At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (2 page)

“A woman’s life is never her own, Maddie girl. We must make our way as we can. Your father sent you here to serve Sir Thomas in whatever way he so desires. Thus far, Sir Thomas has allowed you much freedom but that may pass. You must have it in your mind to obey Sir Thomas and serve the queen.” Cate stood behind Madge and took the pins from her thick hair. Red curls snaked through Cate’s fingers. The red was flecked with gold and smelled of lemongrass. Cate combed through the locks and scratched gently at Madge’s scalp. The girl’s shoulders dropped a bit.

“I’ll make Mother proud, don’t worry. So far, Sir Thomas hasn’t said two words to me. If I’m lucky, things will stay as they are and I can go back home by All Saints’ Day,” Madge said as she nudged the sleeping puppy with her big toe. “Now, what shall we call this black runt of a dog?”

“Better call it Nothing. That way, if Sir Thomas drowns her, you’ll have Nothing to miss and Nothing to cry about,” said Cate.

“A cruel Cate you are! No, I’ll call her Shadow. She’s black and she’ll have to hide away in shadows if she’s to survive. And she follows me as if she were my very own shadow,” said Madge.

“Shadow it is, then.” Cate twirled the rope of Madge’s hair into a bun and secured it with pins. She covered the bun with a plain white cap and sat on the stone floor next to Madge, leaning her head against Madge’s knee.

Both nurse and girl were almost asleep when a loud knocking jerked each awake. Madge looked at her nurse, then at the pup. She scooped Shadow from the floor, then hurried to place the dog inside the chest that held her modest jewels—a small brooch her mother had given her covered with seed pearls, a painted comb for her hair, a long chain of gold to wear on her wedding day, and a miniature of her father.

“Why so long to answer, Nurse?” said Sir Thomas, a tall, slender man with a reddish-gray beard and thinning hair of the same color. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but he looked as pleasant as Madge had ever seen him. His features, sharp and hawklike, were usually pinched together as if he were in deep thought or as if he had enemies to smite. Seeing him storm along the walkways in the beautiful gardens of Hever Castle made Madge hide for cover. She avoided him when at all possible, curtsying to him when they processed to church and at formal dinners. She kept her head down and never dared look him in the eye. She behaved exactly as her mother had taught her and so far, she’d escaped his notice. Or so she’d thought.

“Let’s have a look at you, niece. Ah yes, you’ll do nicely. A pretty one, eh George?” Sir Thomas strolled into the apartments, his son, George, trailing behind him. George was handsome with golden hair and softer features than his father’s. Both men were dressed in rich-looking silks and Sir Thomas had a red velvet cloak lined with ermine. His undershirt was cloth-of-gold and Madge had never seen anyone look quite so fine. George, fifteen years Madge’s senior, was taller than his father and his eyes seemed more kind.

“Father, don’t speak of Madge as if she couldn’t hear you. Hello, coz. How do you find life at Hever? Hmmm, no answer, eh? I’ll talk enough for the both of us! Has anyone taken time to teach you the new games so popular at court? Chess? Cards? No? Well, coz, I shall show you. After all, once the king and queen arrive, you must help us entertain them,” said George, his voice full of fun.

Madge felt her cheeks burn as her cousin chucked her under her chin. She did not know what to make of him; he seemed too full of life to have come from the same stock as Sir Thomas. She kept her curtsy, wondering if Sir Thomas would ever allow her to rise. Her legs trembled.

“Enough, George. Margaret, I asked your father and mother to allow you to come to Hever Castle for a reason. As you know, your cousin, Anne, is now queen of England. This position has been a hard-fought one and will be hard enough for her to hold, even though she sits prettily now. But there are those who would upset her from the throne if they could—the Seymours; the Dudleys; not to mention the Spanish ambassador, Chapuys; and the Catholics. Anne is sitting on the head of a pin and could easily be toppled. It is up to us to keep her in her position until she bears an heir. Once a son is born, Anne, and all of us, will be safe.” Sir Thomas stared down at Madge, never once allowing her to raise herself from the deep curtsy she’d taken in his honor. Finally, he raised her head so that she was forced to look at him. “Do you understand, my girl?”

“Yes, my lord.” Madge did not understand, but she dared not say so. She knew better than to ask any questions. Slowly, he raised her to a more comfortable position, led her to a bench, and indicated for her to be seated.

“You will be going to court, Margaret. The king and queen will arrive at Hever later this week. I don’t know how many days they shall stay—”

“God’s blood, I hope their stay will be short,” said George winking at Madge.

“However long Their Majesties stay is not your concern, young George. What is your concern is to help your sister in whatever way you can. You must remember, our future fortune depends on Anne.” Sir Thomas’s voice was cold and Madge worried that he might strike George. She shivered as Sir Thomas turned back to her, his small, blue eyes full of anger.

“After Their Majesties return to court, Margaret, you shall follow them forthwith.” Sir Thomas bowed and headed toward the doors.

“To court? I … I cannot possibly go to court. I have no proper clothes. I cannot dance. I lack the graces for court, Sir Thomas. I’m a mere girl, I—”

“Enough! His majesty has assigned you to be one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting and to court you will go!” Sir Thomas thundered. Then he turned to Cate. “Nurse, see that this girl has the best dresses available. Tell my wife, the Lady Elizabeth, to give you bolts of silk to supply you. Margaret will need at least five gowns. You and my wife will see to the construction of each,” Sir Thomas said. “As for your want of grace, I would suggest, for your own sake, that you begin to cultivate those skills you lack. George, after we sup, you will begin to teach the girl.” Sir Thomas turned quickly and left them. He stopped in the doorway and stared at his son.

“And George, no spoiling this one, eh?” said Sir Thomas.

“Of course not, Father. Of course not,” said George.

Sir Thomas gave his son a hard, curious look and then stomped down the hall, his steps on the stone floor commanding and steady as a clock.

Madge, George, and Cate sat still as relics. Suddenly, a crying sound came from the chest next to the bed. Madge began to hum, trying to cover the noise.

“What’s that?” said George as he searched the room trying to discover the source of the sound.

“What? All I hear is my lovely Madge’s voice. Tell me, deary, where’d you learn that ditty?” said Cate.

“What’s that you are hiding, Nurse? Aha! A pup and one from father’s newest litter, I’ll warrant. What’s it doing here?” George grabbed the puppy before Madge could get her hands on the little dog.

“She’s mine! Give her to me!” Madge tried to take the puppy from George.

“So, Mousy Madge has a tongue after all! Good! Good for you, coz. Tell me, what’d you name her?” George gave the pup over to Madge, who carefully petted the dog and held her close.

“Shadow. She’s my Shadow and where I go, she’ll go, too.” Madge stared straight into George’s eyes, daring him to cross her.

“Then Shadow will be going to court soon. Best keep her safe, Madge Mouse. And yourself, too,” said George. “Court isn’t for the faint of heart. You’re going, so you better learn to master yourself and your betters.”

*   *   *

“No, no, no! You must hold the string down more firmly, Madge Mouse. See, like this,” said George, placing his finger across the neck of the lute and pressing the catgut until the tip of his finger turned white.

“I’m trying! I do not seem to have the strength for it. Perhaps we should explore another instrument—the virginals?” said Madge. Two hours earlier, when the lesson began, she would never have spoken so boldly to the great George Boleyn. But her fingers hurt, her head ached, and she wished to return to her rooms.

“The lute is the easiest to play—any dolt can learn it. All you must needs do is strum a little so you can sing. The king loves music and is quite accomplished, as is my sister. I play and carry a tune rather well myself—even our sister Mary can do such. Surely you have some of the family ability,” said George.

“Evidently I do not!” said Madge.

“Dear Margaret, forgive my impatience. I am to prepare you for court in a fortnight, teach you those things my sisters learned over years at the French court. It is a quick study and I fear I forget how many hours I spent teaching my own fingers to press the proper string. Let us put the lute away for tonight and try again on the morrow,” said George.

“Thank you, cousin. I am quite ready to retire. But if you would like, I shall sing you a lullaby, one my mother used to sing to us as we drifted off to sleep. I do have a small gift with a song,” said Madge.

“That is encouraging. Yes, let me hear you, Madge Mouse,” said George. He picked up the lute and waited for Madge to begin.

“Rock-a-bye, don’t you cry, for we will go to see Nanny/Up the hill, by the mill, to see the wee little lambie,” Madge sang softly, her voice breathy and tender.

George motioned for her to repeat the song and he strummed along with the lute. The sound of the strings gave Madge more confidence and, with George’s encouragement, she sang out more forcefully.

“Not the most inspiring words but you sang them very nicely, coz. You do have a lovely, sweet voice. And you carry a tune and sing with feeling. All this will delight the king. We shall work more on the lute in the morning,” said George. “Make not that dour face, Madge. If you do well, I shall reward you with a sweet from the cook! Now, off to bed!”

Madge curtsied and hurried to her room, ready for sleep and filled with dread of her next lesson.

Two

“Hush, Shadow, hush. We shall be there soon.” Madge cuddled the pup against her chest as the carriage bumped along, sending Madge, Cate, and the dog flying off their seats, then landing again with a loud thud.

“It does not serve my backside well to travel the road to London in the spring. Bloody potholes are so big I’m surprised we don’t fall in, carriage and all,” said Cate as she rearranged her new skirts.

“At least the rain has stopped for a while. The constant drizzle was enough to send my spirits even further down. That patch of sun is most welcome, isn’t it, Shadow?” Madge held the puppy up to the carriage window so Shadow could smell the fresh air of the English countryside. The air within had become stale over the three days’ ride from Hever Castle to London, even though Madge and Cate wore pomanders filled with lavender and dabbed rosewater on their faces.

“What think you, Cate? Will we be able to survive at court?” Madge hadn’t spoken of the lump of fear that seemed to be stuck right beneath her ribs. That area ached every time she thought of serving Queen Anne, being in the presence of Good King Harry. Two weeks earlier, when the king and queen had finally arrived for their stay at Hever Castle, Madge had been allowed to eat in the main hall only once, the day of the hunt. Henry was dressed in the finest hunting clothes Madge had ever seen. The green velvet outer shirt set off his ruddy complexion and his red hair almost glowed against the black silk cloak lined with matching fur. Even at the hunt, Henry’s doublet was covered with garnets, emeralds, and pearls. When he spoke, his tenor voice rang throughout the hall and his laugh was like the waterfall Madge had found in the forest that surrounded Hever—deep and rumbling. Everything about him terrified her.

Queen Anne was as vivacious as the king. Though she was gay, her voice sounded ragged to Madge, a rough, sandy timbre that seemed almost mannish, yet sultry. But the queen didn’t allow the huskiness of her voice to stop her from guffawing as loudly as the king. Her dark eyes were full of happiness, but Madge thought she could see something behind the mirth, something almost like fear.

But what could the new queen have to fear? Her belly was already plump with Henry’s child and the king obviously adored her. Together, they spread merriment wherever they went, but Madge hoped their eyes wouldn’t fall on her. For the first several days, Madge got her wish. The king and queen were too busy to notice a young cousin from the poor side of the family.

Then came the day of the hunt and the breakfast beforehand.

Madge had been summoned early that morning and Sir Thomas had told her she was to be presented to the queen immediately. Sir Thomas brought Madge the most sumptuous dress she’d ever seen, its tiny pearls embroidered fresh from the hand of his wife, the Lady Elizabeth. The silk was a rich golden color that set off Madge’s eyes. She had never seen anything so lush, so beautiful.

“Take care not to soil this one—it’s the best you’ll have for court. But the queen will meet you this day and you must present well. And see to your hair, girl. It travels over your head like the hair of the Medusa,” said Sir Thomas as he tossed the gown to Madge.

“Yes, my lord,” Madge replied, careful not to raise her eyes. Instead, she inspected the beautiful gown before her while trying to tidy the wild strands of her hair. Although as an unmarried young woman Madge was allowed to wear her hair flowing loose, it was obvious Sir Thomas thought she should cap her head when meeting the queen for the first time.

Madge shuddered in the carriage and stroked Shadow’s ears as she remembered that day, the day she first met the king and his queen. Her red face and trembling fingers gave her fear away as she walked slowly to the queen when Her Majesty motioned for her to approach. The queen’s fingers were long and graceful, though the lace of her sleeve hung lower than Madge had seen before. She’d heard rumors about the queen’s extra little finger but Madge couldn’t see anything unusual in the queen except a small, black wen on the hollow space at the base of her neck. Madge had heard whispers that the mole was the mark of the devil and Queen Anne had used magic to seduce the king. His Majesty did seem bewitched, gazing at his wife with such tenderness and warmth that Madge couldn’t watch them for long without feeling the need to turn away.