The Lady in the Tower

The Secret Matter

MY STEPMOTHER WAS AMAZED to see me. There had been no time to warn her of my coming.

I threw myself into her arms and clung to her.

She said: “Anne, you should have let me know. How are you? Are you well? My dear, what does this mean?”

“It means that I am home. I will tell you later on.”

She bustled about. My room must be prepared. She must go to the kitchens. I told her I wanted little to eat.

“Something is wrong,” she said. “I know it.”

Soon I was telling her.

“It is the King,” I said. “He has cast his eyes on me…as he did on Mary…”

“My dear… dear child.”

“I'll not have him,” I said. “I have told him so.”

“And you have been sent from Court?”

“I left of my own free will.”

“You will be out of favor for it.”

“I hope so, Mother.”

“It is so sad. If only they had let you marry Henry Percy, you would have been happy.”

“Yes,” I said. “I was determined to be and I should have been… just as now I am determined to be no man's mistress.”

“Well, you shall stay here, my child, and we shall be together as we were. And one day perhaps there will be some man whom you can love.”

“Oh, it is good to be with you.”

“You must eat and sleep and then we shall have lots of talk. You shall tell me everything.”

I lay in my bed.

This could be the end of my Court life. Perhaps I could go to France. What was happening there now? Marguerite might help me. She was a widow now but she had never had any great love for her husband. If I wrote to her, I could tell her how I had followed her sorrows and been very sad for her. I wondered what the Court of France would be like now … with François no longer the splendid figure of his youth. But Marguerite would be the same. I would be able to talk to her of Henry's passion as I had once talked of that of François. She would understand and help me.

It was like a raft to cling to in a stormy sea.

The next day I talked to my stepmother. I told her of my conversations with the King; she listened intently and sympathized with me. I was glad my father was not there. I knew he would be eager to throw another daughter of his into the arms of the all-powerful dispenser of honors to the families of his mistresses.

I watched her at her sewing and she told me of the trivialities of life at Hever which were so important to her—how the wine had matured, how the herb garden was growing, how one of the servants was with child by a stableman.

I listened half-heartedly and thought: This is how my life will become.

But it was not to be.

The following day I was in my room when I heard the clatter of horses’ hooves and I thought at once: It is my father sent to upbraid me, or a messenger from Court perhaps.

I looked out of my window. The King, with a few attendants, was riding into the courtyard.

My stepmother, in a state of extreme nervousness, went out to greet him.

I heard his loud booming voice. “Lady Rochford, good day to you. It does me good to see you in good health. And Mistress Anne, I hope, is in like case.”

I leaned against my door. So he was not going to let me escape. I would be firm, though. I should need all my skill to withstand him.

My stepmother was coming up to my room to tell me that he was here, commanding me to appear before him.

The door opened. My stepmother stood there, looking frightened.

“Anne …” she began.

And he was there behind her. He was smiling, boyish again, proud of his achievement. See, here I am!

He stood looking at me for a moment, his blue eyes tender, yet burning with passion. I flung back the hair from my face for it was loose and unkempt.

He said: “You may leave us, Lady Rochford.”

My poor stepmother, bewildered, hesitating but overawed, dropped a curtsy and departed.

He came into the room.

“My Anne,” he said.

I said: “Your Grace, we are unprepared for the honor of this visit.”

“That matters not at all,” he replied. “This is not a state affair. This is a lover come for his lass.”

“Your Grace, the honor is great, but…”

He was beside me. He had taken my hair in his hands and was pulling me toward him.

“Did you think I would let you run away from me?” he said. “I will never let you leave me.”

“You find me… unprepared.”

“I like it,” he said. “I find you delightful in any guise.”

“I must help my stepmother. She is overwhelmed by this visit.”

“Nay…no need. I came for you… not a banquet.”

“But my father will be most upset if we do not treat Your Grace with due respect.”

“Treat me as I would be treated, Anne. I ask nothing more.”

“My lord…I am in great distress.”

“I would cause you no distress. I would bring you only joy.”

“Then, my lord …”

“Don't say it again,” he said. “I know your mind. I know you love your honor and I respect that in you. Dost think I am some satyr who would force myself upon a reluctant maiden? That is not so. You have been in my thoughts for a long time. I have tried to put you out of them but when you came back to Court, I knew that was impossible. Now we must act. I have much of importance to say to you.”

“Your Grace, I cannot change my mind.”

“I have thought of that. I will speak long with you and tell you what is in my mind.” His eyes lighted with a touch of mischief. “We will go to that garden. Do you remember, the scene of our first meeting? There I shall tell you what I plan for us. We will go there. Come with me.”

“I must comb my hair… make myself worthy of your presence. I must change my gown.”

“It is not your gown I came to see, sweetheart. To me in any guise you are all that I need. But this is serious talk. It can mean so much to us two. How long shall I wait for you in the garden?”

“Ten minutes.”

“It will seem an eternity, but I can deny you nothing.”

He took my hand and kissed it lingeringly. “Know this,” he said seriously, “I love you well. No one else shall be your rival. Think of that, and it will incline your thoughts toward me.” He smiled and raised a finger. “No. Do not say it again. I know it well. My mistress you will not be. That will be the purpose of our discourse. Ten minutes then. No more, sweet Anne.”

“I will be there, Your Grace.”

He left me. I took a comb and combed my hair back from my hot face.

My stepmother came into the room.

“Anne,” she said in dismay. “I know not what to do. We have no special fare in the kitchens.”

“It is of no importance.”

“The King… visiting us like this…No warning.”

“He has come to talk to me. He is not interested in food.”

“What does it mean?”

“I do not know. Later perhaps I shall.”

I was feeling calmer every second. He wanted to talk. What could he possibly talk about? He was going to try to persuade me by telling me all he could do for me and mine. Some of my fear had left me. Seeing him face to face had given me courage.

The thought came to me: This is no light matter with him. He really does care for me.

And so I went down to the garden.

He was waiting for me and came swiftly toward me, his arms out-stretched. I evaded them by bowing.

“Anne,” he said, “my sweetheart, all will be well ere long and you and I will be together. Come, sit beside me. Sit close to me. Ah, this is what I long for…to be close to you…to hold you against me… like this. Anne, you are a witch.”

“Your Grace, I am just a simple girl.”

“You were never simple. You were born with that witchery. You have put a spell on me.”

I was momentarily alarmed by this talk of witchcraft. I wondered if I were to be accused of that and burned at the stake. But, of course, he meant witchery of another sort.

“You hold yourself aloof,” he said. “Oh, do not think I do not respect your virtue.” His little mouth was prudish suddenly. “It is a virtue I most respect in ladies. But I see a way for us, and that is what I will speak of and you will then see how deep is my love for you and that I will have none other. I will sweep away your scruples. You and I shall love as, from the moment we met, we were meant to.”

“My lord, there is no way in which I will become your mistress.”

“Nor shall you be. But…you could be my Queen.”

“That is not possible.”

“That word does not exist for kings, Anne. There is a way and I believe I have found it. Listen to me. When I first saw you in the garden, I knew that this was no light emotion which you had aroused in me. When I returned to Westminster, I said to Wolsey…yes, these were my very words, I remember them well…I said: ‘Thomas, I have been discoursing with a young lady who has the wit of an angel and is worthy of a crown.’ Now I look back, I see that my words were prophetic. Wolsey said, ‘It is sufficient if Your Grace finds her worthy of your love,’ and I answered that I feared she would never condescend in that way. Wolsey replied that great princes, if they choose to play the lover, had in their power that which would mollify a heart of steel. You will say that your virtue is unassailable, so you must remain virtuous. But I cannot give you up. Now listen. For some time past, my conscience has been troubling me. You know that I married my brother's widow. I was young. I was chivalrous. Katharine was alone in this country. Her father and mine were haggling over her dowry. She was sad and lonely and I have a tender heart … as you will discover. I married her, letting pity get the better of wisdom, and in doing so I have offended against the laws of God.”

I listened in amazement.

“For some time,” he went on, “I have been a most unhappy man. My conscience has never let me rest. Now I feel it cannot be silenced, for when my daughter Mary's union with the son of the King of France was in progress, one of the ambassadors raised the point of Mary's legitimacy.”

“That is… impossible!” I cried.

“Nay, my love, and I fear it may well be true. There is a verse in Leviticus which clearly says that a man may not marry his brother's wife and such a union would be without the blessing of God and fruitless.”

“Does the Queen know of your fears?”

“Not as yet. But she will. She must. I cannot go on living a life of sin in the eyes of God.”

“But what would be the outcome?”

“The marriage will be declared no marriage.”

“And the Emperor Charles?”

“He will have to look the truth in the face.”

“But the Queen's relationship with him …”

“My dearest Anne, you do not understand these matters.”

“But surely he would not care to see his aunt accused of living in a sinful union?”

“If it be proved…as it must be…he will have to accept it.”

“After all these years…”

“That matters not.” He was a little impatient. He had clearly thought I should greet this news with joy. I could not really believe the dazzling proposition he was putting before me. I could not accept for one moment that he would be allowed to discard his wife in spite of the verses in Leviticus. Whatever they were, I did not believe that the great Emperor would allow his aunt to be shipped back to Spain or perhaps put into retirement in England just like a mistress who has ceased to be desirable and is now to be pensioned off. That was not the way of great monarchs. I felt that Henry was being carried away by this idea which had occurred to him, and I suspected that he was using it as a means of dazzling me with the prospect of a crown—a notion which I felt too wild to bear any semblance to reality—so that I should receive him without delay into my bed. And afterward? Well, it would be seen to be just a wild dream, and the ministers of Spain and England would explain to him how impossible it was.

I was skeptical. The conscience, I knew, existed. But it had taken seventeen years to arouse itself, and I felt it could easily be subdued in a few weeks once his goal had been reached.

He went on: “I understand so much now. She could not get a son. Again and again there were disappointments. A king must have sons. It is part of his duty to his people. He has to think not only of his own reign but of the one to come. The dynasty must go on. And what have I? One daughter.”

“The Princess Mary is healthy and very clever.”

“A girl, Anne. I want a son.”

“There is no Salic Law in England.”

He hit his knee with his fist. “This country wants a king. I have to give England a male heir. And how can I do that while God frowns on my union with the one who, in His eyes, is not my wife? Anne, once I am free… and by God and all His saints, I soon shall be…you and I will come together. Now this revelation has come to me. The French ambassador has shown me the way. I have marveled that I… full of health and vigor as I am…can get no sons…from her. With others…You know that at one time I thought myself in love with Elizabeth Blount. She was a handsome girl… she danced and sang well…I thought excellently, but remember I had not seen you… nor heard you then. From now on there could be no other. I was young… and affectionate, as is my nature. I had begun to feel a reluctance to share Katharine's bed. You must understand these matters, Anne. And I had a son by Elizabeth Blount. It is only from Katharine that I cannot get boys, because God has turned His face away from our union. For a long time He has been telling me that it must end… and only now have I seen it.”

I thought how naïve he was, but perhaps that was why he could deceive himself.

“What does Your Grace propose to do?”

“I have spoken to Wolsey.”

I caught my breath.

“He will help in this?” I asked.

“Sweetheart, he is my servant. He will do as I wish. He sees the need for heirs. He is a clever fellow and will devise a plan. We shall be together ere long, Anne. You will be my Queen. I'll swear there will never have been a more beautiful one… and one more worthy to wear a crown. You do not speak.”

“I am overwhelmed.”

He laughed, well pleased. “As well you might be. But it shall come to pass. I am determined on that. Ere long you and I shall be together, and we'll have boys, Anne…you and I. And what boys they will be! We'll have a brood of princes. What say you?”

“I think there would be difficulties.”

“This is my will.”

“But the Queen is the Emperor's aunt.”

“The Emperor is too busy governing his vast empire to think much of that. Moreover, Wolsey is getting to work on it.”

“Does he know your plans for me?”

There was a brief hesitation. “I have not told him yet. He knows, of course, of my feelings for you.”

“But he thinks I should be your mistress while some foreign princess shall be your Queen. What was it…? ‘Princes have the power to mollify steel…’”

“Wolsey has his devious ideas. He is…at the moment… all for stronger ties with France. When I talked of remarriage, he did mention the Princess Renée of France. I did not think it necessary to be more explicit as yet.”

“It would not occur to him that one as unworthy as I could aspire so high. Yet he himself has climbed far. Was he not a butcher's son?”

“I care not for these matters, sweetheart … whether a man be a cook's son or a duke's son…it matters not to me. I am a king and a king's son, and it is only those of lesser ranks who concern themselves with such things. If I love a person… that is enough for me. Thomas Wolsey is my good friend and has been for years. I love the man. He is the best of servants to me…as he was to my father before me.”

“Yet I believe he sought election for the Papacy. That would have taken him from Your Grace's service… and set him on equal terms with you.”

“He would have worked for me in Rome. Although I should be sad to lose him, it would have pleased me to have someone there working for England. But enough of this. Here I tell you of our great matter and you prate of Wolsey.”

“I think he may well play a big part in it.”

He slapped his thigh. “This he will, but Anne, what of your part and mine? I would it were done with. I would we were now joined together in holy union, as one day we shall surely be. What do you say?”

I did not know what to say. My first thought was that it would never happen. There would be too many to work against it. Henry was all-powerful in England, and if the Queen had been anyone but the aunt of the Emperor Charles, it could have been a possibility. The Emperor might be busy with his Empire but he would never allow a member of his house to be degraded. And that was what the King proposed for Katharine.

I thought of her, with her Spanish pride and her piety, her great dignity, her upbringing. What would her reaction be if she were told: You have been living in sin all these years. This is now revealed. So you are no longer Queen of England.

I could not believe what the King was suggesting would ever take place. But the fact that the King could suggest it showed the intensity of his passion for me—for I knew that his conscience had conveniently reared its head at this time, not because of his desire to live in accordance with the rules of the Bible but because he wished to live in passion with me.

He was beaming at the pond in the middle of the garden; he was so pleased with himself because he had thought up this scheme, and I believed, at that moment, he thought I should be so dazzled at the thought of sharing his throne that I would immediately throw aside the principles I had so forcefully expressed, fall into his arms and become his mistress on the spot.

I was wary. Of course, there was a possibility that it could come to pass.

His hand was on my knee. I could feel its heat through the stuff of my gown.

“It will soon be,” he said. “We can trust Wolsey. He will get this in motion. I am sending him to the Pope. Then, my sweetheart, we shall be together.”

He put his arm around me and crushed me against him. His lips were on my ear. “What say you, Anne? What say you?”

“What can I say?” I replied. “You are not yet free.”

“But soon will be.”

“I am unsure.”

“Do you love me?”

“I am unsure,” I repeated.

“Unsure! I ride out here to see you. I offer you a crown… and you are unsure!”

“I do not look for a crown from my husband… only fidelity and love.”

“But you shall have all three. I swear I'll not look at another. You shall have no rival. Say that you love me.”

“I must think on this.”

“You do not love some other?”

“No longer. I loved Henry Percy, but he was taken from me. When one has suffered in that way once, one is chary of doing so again.”

“You loved that spindle-legged, spineless creature?”

“Yes. I loved him and I lost him; and now he is most unhappy.”

“He would never be anything else. Shrewsbury's girl despises him as any woman of spirit would.”

“But I loved him.”

“Oh come… come…It would not have done.” He was suspicious suddenly. “Was he your lover?”

“My principles have always been the same. I never was and never will be any man's mistress.”

“Soon you will be Queen.”

“I do not know.”

He was bewildered. He was offering me himself, the greatest catch in the kingdom and a crown to go with it… and I was hesitating.

He took my hand. “We will plight our troth. Give me that ring.” It was one which I wore on my middle finger. It had been in the family for a number of years. “And I shall give you a ring. It will be a sign. Come, Anne, give me the ring.”

I shook my head. “Your Grace must understand that all this has happened so suddenly. I am bewildered. Please understand.”

He was all softness. His moods changed quickly. “I know. This has dazzled you. You were not expecting such a prospect. Let me be with you tonight and I will show you how it is between us two.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I could not be happy.”

He turned to me almost angrily. I was certain then that he had thought the project he was opening before me would overwhelm and delight me to such an extent that I would fall into his arms. Now he was the small boy again about to be deprived of a coveted toy. His hot hands burned through my dress. He said roughly: “You forget to whom you speak. I could command you. I could take you here and now if I wished and snap my fingers at this virgin's talk.”

I stood up and holding my head high, I said: “That is true. You could do that. But you will not because if you did I should never love you. And being a king you are also a knight and I should be much mistaken if you, powerful as you are, ever forgot the laws of chivalry, which you would most certainly do if you behaved in the way you suggest toward an unprotected woman.”

It was the right note. The lust left his eyes and there was the shining knight, courteous and chivalrous. The thought occurred to me then: It would not be difficult to handle him.

“And now, my lord,” I went on, “if you will give me leave to retire, I shall do so; and my stepmother and I will endeavor to find hospitality which, though it will not be worthy of you, will be the best we can offer as your arrival was unexpected.”

He stood close to me and taking my hand, he kissed my finger with the ring for which he had asked.

“Anne… Anne, I am beside myself with longing for you.”

“If that be so, my lord, you will give me time to ponder on what you have told me.”

“And then I shall have my answer?”

“Yes, then you shall have it.”

“I cannot leave here until I know you will be mine.”

“I will tell you before you leave tomorrow morning.”

“Then I must possess myself in patience.”

He was complacent. He could not believe that even I, who had been so difficult to woo, could refuse a crown.

When I was alone, I felt exhausted.

I found it hard to believe that I had heard correctly. He would rid himself of Katharine and marry me! How could that possibly be? Whatever he said, he was married to Katharine. No one could discard the daughter of kings just because she was no longer desirable.

That was the crux of the matter. I dismissed the conscience as I felt it deserved to be. The fact was he was tired of Katharine and he had been for a long time, and he was obsessed by his desire for me. How I wished I could have consulted Marguerite about the matter. I wondered what she, who was essentially worldly, would say.

What if I refused? How long would he pursue me? I had had little warning signs even now. That expression of impatience in his eyes…He was not accustomed to being denied. To give way to him would mean to become his mistress. But was there the faintest possibility that I could become his Queen?

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the crown on my head. I could not deny that the thought dazzled me. To be the Queen presiding over the Court. All would be my slaves, bowing to my will—including the King Master Wolsey, who had called me a foolish girl and had destroyed my marriage to the man I had loved disinterestedly, would have to pay homage to me. That would give me great pleasure.

I should have to marry sometime… someone my father would choose for me. It would not be a love affair—just a suitable match which my father would want. But what of the most brilliant match of all: Queen of England? Could it be possible? It might just be. He was powerful, so was Wolsey…if they worked for it…if they could placate the Emperor Charles…Excitement possessed me. It was a bewildering but exhilarating prospect.

I dressed myself with care—scarlet velvet, hanging sleeves and a red band about my throat with its one solitary diamond. Excitement had added something to my eyes; they looked enormous and very bright, and the faintest color showed in my cheeks.

I went down to the great hall. My stepmother had performed a miracle. She had set them to work in the kitchens and they had provided an excellent meal. The King sat at the head of the table, my stepmother

on one side of him, I on the other.

He was beaming, well content.

He liked my stepmother's awe of him and her anxiety that the food should be well served and to his liking. He kept reassuring her that he had rarely enjoyed a meal so much.

Then he turned to me as though to say that it was my presence that made his pleasure.

Later I sang and played the lute and he and I sang a duet.

It must have been rarely that he spent an evening without all the pomp and ceremony to which he was accustomed; but it was quite clear to everyone that he was pleased and happy.

When I retired to my room, I found sleep impossible. I had a terrible fear that in spite of my comments on chivalry he might come to me. But he did not.

I rose early in the morning. I had expected that by the light of day I should see the absurdity of what he had suggested and realize it was just empty talk to get access to my bed. But instead it seemed to me that there was a faint possibility that it could come to pass. I had made up my mind that I was going to accept him. I would let him know that if he were free I would be his wife.

Now it began to look like an exciting adventure.

He was eagerly waiting to see me.

He looked at me yearningly. Surely he loved me. He could not have been so restrained if he had not. Again I felt that tenderness toward him. I thought I could be quite fond of him; and a woman would be a fool to turn her back on such a glittering proposal.

He said: “Have you aught to say to me, Anne?”

I took the ring from my finger and gave it to him. I felt happy to see the joy which suffused his face. He closed his eyes as if in an ecstasy. I thought: He really does love me. And I experienced something more than gratification. I felt happy.

The ring was a tight fit on his little finger. Then he took off one of his rings and placed it on the middle finger of my left hand. It was too big for any other.

“Now we have plighted our troth,” he said, “and I am happy. Soon you and I will be together. I shall lose no time in bringing this about. You will soon come back to Court.”

I said that I was so overwhelmed that I needed a little time in the quiet of the country to think about what had happened.

He kissed me tenderly.

“It shall be as you wish, sweetheart,” he said. “Now and forever.”

I waved him farewell as he rode away from Hever.

I was still bemused. The prospect which had been put before me did seem incredible…almost… but not entirely so. Why should it not work out as he had said? It was true he had married his brother's wife, and divorces were granted on flimsier pretexts. So much would depend on the new Pope Clement and whom he would consider it more dangerous to offend—the Emperor or the King. And Wolsey? What would he be thinking when he knew of this proposal that a “foolish girl” was to mate with the King?

It could never happen. There were too many obstacles. I had given him my ring and he had gone away happy and confident. But could it be possible?

I was dreadfully uncertain. I could not talk to my stepmother. I was not sure what her reaction would be. She would certainly be sorry for the Queen who must be set aside if I were to take her place; but perhaps, because she loved me, she would be proud to think of me—Anne, her stepdaughter—Queen of England. Would she understand the pitfalls?

I felt as though I had set out to sea in a flimsy craft, and I wanted the King to know that I was aware of the dangerous course. I asked the jeweler to make an ornament of gold and diamonds, depicting a woman in a frail craft on a stormy sea.

I was very pleased when George came to Hever for a few days. He knew that something was afoot. He had noticed the King select me for the dance when the French ambassadors were being entertained and he would naturally presume that I was about to become the King's mistress.

He came straight to the point and said that it seemed to him that the Boleyn fortunes looked bright.

When I told him that the King had hinted at breaking up his marriage to the Queen and setting me in her place, he was astounded.

“Even the King would not dare to do that.”

“That is what I think.”

“If the Queen came from a noble English family…well, it would be as good as done. But the Emperor's aunt! He would consider it an insult and would do anything to prevent it.”

“The King says he is determined. He says that his conscience is disturbed because he married his brother's widow.”

George raised his eyebrows. “The King has a conscience, I know. Strictly between ourselves, it is a most accommodating conscience, one of his most loyal subjects and always ready to act at his command.”

I laughed. “Oh George, you will have to guard your tongue, you know.”

“You mean in the presence of our gracious Queen-to-be?”

“Don't joke. It alarms me. And I cannot believe it will ever come to pass.”

“Miracles happen, and if anyone other than God can create them, it is our powerful King. He would have to get the Pope on his side.”

“Do you think he could do that?”

“Clement is no Leo. He wavers… unable to make up his mind which way it is wise to jump. So much will depend on which one he fears more… the King or the Emperor. Popes have, of course, always been ready to give dispensations to monarchs. When you look back, you see so many cases. The King's own sister, Margaret, was divorced from the Earl of Angus on account of a pre-contract. And there was Suffolk…Not royal it's true but he could not marry his first wife without a dispensation from the Pope…and now he is the King's brother-in-law. You see, it can be done. The only obstacle, it would seem, is the Queen's relationship with the Emperor.”

“He quotes Leviticus.”

“Yes,” said George. “‘ If a man taketh his brother's wife, it is an impurity; he hath uncovered his brother's nakedness; they shall be childless…’ or something like that.”

“It fits,” I said.

“Yes, but the marriage with Arthur was never consummated. Arthur was very young and moreover sickly. He must have been on the point of death when he married.”

“George…if it should come to pass…”

“I shall enjoy seeing my sister Queen of England.”

“I cannot believe it could be possible.”

George looked at me quizzically. “More extraordinary things have happened. And I will say that you are worthy to wear a crown.”

“You think so because I am your sister.”

“I think so because you are yourself.”

I put out my hand and he took it.

“George,” I said, “whatever happens… always be there.”

He nodded, and it was like a pact between us.

The jeweler had completed the ornament. It was very beautifully wrought and clearly portrayed what I had intended.

I sent it to the King with a note telling him that I was like the storm-tossed lady in the boat.

He wrote immediately, telling me how delighted he was to have such a gift from me. He thought it beautiful and he thanked me cordially. He took it as an expression of my humility because the lady in the boat was meant to be myself. He said he would outdo me in loyalty of heart and the desire to please. He prayed daily that his prayers would be answered and that the time before we could be together would be brief. The letter was “written by the hand of the one who in heart and body and will is your loyal and most assured servant,” and it was signed “H seeks A.B. no other. R.” And around my initials he had drawn a heart.

I was very uncertain. I wanted to go to Court but I knew my presence there might make difficulties while the delicate procedure was going on.

The King was urging me to go back, so I decided I would, and return if I found the situation becoming difficult for me, which it well might. I did not know how he intended to proceed, but all now knew of his feelings for me. And there was another matter which was imperative. I should have to hold off his importunings, and now that I had given him my ring and sent him the ornament, thereby proclaiming my willingness to accept him, they could become more persistent.

But I could—in desperation—always return to Hever.

When I reached the Court, I was aware of the different attitude toward me. It was difficult for the King to take any action without someone's being aware of it, and it was known that he had visited Hever unannounced. There could be only one reason for that.

Many of them thought I was the King's mistress. They would not have believed that any woman could hold out against him and keep his attention. I often wondered whether I should be able to do this because, although I confess to having been dazzled by the prospect of a crown, I had always realized how difficult it would be to come by; and always at the back of my mind was the thought that it might be better if the whole thing were forgotten; this brought out an indifference in me which enabled me to keep my dignity and helped me to hold back. It was probably that quality in me which had enslaved the King. He had been used to surrenders—as in the case of Mary—and he had come to suspect that in his case the hunt was over almost before it began. That I was not ready to give way, set me apart and made the chase more exciting.

When I returned, a certain feverish excitement gripped me, but while I secretly enjoyed the power my position gave me, I had an uneasy feeling that there was something essentially ephemeral about the entire situation.

I was at the center of the gaiety of the Court. Already people were gathering around me. My cousin Surrey, George, of course, Thomas Wyatt, Francis Bryan, Weston… all the wits and most lively and interesting of the men. Naturally the King wanted to be with such.

He was amazingly patient and although it was his most urgent desire that I should share his bed, he liked to think of himself as a religious man, and such a one must not only respect my virtue but applaud it. I believe, as much as he desired me, he wanted me to remain virginal because he felt that was right in God's eyes. He was very preoccupied with God during this time, and I felt that helped me to evade the issue for which he so desperately longed. He was really asking God to come to his aid for now he had convinced himself that the Almighty was showing his disapproval of the marriage to Katharine by telling him—in the usual mysterious way—that he would never get sons while he was a partner in an incestuous marriage.

He cherished this thought. It soothed his conscience, and it enabled him to enjoy the entertainments and the company of the band of wits.

Thomas Wyatt caused me certain anxiety. He was jealous of my relationship with the King. Thomas had never been discreet. He was married, it was true, and therefore he could not marry me, but the King was married also. It might have been that, now everyone knew of the King's devotion to me, they could not believe that I was not his mistress. Thomas had ideas that, when my affair with the King was over, I would turn to him.

There was an unfortunate incident which I heard of through Francis Bryan, who hastened to tell me as soon as it took place.

The King had, of course, noticed Thomas Wyatt's feelings for me, and this did not please him. Wyatt was as tall as the King, and very handsome indeed with his blond looks and nonchalant charm. He had a dignity which, at times, I feared might be his undoing, for he often sacrificed subservience to wit. He was too clever to do anything of which the King could complain, but he came very near to it. He would often imply a lack of appreciation for the King's poetry, and there had been occasions when he had come near to giving offense.

But Henry was a strange mixture. He truly loved poetry and therefore appreciated Wyatt's; he liked good-looking people about him and he enjoyed wit. There were two natures battling for supremacy in Henry; I knew that much—even then, but I was to learn more of him later.

On this occasion Henry was playing bowls with Wyatt, the Duke of Suffolk—who was back at Court with his wife, the King's sister, who had once been my mistress—and Sir Francis Bryan.

There arose a little dispute between the King and Wyatt. Any but Wyatt would have glossed over the matter and accepted the King's opinions. The King had said that his bowl had passed that of Wyatt.

Wyatt protested. The King was not annoyed at this stage. He liked to talk in parables and always had done. He was very proud of the ring I had given him, and he probably wanted to stress to Wyatt that he was the successful suitor.

Displaying the ring which I had worn often and which was well known to Thomas, he ostentatiously pointed to the bowl with his hand in such a way as to call attention to the ring.

“I tell thee, Wyatt,” he said, “it is mine.”

Francis told me that Wyatt looked mildly crestfallen but only for a few seconds. Then he felt in his pocket and brought out the jeweled tablet. “I knew at once that it was one of yours,” he said. “I have seen it often. Moreover it had your initials on it.”

“I remember it well,” I said.

“What do you think Wyatt said? ‘If Your Grace will give me leave, I will measure the cast with this. I have good hopes that it may yet be mine.’”

“The fool!” I cried.

“Fool indeed, but you know Wyatt.”

“And what said the King?”

“He was very put out. He could not take his eyes from the tablet. Then he said sharply, ‘It may be so, but then I am deceived.’ The players knew not which way to look. I thought Wyatt would be sent to the Tower. He just stood there. Picture him looking pleased with himself, turning the tablet over and over in his hand and gazing at it with fond absorption. The King said, ‘The game is over.’ Then he strode away.”

I felt deeply apprehensive. He could not believe that Wyatt was my lover! But he would know that we had seen a good deal of each other all through our lives and that there was a close friendship between the two families. I wondered what action he would take.

It was not long before I discovered. A messenger came to me. The King commanded me to go to him at once. That sounded ominous.

I was taken to him almost like a prisoner. When we were alone, he said: “Anne, is Wyatt your lover?”

“I believe he has some affection for me.”

He came to me and took me by the shoulders. He shook me. I drew myself up haughtily. “Your Grace, I do not know what I have done to merit such treatment.”

I saw the fondness come into his eyes, and I marveled at my power over him.

He told me what had happened on the green. I was glad that Francis had warned me so that I was prepared.

“He had your tablet. I know it was yours. I have seen it about your person. He suggested that you were his.”

“Your Grace, I am no man's.”

“The tablet…”

“He snatched it from me when the link of the chain which held it was broken. I demanded that he give it back to me and he refused to do so.”

His mouth slackened. He was believing me. I was touched because I could see that he so desperately wanted to believe.

“And he has never been your lover?”

“I have told Your Grace that I have never been any man's mistress and I never will be.”

“Then all is well, sweetheart. And I am happy.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

“This waiting is intolerable,” he went on. “But soon now … soon.”

The incident was not over.

George told me that the King had suggested that Thomas Wyatt should retire from the Court for a while.

This Wyatt did. I heard that in leaving the Court he had met Sir John Russell, who was an ambassador at the Papal Court. Russell was on the point of returning to Rome, and Wyatt said in a characteristically impulsive manner: “Suppose I accompanied you? I could get the King's leave, for I do not think he is in the mood to deny it. Can you delay your journey for a few hours?”

Russell was delighted to have such entertaining company, and the King readily gave his permission.

So after that fracas on the green, Thomas Wyatt retired from the Court and went off to Rome with Sir John Russell.

Henry had certainly decided there should be no more delay. He told me gleefully that Wolsey believed that, as Papal Legate, he could give the divorce, and all that would be needed would be the Pope's endorsement.

“Therefore, sweetheart,” said Henry, “you may set your fears at rest. The Emperor will know nothing of what is happening until it is too late for him to do anything about it.”

Then he went on to tell me what he proposed.

“Wolsey is a past master in diplomacy. There are few problems that man cannot solve. And he is giving his full attention to this matter. There is to be a meeting at York Place between myself and the clergy.” He gave a little grin of amusement. “I… I am to be summoned to appear before them. Wolsey will preside and Warham will be there.”

I eagerly awaited the outcome of that meeting. It was to be conducted with great secrecy insomuch as the people were not to know what was taking place.

The King arrived by barge at the York Place privy steps and with him were Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, and several lawyers.

I did not greatly fear Warham, for I guessed he would go which way the King wanted him to. He had held his archbishopric since the early years of the century; he was a tired old man and no doubt longing to escape from his duties. Wolsey had, so the King told me, referred to him as “an old fool.” It seemed likely that he would raise no objections.

There were of course the lawyers and Wolsey himself. But I knew that none of these men would have entertained for a moment the thought that the King could possibly be thinking of marrying me. They would all be of the opinion that it was simply because of Katharine's inability to provide a male heir that she was being replaced, and they would be assuming that, when the divorce was completed, Henry would marry some princess—almost certainly Queen Claude's sister, Renée—as we were on such friendly terms with the French.

If any of them had known that the King wanted a divorce in order to marry me, their reactions would be very different. Of course I was not foolish enough to expect the King to tell them the truth. They must believe that all this had been set in motion because the Bishop of Tarbes had raised the question of Mary's legitimacy, and Henry felt the need to sift the matter in order to get at the truth. So the ecclesiastical court which was to assemble in York Place at the command of Wolsey must not know of the King's infatuation for me and my refusal to be anything but his wife.

As soon as the meeting was over, the King came to me to tell me about it.

“Wolsey was superb,” he said. “I never saw him more astute. The man is truly marvelous. He sat there at the table surrounded by the clergy and the lawyers and he told the court that the Archbishop had a searching question to put to me. You should have seen poor old Warham. He was trembling in his shoes. And understandably so. He had to stand up and charge me with living illegally for all these years with a woman who was not my wife.”

“Oh yes, I can understand his fear.”

“Wolsey had told him beforehand that it would be no surprise to me and that my conscience had been troubling me on this score for some time, so there was no need to fear that he would offend me. He told him that when I had heard what the Bishop of Tarbes had said and this was conveyed to me by the French ambassador, I knew that I must search my soul and face up to any questions which a court of inquiry might ask me.”

“But to stand before those men and accuse you!”

“Poor fellow, I was quite sorry for him. At one point he faltered, but Wolsey pulled him through. I listened carefully to what he had to say and when he had finished they were all watching me intently. I told them then how grieved I was and how I could understand their concern. I had no hard feelings toward those who had thought it necessary to bring this case.”

“You could not have been expected to have hard feelings against yourself,” I reminded him.

He frowned. That was one thing I had to learn about him. In the midst of the most blatant hypocrisy he could delude himself into believing what he was trying to make others believe. It was extraordinary that a man of his intellect could do that. It showed an unusual dexterity of the mind. It amused me and I could not help referring to it. That was dangerous. I was as impetuous and reckless as Thomas Wyatt.

But he was too excited at that moment to reprove me. He went on as though I had not spoken: “I think there is only one thing for me to do and that is, however distressing, to submit to an inquiry.” He turned to me, his face alight with joy. “Anne, it will not be long now. We shall be together. All we have to do is wait for Wolsey. He will go to the Pope and get the whole matter sealed and settled before the Emperor hears a word of it.”

I was beginning to believe that this fantastic future could be mine. The King would submit to an inquiry which Wolsey would see took the right course. The clergy would be convinced that the King's marriage to Katharine was no true marriage; and then Wolsey would declare it invalid. All he would need was the sanction of the Pope as a matter of form, and as a Cardinal he would be in a position to get that.

It did not occur to Henry that the Queen would raise any objection. She had always been gentle and loving; she had pretended not to notice his peccadillos; she was of a dignified, quiet and retiring nature. He said with an air of magnanimity that he would regard her as his sister. She would be well looked after. She should have a household worthy of her, and she could spend her days in meditation and prayer. Perhaps she would like to go into a nunnery? It all seemed very simple.

I was changing. That was inevitable. I excuse myself by stressing my youth. I was only twenty years old and not really as wise as I thought I was. Who is, at twenty? I thought, because I had been brought up in the sophisticated French Court, because I had a ready wit, because I was an accomplished musician, because I could thrust and parry in conversation and join in a discussion with the best of them, that I was wise.

If only I had been, my story might have been different.

Now my reluctance was slipping away from me. I now knew why it was that men risked everything for a crown; through the ages that had been so. They fought for it, sacrificed everything they had for it. I did not pause to think that often, when it came, it had brought only trouble, care and tragedy.

I wanted now, desperately, to be Queen of England; and only now, when the crown seemed to be within my grasp, did I realize how much.

I was sorry for the Queen but I told myself I was more suitable to share Henry's throne. She would have hidden herself completely away if that had been possible. Henry needed someone as lively as he was, someone who could share in the revelries, plan them, sing, dance, look the part of Queen just as he did that of King.

He had urged me to buy what materials I needed—velvets, brocades, cloth of gold and silver. The cost would be taken care of. He wanted to see me outshine them all, which he assured me I could do if I were dressed as a beggar; but that did not mean he wished me to have anything but the finest.

I gave way to my passion for clothes and he supplied the jewelry. Gifts came to me frequently; and they were usually priceless gems.

I was now learning the meaning of ambition.

The Queen was aware that something was very wrong. It was impossible to hide it from her. The King had not yet spoken to her as he intended to. He wanted the ecclesiastical court to have progressed a little farther in its findings. Then he would go to her, and I was sure he would put up a great show of melancholy which would appear all the more genuine since, while he was with her, he would be able to convince himself that he really felt it.

I think she was a very frightened woman.

She knew of his favor toward me, but she was not really concerned, for she did not realize what part I was to play in “the King's Secret Matter.” I was, she no doubt believed, his mistress as my sister had been before me.

That she would have liked to banish me from Court I was sure, but she would not run the risk of dismissing me any more than she had Mary, for she knew that, if she did, the King would call me back to Court, which would be humiliating for her; she did not want, at this stage, to irritate him.

There were only a few—my brother George, for instance, and my father, both on intimate terms with Henry—who knew of his plans for me. He was very anxious to keep me out of it, and I believe he was determined that Wolsey should not know. Though Wolsey was his servant, he was also a Cardinal and owed a certain allegiance to the Pope. I could not guess what Wolsey's reactions would have been had he known. I expected he would have done his best to dissuade the King from that course of action and tell him that the only thing he could do, when he was free from Katharine, was to marry a foreign princess.

Ambassadors were natural spies. I had always known that; and the Spanish ambassador was as skilled in the art as much as any, save only the French. They had to be because of the relationships between the countries. I do not know how many people Inigo de Mendoza had working for him in secret—although we did learn that he knew that Wolsey was promoting the divorce and that the King had assembled bishops and lawyers to prove that the marriage was illegal.

I believed at this time that everything was going well. Wolsey was about to proclaim the marriage invalid and then go to Rome to persuade Clement to give the final word, which would be easy with a sizeable bribe. Only when this had been accomplished did the King wish him to know that he intended to make me his Queen.

We anticipated no trouble, and the end seemed in sight.

Soon, I told myself, I should be going to my coronation.

An entertainment of rather special splendor was in progress. Since I had been of such importance at Court, I flattered myself that our masques and playlets were more cultivated, more witty. I was remembering so much of what I had learned in France.

On this occasion we were dancing. I was with the King as usual, and people had fallen away so that we could be almost alone as we danced. This often happened when the King performed. He liked it. It was an indication that when he danced people wanted to look at no others but him … and his partner.

I enjoyed it, too. I knew that my dancing was of the highest standard. I liked to be watched and admired—even as he did.

Then there was a clatter beyond the hall. A man appeared in the doorway. The ushers sought to hold him off, but he cried: “I must see the King. I have news.”

He was travelstained and muddy and looked as though he had ridden far.

Henry shouted: “How now. What means this? What news have you brought? Ill it would seem.”

“Your Grace, a most terrible tragedy. Rome has been overrun by the Constable de Bourbon's troops. The Constable has been killed. The troops have sacked Rome, and the Pope has escaped to the Castle of St. Angelo, where he is a prisoner.”

There was a deep silence throughout the hall. The King's face had turned ashen and then purple.

I knew what this meant. Bourbon had been an ally of the Emperor, and Clement was in truth the Emperor's prisoner.

What hope was there now of getting the necessary sanction to the divorce which we had so confidently expected?

There was no more dancing that night. The King summoned Wolsey and retired with him.

There were several versions of that catastrophic event. It was the work of the Constable de Bourbon who had deserted François and become the Emperor's ally. It was his troops who had captured François at Pavia and handed him over to the Emperor.

Charles had honored the Constable but some of the Spanish nobles had despised him as a traitor, and there was a story that when he arrived in Madrid and the Emperor had wished to do him great honor for the service he had rendered him, he asked the Marquis of Villena to give up his residence to be used by Bourbon while he was in the town, because it was one of the finest there. The Emperor called him the Hero of Pavia. The Marquis had replied that, since the Emperor asked it, he must indeed obey, but after the Constable had left he would set fire to it with his own hands, for he could not live in rooms which had been occupied by a traitor to his country.

I wondered about the Constable. I did not think he had been a very happy man, although he had been known as one of the greatest soldiers of our day and the Emperor, delighting to have him in his service, had made much of him. But Bourbon had been too proud to be happy serving any man. Charles had promised him Milan but he had cast covetous eyes on Naples. He had been a brave and audacious leader and had never hesitated to face danger; and the soldiery had been ready to follow him where he led.

He had gathered together a great army which included fifteen thousand landsknechts from Germany, many of whom had been deeply affected by the teachings of Martin Luther and regarded the Pope as the enemy of true religion. Bourbon had promised to make them rich from the treasure they would find in Rome. They would corner the Pope in his hideaway; they would help themselves to his riches… all the great fortune which had been milched from the poor in the sale of indulgences and suchlike anomalies.

They went through Italy past Bologna and Florence, resisting the temptation to plunder these rich cities because the march on Rome was all-important.

Outside the city they camped. The Constable made a moving speech, reminding them that they had come far, traveling through the bad weather of the winter; they had had several encounters with the enemy from which they had emerged at some cost; they had been hungry and thirsty; but now they had arrived at their goal. Now was the time to show their mettle. An astrologer had once told him that he would die in Rome, but he cared not. He knew what he must do. They were to attack in the early morning and if his men followed him they would take the city and be rich.

Clad in white so that his men should always see him, and to show the enemy that he feared them not, he led the assault. It was a foolhardy gesture. As soon as he started to scale the walls of the city, he was identified and hit by an arquebus shot which mortally wounded him.

His dying words were that an enterprise so well begun must be continued. Had he lived, it might have been a different story. He was a great soldier; he would have taken what he wanted from the town and made the Pope his prisoner, and the victory would have been conducted in accordance with the laws of warfare. But now Rome was at the mercy of rough, licentious and fanatical soldiery.

The Sack of Rome would surely be remembered as one of the most horrifying events of the century. Churches were desecrated; priests were murdered and nuns raped on altars. There was no end to the stories of horror, and for weeks people talked of nothing but the terrible events which had taken place in Rome.

But to us it had a special significance. For how could Clement give us the sanction we needed while he was virtually the prisoner of the Queen's nephew?

“This,” said the King, grinding his teeth, “is going to delay our matter.”

He turned to Wolsey, and afterward I learned what had taken place at that interview.

“Wolsey says the ecclesiastical court should be closed without delay. No good can come of keeping it open. We can get nowhere until the Pope is free of the Emperor. Wolsey proposes to go to France and get François to work with him. The Pope must be freed. There must be peace throughout Europe. If he could bring that about, with the help of the French, he would consider making a fresh alliance with them against the Emperor. I said to him, ‘But what of my matter, Thomas?’ And he replied, ‘Your Grace, nothing is closer to my heart, but before we can continue further we must be sure of success. We cannot proceed while the Pope is in captivity. Unfortunately we need his sanction. Allow me to proceed to France and I swear to Your Grace that I will seize every opportunity to conclude Your Grace's matter to Your Grace's satisfaction.’”

Henry looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.

I said: “It seems like fate. Just now … at this time… the Pope to be taken prisoner and delivered into the Emperor's hands.”

He nodded somberly. “You'll see, sweetheart. He'll have the answer. I doubt it not. This unfortunate matter of the Pope has delayed us, but Wolsey will find the solution. Never fear. He always has and he knows that this matter is of greater importance to me than anything has ever been.”

It was the beginning of July when the Cardinal left for France. Crowds gathered in the streets to see him pass, for he and his entourage were a splendid sight indeed. He was noted for his ostentatious love of ceremony and show, which some unkind observers said was natural since he had begun life in a butcher's shop. I was not sure of that. He did not love such things more than the King who had first seen the light of day in Greenwich Palace and had lived as a prince all his life.

But the Cardinal certainly loved splendor. His palaces—York Place and Hampton Court particularly—were as magnificent as (some said more so than) the royal residences. There was a little rhyme which the people often quoted. It had been written by Shelton, one of the poets of the Court. It ran something like this:

Why come ye not to Court?

To which Court?

The King's Court

Or to Hampton Court?

Wolsey had certainly made his place at Hampton worthy to be royal, and there was nothing he liked better than to entertain the King there. Henry himself had remarked on its magnificence and, I fancy, was a little envious of it. But he was really fond of Wolsey. It was not only the man's brain—and really he was amazingly astute—but something in Wolsey's personality which charmed Henry; and in spite of all the jealousy and sneering remarks which were directed at the Cardinal, Henry ignored them, or on some occasions showed his displeasure, which was the quickest way of putting a stop to Wolsey's detractors.

Wolsey took with him a large company of attendants. They were all elegant in black velvet with gold chains about their necks. Their servants must be there, and they were distinguished by their tawny livery.

The Cardinal himself was a most impressive figure. He used a mule, but what a mule! It was caparisoned in crimson to match the Cardinal's robes; and, lest anyone should forget his high office, in both Church and State, carried before him was the Great Seal of England and his cardinal's hat.

I do not think he was a very happy man. I was sure that, as far as the treaties he had in mind, he felt confident enough; it was the King's Secret Matter which gave him such concern. I believed in his heart he was against the divorce. Perhaps he thought there was still time to get a son. On the other hand, the King had no brothers, no obvious heirs, and there could be trouble for a country when a monarch died and there might be several claimants to the throne.

Perhaps Wolsey thought it was a matter with which he need not concern himself overmuch. The King was younger than he was, and it was plausible to think that he would be dead long before such a contingency arose.

And so he passed on his ceremonious way to France.