Anne Boleyn: A Novel (31 page)

“Never speak a word of this to a living soul,” he said. “Promise me that on the Cross, Nan. If you value your life, never say one word...”

“Don’t worry, brother. He’d kill me, I think, if he ever had to admit such a thing to himself, let alone know others knew it...”

“What will happen, Nan?” he asked her, “Surely even if he’s out of love with you, you’ve nothing to fear.”

She rose and walked round, aimlessly touching the ornaments on the table and the mantle shelf.

“That’s what I tell myself,” she answered. “Even if he’s out of love, I’ve nothing to fear. I’m his wife and crowned as Queen. I can bear living children, I’ve proved that, and I can therefore bear a son as well as anybody else. I’ve reasoned it out so calmly, you’d be proud of me, George, if you knew. But it doesn’t alter the fact that for the first time in my whole life, I’m mortally afraid.”

She stood still and let fall the fold of her black dress which she had held up as she moved.

“I can’t tell you why. Nothing’s changed, if you consider it. I’ve got the same enemies, and a few fair-weather friends who lick after me for alms and office; that old harridan and her daughter are still alive and trying to get the Pope and the Emperor to force me out and bastardize Elizabeth. But Cromwell’s on my side, and the King won’t move an inch to give way to the Pope and lose all the power he’s won. And Cranmer’s under my patronage; he’s the Archbishop and very important. I’ve entertained him and he’s shown himself most grateful to me. I got him the See, after all. Some of the Protestant clergy are with me as they know the only hope for freedom for their views lies in our faction...They know none of us can afford a reconciliation with Rome.

“You have reasoned it out, sister,” he interrupted gently.

“I’m learning, George,” she said wryly. “Learning there’s more to being Queen than being a mere woman with a crown on her head. I’m applying my wits to affairs now. And I’ll have to, if I want to keep my place.”

She saw his startled face and nodded.

“Yes, keep my place. That’s my fear, George. I’ve failed him twice, and I’m a nuisance. If I have a full belly he’s got to humor me to stop its emptying before the time, and if I’ve got an empty one he doesn’t care...And the curse of it, the thrice damned curse of it is, that I do care, and I can’t help myself!”

“I can’t believe,” he said slowly, “I can’t believe that you love him.”

“Nor can I,” she retorted savagely, “but I do, God help me. Not like Tom, or that wretched Percy...Not like them, not like anything I can explain. But I only know that when I see him stare at me and through me, it’s like a dagger going into my heart...I’d give anything to hear him say a loving word to me, and really mean it. I’d lie in his bed like a sister and be happy, if I had him to lean on and could trust him as I used to. But I can’t; I know that and it’s a worse torture to me than the rack. And when he looks at women, George, I’m so jealous I could kill him!”

“You do love him, then,” he said moodily. “Oh, Nan, Nan, why did you ever embark on this? It was my fault, too, God forgive me. I can see myself standing in your room at Hever, saying to you, go to court, when his letter came, just because I was frightened for Tom and ourselves if you didn’t. I was probably wrong; he might have accepted it and turned to someone else. You’d have been married now, and safe, if I hadn’t persuaded you.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said quickly, “What’s done is done, and it was my doing, not yours, I could have yielded years ago like anyone else instead of holding out for marriage and the crown. But I wanted them, George, though I didn’t want him in the beginning. I used to lie at night imagining myself Queen of England, with Wolsey kneeling at my feet, and all the people who snubbed us and made fun of us because our great-grandfather was in trade, bowing and saying, ‘Your Grace...’ Well, Wolsey’s in his grave three years, and the rest of it’s come true.”

“Try to be content then,” he begged her, “and don’t fret after him. God’s death, Nan, keep your pride! You’re Queen of England now, nothing can change that.”

“That must have been what Catherine thought,” Anne said quietly. For some moments after that, there was silence between them. There were many things he wanted to say to her, but words wouldn’t come. Suddenly he thought of his father, and wondered whether he might go to him and tell him the position, trust him for once, hoping that he might be able to think of something.

Immediately he dismissed the idea. Wiltshire had done his best since the coronation; he was on fair terms with the daughter who had done so well for herself and her family, but he had always managed to be the King’s man, to do the King’s business about the divorce, and to make as few enemies as possible, while Anne and George made dozens. Their father was not really with them, certainly not in trouble. Anne sensed his thoughts with the uncanny instinct which was part of their intimacy.

“If you’re thinking of Father, don’t! He’d only say, “I warned her to give up before she became his mistress, and the vixen wouldn’t listen to me.’ Which is true. He was afraid for himself then, and he’d be afraid now, if he knew how frail my hold on Henry was. He’d counsel me to retire if I could, and we both know that’s impossible. Before the marriage, yes, but not now. No, George, say nothing to Father. He’s never looked further than his own skin’s safety, and he wouldn’t change now.”

“You’re quite right,” he said. “He might even tell Norfolk, and that man hates you enough to do anything.”

“I’d like to know how he dares!” she exclaimed. “Look where he’s got! A place on the Council, more influence at court and abroad than he ever had! Oh, he may hate me, George, but I’m not afraid of that squint-eyed fox. He won’t push his niece off the throne of England.”

“True. I must be going, sister; I’m on duty in the King’s antechamber in a few minutes.”

He came over to her and stood, looking down at her, with both hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Nan. Promise me.”

She smiled and shook her head.

“I won’t. It’s been a relief to talk to you, my own dear brother, the one person in the world that I can trust!”

“Till death,” he answered simply.

The meeting between the French King and the Pope delayed a decision, just as Henry and Cromwell intended; by the time the news of acts passed in Parliament limiting the Church’s power reached Rome, the King had strengthened his hold on his people, and proved finally that whatever happened, he was ready to defy Papal authority.

Wolsey’s warning, so many years earlier, had proved correct. Nothing could stop separation between Rome and England. In February the Consistory of Cardinals considered the marriage of Henry and Catherine of Aragon and by unanimous vote pronounced it valid. After eight weary years of wrangling, threats and negotiations, the issue was finally decided. In the eyes of the whole Catholic world, Anne’s marriage was bigamous. Catherine remained Queen of England and her daughter Mary the rightful heir to the throne.

“Shall I take the Princess now, Madame?”

Anne shook her head.

“Not just yet, Kate.”

She shifted the child in her arms till it rested more comfortably against her arm, and smiled down into the small face, framed in a little lace cap, with a few strands of red hair showing at the forehead.

“Who would have ever thought I’d have had such a time bearing you?” she whispered. The child blinked at her and sucked its mouth in and out.

“Her Grace is hungry, I think,” Anne said, smiling at the wet nurse. “She’s thrived with you, Kate; she looks bonnier than ever.”

“She’s a fine babe, Madame, and the spit of the King’s Grace!”

“She is indeed,” Anne murmured. She gave her daughter one finger to hold and immediately the tiny fist closed on it. She shook her head again, still smiling. The wet nurse watched her sympathetically.

The Queen missed the child, that was obvious, and it was more than most of the great ladies did who bundled their infants out of the way almost as soon as they were born. Unlike most of the household at Hatfield, who were always gossiping about her behind her back and favoring the Lady Mary, Kate liked the Queen.

“She’ll bear no likeness to me with that coloring,” Anne said. “Except the eyes, maybe. They’re turning brown, I think.”

“If she has your face, Madame, and His Grace’s hair, she’ll do well enough,” the wet nurse prophesied. Whatever anyone said about her. Queen Anne was a beauty, even if a little drawn these days...

Anne stood still for a few more moments, rocking the child in her arms. The feel of Elizabeth gave her strength for what she was going to do. She was so helpless lying there, staring up with her bright eyes and holding her mother’s finger in a vise, and Anne felt the strange feelings of maternal love stirring in her again. When they took the child away and gave it a household at Hatfield she had cried; but it was the King’s wish, and there was no redress. Possibly it might have eased her mind had she been able to care for her own baby, but such pleasures were denied the Queen of England. So she came to Hatfield with two purposes; to see her daughter and to visit Mary Tudor, who was lodged in the same house.

Suddenly she bent and kissed the child’s forehead; the unexpected movement made Elizabeth cry, and the wet nurse hurried forward with her arms out.

“Here, Kate, take Her Grace now.”

Lady Shelton stood waiting in the background; she had been sent for when Anne arrived and informed that the Queen intended seeing the Lady Mary. Shelton curtsied and repressed her astonishment; when the Queen suggested that the King’s eldest daughter should attend on her, the good woman mustered her courage and said it might be better if the Queen went to the Lady Mary. Anne nodded grimly. It might indeed. The girl shouldn’t be given the opportunity to refuse, and they could hardly drag her struggling to Anne’s room.

“Have you informed Lady Mary that I’m coming, Shelton?”

“Yes, Madame. She is prepared and waiting.”

“Good. Take me to her.”

Mary was standing when the door opened, and she held both hands tightly clenched in front of her to stop their trembling. She was too short-sighted to see properly when the figure in the vivid scarlet dress came through the opening, but she colored when Lady Shelton cleared her throat and said, “The Queen’s Grace to see you.”

Then the door closed, and the woman in red came near enough for her to see in focus.

She was older—years older, surely, than Mary remembered— and her hateful beauty was pinched now, with a look of pain round the curve of the mouth.

The scent of her came close, strong and heavy, till it made Mary feel sick, and the sunlight streaming through the open window caught a massive brooch of pearls and diamonds which had gleamed once on Catherine’s breast.

The dark eyes looked straight at her.

“If you don’t remember me, then I am sure you heard who I am.” Her voice was rather quiet and much more musical than Mary’s; but she held herself very straight and stared back without flinching.

“I heard Lady Shelton announce the Queen, Madame, but I have yet to see my mother here.”

There was no answer Anne could give to that but the box on the ear it deserved; and she had not come to quarrel if she could help it. The girl wasn’t going to curtsy to her and it was no use trying to make her. Anne walked to a chair by the fireplace and sat down.

“It would be better if you sat too,” she said evenly. “I admire your loyalty to your mother, and I assure you, I haven’t come here to wrangle or exchange insults. Sit down.”

“I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.” Mary would willingly have sunk into a chair, because her legs were trembling, but she remembered who invited her, and wouldn’t yield an inch.

“Stand then, if you insist. It’s of no matter to me one way or the other. But be sensible and realize this; whether you admit it or not, I am the King’s wife and crowned Queen; nothing you can do can hurt me, my Lady, whereas I can hurt you a great deal if I choose.”

“I am not afraid of anything you do,” Mary answered.

She had spirit; Anne had to give her that, and it was surprising because she was rather small and insignificant-looking. Henry’s red hair and sandy brows didn’t suit a woman; nor did his freckles, which accentuated the girl’s bad color and black-ringed eyes. Apparently it was true that she was delicate.

“I was warned that you were obstinate,” she remarked quietly, “so I came prepared. Now listen to me, I have no ill will toward you.”

That was a lie above all lies; she had been jealous of Mary since she was a child, but if she’d give up her claims to the throne and stop endangering Elizabeth’s future by appealing to the Emperor, Anne would renounce that jealousy. She’d even do the things she was prepared to promise, if she could move one vital enemy out of her daughter’s path and her own.

And though Mary was only eighteen and a prisoner, her submission would quiet half the malcontents in England.

“You love the King, your father, don’t you?” she asked suddenly.

“I do; I love both my parents as much as any daughter could.”

Anne turned around in her chair to face the stiff short figure, laced into an old-fashioned dress of bright green brocade.

“And I can tell you this: the King loves you. He’s said so to me often, but he’s also said that your obstinacy is turning his love into dislike.”

She paused a moment, hoping the words had sunk in, and then went on.

“The King’s will can’t be flouted, Mary. All his subjects have learned this except you, and I’ve come to see you today to try to reason with you for your own sake. The King married me and made me Queen. It’s so, whether you like it or not, and refusing to admit it will only bring pain to you without changing anything. Be sensible and trust me. I would like to be your friend. I have a daughter of my own now, and I’ll treat you as affectionately as a second mother, if you’ll let me.

“Mary, why don’t you please your father and resolve all this unhappiness and strife? Come to court and make your curtsy to me, and I promise you needn’t give place to your sister Elizabeth in order of precedence.

“You shall have every respect due to you, and I’ll lead you to the King myself, and reconcile you both.”