Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (17 page)

For a moment I hesitated, unsure as to what I must do next, and then thankfully, out of nowhere, a voice called out to me. I turned to see a young woman, just a little older than myself, walking toward me out of the crowd.

‘Anne! How marvellous you are back at court at last!’ Clearly, we were friends. She was a delicate little thing with a neat and trim figure. Her French hood was sat well back on her head, and she had the most beautiful, blonde hair and unusual, but captivating, hazel brown eyes. Her golden tresses were a startling contrast against a gown of the deepest blue velvet; the raised collar was open about her neck and a sapphire brooch had been pinned to her gown at the centre of the bodice. Like many ladies of my age, she wore the most fashionable style of sleeve; tight fitting at the shoulder, cut long and voluminous around the cuff. I would soon learn that this attractive young woman was Anne Gainsford, a dear friend, who would be with me until the very end.

Many names that I heard in those first few weeks were familiar to me but frustratingly, with a good number, I was unable to remember the exact nature of their involvement with Anne, or whether they were a friend or foe. However, there were some, such as Anne Gainsford, who stood out in my memory from my reading of history. Anne, or ‘Nan’ as she became known to me, was one of life’s true survivors. I knew that she would become one of my inner circle of friends, and that she would live to be an old lady, dying only in her nineties—a veritable miracle given the age. Nan would provide history with snippets of some of Anne Boleyn’s most personal conversations and intimate moments through the biography that her grandson, George Wyatt would write based on her memories of our time together. From the first moment that I met her, I could tell that Nan had a vibrancy about her, an infectious enthusiasm that was quite endearing. I felt safe with her immediately, and relieved that I had already found a friend and confidante in that hornet’s nest.

‘It is good to see you again’ I said, as she took me by the arm and we walked forward, our heads pressed together conspiratorially as she continued to speak,

‘I have missed you, and as God be my witness, if it wasn’t for Joan Champernowe and Mary Norris, I think I might have died of boredom. The Queen has become much more melancholy of late, since you know . . .’ she had trailed off, looking at me earnestly and nodding her head as if to emphasise the sensitive, but obvious, nature for the Queen’s discomfiture. Then she whispered close to my ear, ‘since the King told her he wants to annul their marriage. There has been little merrymaking and the mood among the ladies is quite subdued. Unfortunately,’ at this point she sighed, ‘we see very few of the young gentlemen of the court, as they no longer seem as eager to pay their respects to the Queen. I’m afraid all of us maids of honour are suffering. Today is unusual though.’ She motioned to the throng of people around us. ‘Methinks that word has spread of your arrival, and that people have come as much to see you as the Queen!’

As we made our way toward the centre of the room, Nan paused, leaning in even closer, she asked ‘Is it true about the King . . . and you? There are rumours that the King is in love with you . . . that you are his mistress.’ I smiled. How people always thought the worst of human behaviour. Henry may well have been in love with me, but I was never the King’s mistress; at least not until much, much later. Whereas I was angry with the cold, self-interest of my uncle when he had asked me a similar question the evening before, Nan’s soft, wide-eyed gullibility warmed my heart, and it was easy to forgive her human fallibility.

‘You must not believe everything you hear . . . It is true though that His Grace is paying me a certain degree of attention.’ I was determined that I would take every opportunity to defend Anne’s virginity and virtue. ‘But I am a maid, who is as untouched by man as the day I was born and, until I am married, I intend to remain in that happy state.’ Nan seemed satisfied with my answer and she moved on, changing the subject.

‘You must announce yourself to the Queen.’ She smiled at me indicating that I should step forward towards the raised dais and present myself to Katherine. I could not put off what I had been dreading any longer, and so once again, I mustered my courage and made my way through the crowd toward the Queen. As I emerged into the space in front of the dais, Katherine noticed me approaching. She broke off her conversation with one of her ladies, who was standing just behind her right shoulder. She sat back imperiously in her chair, her left arm resting on the arm of her throne, the other arm bent up, her right index finger thoughtfully stroking the underside of her chin. She eyed me warily for the longest time.

God, how I remember my first sight of the woman who I came to loathe for her self-righteous obstinacy! Even seated, I could see that Katherine was of middling stature, a little shorter than me. Clearly well into middle age, and affected deeply by her many miscarriages and births, her figure was already stocky and rather matronly. Her round face and thickset neck had long since hidden any definition of the bone structure that lay beneath.

I noticed that her nose was small and pert, even slightly upturned; her lips plump and red, set against a surprisingly ruddy complexion, whilst her face was framed by a striking black English hood, which had been trimmed with pearls. Katherine’s rich gown was made of black silk, the square cut neck-line adorned with elaborate silver embroidery, whilst her voluminous, ermine-lined sleeves were turned back to reveal a second, lower sleeve; this, in turn, was slashed to show the snow white linen ‘puffs’ of fabric that mimicked the smock sleeve worn next to her skin. Finally, her regal status was emphasised by a dazzling array of rings that adorned her small and plump hands, and about her neck, was hung a thick gold chain, encrusted with diamonds and garnets, set off by yet more pearls.

Standing before Katherine, as manners dictated, I sank into a deep curtsey, casting my eyes deferentially to the ground. I remained there until she spoke.

‘Please raise yourself, Mistress Anne.’ As I pulled myself up to my full height, I could not help but notice how I had drawn my spine up straight and tall, my chin lifted high and proud. There we were; the Queen and her nemesis, facing each other for the first time since Henry’s declaration that he would seek an annulment from his wife. Of course, she held me entirely responsible. For moments that seemed to stretch into minutes, a profound silence filled the room. Clearly, Nan’s suspicions were correct. Rumours around what was fast becoming known as ‘the King’s Great Matter’ were spreading like wildfire about the court, and I could see that Henry and my father’s attempts to keep my name at a discreet distance had not been being entirely successful. It was as if half the court had arrived to see this encounter, and I knew that the Queen was being studied as intently as I by the gathered crowd. Nobody dared even breathe; how would Katherine react toward me was the question on everybody’s lips?

It was the Queen, who by her right and rank, spoke first. Her voice strangely low, almost gruff, like her daughter’s would become; her words were laced with a thick, Spanish accent. She spoke to me in quiet tones, and although outwardly courteous enough, I sensed those words were thick with contempt.

‘I hear say that you have returned to court for a period of time, Madame. You are most welcome.’ Her brevity fulfilled court etiquette, yet made it plain that there was little else she wished to say to me. She nodded her head, indicating that our brief audience was concluded. One of her ladies of pale complexion and mature appearance indicated that I should make my way into the Privy Chamber to join the rest of the Queen’s maids of honour. I assumed that she was one of Katherine’s original ladies: one who had accompanied the young Princess from Spain when she first came to England to marry Henry’s fated elder brother. In time, I would know her as Maria de Salinas, Lady Willoughby. I curtsied once more, and then alongside Nan, I slipped into the Queen’s Privy Chamber, beyond the prying eyes of all and sundry. I had done it, and I assumed that the worst was surely over.

I was wrong, of course. I failed to appreciate how the prying eyes of a thousand lords and ladies could not be worse than the accusatory stares and cutting remarks which would be levelled at me by Katherine in the privacy of her own chambers. In public, of course, she was always the gracious Queen, treating me cordially and with all due respect. Yet in private, with only her closest and most loyal ladies attending, she took every opportunity to make snide innuendos that questioned my integrity and morality. To make matters worse, many of Katherine’s ladies followed her example, as they shunned my company with an air of disdainful contempt. However, my real friends at court very quickly showed their true colours. They formed a tight little band about me, as if to try and protect me from the worst of the salacious court gossip. It was the adversity of this unpleasantness which brought us so closely together in the final few months of 1527; myself, Nan Gainsford, Mary Norris and Joan Champernowe. The ties we forged then lasted for the rest of our days together—to be separated only by death.

I would quickly understand the nature of the Queen’s Privy Chamber and the role that I was to fulfill. Like the rest of my friends, I was there as a maid of honour; an unmarried, young girl in the service of the Queen. Our duty was primarily to accompany the Queen everywhere she went, and provide her with service and companionship; to dance, make music, play cards and to be her entertainment. However, unlike the ladies of the bedchamber—who were, by and large, married women and close personal friends of the Queen—we were rarely called upon to attend Katherine with her most personal tasks. In truth, I was glad of it, and spent as little time as possible in the Queen’s company. Thankfully for me, Katherine had long ago given up any idea of hunting or hawking with the King. Along with dining with Henry at the end of the day, these two pursuits proved to be my sanctuary in the weeks ahead; the times when I could escape the confines of the Queen’s suffocating malice towards me and enjoy endless hours of laughter, adoration and exhilaration. On reflection, these times formed the happiest days of my life; it was a time when I was the irrefutable centre of Henry’s world and could do no wrong, and yet I was not overtly powerful enough to garner the deadly jealousy of my enemies.

My days soon settled into a familiar routine. I would rise and take breakfast at sunrise, usually around 5.30 am in the summer, later in the winter when the days were shorter. Having dressed, I would make my way to the Queen’s Privy Chambers, where she would habitually rise early to hear Mass in her Privy Closet. We would then wait upon the Queen while she broke her fast, before accompanying her to hear Mass yet again, later in the morning. Usually, there was a little time afterward for taking light exercise, either walking in the Long Gallery or if it was fine, in the garden. Finally, we would return for lunch, or as they called it then, dinner, about midday.

While we were at Beaulieu the weather was foul, with unseasonable and unrelenting rain and gusty winds. As a result, we were all kept inside for many days at a time. As Katherine’s ladies, we spent hours sitting together embroidering shirts, bed hangings or seat covers, often accompanied by gentle, sweet music or the sound of one of the Queen’s ladies reading Christian or classical texts, romantic poetry or other ancient stories of chivalry.

Anne was clearly well educated. She sang with a sweet and clear, soprano voice, which I noticed caused a hush to descend on any audience. Fascinated, I remembered well in my 21st century life reading of Anne’s fine and accomplished singing voice, which was described as having the capacity to ‘make wolves and bears attentive.’ I never believed that I would have the privilege of hearing that sweet voice for myself, and watch others become enthralled by her melodic tones. Her time at the cultured French court had brought about mastery of other courtly pursuits too. I marvelled at her long and delicate fingers, which moved equally nimbly across the keys of a virginal or strings of the lute or rebec; or which worked delicate embroidery with the greatest precision and accuracy. Every day, Anne guided and educated me in the noble ways of 16th century court life, and every day I felt a growing and more intimate connection with the essence of the woman whose life I was living.

In the late afternoon, after attending Mass for a third time, the maids of honour would take turns to return to our chambers, relishing the chance to spend a little time in our own company. Several musical instruments came with me from Hever, including a flute, virginals and a clavichord, which was prettily decorated with green ribbons. When I first came across these instruments at Hever, I waited until I was alone, initially approaching each one with a great deal of trepidation. I knew that Anne was an accomplished musician, yet I could not say the same for myself in my modern day life; it had been a long-standing regret that I had never even mastered the ability to read music.

Yet, as I picked up each instrument, my hands took on a life of their own; they moved nimbly and swiftly as I played each one with an accomplished mastery; I was utterly overjoyed by the sweet melodies that emanated from them. It was becoming clearer to me that the ability to free my mind completely, becoming poised in the stillness of the moment, afforded Anne the space to express her creativity and flair. This unleashed unbounded joy, as it stirred within me something profoundly beautiful that longed to be set free in the world.