Anne Boleyn: A Novel (8 page)

In his first rage and disappointment, Henry went to his wife, informed her that he considered himself living in incest, and asked her to leave the court. The brutality of the action should have warned her. A more timid woman might have been driven to exile and confessing what Wolsey and the King wanted, but Catherine only cried wretchedly, refusing to admit anything unlawful. With great dignity she also refused to leave her husband unless he drove her out. The angry storm between them passed, but the Cardinal made his preparations to go to France. A new contingency had arisen, and Wolsey seized on it to turn the circumstances to his purpose. The Emperor’s troops had invaded Rome and sacked it with appalling ferocity; they had captured the Pope and shut him up in the imperial Castle of St. Angelo.

Christendom was leaderless, and Wolsey issued a summons to the remaining Cardinals to meet at Avignon and assume the Papal authority. At the same time he promised Henry that one of the first actions of the commission would be to annul his marriage. He urged him to avoid the Queen and publicly lament his conscience because the opinion of the bishops was also the opinion of the people. Catherine was kind and her charity had made her loved; even at court she had no enemies, since the powerful lords had nothing to gain by her dismissal. Their power depended upon the weakness of the Crown, and a new Queen was likely to strengthen it with male heirs.

The day before Wolsey sailed for France he received a summons from the Queen. The court was at Richmond and the Cardinal left York House and came by barge down the Thames. Catherine received him in her private apartments, which always had the stillness and solemnity of a church; the contrast between them and his own luxurious lodgings angered him by the implied reproach, but the false smile widened as he approached her.

“Your Grace,” he said.

The Queen was taller than he by half a head, and the stiff three-cornered headdress made her seem taller still. She wore a gown of dark brown velvet, in spite of the heat, and an enormous cross of pearls and rubies hung from a gold chain round her neck. The dull color didn’t suit her—she looked tired and her eyes were red-rimmed as if she had been crying.

She gave him her hand to kiss and he noticed that it was trembling. “It was good of you to come, my Lord Cardinal.” There was still a trace of her Spanish origin in her voice after more than twenty-five years in England. Several of her ladies were standing near her and she turned to them.

“Leave us, if you please.”

When they were alone, Catherine sat in the window seat and gestured for the Cardinal to sit down. The action surprised him; in previous encounters, she had kept him standing.

‘You must wonder why I sent for you,” she said suddenly.

“I seldom have such an honor from you, Madame,” Wolsey answered.

She looked at him. “We have never been friends, my Lord, as we both know, so let there be no deceit between us. It’s said that you first put doubts into the King’s mind about his marriage; it’s also said that you are going to France to get it annulled. Is this so?”

“I am not responsible for His Grace’s conscience, Madame. And my mission to France is in obedience to his will.”

“You are a priest,” Catherine said slowly. “And as a priest I speak to you now. The marriage is valid and I’ve sent for you to prove it, so that you can convince the King.”

“I will willingly convince him. I only wish for His Grace’s happiness, and for yours, Madame.”

“Then if I go to the altar and swear before the Sacrament, will you at least believe me?”

Wolsey folded his hands in his sleeves; there was no danger. She had no proof.

“Swear what?”

“That my marriage with the King’s brother was never consummated!” she said desperately. “I’ve sworn to His Grace, I’ve gone on my knees to him, but he turns away from me...” She stood up, gripping her hands in agitation. “All my life I’ve lived in obedience to the law of God and the Church; do you think I’d have lied and damned my soul, just to be Queen of England?”

“I’m quite sure Your Grace never lied,” Wolsey said. She swung round to him and he saw that her face was wet with tears.

“Then you believe me? You believe that my marriage is lawful?”

He looked up at her. “I believe you may have been mistaken. You were very young, Madame, and innocent. It’s understandable.”

“Oh, God!” She almost cried out the words.

He made room for her by the window. “Don’t be distressed,” he said. “Sit down, Madame, and listen to me. Now I will speak to you, not as a priest, but a friend.”

“He tried to send me away,” she muttered. “I’ve borne his infidelities, God knows, but he still came back to me; I was his wife. Now he denies that, he says my daughter is the child of incest...My Lord^ you know it isn’t true!”

“Nobody knows,” Wolsey answered. “You say you’ve been obedient to God and the Church. And obedient to the King. Well, now I counsel you; obey in this. The King is troubled; his love and respect for you are unchanged, but if you try to keep him in mortal sin, Madame, I can’t judge what he may feel toward you...Why don’t you submit, why don’t you place yourself in his hands and mine?”

“How can I, when you want me to admit to a lie? If it were only his happiness, I’d do what he wanted. If he’s tired of me, I’ll bear it and I’ll never trouble him—he knows that—but I won’t deny my conscience and make a bastard of my only child! My Lord, you have great influence with him...” She moved and suddenly she knelt before him, her face pale and swollen with tears. He had never seen her look so old.

“Help me, I beg of you! Persuade him to abandon this mission to the Cardinals in France; at least wait till the Holy Father is free and can hear my petition too!”

That, Wolsey said to himself, was the last thing he or Henry wanted to do.

“My influence with the King is not that great,” he said. “And it may be that the commission in France will support the marriage. But think how much could be saved if you would only listen, Madame. Why not show your good will to the King by retiring from court till the hearing is over? A little pliancy would earn his affection more than all your tears.”

Catherine wiped her eyes and slowly raised herself up.

“Don’t hide your meaning behind words. You are telling me to submit and confess that we have been living in mortal sin.”

“The King would provide handsomely for you,” Wolsey said smoothly. “You could have what title you wished and even live at court.”

“That’s all you have to say—submit? You refuse to help me, as a priest of Christ, you tell me to perjure myself, to submit?” she repeated.

Wolsey rose. “I do. Submit of your own free will, before the King finds a way to compel you.”

She faced him, one hand pulling the jeweled cross on its chain. One more agitated tug, the Cardinal thought coldly, and it will break.

“In my wretchedness, I hoped to find some pity in you,” Catherine said bitterly. “I should have known better. You made your journey to Richmond for nothing, my Lord Cardinal. Nothing but my death can dissolve the King’s marriage to me.”

Wolsey bowed. “That, too, is not impossible.”

The King had moved to Hunsdon in Hertfordshire in August, and Anne was with him. There was no longer any pretense that she was Catherine’s maid-of-honor; the post was nominal and no duties were allowed to keep her from the King though she still slept in the communal rooms with Catherine’s other ladies and accompanied the Queen to Mass; she even performed a few services for her, but she spent the best part of the day and every evening in Henry’s apartments. When he rode, she went with him riding well for a woman, and hawking with equal enthusiasm. She gambled with him and won large sums, until she realized that Henry hated losing; then very skillfully she allowed herself to be beaten. She was the wittiest, most stimulating companion he had ever known, and she allowed him every physical liberty but consummation, once she knew that he was going to marry her.

The knowledge had changed their relationship and charged it with a tremendous intimacy; opposition only strengthened their resolve and turned them to each other. As the situation appealed to the King’s love of self-dramatization; he played the part of the heroic lover to his heart’s content, and Anne encouraged him.

Hunsdon House had been redecorated for the King’s visit. At the first outbreak of summer sickness in London he had left Hampton Court and retired to the lovely red brick country mansion with a chosen nucleus of the court. Anne loved Hunsdon; it was furnished in imitation of the elegance of Wolsey’s magnificent palace, with rich hangings and rugs and fine oak furniture. The sprawling building was set in a large park, with a steep green lawn running down to a rose garden almost as beautiful as the one at Hever, and Henry had ordered a special walled garden to be built to the south, where the sun could nourish the rock flowers and climbing plants.

Hunsdon was peaceful and rural and comparatively free from court etiquette, and there, with Anne, the King lived in the role of country gentleman.

He had been hunting that afternoon in late August and returned to his own rooms, hot and hungry, to find Anne waiting for him. Sweating and dusty as he was, he caught her in his arms, his mouth searching avidly for those torturing kisses that were her special talent. At last he set her down and went in search of water and fresh linen.

A few moments later he came into the room, dressed in a clean white shirt and velvet breeches. His face was still flushed from the exercise, and his cropped red head was damp where his servant had sluiced it with water to cool him. The collar of his shirt was unfastened, showing the thick neck and powerful, hairy chest. He smiled at her and held out his arms.

“A good day’s sport, sweetheart! Have you been lonely?”

“Bitterly,” she replied, stroking his cheek. “I would I’d been the deer, that you might have hunted me...”

“I’ve hunted you for nearly two long years, my Nan,” he answered, his face against her hair. “Christ’s blood, take off that damnable headpiece, so I can kiss your hair.”

She removed it, smiling, and flung it across the room to a chair. Then she twisted her arms round his neck and pressed close to him, her brain calculating, watching the impulses of her body, determining exactly when to draw away from him...

“Oh, God, Nan, why wait till we’re married?” he burst out at last. “We’re contracted now, why torture me with waiting?”

She had her answer ready. “And would you have your son a bastard, Sire?”

“You’re right enough,” he admitted, releasing her. “But it’s hard when I love you so, Nan.”

“As I love you,” she said. “And perhaps it won’t be long now. If My Lord Cardinal’s plan succeeds...”

Henry shrugged and flung himself back into a chair, his arms locked above his head. “I’ve tried to make assurance doubly sure,” he said.

Her skirts whipped the floor as she turned round. “How? What have you done that you haven’t told me?”

“Wolsey’s negotiating for a marriage with Renée of France,” he answered. “I’ve sent Master Secretary Knight to Rome itself to gain two dispensations which enable me to marry you; when he’s successful, ‘twill be all the easier to convince our friend Thomas that an English Queen is better than a French one.”

“What points are these?”

“Permission to marry within the forbidden degrees of relationship, and to take another wife while the matter of Catherine’s divorce is still pending,” Henry announced triumphantly.

“The last I understand but not the first. Why forbidden degrees? There’s no blood tie between us.”

“There’s the tie of my indiscretion with your sister Mary, my love,” he retorted. “That’s enough to invalidate a marriage between us if no permission were given by the Pope. I’ve sent Knight to see him in prison and secure these grants in return for a promise of English support.”

Anne looked at him narrowly. “And what will the Lord Cardinal say when he learns you’ve dispatched him to France and sent another messenger ahead of him to Rome? If he learns that you wish to marry me instead of his French candidate, d’you suppose he’ll work as hard for the divorce as before?”

“For that reason I kept him in ignorance,” Henry admitted. He checked her with a movement. “Stay your reproaches; it’s policy, not weakness that makes me humor him. When I tell him my desire, he’ll obey in that as in everything else.”

“I’ve heard it said that he obeys only where it suits himself,” she said quietly. “Sire, what kind of minister is he, that you must keep things from him and send messengers about your own business behind his back?”

He moved irritably. Why was she always implying that he bent to Wolsey? In the last few weeks he was hearing a chorus of complaints and innuendoes about the Cardinal from men like Norfolk and Suffolk, and he listened in spite of himself because Anne’s subtle taunting had roused his suspicions. They all hated Wolsey; they envied him for his favor and they hated him because he symbolized the power and immunity of the Church. He had been aware of that for years and paid no attention because it had never occurred to him seriously that Wolsey’s position might shadow his own.

“Why couldn’t you trust him to place your wishes above his own design?” she went on. “If he loved you without self-interest, he’d welcome a marriage that would bring you happiness. What right had he to suggest the Princess Renée as a wife for you? Did he think whether she’d please you, or whether the alliance would further his own plans?”

“Nan, Nan, for Jesu’s sake, the choice seemed well enough before I met you...”

“A poor choice indeed, if you permit me,” she said. “A means of continuing his foreign policy, and God knows the failure that’s been!” Norfolk had coached her what to say and she had learned the outline of the attack by heart.

“We’ve meddled in the affairs of Europe for the past twelve years; we’ve had wars that have sucked the last ducat out of your treasury and taxes that cripple the people. First he sets out to humble France; and Your Grace won the battle for him and achieved the peace at the Field of Cloth of Gold. France is laid waste, and the reason he gives is the safety of the Pope because France was at war with him...Oh, the Cardinal knows how to take advantage of a truly Christian Prince!”