Philippa Gregory's Tudor Court 6-Book Boxed Set (98 page)

Then, in August, I had a letter from Anne. It was brought to me by her most trusted groom, Tom Stevens, who had been born and bred in Tonbridge. “From my mistress, to be given to your own hands,” he said reverently on his knee before me in the dining hall.

“Thank you, Tom.”

“And none but you has seen it,” he said.

“Very good.”

“And none but you will see it for I shall stand guard over you while you read it and then put it in the fire for you and we shall watch it burn, my lady.”

I smiled but I began to feel uneasy. “Is my sister well?”

“As a young lamb in the meadow.”

I broke the seal and spread the papers.

Be glad for me for it is done and my fate is sealed. I have it. I am to be Queen of England. He asked me to marry him this very night and promised that he will be free within the month, when Wolsey is acting Pope. I had Uncle and Father join us at once, saying that I wanted to share my joy with my family, and so there are witnesses and he cannot withdraw. I have a ring from him which I am to keep hid for the meantime but it is a betrothal ring and he is sworn to be mine. I have done the impossible. I have caught the king and sealed the fate of the queen. I have overturned the order. Nothing will ever be the same for any woman in this country again.

We are to be married as soon as Wolsey sends word that he has annulled their marriage. The queen will know of it

on our wedding day, and not before. She is to go to a nunnery in Spain. I don’t want her in my country.

You can be happy for me and for our kin. I shall not forget that you helped me to this and you will find that you have a true friend and sister in Anne, Queen of England.

I rested the letter on my lap and looked at the embers of the fire. Tom stepped forward.

“Shall I burn it now?”

“Let me read it once more,” I said.

He stepped back but I did not look at the excited scrawl of black ink again. I did not need to remind myself what she had written. Her triumph was in every line. The end of my life as the favorite of the English court was complete. Anne had won and I had lost and a new life would start for her, she would be, as she already signed herself: Anne, Queen of England. And I would be next to nothing.

“So, at last,” I whispered to myself.

I handed Tom the letter and watched him push it to the very center of the red embers. It twisted in the heat and browned and then blackened. I could still read the words:
I have overturned the order. Nothing will ever be the same for any woman in this country again.

I did not need to keep the letter to remember the tone. Anna triumphant. And she was right. Nothing would be the same for any woman in this country again. From this time onward no wife, however obedient, however loving, would be safe. For everyone would know that if a wife such as Queen Katherine of England could be put aside for no reason, then any wife could be put aside.

The letter burst suddenly into bright yellow flame, I watched it burn to soft white ash. Tom put a poker into the fire and mashed it into dust.

“Thank you,” I said. “If you go to the kitchen they will give you food.” I drew a silver coin from my pocket and gave it to him. He bowed and left me looking at the little specks of white ash floating on the smoke up the chimney and out to the night sky, which I could see through the great arch of brick and soot.

“Queen Anne,” I said, listening to the words. “Queen Anne of England.”

♦   ♦   ♦

I was watching over the children having their morning nap when I saw a horseman with grooms, from the high window. I hurried down, expecting George. But the horse that came clattering into the courtyard belonged to my husband, William. He smiled at my surprise.

“Don’t blame me for being the harbinger of gloom.”

“Anne?” I asked.

He nodded. “Outflanked.”

I led him into the great hall and seated him in my grandmother’s chair nearest the fire.

“Now,” I said, when I checked that the door was shut and the room empty. “Tell me.”

“You remember Francisco Felipez, the queen’s servant?”

I nodded, admitting nothing.

“He requested safe conduct from Dover to Spain but it was a feint. He had a letter from the queen to her nephew and he tricked the king. He went by specially hired ship out of London that very morning and by sea to Spain. By the time they realized they’d lost him he’d gone. He’s got the queen’s letter to Charles of Spain; and all hell has broken loose.”

I found my heart was pounding. I put my hand to my throat as if I would still it. “What sort of hell?”

“Wolsey’s still in Europe but the Pope is forewarned and won’t have him as deputy. None of the cardinals will support
him and even the peace deal has fallen through. We’re back at war with Spain. Henry’s sent his secretary flying off to Orvieto, straight to the Pope’s prison, to ask him to annul the marriage himself, and allow Henry to marry any woman he pleases,
even
one whose sister he has had,
even
one he has had. Either a whore herself or a whore’s sister.”

I gasped. “He’s getting permission to marry a woman he’s had? Dear God, not me?”

William’s sharp laugh barked out. “Anne. He’s making provision for bedding her before marriage. The Boleyn girls don’t come out of this very well, do they?”

I sat back in my chair and took a little breath. I did not want my husband to taunt me about unchastity. “And so?”

“And so it all rests with the Holy Father who is reposing in the care of the queen’s nephew at Orvieto Castle and very very unlikely, I would think—wouldn’t you?—to issue a papal bull which legitimizes the most unchaste behavior one can think of: sleeping with a woman, sleeping with her sister, and marrying one of them. Least of all to a king whose legitimate wife is a woman of unsullied reputation, whose nephew holds the power in Europe.”

I gasped. “So the queen has won?”

He nodded. “Again.”

“How is Anne?”

“Enchanting,” he said. “First up in the morning. Laughing and singing all day, delighting the eye, diverting the mind, up with the king to hear Mass, riding out with him all day, walking in the gardens with him, watching him play tennis, sitting beside him while the clerks read the letters to him, playing word games, reading philosophy with him and discussing it like a theologian, dancing all night, choreographing masques, planning entertainments, last to bed.”

“She is?” I asked.

“A perfect perfect mistress,” he said. “She never stops. I should think she’s dead on her feet.”

There was a silence. He drained his cup.

“So we are as we were,” I said disbelievingly. “No further forward at all.”

He smiled his warm smile at me. “No, I think you are worse than you were,” he said. “For now you are out in the open and every huntsman knows the quarry. The Howards have broken cover. Everyone knows now that you are playing for the throne. Before, you all looked as if you were only after wealth and places, much like the rest of us, only a touch more predatory. Now we all know that you are aiming for the highest apple on the tree. Everyone will hate you.”

“Not me,” I said fervently. “I’m staying here.”

He shook his head. “You’re coming to Norfolk with me.”

I froze. “What d’you mean?”

“The king has no use for you, but I have. I married a girl and she is still my wife. You shall come with me to my home and we shall live together.”

“The children . . .”

“Will come with us. We shall live as I wish.” He paused. “As
I
wish,” he repeated.

I got to my feet, I was suddenly afraid of him, this man whom I had married and bedded and never known. “I still have powerful kin,” I warned him.

“You should be glad of it,” he said. “For if you had not, I would have put you aside five years ago when you first crammed cuckold’s horns on my head. This is not a good time for wives, madam, I think you and your family will find in the mess you have made you may all slip and tumble down.”

“I have done nothing but obey my family and my king.” My
voice was steady, I did not want him to know that I was afraid.

“And now you will obey your husband,” he said, his voice all silk. “How glad I am that you have such years of training.”

Anne—

William says that us Boleyns are lost and he is taking me and the children to Norfolk. For pity’s sake speak to the king for me, or to Uncle Howard or to Father, before I am taken away and cannot get back.

M.

♦   ♦   ♦

I slipped down the little stone stairs that led into my father’s study and from there out into the courtyard. I beckoned one of the Boleyn men and told him to ride with my note to the court which would be somewhere on the road between Beaulieu and Greenwich.

He tipped his hat to me and took the letter. “Make sure it gets to Mistress Anne,” I said. “It is important.”

We had dinner in the great hall. William was urbane as ever, the perfect courtier, keeping up a stream of news and gossip about the court. Grandmother Boleyn could not be comforted. She was resentful, but she did not dare openly to complain. Who could tell a man that he might not take his wife and children to his home?

As soon as they brought the candles in she heaved herself to her feet.

“I’m for my bed,” she said sulkily. William rose to his feet and bowed to her as she left the room.

Before he sat he reached inside his doublet and took out a letter. I recognized my writing at once. It was my letter to Anne. He tossed it down on the table before me.

“Not very loyal,” he remarked.

I picked it up. “Not very polite to stop my servants and read my letters.”

He smiled at me. “My servants and my letters,” he said. “You are my wife. Everything that is yours is mine. Everything that is mine I keep. Including the children and the woman who carries my name.”

I sat opposite him and I put my hands flat on the table. I drew a breath to steady myself. I reminded myself that although I was a woman of only nineteen years, for four and a half of those years I had been the mistress of the King of England, and I had been born and bred a Howard.

“Now hear this, husband,” I said steadily. “What is past, is past. You were happy enough to get your title and your lands and your wealth and the favor of the king, and we all know why those came to you. I have no shame in it, you have no shame in it. Anyone in our position would have been glad of it, and both you and I know that it is no sinecure earning and keeping the king’s favor.”

William looked taken aback at my sudden frankness.

“The Howards will not fall over this mischance of Wolsey’s. It is Wolsey’s miscalculation, not ours. The game is far from over yet, and if you knew my Uncle Howard as well as I do you would be in no hurry to assume that he is defeated.”

William nodded.

“I am very sure that our enemies are at our heels, that the Seymours are ready to take our place at a moment’s notice, that already some Seymour girl somewhere in England is being primed to take the king’s eye. That’s always true. There’s always a rival. But right now, whether or not he is free to marry her, Anne’s star is in the ascendancy, and all of us Howards—and you too, husband—serve our own interests best if we support her rise.”

“She looks like she is skating on melting ice,” he said abruptly.
“She is trying too hard. She is sweating to keep her place at his side, she never lets up for a moment. Anyone watching carefully could see it.”

“What does it matter who sees it, as long as he does not?”

William laughed. “Because she can’t keep it up. She is dancing him at her fingertip ends, she can’t do that forever. She might have held him till the autumn but no woman can do it forever. No man can be held the way she will have to hold him. She could hold him for weeks; but now Wolsey has failed it might be months. It could be years.”

I was checked for a moment at the thought of Anne getting old while making merry. “But what else can she do?”

“Nothing,” he said with a wolfish grin. “But you and I can go to my house and start to live as a married couple. I want a son who looks like me, not a little blond Tudor. I want a daughter with my dark eyes. And you are going to give them to me.”

I bowed my head. “I won’t be reproached.”

He shrugged. “You will bear whatever treatment I give you. You are my wife, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Unless you too would like an annulment, since marriage seems to be out of fashion? You could be enclosed in a nunnery if you wish?”

“No.”

“Then go to my bed,” he said simply. “I shall be up in a minute.”

I froze at that. I had not thought of it. He looked at me over the top of his cup of wine. “What?”

“Can we wait till we get to Norfolk?”

“No,” he said.

♦   ♦   ♦

I undressed slowly, wondering at my own reluctance. I had bedded with the king a dozen times when I felt no desire at all but merely followed his wishes and satisfied him. Every time in this last year when I knew that he desired Anne, I had forced myself to hold him and whisper “sweetheart” and known myself to be a whore—and the man a fool not to know the false coin from the real.

So I was no thirteen-year-old virgin as I had been when I had first been put to bed with this man to consummate the marriage. But I was not yet a woman of such cynicism that I could prepare without dread for bed with a man who seemed half-enemy. William had a score to settle with me, and I was afraid of him.

He took his time. I climbed slowly into bed and feigned sleep when the door opened and he came in. I heard him moving around the room, stripping naked and getting into bed beside me. I felt the weight of the covers lift as he pulled them up around his bare shoulders.

“Not asleep then?”

“No,” I admitted.

In the darkness his hands came out for me and found my face, stroked my neck to my shoulders, and thence to my waist. I was wearing my linen shift but I could feel the coldness of his hands through the fine cloth. I heard his breathing come a little faster. He pulled me toward him and I yielded, and spread myself ready for him as I always did for Henry. For a moment I checked, thinking that I did not know what to do for any man but Henry.