Fic: graven with diamonds in letters plain (3/5) [Tudors, Anne/Henry]
Chapter Two
Chapter Three: January 1538 - July 1538
LETTER TO QUEEN ANNE, DUCHESS OF PEMBROKE, FROM LADY MARY TUDOR
26 January 1538
Your Grace,
Please forgive the impertinence of my writing to you without invitation, but I fear I have no other choice. No doubt you have heard of His Majesty’s continued grief over the death of his beloved wife, Queen Jane. His sorrow is so great of the likes of which I have never seen in him, the king being such a strong, capable man. It frightens me to see him in such a state.
I do not know if you have also heard of the rising amount of violence in and around the court? Factions have broken out among the court, and various individuals have been injured. One of the retainers of the Earl of Hertford has been killed, and the Sergeant at Arms has been unable to find the villain. Women here at court are afraid to walk the corridors of Whitehall, and will only do so if attended by their husbands and sons. No one here feels safe, even with the king in residence and weapons being expressly forbidden.
I am writing to you, Madam, because I know you once had great influence with His Majesty. He listened to you. I fear that the only way that peace can be regained here at court is if His Majesty comes out of his seclusion and restores order. However, no one has been able to convince him to do so, not the Earl of Hertford, not the Lord Privy Seal, no one. The king will see only his fool, Will Somers.
I am asking you, Your Grace, to return to court. If anyone can bring the king out to take charge again, it is you.
Please.
Lady Mary Tudor
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
29 January 1538
Whitehall
The irony is not lost upon me that I should arrive back at court on this day. Two years ago today, I lost my boy, along with all my dreams. I return to drag Henry out of his throes of grief, and hopefully return some semblance of order.
The apartments that were mine by right of being the Duchess of Pembroke were in quite a state when my ladies and I arrived. Since I had sent no word ahead of my coming, they had not even been opened and aired in preparation for my arrival. My servants would have quite a time of it, making the place fit for habitation. I left them to their work, however, and did not wait there for them. Instead, accompanied by Nan, I made my way immediately to Henry’s chambers. Several people were gathered around the doors, including Bishop Gardiner, Suffolk, Cromwell, and Sir Richard Rich. When they saw me approach, I think their jaws all dropped at once.
I swept past them, paying them no need as I threw open the door and stepped into Henry’s chamber. I knew that such a tactic would not work again in the future, as I had now lost the element of surprise. I would have only one chance to gain Henry’s cooperation.
The room was dark and musty, no more hospitable than my chambers currently were. It took several moments, but I eventually spotted Henry, lying on a carpet near the fireplace. I gazed at him, shocked at the change that had overcome him in just two years. I could see the grey in his hair and beard, the added weight around his middle. Had so much happened to cause such a large change?
His name slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “Henry.”
He reacted to my voice only by opening his eyes and looking in my direction. “Anne.” His voice too was barely above a whisper, weak and full of misery.
I was still angry with him for his part in our child’s death. My rage still simmered, beneath the surface, but for now, it fell away in the face of my pity. Henry, the man I once loved more than anything, was suffering. I blinked back my tears, and slowly moved closer.
Henry didn’t object, and so I knelt down onto the floor next to him. “What are you doing, Henry?” I asked him quietly.
His eyes were red with tears and wine, and there was a vacant expression there. “God has punished me in taking her away.” He continued muttering about his sins, a child - our child? The one lost on this very day two years previous? - and how Jane paid when the fault was his, not hers.
I had no words to comfort him, for I indeed held him at least partially responsible for the death of my son, though not solely. Whatever Henry says, Jane Seymour knew what she was doing that day, knew anyone could have walked in, and therefore knew I could walk in. Still, I said none of that, and instead shifted my body until my lap was beneath Henry’s head. I stroked my fingers through his hair, much as I had once done in earlier, happier times, and made soothing, gentle noises until he quieted.
He might have dozed for a time, but eventually he opened his eyes again, and this time, they were clear. Henry blinked several times, and then focused on me. “You really are here,” he said quietly.
I nodded, and said that Lady Mary thought he needed someone other than his fool. Thankfully, he wasn’t angry with his daughter for sending for me. Instead, he rolled off of me and managed to push himself to his feet. I noticed that he heavily favored the leg he had wounded in the joust two Januarys ago, and I wondered how bad it was to still affect him. Still, that did not stop him from leaning down and offering me a hand to help me up.
He asked me how long I was at court for, and I didn’t respond at first. In all honesty, I hadn’t made any definite plans when I had left Queen’s Hall after receiving the Lady Mary’s letter. Anger has been almost all I have felt for Henry in the past two years, but when I read her words, all I could think of was getting here. By God, am I truly so weak to love a man I despise in equal parts?
After a moment, I replied, “I shall stay as long as I’m needed, Your Majesty.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded. He murmured something about letting it be known that I had full access to his chambers, and then he escorted me to the door. His whisper of thanks in my ear was like a bird fluttering in the leaves of a tree.
EXCERPT OF A LETTER TO QUEEN ANNE, DUCHESS OF PEMBROKE, FROM LADY MARY STAFFORD
9 February 1538
My Dear Sister,
When I first heard of your sudden return to court, I was shocked. After you spoke so vehemently of never wanting to go back there again, I never doubted your feelings on the matter. Still, after reading your letter, I think I may understand you.
I think, Anne, that the heart is perhaps the strangest organ in our bodies. We may hate and love in equal measures those who are closest to us. You and the king have a great deal of time, nearly a decade, in which you spent together amid joy, frustration, happiness, sorrow. That you hate him after how everything ended isn’t surprising, but then, neither is your desire to comfort him when he is broken. Love and hate clearly aren’t that dissimilar. That it hurts you when he says that he misses Mistress Seymour says enough that you still love him, even as you despise him.
[…]
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
10 February 1538
Whitehall
The Sergeant at Arms was murdered yesterday, just outside this very palace. Never before has someone of such standing been harmed in living memory, especially not when the king was in residence. It is an outrage, and the Privy Council is far too busy squabbling with each other to set things in order. Half of them had tantrums, including George, when Cromwell had the temerity to summon them to Council, of all things! Fools! He is Lord Chancellor and Lord Privy Seal! Whatever his birth, he is Henry’s closest and most trusted councilor, and they shriek because they are Dukes and Earls and Viscounts?
I ask this: The transgressions of Eve aside, why did God determine that men should lead this world instead of women? Surely my sex could not have done so badly if we were in charge of the realms of this world?
Addendum: Oh God, I must be mad. I have to be! That’s the only explanation for what I did today.
When it became clear that the death of the Sergeant at Arms was going to go unanswered because of the Privy Council’s blatant stupidity, I knew that only Henry could set things to right. Still, despite my constant attendance and gentle encouragement, he had shown no sign of emerging from his seclusion, seeing only me and Will Somers. I knew that things would only continue to deteriorate if Henry did not step in.
With that thought in mind, I went to visit him in his chambers. The guards were well used to seeing me come and go, and thus didn’t even blink at my arrival. Thankfully, Will Somers wasn’t present, leaving just Henry in his chambers. He was lying by the fire, much as usual, a tankard and bottle of wine sitting next to him. Before today, I would sit next to him. We would play cards, or just talk to one another. In some ways, we have talked more to each other in these past few weeks than we ever did during our marriage.
But I did not do any of that today. Instead, I stood above him, staring down. “Get up, Henry,” I ordered him, sounding as harsh and firm as I could.
He didn’t respond, just stared up at me, blinking in confusion. I didn’t give him time to respond, just repeated the command, telling him that he had lingered here in self-pity long enough and he must stop acting like a sniveling child.
My callous words caught his attention, though he didn’t get up. Instead, he merely said, “Excuse me, Madam?”
The warning in his tone would have made me stop under other circumstances but I forced myself to keep going. “Get up,” I said again. “You cannot afford such excessive grief, Henry. It is a sign of weakness to your enemies. Do you think the Emperor and the King of France will not take advantage of this kingdom’s chaos, to use it for their own ends?”
Henry sat up slowly, continuing to stare at me peculiarly. I felt almost like Eve, mesmerized by the snake. “Do you know who you are speaking to?” he hissed. “I am the King of England!”
Only rarely have I ever been afraid of Henry, and this was one of those times, but still I didn’t stop. “Then act like it!” I retorted. “Your kingdom is falling apart at the seams! Your nobles and their retinues fight and kill each other within the halls of your court, and even your Sergeant at Arms was murdered on your very doorstep. Get them under control before they destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for!”
The rage in his eyes was terrifying to behold as he levered himself off the floor. He thumped toward me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to strike or strangle me. Instead, he leaned into my face, his eyes glittering, and growled, “Get. Out. Of my sight.”
I could contain my fear no longer, and did so. Now I sit in my chambers, waiting to see if Henry will listen to me, or if he’ll simply have me thrown into the Tower.
THE DIARY OF HENRY VIII
12 February 1538
Whitehall
My God, the nobles with whom I entrust my kingdom are fools. They have rendered much of my court inert due to their squabbling and infighting. It will take some time to get them under control again. I should just execute the lot of them.
It was Anne who brought their foolishness to me, while I was in seclusion, mourning my beloved Jane, and she was very forward about it as well. Inappropriately so, I would say under different circumstances. She berated me for selfishness, accused me of endangering my realm over my grief for my dearest Jane. She called me a sniveling child!
I had not felt so angry in years. I had not felt so much emotion in years. But then, Anne was always able to make me feel, no matter what emotion it might be. In this case, she enraged me to such a point that I might very well have wrung her neck! It was the supreme act of self-control that I didn’t do so, but instead banished her from my sight.
Still, her behavior was enough to lure me from my chambers, and thus I discovered the stupidity of the men outside my walls. And so I see why Anne behaved so, and with a cooler mind, I may forgive her cruel words.
Nonetheless, it still confounds me that she can illicit such a response…
LETTER TO LADY MARY STAFFORD FROM QUEEN ANNE, DUCHESS OF PEMBROKE
22 February 1538
Dearest Mary,
Well, Mary, I am not to be consigned to the Tower, it seems. Henry has seen the truth for himself, that most of the men in his court are lying wretches who look only to their own interests. Life is beginning to resume its normal course here at court.
I have heard that Cromwell has asked Henry to seek a new marriage. Apparently, while everyone is much heartened by the Prince of Wales’ continued good health, no one is comfortable resting all hopes for the future on the head of one boy not even a year old, and a girl not yet five. They want Henry to have more sons, to shore up the succession. Cromwell even seems to have a few suggestions lined up for Henry to consider - one of King Francis’ daughters, as well one of his many cousins, Mary of Guise. While I am not certain that Henry would consider one of the French King’s daughters, as they are quite young at the moment, Mary of Guise is a widow who has born children already. That might be something Henry would find more attractive, knowing that she has a proven herself as a breeder, and would outweigh his distaste for not being the one to break her in.
I will admit, if only to you, that this news isn’t exactly the most welcome to me, but I find it easier to bear than I did Henry’s marriage to Jane Seymour. This marriage, should it go through, is a matter of politics, not emotions. Perhaps knowing that makes the situation more palatable for me. No woman coming to Henry’s bed in such a manner could hope to hold his heart in the way that the women who he chose for himself did. Katherine, myself, even Jane Seymour, we were the women Henry loved and chose of his own volition.
As for myself, given that Henry is no longer ready to kill me with my bare hands, I am going to remain here at court for a while. The place has clearly suffered in my absence, something I lay at Jane Seymour’s feet. That woman couldn’t command a dog to behave. I think I shall remain here until Cromwell succeeds in convincing Henry to marry again. Perhaps I might even convince him to invite Elizabeth to court to visit us.
Pray, let me hear how you and yours do.
I remain,
Your Loving Sister,
Anne, Duchess of Pembroke
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
25 February 1538
Whitehall
Henry has decided to exercise his power as Supreme Head of the Church of England once more - this time by regulating the worship of his people according to his own principles. These articles, though… they reek of Catholicism. Refusing to allow clergyman wives and families of their own, for instance. Poor Cranmer. He shall have to send his wife and little boy away, or face Henry’s draconian punishments. Cromwell too, will find this a blow, I imagine. He has poured so much of his energies into the Reformation these past years, going even further than most reformers would have him go. Being faced with Henry’s backtracking will be a hard thing for him to endure.
As for me, I find it horrible. I freely admit to being a reformer. The Catholic Church has fallen far from the precepts that were set down by Christ, and to have to pay obeisance to those corrupt traditions vexes me greatly. Some years ago, I would have run to Henry to argue with him over these articles of his. It is the Reformation that allowed him our marriage, did it not? If not for it, then we might never have had our Elizabeth. Now he has turned his back on the reformers, the ones who gave him his new life, away from the Bishop of Rome’s officious interference.
But now, however, I cannot. Everything I have, my titles, my estates, even my access to our daughter, all rely on Henry’s goodwill. What battles I will fight with him, I must choose carefully. I pushed him very hard to get him to leave off his haze of self-pity, using words that no doubt tried him severely. To do so again so soon would be too much, and I might very well find myself clapped in irons in the Tower.
The cause of the Reformation is dear to my heart, and I should hold myself a martyr to God’s cause, but I am but a single woman, whose chief cause in life is to further my daughter’s safety and interest. If that makes me a coward, then so be it. I will not enter the debate on these religious matters. To do so would cost me everything, most especially my Elizabeth.
I fear that I have lost the fires of my youth, and what determination I have goes toward my darling girl.
EXCERPT OF A LETTER TO SIR ANTHONY KNIVERT FROM CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF SUFFOLK
2 March 1538
Dear Anthony,
His Majesty has appointed me President of the Council and Grand High Master, both singularly high honors. He has declared that everyone shall be answerable to me in the event of his absence, and not Cromwell. As flattered as I am by his trust, however, I find that I little relish such a large and consuming task.
How strange it is, Anthony, to look at those words! Just a few years ago, I would have been thrilled over such positions, if only that they would have allowed me to strike at my enemies, most especially Anne Boleyn. Now, though, there is little reason to strike at her. She still resides here at court, but appears content to only divert and keep company with the king. She has not dabbled overtly in politics or joined the in-fighting that is so much a part of this world, and has even avoided the religious controversies. Strange as it may seem, in keeping Henry’s spirits, Anne is doing more good for England than she ever did as his wife and queen. Nor is it lost on me that by keeping such a position, Anne and I are essentially on the same side.
Of course, I daren’t say something like that to my wife. Catherine still to this day despises Anne, even though they have similar opinions on many current issues. Catherine just cannot let go of what happened to Queen Katherine, and makes little secret of her disapproval of Anne’s renewed presence at court to me. Fortunately, she is still discrete enough that her displeasure is not known to the king, who enjoys having Anne at his side again. I fear that, if he knew, he might not have been so quick to give me the honors he has bestowed.
[…]
THE DIARY OF HENRY VIII
2 March 1538
Greenwich
Curse these damn French bastard ingrates! God was cruel when he allowed them to drive us and our rule from that country!
I ate supper with the French Ambassador this evening, so that I might inquire about taking a Frenchwoman for a new wife. I pointed out that a daughter of Francis’ would be too young, and I would have to wait until she was more fully grown before she would be capable of giving me additional sons. I then said that Mary of Guise was more to my liking, especially since she already has two boys to her credit, and has an excellent bosom.
The ambassador commended my taste, but informed me that the woman is already promised to my nephew, James V of Scotland. Hah, as if my elder sister’s son could give Francis anything of value! Scotland’s only real value is that it whoever controls it controls an entire third of the island, whereas I - and England - can be an ally for Francis in his conflict with the Emperor. James can give Francis nothing of the sort. Being so far north and hardly any navy to speak of, he is of no use in the greater politics of Europe.
I pointed this out to the ambassador, and all he could say was that I would, in effect, be marrying another man’s wife. He said this all very innocently, but I was certain I could hear a rebuke in his tone. He dared to allude to Katherine and how I had damned myself in marrying my brother’s widow! How I longed clout him about the head!
Instead, I mastered my rage and stated that I would marry whomever I pleased, and that I had received offers of marriage from every major court. If the French were not careful, I could very easily throw my support behind the Emperor, and the two of us together could crush France between us!
The ambassador, however, still had an offer from his master. Francis proposed that Mary marry his second son, Henri, the Duke of Orleans, and that I marry Mary of Guise’s sister, Louise. To be truthful, I found the offer a little insulting. I was to be fobbed off with the younger sister and an offer to marry my bastard daughter while ignoring my legitimate daughter altogether? I pointed this out to the ambassador, and to my pleasure, he was startled by my response. He sputtered a bit, and the only excuse he could offer for the slight to Elizabeth was that she was still quite young, much too young to be thinking of marriage. As if that meant anything. Arthur and Katherine were betrothed to one another while still in their cradles!
Idiot French. It is instances like this that make me recall the advantages of marrying among my subjects. I knew Anne and Jane both so very well before I married them, and their fathers certainly had no objections to air for my condescension. Still, I must remember to have Cromwell avail himself of the Spanish option. I hear that Christina of Milan, the Emperor’s cousin, likes nothing more than hunting and playing cards. That would certainly make for an entertaining wife…
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
14 April 1538
Greenwich
Christina of Milan’s response to Henry’s proposal is all over court! Apparently, when Sir John Wotton was extolling Henry’s virtues, she said that if she had two lives to spare, one would gladly be at Henry’s disposal. Alas, she had only the one, and far too many concerns about a country that saw her great-aunt poisoned, myself callously divorced and banished, and Jane lost due to lack of care in childbed. When George told me of it, I snorted. Henry’s reputation has preceded him in the courts of Europe, it seems. What woman does want a man who either tosses his wives aside, or lets them die?
For all that, though, I am glad that she isn’t coming. I have little use for the Emperor’s numerous relations. The last one sent here caused enough trouble as it is. If another came, I would have to worry about Elizabeth being poisoned or having an ‘accident’. The Spanish certainly have never been above murdering rivals, and even with the Prince of Wales, Elizabeth still remains Lady Mary’s chief rival, however much the two love each other.
Still, with all this talk of marriage, I think it is time I returned to Queen’s Hall. I meant only to stay until Henry was back on his feet, which he certainly is now. Besides, I haven’t seen Elizabeth in months, and I can easily go to Hatfield first and pass a week or two with her, and perhaps even invite her to come to Queen’s Hall with me. Perhaps I could even invite Lady Mary to visit as well, to let the girls spend time together. It does no harm to court Lady Mary’s goodwill.
Addendum: The nerve! Henry refuses to allow me leave to depart from court! He claims that he needs a hostess here when he is without a queen, and I know how to manage the court. I coolly informed him that I was not a housekeeper, and that I hadn’t seen our child in months. All he did was make some vague promise to invite Elizabeth to visit us here.
EXCERPT FROM HENRY VIII: A LIFE, BY DR. ERIC THOMPSON
“The illness that plagued the king in July 1538 provided a hearty fright to his councilors and his family. For nearly two weeks, people lived in a state of constant panic, fearing he would die and leave Prince Edward, still not yet a year old, to succeed him.
Queen Anne and the Duke of Suffolk remained by at his bedside, the former having been called for by the king. Despite her recorded longing to leave court, Anne didn’t take advantage of Henry’s illness to absent herself, but instead remained with him while the physicians dithered over the king’s infected leg. Brandon, on the other hand, while staying at Henry’s side, also made arrangement to secure the country in the event of the king’s death. He sent a detachment of guards to both Hampton Court, where the Prince was being kept, and to Hunsdon, where Lady Mary resided, his reasoning being that the court and people could very well split between the son and eldest daughter of the king.
Anne herself was recorded to have been rather insulted at the lack of care paid to Elizabeth’s fate, given that, by the law, she was second in line after Edward. Still, it has been argued by various scholars that Suffolk nonetheless acted appropriately. Wilma Johnson points out that, at the time, Elizabeth’s legitimacy was still in question by many English subjects, whereas Edward was the king’s legitimate son, but was still an infant. Lady Mary was still the daughter of the beloved Queen Katherine, and seen as next in line after her younger brother, and may well still have been the preferred candidate over him, given that she was an adult and thus had the immediate ability to take up the throne.
Still, there were still others who had more of a care for Elizabeth’s fate than Brandon seemed to, which likely soothed Anne’s pride. This time saw an unlikely alliance between Lords Rochford and Hertford, the two of them having to work together to keep the country together, and dispel rumors of Henry’s death. More importantly, they also together ordered their own set of guards to be placed around Edward, as well as having a detachment bring Elizabeth from Hatfield to join her half-brother at Hampton Court.”
THE DIARY OF HENRY VIII
20 July 1538
Hampton Court
My visit to Hampton Court was worth every jarring pain to my leg, which aches constantly now no matter what concoction Linacre conjures for me. My son grows by leaps and bounds, and is the strongest, healthiest baby Lady Bryan has ever doted upon. Elizabeth too grows like a weed, and is enjoying her time at Hampton Court. She obviously likes being in a new place after spending so much time at Hatfield. Anne also is delighted to visit, though I think that mainly has to do with being able to visit our daughter, whom she hasn’t seen in some time.
A large crowd gathered just outside the palace, as word spread of my arrival. Knowing that the people needed to see that the royal family is still strong despite my recent illness, I gathered Edward up in one arm and took Elizabeth’s hand in the other. I had to step carefully out onto the balcony, so as not to put too much weight on my injured limb, and Elizabeth seemed to notice this, because she squeezed my hand and placed it on her shoulder, silently offering to be my support. My darling girl never ceases to amaze me. Not even five yet and she sees and understands more than most adults.
When I was preparing to return to London, Anne asked if she might remain for a time at Hampton Court, so that she might spend some time with Elizabeth. I was feeling generous in the wake of having such a positive reception from the people, so I agreed. She’ll probably not stay long before coming back to court.
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
20 July 1538
Hampton Court
It was a relief to get out of London. The past month has been a sore strain, watching Henry linger at death’s door and wondering what will happen if he should die. Being able to come to Hampton Court and see the children is a welcome respite.
Prince Edward is healthy, which Henry relishes. I look at the boy and while I still despise his mother, I cannot help but feel sad. He should be mine, and he should be older than what he is.
Elizabeth is here too, thanks to the thinking of George and Hertford, who brought her here to be more easily protected during Henry’s illness. Oh, how she grows! It has me in awe, to see my dear child grow so healthy and strong!
And I am missing it. The longer I am at court, the more time I will miss with my child. I have my own estates to manage, even if I have more than capable stewards to oversee them. Court is no longer my home, if it ever really was, and staying there is costing me more and more.
Addendum: That’s it. I can take no more of this. I am going home.
This afternoon I took Elizabeth into the gardens to play, just the two of us. We were not out long when Elizabeth suddenly spoke up, asking me why I don’t visit her at Hatfield anymore. She could not have aimed a crossbow more truly to strike my heart. I struggled with renewed guilt and told her that I had been staying at court these past months helping her father, because he was so very sad about Edward’s mother dying. Elizabeth didn’t appear very happy about the answer, but she said she understood. She said that she was at court when Queen Jane died. I gritted my teeth when she referred to that woman with the title of queen, but said nothing of it. I couldn’t take the chance of it getting back to Henry that I was encouraging Elizabeth to disrespect the memory of his precious Seymour.
Elizabeth wasn’t through asking questions, however. She then asked me if Henry and I were married again, because she missed the times when the three of us were a family together, and wishes we could all be together again. Those words struck even more terribly than her earlier ones. It seems I am not the only one who yearns for what is gone and can never come back.
I had no answer for my daughter, so instead, I did my best to distract her. Fortunately, as clever as she is, she is still a little girl, and thus it wasn’t difficult to direct her attention elsewhere.
I can’t do this anymore. I will not be a crutch for Henry. He cast me aside for another, destroyed what we worked so hard for. I won’t go slinking back to his side like a beaten dog hoping for scraps from its master. He doesn’t love me anymore, if he ever did, and wanted only what I could give him - be it a son or companionship.
I’ll not return to court. I’ll take Elizabeth home to Hatfield - the danger has passed and it’s safe to return to the country - before going on to Queen’s Hall. Henry has his own life now, and I’ll have my own.
Chapter Four
Chapter Three: January 1538 - July 1538
LETTER TO QUEEN ANNE, DUCHESS OF PEMBROKE, FROM LADY MARY TUDOR
26 January 1538
Your Grace,
Please forgive the impertinence of my writing to you without invitation, but I fear I have no other choice. No doubt you have heard of His Majesty’s continued grief over the death of his beloved wife, Queen Jane. His sorrow is so great of the likes of which I have never seen in him, the king being such a strong, capable man. It frightens me to see him in such a state.
I do not know if you have also heard of the rising amount of violence in and around the court? Factions have broken out among the court, and various individuals have been injured. One of the retainers of the Earl of Hertford has been killed, and the Sergeant at Arms has been unable to find the villain. Women here at court are afraid to walk the corridors of Whitehall, and will only do so if attended by their husbands and sons. No one here feels safe, even with the king in residence and weapons being expressly forbidden.
I am writing to you, Madam, because I know you once had great influence with His Majesty. He listened to you. I fear that the only way that peace can be regained here at court is if His Majesty comes out of his seclusion and restores order. However, no one has been able to convince him to do so, not the Earl of Hertford, not the Lord Privy Seal, no one. The king will see only his fool, Will Somers.
I am asking you, Your Grace, to return to court. If anyone can bring the king out to take charge again, it is you.
Please.
Lady Mary Tudor
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
29 January 1538
Whitehall
The irony is not lost upon me that I should arrive back at court on this day. Two years ago today, I lost my boy, along with all my dreams. I return to drag Henry out of his throes of grief, and hopefully return some semblance of order.
The apartments that were mine by right of being the Duchess of Pembroke were in quite a state when my ladies and I arrived. Since I had sent no word ahead of my coming, they had not even been opened and aired in preparation for my arrival. My servants would have quite a time of it, making the place fit for habitation. I left them to their work, however, and did not wait there for them. Instead, accompanied by Nan, I made my way immediately to Henry’s chambers. Several people were gathered around the doors, including Bishop Gardiner, Suffolk, Cromwell, and Sir Richard Rich. When they saw me approach, I think their jaws all dropped at once.
I swept past them, paying them no need as I threw open the door and stepped into Henry’s chamber. I knew that such a tactic would not work again in the future, as I had now lost the element of surprise. I would have only one chance to gain Henry’s cooperation.
The room was dark and musty, no more hospitable than my chambers currently were. It took several moments, but I eventually spotted Henry, lying on a carpet near the fireplace. I gazed at him, shocked at the change that had overcome him in just two years. I could see the grey in his hair and beard, the added weight around his middle. Had so much happened to cause such a large change?
His name slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “Henry.”
He reacted to my voice only by opening his eyes and looking in my direction. “Anne.” His voice too was barely above a whisper, weak and full of misery.
I was still angry with him for his part in our child’s death. My rage still simmered, beneath the surface, but for now, it fell away in the face of my pity. Henry, the man I once loved more than anything, was suffering. I blinked back my tears, and slowly moved closer.
Henry didn’t object, and so I knelt down onto the floor next to him. “What are you doing, Henry?” I asked him quietly.
His eyes were red with tears and wine, and there was a vacant expression there. “God has punished me in taking her away.” He continued muttering about his sins, a child - our child? The one lost on this very day two years previous? - and how Jane paid when the fault was his, not hers.
I had no words to comfort him, for I indeed held him at least partially responsible for the death of my son, though not solely. Whatever Henry says, Jane Seymour knew what she was doing that day, knew anyone could have walked in, and therefore knew I could walk in. Still, I said none of that, and instead shifted my body until my lap was beneath Henry’s head. I stroked my fingers through his hair, much as I had once done in earlier, happier times, and made soothing, gentle noises until he quieted.
He might have dozed for a time, but eventually he opened his eyes again, and this time, they were clear. Henry blinked several times, and then focused on me. “You really are here,” he said quietly.
I nodded, and said that Lady Mary thought he needed someone other than his fool. Thankfully, he wasn’t angry with his daughter for sending for me. Instead, he rolled off of me and managed to push himself to his feet. I noticed that he heavily favored the leg he had wounded in the joust two Januarys ago, and I wondered how bad it was to still affect him. Still, that did not stop him from leaning down and offering me a hand to help me up.
He asked me how long I was at court for, and I didn’t respond at first. In all honesty, I hadn’t made any definite plans when I had left Queen’s Hall after receiving the Lady Mary’s letter. Anger has been almost all I have felt for Henry in the past two years, but when I read her words, all I could think of was getting here. By God, am I truly so weak to love a man I despise in equal parts?
After a moment, I replied, “I shall stay as long as I’m needed, Your Majesty.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded. He murmured something about letting it be known that I had full access to his chambers, and then he escorted me to the door. His whisper of thanks in my ear was like a bird fluttering in the leaves of a tree.
EXCERPT OF A LETTER TO QUEEN ANNE, DUCHESS OF PEMBROKE, FROM LADY MARY STAFFORD
9 February 1538
My Dear Sister,
When I first heard of your sudden return to court, I was shocked. After you spoke so vehemently of never wanting to go back there again, I never doubted your feelings on the matter. Still, after reading your letter, I think I may understand you.
I think, Anne, that the heart is perhaps the strangest organ in our bodies. We may hate and love in equal measures those who are closest to us. You and the king have a great deal of time, nearly a decade, in which you spent together amid joy, frustration, happiness, sorrow. That you hate him after how everything ended isn’t surprising, but then, neither is your desire to comfort him when he is broken. Love and hate clearly aren’t that dissimilar. That it hurts you when he says that he misses Mistress Seymour says enough that you still love him, even as you despise him.
[…]
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
10 February 1538
Whitehall
The Sergeant at Arms was murdered yesterday, just outside this very palace. Never before has someone of such standing been harmed in living memory, especially not when the king was in residence. It is an outrage, and the Privy Council is far too busy squabbling with each other to set things in order. Half of them had tantrums, including George, when Cromwell had the temerity to summon them to Council, of all things! Fools! He is Lord Chancellor and Lord Privy Seal! Whatever his birth, he is Henry’s closest and most trusted councilor, and they shriek because they are Dukes and Earls and Viscounts?
I ask this: The transgressions of Eve aside, why did God determine that men should lead this world instead of women? Surely my sex could not have done so badly if we were in charge of the realms of this world?
Addendum: Oh God, I must be mad. I have to be! That’s the only explanation for what I did today.
When it became clear that the death of the Sergeant at Arms was going to go unanswered because of the Privy Council’s blatant stupidity, I knew that only Henry could set things to right. Still, despite my constant attendance and gentle encouragement, he had shown no sign of emerging from his seclusion, seeing only me and Will Somers. I knew that things would only continue to deteriorate if Henry did not step in.
With that thought in mind, I went to visit him in his chambers. The guards were well used to seeing me come and go, and thus didn’t even blink at my arrival. Thankfully, Will Somers wasn’t present, leaving just Henry in his chambers. He was lying by the fire, much as usual, a tankard and bottle of wine sitting next to him. Before today, I would sit next to him. We would play cards, or just talk to one another. In some ways, we have talked more to each other in these past few weeks than we ever did during our marriage.
But I did not do any of that today. Instead, I stood above him, staring down. “Get up, Henry,” I ordered him, sounding as harsh and firm as I could.
He didn’t respond, just stared up at me, blinking in confusion. I didn’t give him time to respond, just repeated the command, telling him that he had lingered here in self-pity long enough and he must stop acting like a sniveling child.
My callous words caught his attention, though he didn’t get up. Instead, he merely said, “Excuse me, Madam?”
The warning in his tone would have made me stop under other circumstances but I forced myself to keep going. “Get up,” I said again. “You cannot afford such excessive grief, Henry. It is a sign of weakness to your enemies. Do you think the Emperor and the King of France will not take advantage of this kingdom’s chaos, to use it for their own ends?”
Henry sat up slowly, continuing to stare at me peculiarly. I felt almost like Eve, mesmerized by the snake. “Do you know who you are speaking to?” he hissed. “I am the King of England!”
Only rarely have I ever been afraid of Henry, and this was one of those times, but still I didn’t stop. “Then act like it!” I retorted. “Your kingdom is falling apart at the seams! Your nobles and their retinues fight and kill each other within the halls of your court, and even your Sergeant at Arms was murdered on your very doorstep. Get them under control before they destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for!”
The rage in his eyes was terrifying to behold as he levered himself off the floor. He thumped toward me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to strike or strangle me. Instead, he leaned into my face, his eyes glittering, and growled, “Get. Out. Of my sight.”
I could contain my fear no longer, and did so. Now I sit in my chambers, waiting to see if Henry will listen to me, or if he’ll simply have me thrown into the Tower.
THE DIARY OF HENRY VIII
12 February 1538
Whitehall
My God, the nobles with whom I entrust my kingdom are fools. They have rendered much of my court inert due to their squabbling and infighting. It will take some time to get them under control again. I should just execute the lot of them.
It was Anne who brought their foolishness to me, while I was in seclusion, mourning my beloved Jane, and she was very forward about it as well. Inappropriately so, I would say under different circumstances. She berated me for selfishness, accused me of endangering my realm over my grief for my dearest Jane. She called me a sniveling child!
I had not felt so angry in years. I had not felt so much emotion in years. But then, Anne was always able to make me feel, no matter what emotion it might be. In this case, she enraged me to such a point that I might very well have wrung her neck! It was the supreme act of self-control that I didn’t do so, but instead banished her from my sight.
Still, her behavior was enough to lure me from my chambers, and thus I discovered the stupidity of the men outside my walls. And so I see why Anne behaved so, and with a cooler mind, I may forgive her cruel words.
Nonetheless, it still confounds me that she can illicit such a response…
LETTER TO LADY MARY STAFFORD FROM QUEEN ANNE, DUCHESS OF PEMBROKE
22 February 1538
Dearest Mary,
Well, Mary, I am not to be consigned to the Tower, it seems. Henry has seen the truth for himself, that most of the men in his court are lying wretches who look only to their own interests. Life is beginning to resume its normal course here at court.
I have heard that Cromwell has asked Henry to seek a new marriage. Apparently, while everyone is much heartened by the Prince of Wales’ continued good health, no one is comfortable resting all hopes for the future on the head of one boy not even a year old, and a girl not yet five. They want Henry to have more sons, to shore up the succession. Cromwell even seems to have a few suggestions lined up for Henry to consider - one of King Francis’ daughters, as well one of his many cousins, Mary of Guise. While I am not certain that Henry would consider one of the French King’s daughters, as they are quite young at the moment, Mary of Guise is a widow who has born children already. That might be something Henry would find more attractive, knowing that she has a proven herself as a breeder, and would outweigh his distaste for not being the one to break her in.
I will admit, if only to you, that this news isn’t exactly the most welcome to me, but I find it easier to bear than I did Henry’s marriage to Jane Seymour. This marriage, should it go through, is a matter of politics, not emotions. Perhaps knowing that makes the situation more palatable for me. No woman coming to Henry’s bed in such a manner could hope to hold his heart in the way that the women who he chose for himself did. Katherine, myself, even Jane Seymour, we were the women Henry loved and chose of his own volition.
As for myself, given that Henry is no longer ready to kill me with my bare hands, I am going to remain here at court for a while. The place has clearly suffered in my absence, something I lay at Jane Seymour’s feet. That woman couldn’t command a dog to behave. I think I shall remain here until Cromwell succeeds in convincing Henry to marry again. Perhaps I might even convince him to invite Elizabeth to court to visit us.
Pray, let me hear how you and yours do.
I remain,
Your Loving Sister,
Anne, Duchess of Pembroke
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
25 February 1538
Whitehall
Henry has decided to exercise his power as Supreme Head of the Church of England once more - this time by regulating the worship of his people according to his own principles. These articles, though… they reek of Catholicism. Refusing to allow clergyman wives and families of their own, for instance. Poor Cranmer. He shall have to send his wife and little boy away, or face Henry’s draconian punishments. Cromwell too, will find this a blow, I imagine. He has poured so much of his energies into the Reformation these past years, going even further than most reformers would have him go. Being faced with Henry’s backtracking will be a hard thing for him to endure.
As for me, I find it horrible. I freely admit to being a reformer. The Catholic Church has fallen far from the precepts that were set down by Christ, and to have to pay obeisance to those corrupt traditions vexes me greatly. Some years ago, I would have run to Henry to argue with him over these articles of his. It is the Reformation that allowed him our marriage, did it not? If not for it, then we might never have had our Elizabeth. Now he has turned his back on the reformers, the ones who gave him his new life, away from the Bishop of Rome’s officious interference.
But now, however, I cannot. Everything I have, my titles, my estates, even my access to our daughter, all rely on Henry’s goodwill. What battles I will fight with him, I must choose carefully. I pushed him very hard to get him to leave off his haze of self-pity, using words that no doubt tried him severely. To do so again so soon would be too much, and I might very well find myself clapped in irons in the Tower.
The cause of the Reformation is dear to my heart, and I should hold myself a martyr to God’s cause, but I am but a single woman, whose chief cause in life is to further my daughter’s safety and interest. If that makes me a coward, then so be it. I will not enter the debate on these religious matters. To do so would cost me everything, most especially my Elizabeth.
I fear that I have lost the fires of my youth, and what determination I have goes toward my darling girl.
EXCERPT OF A LETTER TO SIR ANTHONY KNIVERT FROM CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF SUFFOLK
2 March 1538
Dear Anthony,
His Majesty has appointed me President of the Council and Grand High Master, both singularly high honors. He has declared that everyone shall be answerable to me in the event of his absence, and not Cromwell. As flattered as I am by his trust, however, I find that I little relish such a large and consuming task.
How strange it is, Anthony, to look at those words! Just a few years ago, I would have been thrilled over such positions, if only that they would have allowed me to strike at my enemies, most especially Anne Boleyn. Now, though, there is little reason to strike at her. She still resides here at court, but appears content to only divert and keep company with the king. She has not dabbled overtly in politics or joined the in-fighting that is so much a part of this world, and has even avoided the religious controversies. Strange as it may seem, in keeping Henry’s spirits, Anne is doing more good for England than she ever did as his wife and queen. Nor is it lost on me that by keeping such a position, Anne and I are essentially on the same side.
Of course, I daren’t say something like that to my wife. Catherine still to this day despises Anne, even though they have similar opinions on many current issues. Catherine just cannot let go of what happened to Queen Katherine, and makes little secret of her disapproval of Anne’s renewed presence at court to me. Fortunately, she is still discrete enough that her displeasure is not known to the king, who enjoys having Anne at his side again. I fear that, if he knew, he might not have been so quick to give me the honors he has bestowed.
[…]
THE DIARY OF HENRY VIII
2 March 1538
Greenwich
Curse these damn French bastard ingrates! God was cruel when he allowed them to drive us and our rule from that country!
I ate supper with the French Ambassador this evening, so that I might inquire about taking a Frenchwoman for a new wife. I pointed out that a daughter of Francis’ would be too young, and I would have to wait until she was more fully grown before she would be capable of giving me additional sons. I then said that Mary of Guise was more to my liking, especially since she already has two boys to her credit, and has an excellent bosom.
The ambassador commended my taste, but informed me that the woman is already promised to my nephew, James V of Scotland. Hah, as if my elder sister’s son could give Francis anything of value! Scotland’s only real value is that it whoever controls it controls an entire third of the island, whereas I - and England - can be an ally for Francis in his conflict with the Emperor. James can give Francis nothing of the sort. Being so far north and hardly any navy to speak of, he is of no use in the greater politics of Europe.
I pointed this out to the ambassador, and all he could say was that I would, in effect, be marrying another man’s wife. He said this all very innocently, but I was certain I could hear a rebuke in his tone. He dared to allude to Katherine and how I had damned myself in marrying my brother’s widow! How I longed clout him about the head!
Instead, I mastered my rage and stated that I would marry whomever I pleased, and that I had received offers of marriage from every major court. If the French were not careful, I could very easily throw my support behind the Emperor, and the two of us together could crush France between us!
The ambassador, however, still had an offer from his master. Francis proposed that Mary marry his second son, Henri, the Duke of Orleans, and that I marry Mary of Guise’s sister, Louise. To be truthful, I found the offer a little insulting. I was to be fobbed off with the younger sister and an offer to marry my bastard daughter while ignoring my legitimate daughter altogether? I pointed this out to the ambassador, and to my pleasure, he was startled by my response. He sputtered a bit, and the only excuse he could offer for the slight to Elizabeth was that she was still quite young, much too young to be thinking of marriage. As if that meant anything. Arthur and Katherine were betrothed to one another while still in their cradles!
Idiot French. It is instances like this that make me recall the advantages of marrying among my subjects. I knew Anne and Jane both so very well before I married them, and their fathers certainly had no objections to air for my condescension. Still, I must remember to have Cromwell avail himself of the Spanish option. I hear that Christina of Milan, the Emperor’s cousin, likes nothing more than hunting and playing cards. That would certainly make for an entertaining wife…
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
14 April 1538
Greenwich
Christina of Milan’s response to Henry’s proposal is all over court! Apparently, when Sir John Wotton was extolling Henry’s virtues, she said that if she had two lives to spare, one would gladly be at Henry’s disposal. Alas, she had only the one, and far too many concerns about a country that saw her great-aunt poisoned, myself callously divorced and banished, and Jane lost due to lack of care in childbed. When George told me of it, I snorted. Henry’s reputation has preceded him in the courts of Europe, it seems. What woman does want a man who either tosses his wives aside, or lets them die?
For all that, though, I am glad that she isn’t coming. I have little use for the Emperor’s numerous relations. The last one sent here caused enough trouble as it is. If another came, I would have to worry about Elizabeth being poisoned or having an ‘accident’. The Spanish certainly have never been above murdering rivals, and even with the Prince of Wales, Elizabeth still remains Lady Mary’s chief rival, however much the two love each other.
Still, with all this talk of marriage, I think it is time I returned to Queen’s Hall. I meant only to stay until Henry was back on his feet, which he certainly is now. Besides, I haven’t seen Elizabeth in months, and I can easily go to Hatfield first and pass a week or two with her, and perhaps even invite her to come to Queen’s Hall with me. Perhaps I could even invite Lady Mary to visit as well, to let the girls spend time together. It does no harm to court Lady Mary’s goodwill.
Addendum: The nerve! Henry refuses to allow me leave to depart from court! He claims that he needs a hostess here when he is without a queen, and I know how to manage the court. I coolly informed him that I was not a housekeeper, and that I hadn’t seen our child in months. All he did was make some vague promise to invite Elizabeth to visit us here.
EXCERPT FROM HENRY VIII: A LIFE, BY DR. ERIC THOMPSON
“The illness that plagued the king in July 1538 provided a hearty fright to his councilors and his family. For nearly two weeks, people lived in a state of constant panic, fearing he would die and leave Prince Edward, still not yet a year old, to succeed him.
Queen Anne and the Duke of Suffolk remained by at his bedside, the former having been called for by the king. Despite her recorded longing to leave court, Anne didn’t take advantage of Henry’s illness to absent herself, but instead remained with him while the physicians dithered over the king’s infected leg. Brandon, on the other hand, while staying at Henry’s side, also made arrangement to secure the country in the event of the king’s death. He sent a detachment of guards to both Hampton Court, where the Prince was being kept, and to Hunsdon, where Lady Mary resided, his reasoning being that the court and people could very well split between the son and eldest daughter of the king.
Anne herself was recorded to have been rather insulted at the lack of care paid to Elizabeth’s fate, given that, by the law, she was second in line after Edward. Still, it has been argued by various scholars that Suffolk nonetheless acted appropriately. Wilma Johnson points out that, at the time, Elizabeth’s legitimacy was still in question by many English subjects, whereas Edward was the king’s legitimate son, but was still an infant. Lady Mary was still the daughter of the beloved Queen Katherine, and seen as next in line after her younger brother, and may well still have been the preferred candidate over him, given that she was an adult and thus had the immediate ability to take up the throne.
Still, there were still others who had more of a care for Elizabeth’s fate than Brandon seemed to, which likely soothed Anne’s pride. This time saw an unlikely alliance between Lords Rochford and Hertford, the two of them having to work together to keep the country together, and dispel rumors of Henry’s death. More importantly, they also together ordered their own set of guards to be placed around Edward, as well as having a detachment bring Elizabeth from Hatfield to join her half-brother at Hampton Court.”
THE DIARY OF HENRY VIII
20 July 1538
Hampton Court
My visit to Hampton Court was worth every jarring pain to my leg, which aches constantly now no matter what concoction Linacre conjures for me. My son grows by leaps and bounds, and is the strongest, healthiest baby Lady Bryan has ever doted upon. Elizabeth too grows like a weed, and is enjoying her time at Hampton Court. She obviously likes being in a new place after spending so much time at Hatfield. Anne also is delighted to visit, though I think that mainly has to do with being able to visit our daughter, whom she hasn’t seen in some time.
A large crowd gathered just outside the palace, as word spread of my arrival. Knowing that the people needed to see that the royal family is still strong despite my recent illness, I gathered Edward up in one arm and took Elizabeth’s hand in the other. I had to step carefully out onto the balcony, so as not to put too much weight on my injured limb, and Elizabeth seemed to notice this, because she squeezed my hand and placed it on her shoulder, silently offering to be my support. My darling girl never ceases to amaze me. Not even five yet and she sees and understands more than most adults.
When I was preparing to return to London, Anne asked if she might remain for a time at Hampton Court, so that she might spend some time with Elizabeth. I was feeling generous in the wake of having such a positive reception from the people, so I agreed. She’ll probably not stay long before coming back to court.
ANNE BOLEYN’S DIARY
20 July 1538
Hampton Court
It was a relief to get out of London. The past month has been a sore strain, watching Henry linger at death’s door and wondering what will happen if he should die. Being able to come to Hampton Court and see the children is a welcome respite.
Prince Edward is healthy, which Henry relishes. I look at the boy and while I still despise his mother, I cannot help but feel sad. He should be mine, and he should be older than what he is.
Elizabeth is here too, thanks to the thinking of George and Hertford, who brought her here to be more easily protected during Henry’s illness. Oh, how she grows! It has me in awe, to see my dear child grow so healthy and strong!
And I am missing it. The longer I am at court, the more time I will miss with my child. I have my own estates to manage, even if I have more than capable stewards to oversee them. Court is no longer my home, if it ever really was, and staying there is costing me more and more.
Addendum: That’s it. I can take no more of this. I am going home.
This afternoon I took Elizabeth into the gardens to play, just the two of us. We were not out long when Elizabeth suddenly spoke up, asking me why I don’t visit her at Hatfield anymore. She could not have aimed a crossbow more truly to strike my heart. I struggled with renewed guilt and told her that I had been staying at court these past months helping her father, because he was so very sad about Edward’s mother dying. Elizabeth didn’t appear very happy about the answer, but she said she understood. She said that she was at court when Queen Jane died. I gritted my teeth when she referred to that woman with the title of queen, but said nothing of it. I couldn’t take the chance of it getting back to Henry that I was encouraging Elizabeth to disrespect the memory of his precious Seymour.
Elizabeth wasn’t through asking questions, however. She then asked me if Henry and I were married again, because she missed the times when the three of us were a family together, and wishes we could all be together again. Those words struck even more terribly than her earlier ones. It seems I am not the only one who yearns for what is gone and can never come back.
I had no answer for my daughter, so instead, I did my best to distract her. Fortunately, as clever as she is, she is still a little girl, and thus it wasn’t difficult to direct her attention elsewhere.
I can’t do this anymore. I will not be a crutch for Henry. He cast me aside for another, destroyed what we worked so hard for. I won’t go slinking back to his side like a beaten dog hoping for scraps from its master. He doesn’t love me anymore, if he ever did, and wanted only what I could give him - be it a son or companionship.
I’ll not return to court. I’ll take Elizabeth home to Hatfield - the danger has passed and it’s safe to return to the country - before going on to Queen’s Hall. Henry has his own life now, and I’ll have my own.
Chapter Four