Threads: The Reincarnation of Anne Boleyn (13 page)

Love in any form is salvation to the soul, I
learn, and when punishment is meted out one’s capacity for love is
taken into account. I will be punished less severely than I would,
had I gone to Henry and sought power solely from ambition rather
than tempered the ambition with duty and love. My misuse of it was
the sad result of a situation I proved too weak to handle. In this
it matters little what people said about my motives. God was taking
notes.

۞

Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, was conceived
on a table amid muffled grunts and moans, and furtive, rushed
gropings, while a French diplomat waited for Henry to complete some
Urgent Business in the library. She was there inside of me when I
smoothed my gown, and tenderly straightened Henry’s robes and sent
him back to the diplomat with kisses and titillating promises. She
joined us that evening when I made good on my promises, and left
Henry seemingly without bones or muscles or will to do anything but
breathe. It is odd that she would never herself know the sort of
pleasure she had such intimate involvement in, when she first came
to be. I find that odd, and sad. I have always felt sorry for
Elizabeth.

۞

Trying not to wake Henry, I was on the
floor, hovered over a chamber pot, retching. He heard the sound,
and was immediately awake, grinning, watching me. He was speechless
with joy. He would have a son! He climbed from the bed and squatted
beside me, and gently wiped the perspiration from my brow. I heaved
and vomited, to Henry’s unending delight. He was thoroughly
charmed. I smiled at him weakly, then heaved again. He clapped his
hands together and kissed the top of my head.

“It could be bad pork,” I chided him,
somewhat recovered.

“Yes, it could,” he answered beaming.

“Or a distressed intestine.”

“Or that. It could indeed be that.”

“Or I could be with child. Dost thou not even
consider
it might be a
child
?” I snapped at him
playfully, smiling.

He had stood up, and was filling a goblet
with water to hand to me. He also dampened a cloth with which to
wipe my face, and was turning to me with an expression of stern
importance, although his eyes were twinkling.

“With child? No, I had not given thought to
that, but I will certainly consider the possibility when I have
time. Right now I am too busy to think about an infant. Matters of
grave importance and all that. I am an important man.”

“Thou art in thy night shirt, speaking to a
woman whose head is in a chamber pot.”

“As I explained, I am a very important man.
It is an important nightshirt, she is an important woman whose head
I love most dearly, and–“

I finished with him, knowing how he would end
the sentence “—and it is a
very
important chamber pot.” He
laughed, delighted at how well I knew him now. He gave me a look of
such tenderness I still shiver to think of it. I accepted the
water, and drank carefully lest it sicken me further as Henry
gently pressed the cloth to my cheeks. He then set both the cloth
and the goblet upon the floor beside me.

He helped me to my feet, and lifted me gently
to the bed where he sat down and held me in his lap. He buried his
face in my hair and was silent, holding me.

“I love thee, Rex,” I said simply.

“I love thee, Anna,” he answered, then
drifted again into silence.

When I turned to look at him, his face was
raised to the ceiling and two tears glistened in the corners of his
eyes.

Henry always knew how to break my heart with
love for him.

•
~
۞
~•

While I was still in France, negotiations
were taking place to betroth me to an Irishman named James Butler,
although I was not advised of this at the time. When I returned
home and discovered the plan, I made attempts to learn more about
James and his family—and grew increasingly resistant to the match.
They were distant kin to me, and were holding some property Father
wanted returned to the family. He would not have wasted Mary, his
eldest, on a match like this, but found it suitable for me.

The Butler family was violent and capricious,
and furthermore, his father expected young James to return to
Ireland with me in tow. I had no desire to live my days far from
home in the midst of a notoriously bloodthirsty Irish clan, and I
said so.

The stalling of negotiations saved me. Things
said, and actions taken by the Butlers over time forced a wedge of
doubt into my mother’s thoughts. These doubts were reinforced by my
own complaints and arguments. Finally my wheedling, and the certain
knowledge that I had found my true love, convinced Mother to
persuade my father to halt the plans entirely. We all now looked to
another man to wed me.

During my first years at court, I could not
resist flirting, but I had never known what it was to be in love,
except for wild infatuations I often felt toward various handsome
men I had known throughout my life. Infatuation died
instantaneously, more often than not, once I engaged them in
conversation and found them to be boring or silly or stupid.
Meanwhile, I whirled through court like a modest temptress,
treating the act of searching for a husband as a dance in which
partners were changed with each round of a song, and none was fair
enough to keep.

I was an irrepressible flirt, but I was not
heartless. I focused my art upon those men with whom the act of
flirting was a game, and the object of one’s attention just a
momentary distraction. Court was filled with such as these, and a
mating dance was played out in jest several hundred times each day
between courtiers and ladies. We were very adept at declaring
eternal love and admiration toward each other in passing, knowing
it was meaningless and presuming it was harmless. We had little to
think about but love, and gossip, and the increase of our fortunes,
and in flattering those who might enhance them. Most flirtations
were motivated by the last.

I did not bait men who had feelings for me
that I could not return, nor did I encourage them by responding in
kind to their sincere declarations.

Neither did I torment those whose feelings I
could wound with my flightiness and teasing. Hal was such a one,
wearing his heart very firmly on his sleeve so that feminine wiles
were really quite cruel and took unfair advantage. I could not
bring myself to practice them upon him. He was too sweet and
gentle, and he brought out in me something tender and solicitous. I
had attempted to tease him once before I knew him well, but
swallowed my words in the next sentence when Hal shot me a lost
look, blushed and grew silent. I never had the heart to tease him
again, and each time I saw him my voice grew soft and gentle.

I soon found blushes working their way to my
cheeks when he looked at me. My eyes were ever darting about for
sight of him, and I slipped into a sulk if I somehow missed his
appearances.

Henry, or “Hal” Percy was a page for Cardinal
Wolsey, a regular at court, and a favorite of all. He had a
somewhat eccentric appearance—very pleasant to me, but of the sort
that begged for closer study. Was he handsome? Or was he ugly? His
hair was pale, as was his complexion—the one seemed almost to blend
into the other—yet a face that should have had no life (since it
appeared to have no blood) contained two eyes that burned like
coals upon a bed of ice. They flashed with intelligence and energy
of thought, and gave no doubt as to the liveliness contained
therein.

Hal was sought after by a number of ladies
(or their mothers) with an eye for his titles and his prospects.
Gossip made me aware of him early as a very eligible gentleman, and
my lineage made me fear that he was a prize beyond my reach. He had
no shortage of opportunity among the ladies, for along with his
enviable social position he had no shortage of charm. Yet he was
shy with women, despite his seeming confidence and efforts to be in
their company.

He had no difficulty in flirting with ladies
who were spoken for or who were older and past his interest, and he
did this shamelessly as if he were an actor on a stage. At the same
time, unmarried young ladies (and their mothers) were often
disappointed by dull responses and abrupt departures by a frozen
and fleeing Hal, who sought refuge in groups of back-slapping men.
He had nothing to fear, but was ever fearful of a pretty face as if
he were in danger of rebuke or rejection. No amount of reassurance
seemed to cure him of this.

I presumed his reticence came from an old
break in his nose, which was left somewhat flattened and misshapen.
My deformed hand gave me ample compassion for Hal’s discomfort and,
while the other ladies increased their encouragement, I had the
unwitting insight to decrease mine and make no gestures beyond
those that were mannerly and friendly. In the process, I made him
less frightened of me, and more interested.

Quips and quick repartee were common among
courtiers. Hal initiated most of it. If puns were flung about, Hal
was most assuredly in the midst of the verbal missiles, whipping a
play on words into a limerick or poem in moments, to my, and
everyone else’s, delight. He saw humor in everything, and had a way
of conveying it that drew people to him irresistibly. He had the
quickest, most amusing wit of any man I had ever met, and a way of
making the simplest events of life seem fantastic and hysterical.
When Hal was in the room I would laugh continuously, for his mind
was sharp and astute, and he had a habit of viewing things from a
perspective even more cock-eyed than my own.

He was as amusing as one of the jesters, and
was able to fling remarks at them so quickly that the jesters
themselves sometimes stopped, speechless, and laughed at Hal. He
once stood up and joined them during a feast, causing the room to
explode with mirth throughout the show, and afterward took his seat
to heated applause and a good deal of back-slapping from both the
jesters and the audience. Wiping his eyes, the King joked that
should Hal’s fortunes take a turn, he could count upon a grand
career among the court fools. Then Henry “crowned” him with a
fool’s cap, and gave him a gift of a silver goblet, and seated him
at his own table for the duration of the feast. Hal pleased Henry
as much as the rest of us, for Henry ever loved a sharp wit and a
clever tongue.

He was adored by all. “Lord Percy!” everyone
would shout when he entered. “Join us!” His presence alone had the
effect of relaxing taut faces and diffusing a charged atmosphere.
He never knew this about himself, for he had no means of comparing
that which occurred before and after he arrived, and no way of
seeing people as they were when he was not present. His view of the
world was sometimes naive, and always forgiving. He could not see
the dangers that were present for those of us not quite as
personally blessed as he, and saw goodness in everyone, for that is
all people ever showed him.

He was a sensitive man, and somewhat of an
“artist”. He dabbled in poetry and music, and was otherwise as
useless a man as any who had ever been born to too much wealth and
position. As one might expect of someone with heightened good
intent, he could easily be brought to grief by any reproof, and
would hang his head, suffering guilt of excessive proportions over
having disappointed or offended for the smallest transgression. As
full of wit and good humor as he was, he took feelings very
seriously, and was an easy target for some who liked to bedevil his
conscience, for he would always take the bait. There were a few who
would scold him over things he had not done just to see his look of
remorse, but even they did not do this cruelly. One could not tease
Hal without lowering one’s eyes from shame. He was one whom I (and
everyone else) was most careful not to wound.

I had seen him at court and had always felt
an attraction, as I could never resist a man with wit. Hal’s wit
bespoke of a very impressive intelligence, and I also could not
resist a man with a clever mind. His physical attributes were of
little concern to me once he met those two criteria, but I was
pleased by his face and figure as well. I would never have noticed
him, had he not satisfied my parents’ requirements of wealth and
position, and he most certainly was not wanting in that regard. But
it was his mind that I most loved. I found him to be as
irresistible as everyone else did, and made every attempt to be
within earshot of him, if not within his circle.

Hal was not one whom I could ensnare with
tricks or lure with wiles. I was forced to wait and simply “be”
while praying he found what I was to be enough for him.

My interest was returned. He had long seemed
smitten with me from a distance but, being Hal, could not approach
me with the flowery words and courting gestures he found came so
effortlessly to him when he was with the older ladies. His wit
failed him when he was facing me. Rather, he would stand and look
in my direction, his body tense with every emotion eloquently
projected from his posture and his eyes, and wait for a sign that
he could speak to me. I gave him many, but he would wrinkle his
brow into a helpless frown, which was Hal’s best attempt at
appearing self-contained and busy with important thoughts, then
turn quickly away to speak to someone else. That always made me
smile. I patiently waited for him to work up his courage, growing
more and more fond as the time passed, watching jealously to see if
the demeanor I interpreted as “attraction” was replayed for any
other ladies. It was not.

One day he ventured to join me, casually, as
if by accident seating himself beside me at table during mealtime,
and pretended he was engrossed in a discussion two nearby ladies
were having about the cuts of beef served for dinner. I spoke a few
words to him and he responded in monosyllables, darting looks at me
with love and terror in his eyes. His hand accidentally brushed
mine and he froze, staring ahead of him, not knowing what to say or
do. I found myself gently coaxing him into a conversation as if I
were urging a small, frightened animal to eat from my hand. He
reluctantly turned to me, and our eyes met and held.