Between Two Kings (23 page)

Anne knew that François was talking about Dauphin François and Princess Madeleine who had died during the past two years, as well as about his two daughters Princess Louise and Princess Charlotte who died many years ago, in their early childhood. Anne understood him. François still felt a nagging, obtuse pain for the loss of his children. Anne felt the same pain as she had miscarried twice. Her mind momentary drifted back to King Henry. Did Henry feel the same pain as François still felt after his children had died? Henry was very depressed when Catherine regularly miscarried and when Anne herself lost their son in January 1536.

However, Henry didn’t mourn the loss for a long time; instead, he quickly forgot everything and continued leading a life of opulence and lavishness as though nothing had happened. Henry also blamed Anne for the loss of their children.

Anne often wondered whether Henry had simply been so adaptable to pain, whether he had pretended, or whether he had been only a shallow person, incapable of deep feelings. She had never thought about Henry in that way earlier. After Henry’s cruel betrayal when his love for her evaporated as soon as she had failed to give him a son when she had still been in relative favor, Anne often questioned whether Henry’s feelings for her were deep and sincere, like she felt for him. Maybe Henry felt only strong lust for her, his passion strengthened by desire to have what he couldn’t have because Anne refused to be his mistress. Perhaps, Henry was a shallow person. She was bewildered and confused.

Anne half closed her eyes. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

“It is not for my pleasure that I gather a lot of art works.” François shifted on the settee, closer to Anne. His right arm encircled her waist, his left hand hugging her about her shoulders. “I want my people to open their minds to the genius of art and its beauty. Artists mark the path to enlightenment if we only know how to read the signs.” Then his hands left her body.

Anne struggled to better understand François. It was as though she had never met him before. Although everybody knew about the king’s high-spiritedness, François had always been arrogant and pompous, authoritative and regal with his ministers and courtiers. Even despite the disastrous military campaign in Italy and the defeat of French troops at Pavia, François had a reputation as a Knight-King and as one of the most powerful monarchs in Christendom. Yet, Anne could have never imagined François to be so impressionable, so romantic, and so sentimental. He also seemed to be so human at those moments. Presently, she managed to see François from a new angle.

François ran his jeweled fingers through his thick chestnut hair. “Leonardo da Vinci taught me to understand art,” he said quietly.

Anne looked at him, her eyes large and curious. “I have heard that Leonardo da Vinci was an extremely well-educated man and knew a lot of things behind art. Although I spent much time at Amboise with Her Majesty Queen Claude, I wasn’t very close to Maestro da Vinci.”

François was silent as he turned her words over in his mind. He liked to remember his conversations with Leonardo. He spent many evenings with him. He was one of the greatest worshipers of his talents. François smiled and glared at Anne with longing as nostalgia overcame him. “Anne, I have never known a man as thirsty for knowledge as Leonardo da Vinci was. I can confess that the hours I spent with him at Amboise are precious to me. Although Leonardo’s arm was paralyzed in the last years of his life and he could no longer paint, I enjoyed our conversation. Before I met him, I could have never imagined that something might have challenged my intellect so much. Thus, I regarded him the most cultivated man in Europe.”

“I was at Blois when he died,” Anne said.

François sent her an affectionate smile. “Leonardo didn’t die in my hands and in my bed, although this legend is beloved by the French and is portrayed in many romantic paintings. He died at the Château du Clos Lucé at Amboise, on May 2, 1519. I wasn’t there when he died, but my physicians attended him. The Château du Clos Lucé is very close to the Château d’Amboise.”

“So it is a legend about Leonardo’s death in Your Majesty’s arms,” Anne said.

François laughed, his amber eyes dancing with devilish imps. The sadness was gone. “Yes, it is a legend, Anne.” The cloud passed over his features and then brightened up. “Yet, some legends are happy ones, and we must believe in them.”

After François left Anne alone, she went back to her bedchamber, wishing to have some time in solitude. The warm rays of the early afternoon sun illuminated the whole room as Anne came inside her bedchamber. Feeling nausea attacking her again, she made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. She shut her eyes for a moment, expecting it to recede. In a minute, she opened her eyes. These waves of nausea had occurred frequently in the past days.

Her gaze drifted across the room and stopped on the marble table near the window. A collection of magnificent jewels was laid out meticulously on a strip of dark blue velvet for her selection: a diamond, sapphire and emerald choker, several pearl necklaces, several sapphire necklaces and matching bracelets, and a cabochon ruby necklace. Together it was an overwhelming selection. She fingered the cabochon rubies and the strikingly blue sapphires.

Henry made her many gifts, and she used to have an impressive collection of English jewelry, but they were far less exquisite than these new gifts were.

François had excellent taste. Near the jewelry sets there were yards of fabric: golden brocade edged with silver, royal blue silk woven with gold, lavender silk edged in silver, and extravagant black and ivory velvet. The fabrics were left in her room to let her choose the material for her new gowns.

It seemed that François meant to spoil her with these gifts. Why did he spend so much money on her when their marriage was a secret? But Anne couldn’t think of his gifts at that moment. Now her life was about to change beyond her belief and beyond her control if she was indeed carrying François’ child. Her morning sickness and nausea confirmed that her suspicions weren’t groundless.

In the past months, Anne had desperately tried to carve out her path in the new life and feel just a little bit less of the pain that loss of her children and Henry’s betrayal had brought to her. She didn’t think that she could have conceived so quickly after her difficult pregnancy with her son Arthur. Yet, more than half a year had passed since her labor, so it wasn’t really dangerous to conceive a child again. If somebody had told Anne this story a year ago, she would have laughed and called it a fairytale. Anne decided to wait for a while longer before consulting with a midwife.

Jane Seymour’s child occupied a large place in Anne’s thoughts. Anne often speculated whether Jane Seymour would succeed where she had failed during the time when Henry had been feeling passion and, possibly, love for her. Anne would have loved to wish Jane a miscarriage like she had when she witnessed Jane sitting on Henry’s lap kissing him, but she couldn’t. She admitted to herself that she had hated Jane Seymour with all her heart, but she didn’t want a cruel death for Jane, which was a possibility if she failed to produce a male heir.

To distract herself from her thoughts, Anne took the oval cut emerald necklace, climbed to her feet and went to the mirror. She clasped the necklace around her neck. Then she stood for what felt a long time, admiring herself in the gold-framed looking glass set out on her dressing table. Her reflection was wonderful because she seemed to have transformed her into someone almost regal. Yes, she was a queen again, even if the mysterious Queen of France for some time.

In the mirror Anne saw that François had entered the room and was moving in her direction. She chuckled as she noticed that their clothes were matching today. He was dressed in a rich velvet doublet of dark blue silk and brown velvet, slashed with gold, while his Venetian pants were dark blue with some hues of brown. Anne’s French gown with the low-cut neckline was made of dark blue and brown brocade woven with gold. François stopped behind Anne and embraced her, his strong arm circling her waist. Now they were both looking into the mirror at themselves. Anne again noticed how tall François was as he stood behind her.

François smiled at her. “Your Majesty’s beauty is unequaled this afternoon,” he said all too smoothly, offering a sort of flattery as he teased her.

Anne bit her smiling lips together, imprisoning her laugh. She liked when he teased her. “Your Majesty is flattering me.”

François’ smile turned broader. “No, I am just stating the truth.” He looked at her in the mirror, admiring her reflection. “You look a little pale,” he stated with concern.

Anne indeed had looked pale the last few days, which was attributable to her delicate condition. “I am alright, Your Majesty.”

“If you need something, ask Monsieur Jean. He has an excellent physician. If we were in France, you would have a team of great physicians at your disposal.”

“I am fine,” she answered. In the mirror, she saw that he also smiled at her.

“Anne, please wait a minute here. Please don’t move.”

Anne was bewildered. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

François moved to the other part of the bedchamber. He pulled out the drawer of Italian bureau and extracted something glittering from there. Then he walked back to Anne and stood rooted near her. He placed a magnificent glittering coronet of sapphires and rubies on her head. It wasn’t the crown, as she was uncrowned still, but it a small imitation of it, stressing her regal position as the Queen of France.

“I hope you will like it,” the king said. “I am pleased with what I see now.”

Anne looked in the mirror, and the blue eyes met the amber eyes. The amber eyes were dancing with sparkles of fire, and the blue eyes were studying her reflection in the mirror. “I assure Your Majesty, your pleasure follows my own pleasure closely,” she said teasingly.

François smiled, showing his white, even teeth. He touched a strand of her raven hair then, as if not quite believing she was real. “I thought that as long as you haven’t been crowned, you should have something similar to the crown,” he supplied. “You should also choose the fabric for your new gowns.” He wanted to take care of her and to please her. It was an involuntary instinct for him.

Anne smiled with a sincere smile, a much warmer smile than her usual smile. François was so caring towards her and he was correct that she wanted a diadem or a coronet. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said.

CHAPTER 12

Venice, Republic of Venice, September 1537

As Anne awoke in the morning, she wanted only to cry. Today was Elizabeth Tudor’s birthday – September 7, 1537. Her daughter turned four years old that day. She sighed with relief as François had already gone and she wanted to be alone with her grief. Then a strong wave of sobs overcame her. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help herself. Tears were streaming down her face of their own accord.

She gripped in her hands the stunning small single strand of pearls with the gold “E” pendant hanging from the center, and three tear-drop pearls suspended from under the letter “E”. It was a gift for her dear Elizabeth on her birthday, but she wouldn’t be able to give it to her. That strand of pearls was similar to the infamous Boleyn necklace with the gold “B” pendant which she wore when she was herself in England. Anne had ordered the necklace of the same design for Elizabeth from a Venetian goldsmith, and he had brought it to her yesterday.

Anne guessed that her dear daughter Elizabeth was most likely alone on her birthday as she knew Henry wouldn’t meet her. Anne hoped that at least Lady Mary Tudor would visit her dear girl.

Anne didn’t know but Elizabeth was indeed alone on her fourth birthday, beating tears off with all her strength and dreaming of her mother. The girl was still in the same place where she had been brought months ago on King Henry’s orders. Her ladies and her strict governess Lady Margaret Bryan congratulated her on her birthday with dry words. There were not many gifts for Elizabeth on that birthday, like she used to have when she lived at Hatfield Palace when her mother was alive. Finally, her half-sister Mary came to visit the girl. Mary’s visit was the only bright event during the whole day, and Elizabeth was happy to see her half-sister, whom she loved with all her heart. She was also happy to receive a gift - a small sapphire necklace that matched the color of Elizabeth’s eyes.

Anne could console herself only with Henry Percy’s recent letter. Percy wrote that he had managed to learn that Queen Jane Seymour and Lady Mary Tudor planned to bring Elizabeth back to the court on Christmas, after the birth of Jane’s child.

As she stopped crying, Anne was disturbed by the terrible morning sickness. Because of it she couldn’t leave her bedchamber for quite some time. As the morning sickness subsided, she asked her maids to bring breakfast into her bedroom. During the last week of August, she started feeling constant morning sickness, at first only recurring from time to time and later becoming her daily companion. She felt dizzy and nauseas, while her standard eating habits made her stomach churn. Anne also remembered how unwell she felt every time when she and François were sailing across the canals in a gondola. At first, she thought that she had nauseous on the gondola because of the rolling in the water. In addition, she also desperately craved for green apples. She had her suspicions that she probably was in a family way, but she tried to put that thought aside. If it was so, it meant that she had conceived right at the beginning of their marriage, and somehow she had ignored or wanted to ignore that possibility. However, her suspicions returned that day. She knew that she needed the confirmation of a professional.

When she finally forced herself to go downstairs, Anne made her way to the living room and found Count Jean de Montreuil in the huge library. Anne had to ask for help because she needed a midwife and a physician to examine her. Today, she realized that she could no longer ignore the reason of her sickness – she was very likely pregnant. However, she didn’t want to let the whole household know about the matter.

As they had to keep their marriage secret for a while, it was a little strange for many of the servants and her maids that the King of France and Anne often slept in the same bedchamber. François made sure that none of the servants would ever open a mouth to gossip about their current arrangement. Anyway, Anne still felt the awkwardness of the situation.

Jean immediately fetched the midwife and the physician. After an elaborate examination, they confirmed that Anne was with child. The midwife said that she was a little less than two months along in her pregnancy. They only confirmed Anne’s suspicions that she had conceived in the first days of their wedding, if not right on the wedding night.

Now when Anne knew for sure that she was pregnant, she was very confused. She didn’t love the father of her child. She liked François as a friend and a companion and an ally. Should she be overjoyed now? Or should she feel that she had betrayed Henry as she had become pregnant by another man, all the more his enemy, the powerful King of France? Or should she feel that she took a small revenge on her former royal husband who had fathered a child with the whore Jane Seymour? She was confused.

Yet, Anne was constantly longing for her children whom she had to leave in England because of Henry’s madness and his cruelty. Her son Arthur would be one year in November, and there was no opportunity to meet him in the near future. She also couldn’t meet Elizabeth and congratulate her on her birthday. At the same time, soon she would have her own child in her arms, and that thought filled her cold, frozen heart with some warmth and light hope. She would love this child as much as she loved her other children – Elizabeth and Arthur.

It was her child, her flesh and blood, even if it was fathered by another man, not King Henry. It was probably selfish and even childish, but Anne also felt that her new child was a part of her revenge on Henry for his cruelty and betrayal, a shadow of her future revenge on him.

Monsieur Jean was delighted with the news. “Anne, you should tell His Majesty King François about your condition today,” he advised with a smile. “His Majesty will be very pleased with the news.”

A stiff smile settled on Anne’s face. “Grandfather, I hope so.”

Jean shook his head. “I assure you that His Majesty will be extremely happy. In the past two years, King François lost his eldest son, Dauphin François, and his favorite daughter Madeleine, Queen Consort of Scotland. He will be happy to have more children.”

Anne couldn’t contradict Jean. Nevertheless she felt uneasy. Her tongue tripped, her thoughts were rambling and incomplete. But she knew that she had to tell François. He was her husband and had the right to know. “I will tell His Majesty very soon,” she pledged.

“Do it sooner than later.” Jean smiled at Anne with paternal attention and concern. “You know that His Majesty is leaving for Piedmont soon.”

“I know, grandfather,” Anne answered.

Anne was convinced that François loved all his children wholeheartedly. She also knew that the deaths of Dauphin François and Princess Madeleine left hard-to-heal scars on his heart. Their recent conversation about the painting 
Madonna and Child
 by Giovanni Bellini touched a string in Anne’s heart, and she thought that François would indeed be very happy with the news. Suddenly, Anne felt as though the child she carried was sent to them to help them to lick their wounds and heal from the loss of their children.

She and François had one tragic thing in common – they had both lost their children. François’ children died when they were old enough, while Anne had two miscarriages and was estranged from her two beloved children. In the meantime, Anne was afraid of her current pregnancy. If she had a miscarriage once, she could have another. She feared that if it happened to her again, she wouldn’t survive through it – it would be too painful to lose another child.

During the whole evening of that day of Elizabeth Tudor’s birthday, King François watched his wife with an intensive gaze and pounding heart. He knew that today was Elizabeth Tudor’s birthday and that Anne was suffering at the thought of her girl being so neglected in England. Anne was very much on his mind at the time when they had the private celebration at dinner. He wanted to help Anne, but he knew that they couldn’t rush their plan of Cromwell’s downfall. They couldn’t afford any mistakes.

Instead, he decided to make a surprise for Anne. As they entered the bedchamber with the midnight blue walls, Anne stopped rooted on the spot. She was stunned with what she saw around them: roses and lilies were falling on the floor across the entire room from the ceiling. Witnessing the flower waterfall from the doorway was magnificent, especially amid one wall covered with rich tapestries of pastoral scenes and another wall decorated with many Renaissance frescoes. Anne was smiling with a small smile and finally broke into a melodic, sincere laugh. The flower waterfall continued for several minutes, and finally the entire floor, the furniture, and the bed were flooded with rose leaves and lily leaves. It seemed as though Anne and François had been swallowed by the flower dreamland.

Anne chuckled at the symbolism of the flower spectacle. She knew that lilies had a great mythological meaning. In the ancient Near East, the lily was associated with Ishtar, also known as Astarte, who was a goddess of creation and fertility as well as a virgin. In later times, Christians adopted the lily as a symbol of the Virgin Mary who became the mother of Jesus. For the ancient Romans, roses were a symbol of beauty and the flower of Venus. The Romans also saw roses as a symbol of death and rebirth, and thus they often planted them on graves. Roses for rebirth of Anne Boleyn and lilies for Anne Boleyn’s new child, Anne mused. How romantic and symbolical it was it was! François had astonished her once again, and she liked that. Did François know about her delicate condition? Or did he guess it? Or was it a random coincidence?

Anne smiled, her blue eyes beaming with a chilly, prudent gladness. She laughed for quite some time along with François. François saw the sparkles of joy and merriment in her eyes. Still, those sparkles were muted and not as bright as those in the eyes of the old Anne Boleyn. He felt that his heart was swelling with nostalgia for the old Anne. Why was he so interested in making Anne happy and in bringing her back to life?

Anne smiled, her eyes wide and innocent. “Your Majesty, I didn’t expect that. Why did you choose roses and lilies?” she asked curiously.

François grinned at her. “Anne, roses are the same as rebirth for the ancient Romans. Lilies are the sign of something pure,” he responded.

Anne laughed. “I knew the meaning of these flowers. I still remember some mythology. You just confirmed my thoughts.”

François took her hands into his own, and their fingers entwined. “It is so pleasant to have such an intelligent lady as my queen.”

Anne was amazed how romantic François could be. If it hadn’t been for her dreadful, excruciating experience with Henry in the past, she would have easily fallen for the French king. He was a handsome man, a capable charmer and a skillful seducer, as many French men were. Yet, there was something strange in their relations, and both Anne and François felt that. Maybe they didn’t know what it was.

Even though François was protective of her and was often romantic, Anne didn’t allow her heart to open for new feelings as she couldn’t be absent-minded and easy-going anymore. She had to control what she felt and for whom, urging herself that an idealized notion of a romantic element could actually turn into the biggest enemy of any long-lasting, complicated relationships, like she and François had, and ruin it.

She’d loved Henry and been betrayed and she couldn’t allow that to happen again with another powerful monarch. She wanted her revenge on Henry and presumed that her heart would stay locked for all romances till her dying day. She still loved Henry and hated him with all her heart. It was a strange combination of feelings.

François also had a special gift for Anne – a magnificent jewelry set with four components made up of a large, high quality oval cut blue sapphires and numerous diamonds. The set consisted of the necklace, the bracelet, the pair of earrings, and the ring. She especially liked the necklace, which consisted of ten large oval cut blue sapphires of very high quality, each sapphire surrounded by two rows of glittering diamonds.

Anne flashed a bewitching, slow smile. This smile was closer to the old smiles of the old Anne Boleyn, and François noted that. “Your Majesty, you are doing wonders. I absolutely love it.”

The King of France accurately fastened the bracelet on her right hand. Then he took the necklace. As Anne bent her head, he clasped the necklace on her slender neck.

Anne liked the jewelry set. “How does it look?”

“Perfect,” the king said with a dazzling smile as his amber eyes studied every inch of Anne. “I have chosen the sapphires because they match the color of your beautiful eyes.”

Anne was lost for a moment. She hadn’t expected to hear such words from her husband. Why was François telling her that her eyes were beautiful? Did he care for her? Their marriage was a political deal and she was his political tool, while he was her tool to clear her name in England, she reminded herself. Yet, she truly enjoyed the current dynamics between them. A thought that another man, not only Henry, liked her as a woman made Anne feel more confident, giving her a sweet sensation that she was taking her revenge on King Henry. Simultaneously her mind warned her to be careful and not to completely trust the King of France. Anne smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she purred. She was a little embarrassed.

While preparing for bed, they talked about the future. François told Anne that soon he would leave her in the city of Venice with Count Jean de Montreuil and Jacques de la Brosse and that he would come back to Piedmont and Lombardy to his army. Baron Anne de Montmorency, Marshal of France, had sent the king notes that they needed him in Piedmont. As the Franco-Venetian alliance was established and the treaty was signed, François was free to travel to Turin. He promised that they would regularly keep in touch after his departure.

They were standing near the bed. François hugged Anne and kissed her on her forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the moment of their proximity together. François was happy that he had managed to elevate Anne’s mood on the day when she was very sad because of her daughter’s birthday which Anne cannot attend. But why was he so happy that she felt much better? Did he feel a pure concern for her?