The Boleyn Inheritance

Anne, Richmond Palace,
May 1541

My ambassador, Dr. Harst, brings me the most shocking, the most pitiful news that I think I shall ever hear. As he told me I started to shake at the very words. How could the king do such a thing? How could any man do such a thing? The king has executed Margaret Pole, the Countess of Salisbury. The king has ordered the death of an innocent, nearly seventy-year-old woman, for no reason in the world. Or at the very least, if he has a reason, it is the one that governs so many of his actions: nothing but his own insane spite.

Good God, he is becoming a terrifying man. In my little court here at Richmond I hug my cloak around me and tell my ladies that they need not come, that the ambassador and I are going to walk in the garden. I want to make sure that no one can see the fear in my face. Now I know for sure how lucky I have been to escape so lightly, to escape so well. Thank God in his mercy that I was spared. There was every reason to fear the king as a murderous madman. They all warned me, and although I was afraid, I did not know how vicious he could be. This wickedness, this mad malice against a woman old enough to be his own mother, the ward of his grandmother, the dearest friend of his wife, the godmother of his own daughter, a saintly woman, innocent of any crime – this proves to me once and for all that he is a most dangerous man.

That he should have a woman of nearly seventy years old dragged from her bed and beheaded – and for no reason! No reason at all except to break the heart of her son, her family, and those who love them. This king is a monster; for all that he smiles so sweetly on his little bride, for all that he is now so kind and generous to me, let me remember this: Henry of England is a monster and a tyrant, and no one is safe in his realm. There can be no safety in the country when there is a man like this on the throne. He must be mad to behave so. That can be the only answer. He must be mad, and I am living in a country ruled by a mad king and dependent on his favor for my safety.

Dr. Harst lengthens his pace to keep up with me; I am striding along as if I could get away from this kingdom on foot. “You are distressed,” he says.

“Who would not be?” I glance around. We are speaking in German and cannot be understood, and my page boy has fallen behind us. “Why should the king have Lady Pole executed now? He has held her in the Tower for years. She could hardly be plotting against him! She has seen no one but her jailers for years, he has already killed half her family and taken the rest into the Tower.”

“He does not think she was plotting,” he says quietly. “But this new uprising in the North is to restore the old religion; they are calling for the Pole family to be kings again. The family are faithful Papists and much loved. They come from the North; they are the royal family of York, the Plantagenets. They are of the old faith. The king will not tolerate any rival. Even an innocent rival.”

I shudder. “Then why does he not take a mission against the North?” I demand. “He could lead an army to defeat the rebels. Why behead an old lady in London for their rebellion?”

“They say that he has hated her since she took Queen Katherine of Aragon’s side against him,” he says quietly. “When he was a young man, he admired her and respected her, and she was the last Plantagenet princess, more royal than he is himself. But when he put the queen aside, Lady Pole took her side and declared for her.”

“That was years ago.”

“He does not forget an enemy.”

“Why not fight the rebels as he did before?”

He lowers his voice. “They say he is afraid. Just as he was afraid before. He never fought them; he sent the duke, Thomas Howard, before. He will not go himself.”

I stride out, and the ambassador keeps pace with me; my page boy falls behind even more. “I shall never be really safe,” I say, almost to myself. “Not while he lives.”

He nods. “You cannot trust his word,” he says shortly. “And if you offend him, he never forgets it.”

“Do you think all this” – my gesture takes in the beautiful park, the river, the wonderful palace – “all this is just a sop? Something to keep me quiet, to keep my brother quiet, while the king makes his son on Katherine? And when she gives birth, and he crowns her queen, and he knows the deed is done, then he arrests me for treason or heresy or whatever offense he chooses to invent, and murders me, too?”

The ambassador goes gray with fear at my suggestion. “God knows, I pray not. But we cannot know for sure,” he says. “At the time I thought he wanted a lasting settlement, and a lasting friendship with you. But we cannot know. With this king one can know nothing. Indeed, he could have intended friendship then, and he could change tomorrow. That is what they all say about him. That he is fearful and changeable; they never know who he will see as his enemy. We cannot trust him.”

“He is a nightmare!” I burst out. “He will do anything he wishes; he can do anything he wishes. He is a danger. He is a terror.”

The sober ambassador does not correct me for exaggeration. Chillingly he nods. “He is a terror,” he agrees. “This man is the terror of his people. Thank God you are away from him. God help his young wife.”