Anne Boleyn- Command of the King Read online

  Poor woman. They found her in the river, drowned, ten days ago.

  Ten days ago. I checked the date on her letter. I lost my baby the same day as the drowning. I remembered the French curse I had muttered when I parted company with Martha before coming to court, and I remembered her prophetic words.

  An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life.

  But I was not superstitious and my curse had come forth in a moment of anger. Surely, I had not wished death upon the old woman?

  My father met with me once each week to wring out information regarding the royal couple. My Howard family, on mother’s side, held sway at court and my father sought any detail in order to ingratiate himself with them. Any word, no matter how insignificant, must be relayed through him to the Howards, and by their elevation so the Boleyn family might thus rise.

  This was nothing new. At the French court my father and mother both bought and sold information. Often they spread false intelligence designed to reach the French King’s ear on behalf of England. The game of politics raged throughout the courts of Europe and to have knowledge increased one’s wealth and favour.

  My information proved valuable. Queen Katherine’s Spanish family regularly set France against England, befriending one and then the other. I watched and listened attentively to Katherine for, unknown to the Queen, I understood some of her native tongue. Katherine often wrote to the Spanish royals expressing worry over the King’s increasing appetite for younger, prettier women and his tendency to ignore the political astuteness of his wife and her advisors. He had begun to cast her aside physically and mentally and she fretted over her future relevancy at the English court. At thirty-eight-years of age she had not conceived in five years and all she had after fifteen years of marriage to a vigorous, younger husband was a frail girl of eight.

  My father paced the room and I chanced to interrupt his thoughts.

  “Father, is Cardinal Wolsey at court?”

  “No, he is busy with diplomatic matters these past weeks. ‘Tis good for us if the King relies on others while the Cardinal is indisposed.”

  I ached over the latest absence of my love, Percy.

  “It will not be long before negotiations for your marriage are concluded. The obstacles are surmountable. Your grandmother is proud to have you take her place in Ireland and marry your good cousin. But remember, Anne, always keep your ears open, your mouth shut, and your Boleyn family informed.”

  My father’s instructions rang in my head long after I left him. I hurried to my duties with the Queen and came upon her hosting the King. They played cards and discussed the eight-year-old Princess Mary’s current betrothal negotiations. I eyed them carefully from behind Katherine’s favourite ladies, noting the King’s avoidance of his wife’s hand in seeking his reassurance.

  “Madam, this chamber of yours needs lively entertainments. Do you always keep such a dull house?”

  She smiled, accepting his insult with grace, and an almost perverse pleasure. Did she desire her husband’s attention no matter if he mocked her?

  “Anne, will you sing for us?”

  The shock of her request caused me to lose my quick wit. For a brief moment I froze.

  “No,” Henry complained, not looking my way. “I tire of this company.”

  He stormed out, calling his men to follow in search of masculine pursuits.

  Katherine smiled, but I noted the sadness in her eyes and the slowness of her walk when the time came for us to attend yet another mass.

  A few weeks passed before George received word of Percy’s whereabouts. I met my brother in the royal gardens.

  “The Cardinal has forbidden Percy to come to court. He is to remain at Wolsey’s residence until his return to Northumberland, whereupon he is to marry the Lady Mary Talbot.”

  I swayed with confusion. “He is my husband, we have sworn before God to marry. It is not possible to undo it.”

  “Sister, think on it. Cardinal Wolsey is the most powerful man in England. If he says a contract is undone then it is thus so. Percy bade me give you a message. He asks you not to forget his love.”

  “Wolsey! He did this for his own malicious reasons.”

  “You are almost contracted to Butler.”

  “George, hear me. Go to Butler’s friends and put it about that I dallied with another man. He will end negotiations if he thinks me ill-used. Do not mention the Cardinal or Percy. Let him find out later, after it’s too late.”

  George’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He had no love for Wolsey.

  “Sister, you are clever. Butler is a proud and pigheaded man.”

  “Go as fast as you can and send me word when it is done.”

  I strolled the gardens for a long time plucking flowers and tearing off the petals one by one.

  He loves me, he loves me not!

  Every flower gave the same answer. Percy loved me and would always love me.

  “He loves me,” I cried in vain.

  “Who loves you?”

  I turned to see who rudely interrupted my private pain and dropped into an elegant curtsey.

  “Your Majesty, forgive me, I did not know you walked these gardens.”

  The King stared at me with an odd look.

  “There is no need for forgiveness. You are a welcome distraction in an otherwise disturbing day.” He held out an arm and I placed my hand gracefully upon it.

  “Mistress Anne Boleyn, is it not?” He did not wait for my reply. “I’ve seen you in the Queen’s chambers. I hear you are something of a wit and your brother insists you play chess rather well.”

  He chuckled as if it were a grand joke.

  “I enjoy a game of chess, ‘tis true, but to beat George is no great feat.”

  The King roared with laughter.

  “I ride and hunt better than George. Did he mention?”

  He kept laughing. “No he did not. I will remind him the next time he complains at losing a game of dice.”

  “As you wish, but do not mention the source of your information for he will be much aggrieved by it.”

  The King wiped the tears from his eyes.

  “You have made my day much happier than a few moments ago. Come to my chambers later to play a private game of chess. I’m willing to wager much to have your company, Lady Anne.”

  His eyes roved over my person with undisguised lust.

  I stared at him with all the pride I could muster.

  “There is not enough wealth in your kingdom, my lord, to wager against my company. And I would not see you lose your realm over it.”

  “You refuse me?”

  “Yes,” I said haughtily, in a careless mood after Percy’s exile. “I refuse you. Even a king must on occasion take no for an answer.”

  The look on his face told me everything. No one had dared to say no to Henry, King of England. Yet I walked away, dropping flower petals in my wake.

  ~ Anne Boleyn ~

  ~ 1524 ~

  Hever Castle - Ambition

  Mother railed at me upon my return to Hever.

  “Is the King angry? Why send you away from court?”

  “I have no idea what goes through the his mind. He is a spoiled, selfish man who needs a lesson in restraint.”

  Her face paled.

  “Mother, I am not Mary. I will not lie with a king and quicken with child, never to know if my husband or a king is the child’s father.”

  “Hush, do you want the entire house to hear you.”

  I shrugged.

  “He wants you as a mistress?”

  “Does it surprise you, Mother?”

  “I thought his taste ran to fair-haired maids with pale skin.”

  “His taste runs to the nearest maid at hand.”

  “He is lusty, and Katherine cannot satisfy him?”

  I could not deny it. “She looks older and more worn every day. A man cannot find comfort in a woman who prays and fasts, and wears a monk’s hairshirt under her royal clothes.”

  “Mon Dieu! Why does she do it?”

  “If she believes it will bring him a son then perhaps it is worth enduring, but he is not interested in crawling on his knees to beg God for a son. A man gets a son by seeding a woman. Bessie Blount gave him a son and we’ll know soon enough if Mary gets him another.”

  Mother looked at me with pity.

  “The Butlers retracted the offer of a marriage to their son, James. You will not be mistress of Kilkenny as your grandmother wished.”

  “Well, I doubt Ireland is ready for me,” I laughed lightly. My mood lifted at this turn of events.

  “Your cousin, Thomas Wyatt is here.”

  “How wonderful.”

  I left my mother and ran straight into Wyatt.

  “Anne, you run about like a wild doe in the forest.”

  “I am wild, Thomas Wyatt. Write that of me in your next poem.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” he scoffed, but his dark, penetrating eyes told me differently.

  “Where is your wife?”

  “She left my house, praise be to God. Or perhaps I should praise the devil.”

  We linked arms and walked into my family’s private gathering room. One of the maids, Bertha, sat by the open door to ensure my reputation.

  “What of your marriage?” I whispered in French.

  “I cannot live with her, Anne. She’s an adulteress and a shrew and I’ll not abide it. I plan to travel to Europe soon.”

  “No!” I dreaded to see clever young men leave England.

  “Court is dull these days. You are in Hever, and the ladies surrounding the Queen are dour.” He scratched his chin. “How did you incur the King’s wrath?”

  “He asked me to his chambers and I refused.”

  Wyatt whistled throug
h his teeth. “I doubt he’s used to such a thing.”

  “I know not and I care not. I quipped about winning at chess with George and he took the liberty of making a lewd wager out of it.”

  “Henry lacks the subtle grace required to woo a woman.”

  “And you do not?”

  I enjoyed Wyatt’s sly smile.

  “I lack nothing.” He took my hand into his and pressed it to his chest. “Feel this heart that beats for you, my Lady Anne. If I thought for one moment yours stirred for me in return…”

  “You are married and it cannot be undone, Thomas.” His sweet disposition withered at my stern reprimand. “I treasure you as a friend and cousin, but will not accept you as a suitor.”

  “I had hoped you found me appealing.”

  “Your face and mind are appealing, your situation is not. Now, tell me about the latest shipment of banned texts from the Continent.”

  “Ah, now I see what excites you, my little heretic!”

  “Yes,” I admitted, “it excites me. Tell me everything.”

  “What do you truly think of the King?” I asked later as we watched the evening stars disappear behind wispy clouds.

  “He lacks direction.”

  “Is he not directed to rule England?”

  “Wolsey rules England. Have you noticed Henry thinks one way but is swayed depending upon which direction the winds of Wolsey blow? I’m afraid our King is not much more than a vessel for Wolsey’s ambitions. They say the Cardinal may buy the Papacy and make himself Pope one day.”

  “How awful,” I laughed. “Papal fashion is not becoming for such a rotund creature and red is dreadful on his complexion.”

  A thought occurred to me.

  “Why is Wolsey interested in who Percy of Northumberland marries? Surely, Mary Talbot has no great lineage, and yet he reportedly called down the Earl to fetch his son. I find the matter beyond simple reasoning.”

  “Wolsey does nothing other than further his cause or the cause of the King.”

  “Percy somehow agitated Wolsey and now he must marry Mary Talbot?”

  “Your father hopes to gain the Earldom of Ormond, thus Wolsey places a loyal foot in Ireland. Percy got in the way and the Cardinal found out, perhaps?”

  “If ever I have the chance to do harm to the Cardinal, that lowly butcher’s boy, I will find it a pleasure. I ill-wished him all the way home.”

  “Anne, don’t speak such witchery.”

  “’Tis not witchery. It eases my mind to imagine a measure of control over such things. I simply ill-wished him and any other who stole my true love away from me. There are those at the French Court who believe you can harness the devil’s will by uttering the right words.”

  “Nonsense, Anne. Such tales frighten children into behaving, perhaps.” Wyatt laughed and his good humour loosened my tongue.

  “The seven deadly sins are cardinal sins and appropriate don’t you agree?”

  “Appropriate for what?”

  “Revenge. I wished for Wolsey and his accomplices to be hounded by the Saligia.”

  Wyatt’s eyes held mine as he recited the sins. “Superbia, Avaritia, Luxuria, Invidia, Gula, Ira, and Acedia. The first letter of each one in latin spells Saligia.”

  “I attributed Gluttony, Sloth and Avarice to Wolsey. May they contend with him harshly. Envy, Wrath, Lust and Pride I cast into the wind to find the other architects of Percy’s undoing.”

  “I dread to ever incur your anger, Mistress Anne. What form of revenge would you take upon me?”

  “To live without a moment’s peace, then die having loved me unrequited.”

  “And if I incur your pleasure, what then?”

  “I may bestow a kiss upon you.”

  “A French kiss?”

  “I know of no such kiss, Thomas Wyatt.”

  “After many years in the court of the world’s greatest lecher, King Francois, you maintain your inexperience?”

  “I am truly inexperienced in matters concerning the French King. You must ask my sister, Mary of such matters. I believe she spent time in his company.”

  Wyatt chuckled but eyed me with speculation.

  “Let us go into the garden, Thomas.”

  I wanted no reminders of Mary’s mistakes.

  Father arrived weeks later to insist upon my return to court. We spied for a living and Uncle Norfolk traded information the way some men traded wool.

  “Katherine hated me on sight. Another Boleyn daughter at court does her no good,” I complained.

  “She is irrelevant. The King looks beyond her to the future and Katherine is not part of his plan.”

  “What plan?” I loved intrigue.

  “He talks of promoting his baseborn son, Henry Fitzroy.”

  “How old is the little bastard?”

  “Anne, watch your tongue.”

  I sighed.

  “Fitzroy is five or six in years. He’s rarely seen but they say the King has raised him well. Henry’s rivalry with Francois demands a show of virility, and to acknowledge the boy and elevate him is Henry’s way of showing the world he is not at fault for the lack of a male heir.”

  “Too bad our Mary birthed a girl, else you would be grandsire to another son of Henry.”

  Father shrugged. “Mary is not yet done with the King.”

  I shivered, remembering the incident in the garden. Had the King expected me to run to his bed while he waited for my sister’s return?

  “You wish me to remain in the Queen’s service while Mary and George ply their trade with the King?”

  “Katherine bears watching. Her affinity for Spain against the interest of the English Crown is ever in question and her nephew, Charles, grows stronger each year.”

  “All she does is pray and stitch. If I am bored after a mere moment in her company then I cannot blame the King his transgressions.”

  Mother came into the room and Father went to her side. They communicated with looks and I watched, fascinated at the way they stood together, almost touching but resisting in the presence of family or servants.

  “Remember, Anne,” she said, “my brother is the head of the family now that your grandfather is too advanced in years to continue his duties to the King. We owe him our allegiance, and to elevate the family we must work together.”

  Sadness creased Mother’s face and my father took her hand.

  “Your grandfather is dying. They say it will not be long,” she whispered.

  Mother and I clung together as Father wrapped his comforting arms around us. The memories of my early years held little of my Howard family but my grandfather had served four kings and survived the York and Lancaster wars to emerge ready and able to serve the Tudors. To live eighty years and reach the office of Earl Marshal and Lord High Treasurer proved our family’s tenacity. I bore my affinity to the Howard’s proudly.

  My father nodded, resigned to my mother’s wishes. “Stay at Hever while your mother has need of you, Anne.”

  George wrote of Percy’s recent marriage to Mary Talbot and I burned the letter, cursing their union to bear no fruit. Word came a few days later. My grandfather, the old Duke of Norfolk, had died the same day as my curse, on the twenty-first of May.

  How sad to die at the beginning of the summer when the world was fresh and green, so full of promise and life.

  I shivered.

  Back to court I went, to see my father’s congenial face. He managed to set me back in the Queen’s apartments, albeit in a low position. I fetched and carried for the ladies of the wardrobe. The demands were modest though the Queen tried to dress befitting a royal wife, to please the King who enjoyed fine clothes and fine jewels. He strutted, reminding me of a peacock, and the Queen and the little Princess dressed to complement the royal pavo.

  The sight of their exquisite clothes inspired me to consider the state of my own fashion. The dark colours favoured by Katherine did not suit my complexion—nor hers—but pale silks and satins, boldly trimmed and perfectly fitted to my form had a stunning effect. A number of discarded gowns came into my possession and I sent to them to a seamstress who artfully reworked them into brilliant new designs while I dreamed of the day I might wear them.

  Katherine took one look at my forward style and banished me. Her squat finger pointed toward the door.

  “Out of ma chambers,” she commanded in heavily accented English.