At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (44 page)

“Come, come. Let us bury her so she can be at rest,” said Mrs. Orchard, Anne’s nurse from childhood who had been brought to her on her last night. They struggled to carry the body to the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, the same place the guards had taken her brother. They lay the queen beside George in an open grave and Madge thought it a comfort that brother and sister would be together for eternity.

*   *   *

“Hurry child—we must leave at once!” said Lady Shelton to Madge after they had finished their business with the queen.

“I am to meet Cate in her room—she is packing our things. Where shall we meet you?” said Madge, fear mixing with anger in her bosom.

“I shall be at the east gate. And Margaret, let no one see you. We can hope that the king is busy elsewhere and our danger is less than it was. But no need to remind His Majesty that we are the queen’s dear family,” said Lady Shelton.

“I shall take the greatest care, Mother. Have no fear,” said Madge as she kissed her mother’s cheek, which was still wet with tears.

Madge took the easiest way to Cate’s rooms, remembering with each step her first time to Hampton Palace, how clumsy she felt, how out of place. Now, the rooms were familiar and felt like home—except the heart of that home no longer beat. The palace was oddly empty. All the queen’s ladies had been dismissed and Madge was surprised to see her gold plate had been cleared out, as well as her gowns and jewels. Madge felt in the pocket of her petticote for the rings and locket, thanking the queen silently that Her Majesty had thought to give her a remembrance. She shook her head to clear the threatening tears from her eyes.

She made her way quickly to Cate’s room and opened the door without knocking.

“You scared the life out of me! Methought you were a guard come to get me!” said Cate, whose face had blanched. Even Shadow seemed terrified for, rather than jump into Madge’s arms, she cowered behind Cate’s pallet.

“I am sorry, dear. The castle is so empty of people, I thought you would know ’twas I,” said Madge, going over to Shadow to lure her out.

“I have packed all your gowns—I thought you would not wish to leave them,” said Cate as she pointed to an enormous chest.

“Dearest, we are running for our lives—I fear that trunk would be far too heavy for us to carry. And remember, we do not have His Majesty’s permission to leave court. We are escaping! Let us bundle up a few things and be on our way,” said Madge.

“I so hate for your to leave these exquisite gowns—you are unlikely to ever have anything so fine,” said Cate.

“I care nothing for them—they remind me of all the greed and ambition here at court. I am happy to leave it all behind. If only I could get word to Arthur or at least know why he has not come to me,” said Madge.

“That I do know, Maddie,” said Cate.

“How could you know such a thing? Tell me—tell me all!” said Madge.

“After I left you, I went in search of Suffolk—I had seen him at the queen’s execution and I would speak with him,” said Cate.

“Mad, mad woman! To take such a chance!” said Madge.

“I felt I had enough to do with His Grace that he would speak with me … and he did. He told me your Master Brandon had been hot to come to you the minute they got word the queen had been taken. But the duke refused him. It seems Master Brandon raised his hand against his father and the duke had him bound and stowed under guard at Guildford Palace. He is under guard still and will remain so until the duke is convinced the young man will no longer pursue you,” said Cate.

“But why? Why is the duke against me? Arthur is merely his natural son…” said Madge.

“The duke said even a son born on the wrong side of the bed was above a wench that came from a disgraced family, with a cousin who was the biggest whore in Christendom,” said Cate.

“Damn him. So now,
Arthur
is too good for
me
! How the world has turned upside down!” said Madge. “Now my heart is doubly broken—I have lost my queen and dear friend—and my own true love!” Madge found she had no more tears but felt a heaviness settle around her heart.

“I am sorry to bring such sad tidings—but there is still hope. He cannot keep his son under guard forever … and now, I hear footsteps! We must go. I have bundled a few items and some food. Let us be off!” said Cate.

Thirty-nine

As they had planned, the very afternoon of the queen’s demise, Madge, her mother, Cate, and Shadow left London. Her mother had procured a horse and wagon in advance, sending payment and arranging a meeting place through one of Sir Kingston’s servants. She feared any friend of the queen might still be in danger, even though most of the queen’s supporters had been killed along with Her Majesty. But who could know how far-reaching the king’s wrath might be? And who could feel safe while in close proximity to His Majesty?

Though Madge hated to leave without sending a message to Arthur, she had no choice. Not only had she promised the queen that she would leave court, her mother was insistent that they depart immediately. And so, Madge found herself heading north to Great Snoring, going, finally, to the place she had so longed for when she had first come to court.

The ride home was long, bumpy, and uncomfortable. Madge sought what solace she could in the beauty of the hills, the pastures dotted with new spring lambs, the tiny villages with their whitewashed walls and thatched roofs. The journey took six days, with Madge’s mother driving the wagon as best she could. Their meager food ran out after three days and they were forced to buy what they could from farmers along the way.

When they approached the familiar grounds of Great Snoring, Madge had a brief moment of happiness, for the place looked much as she remembered and her childhood memories brought her joy.

But Madge soon discovered being in her old home gave her no real solace. Her grief for the queen and her hunger for Arthur mingled to form a dark place in her heart. For many weeks after the queen’s death, Madge could not find reason to rise in the mornings. She was tired to her very bones and no hope filled her spirit. She missed the queen and thought she would never get the picture of the execution from her mind. Each time she thought of it, she sickened. All that blood, all that red, red blood. Such thoughts often made her gag. When she remembered the queen’s beautiful hair, falling free of its cap, bits of bone and gore besmirching those long tresses, Madge literally became ill.

Not only was she heartsore about what had happened to the queen, Madge was furious at the injustice and cruelty exhibited by the king. Even in Great Snoring, she heard gossip from the court.

“They say he is betrothed to Lady Jane Seymour—that they plighted their troth the very day after good Queen Anne was killed,” said one of the neighboring milkmaids to Cate. Of course, Cate repeated everything she heard to Madge. By June, Henry and Jane were wed and readying themselves to go on Progress. Madge became weary with her hatred of the king.

As the summer solstice passed, Madge grew more and more lonely. She had hoped Arthur would come for her, but now, she wondered if he would ever find her. If he had come to court, as he had said he would once the summer arrived, he would not have found her there. She had told no one of her plan of escape. Her mother had cautioned her to keep silent and she had had no opportunity to leave word for him. The more time passed, the more she began to doubt him. Perhaps he no longer loved her. Perhaps he had found another maiden to bed, one with more of a dowry than Madge could now hope to have. So many evil thoughts grew in her mind that Cate and her mother became worried about her. They both tried to give her comfort, but there was nothing that eased her.

As the weeks passed, Madge began to worry. She had been so ill, unable to hold much food in her stomach, and her monthly flow had not come. At first, she put the cause of her squirmy stomach to the ordeal she had witnessed. But, as the days continued, she feared she was to have Arthur’s child. As the fear grew, Madge thought more and more about the man she loved. She did not know what to do. Her father would surely disown her if she were to give birth to a bastard. He would throw her out to live among the common folk or to die among them. Her mother would be of little help; she would rant and cry. Madge decided to wait a while before confessing her fears. Perhaps she was not with child after all. Time would tell.

It was Cate who drew the secret from her lips.

Madge invited Cate to walk among the rolling hills one sunny afternoon. They took Shadow and enjoyed a silent stroll to the first summit. There, beneath a large oak, the two women sat on a coverlet and admired the view.

“You are not looking quite so peaked as when we first arrived, Maddie-girl. Though you are not eating much, your figure has filled out,” said Cate as she spread the material, smoothing any wrinkles.

“I am still tired—still sick of heart, methinks,” said Madge. “I miss Her Majesty and I keep seeing her death, even in my dreams.”

“Aye, that was a vision no woman could forget. But we must go on, Maddie. Life continues,” said Cate.

“I guess my own life must continue without love. I had hoped my dear Arthur would have found me by now,” said Madge.

“Who knows how long the duke will keep him imprisoned? He is probably trying to escape or convince the duke he no longer loves you so he can find you. He’s not the sort of man to give up the woman he loves,” said Cate.

“But does he love me still? How can I know? And I am to have…” said Madge.

“What’s that, girl?” said Cate, suddenly sitting up straighter.

Madge could hold it in no longer; she confessed her condition to Cate.

“Saints and angels! What are we to do?” said Cate. The two women sat side by side, looking out over the vast lands surrounding Great Snoring. Madge was moved by the beauty of her homeland and the memories of childhood games played among the woods and meadows. Suddenly, everything converged and Madge began to cry.

“No tears, Maddie-girl. Too late for tears now. You will have to tell your mother. She will know what to do,” said Cate.

“I cannot! She will tell Father and he will throw me to the wolves! They will think me a common strumpet! I cannot tell them,” said Madge.

“You might be surprised at the way your mother would accept such news—I do agree that to spill the news to your father might not be wise. But your mother is a most remarkable woman,” said Cate, putting her arm around Madge.

“But what could she
do
?” said Madge.

“Your mother is a capable woman, aunt to a queen. Do not forget what runs in the Boleyn blood—blood which is yours. Courage and dignity, a fighting spirit and a keen mind. Your mother will help you, Maddie-girl,” said Cate.

“Think you so, dear Cate?” said Madge.

“Yes—you must tell your mother,” said Cate.

The next morning, Madge was determined to confess everything. She expected great chastising, and was surprised when her mother said nothing accusatory. Instead, her mother frowned and kept silent. Madge did not move while her mother mulled over the news. Then, a slight smile twitched the corners of her mother’s mouth.

“Leave everything to me, Margaret. We will solve this problem and your father will never know about it. Now, go down to the groomsman and have him saddle my horse,” said Lady Shelton.

“What are you going to do, Mother? I don’t understand. Where are you going?” said Madge.

“Why, to get you a husband, child! Where else would I be going?” said her mother.

“But I want the father of the baby—Master Arthur Brandon, natural son of the duke of Suffolk. His father keeps him under guard because the duke finds our blood distasteful after the queen’s shameful demise. Arthur cannot yet come to me. But I know he will find me—I just know it!” said Madge.

“You will not have time to wait for your true love to rescue you, my dear. We must get you a husband now! And that I shall do. Out of my way!” said Lady Shelton as she wheeled around and headed downstairs.

*   *   *

Lady Shelton was gone for three days. Madge and Cate worried that robbers had attacked her, but decided to wait another day before sending a groomsman to look for her. Later that evening, Madge heard a horse galloping into the yard. She looked out the window and saw her mother was dismounting. Madge ran down the stairs to greet her.

“Ah, Margaret. I have fixed everything!” said Lady Shelton.

“How so, Mother?” said Madge. Her mother put her arm around Madge and led her into the kitchen where she immediately had the servant prepare a cold plate of venison, gooseberry tarts, and ale. Lady Shelton gobbled the food and gulped the ale. Then she indicated she wanted another mug. She drank that quickly, too.

“Now, I’m fit for talk—come Margaret, let us walk for a while in the garden,” said Lady Shelton.

Madge followed her as she walked far away from the house. It was obvious Lady Shelton did not wish their conversation to be overheard. Finally, she sat down on a bench and told Madge to sit, too.

“I have found you a husband,” she began.

“But Mother, I am with child. How can I marry anyone but the father of the baby? And that would be my dear Arthur,” said Madge. “We are promised. You must help me find him! I know he is searching for me.”

“Hush, girl. You will do exactly as I say—I’ll hear no more about it. You are to be married next Sunday, here in our chapel. I have already arranged for the priest to come and have even sent for cloth to make you a pretty gown. I shall have plenty of flowers from the rose garden and Cate can stand up as one of your maids, along with your sisters. We shall invite the whole parish. Let’s see, I have plenty of ale and wine—I’ll have to get the baker for the wedding cake … I simply will not have time to do the baking,” said Lady Shelton.

“Stop! Stop this talk! I am not going to marry anyone but Arthur—it would be wrong to wed another—I love only Arthur. Please, Mother try to understand,” said Madge.

“I do understand—I understand you have gotten yourself into a mess and you need a way out of it, if you are to have any sort of life. If your father knew the truth, he would toss you out on your ears. No, I will brook no argument from you, young lady!” said Lady Shelton.