demure and utterly plain, Jane had caught the King’s eye.

  But Anne was still his wife, and very, very attractive on this day. I could easily imagine that it was the sight of her, when she had interrupted his tender moment with Jane, that had stopped the King from going any further with his new lady-love. Yea, the sight of Anna, so vividly and dazzlingly dressed in green, somewhat damp from being caught out of doors in the light rainfall, and cheekily wearing his own cap upon her head, would have made him take better stock of the situation. As it would any man with red blood flowing through his veins.

  But I can honestly only speculate, even though I know that things were very different between the King and Anne after this day. Perhaps it was the guilt, or the fact that, for once, Anne had not savagely lashed him with her tongue, as she would have done in days past, or perchance, a mixture of all these things. For the moment, the King seemingly forgot the Lady Jane to lust after his own wife.