Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (32 page)

‘Perhaps we should invite one of Wolsey’s men to dine with me? If we tread carefully with the Cardinal and extend our good graces towards him, we might persuade him to think kindly upon the matter?’ My father smiled at me; one of his wry smiles, which he always reserved for those moments in which he clearly appreciated Anne’s innate and astute political awareness. He continued,

‘I think Master Thomas Heneage may be our man. He is just about to be transferred from Wolsey’s household to the King’s Privy Chamber. An extremely agreeable character, who I believe is also held in considerable esteem by the Cardinal.’ My father paused for a moment, as if considering all the options before he spoke. ‘I shall see if I can arrange it so that you have the opportunity to invite him to sup with us in your apartments, perhaps on Tuesday evening.’ I nodded silently in agreement, adding,

‘Please convey to Sir Thomas my deepest appreciation for his goodwill and service, and that I shall ever try to be a good and loyal patron unto him.’

Later that evening, as I made my way back to my privy apartments accompanied by my ladies, I mused with some wonder that Anne Boleyn had collected her first ‘client’ at court. Perhaps it was the wine speaking, but I felt provocative and alluring and I was now ready to flex my feminine guiles to reel in the Cardinal.

The next morning, the King requested that I accompany him hunting in the surrounding Windsor Forest. I needed no encouragement and throwing back the covers, helped by Nan and Mary, I busily set about selecting my riding attire, a sumptuous gown of crimson velvet. A couple of hours later, having broken my fast and attended Mass, I awaited the King’s arrival with a small party of his closest companions, who had been selected to accompany the King and his lady. This household would, in the weeks ahead, consist of Sir William Compton, Sir Henry Norris, Sir William Carey—a particularly skilled horsemen—my brother George, one of my ladies and sometimes my father, or the Duke of Suffolk, if state business allowed. Thus, a little after nine o’clock, our party assembled in the small courtyard in the north-west corner of the upper ward of the castle; a place known in my modern day life as Engine Court; this faced part of the King’s most private apartments to the North, and the Queen’s to the East. As ever, we were to be accompanied by a number of mounted guards and foot soldiers. There was the usual hubbub associated with the coming together of a hunting party; the clatter of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, the whinnying of our palfreys eager to be off, and the shouts of servants as they prepared themselves with all that we might need for refreshment during the day ahead; for it was not uncommon for us to return late in the afternoon, as the light was fading.

Suddenly, the King appeared at the foot of his privy stairs accompanied by the charming and polished Sir Henry Norris. Sweeping towards me with a broad smile, he said heartily,

‘Good morning, sweetheart. I trust that you are well rested?’ Henry put his arm around my waist briefly, before drawing me in close to him and kissing me lovingly on the lips.

Indeed, Sire. I find myself in exceptionally good spirits!’ I replied coquettishly. I was to ride pillion with Henry, which I adored. He swung himself up onto his magnificent mount with ease; as would a man half his age. Using black, velvet covered steps, I was assisted to sit up behind him. As usual, I slipped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his broad shoulders and noticing the familiar excitement that arose within me when I found my body so close to his. As Henry lifted his arm and indicated that our party should depart, I momentarily glanced upwards towards the windows of the Queen’s Privy Chamber. Unexpectedly, I found my gaze locked with that of the Queen who, unbeknownst to me, had been standing watching us as we awaited His Majesty’s arrival. It was a private moment, shared between two women who were locked in a vicious and deadly battle for the love of one man. Katherine looked down on me imperiously with a fury in her eyes that she saved only for Anne. As we galloped off through the Norman Gateway, I thought nothing more of the incident until the following day when, quite unexpectedly, I encountered the Queen.

I was just leaving the Chapel after Prime when the Queen emerged through a nearby doorway leading directly from the Queen’s Watching Chamber. Katherine was on her way to her private prayer. Much to my dismay, we were upon each other before I had any opportunity to slip away in the opposite direction. I could not avoid facing her. Katherine of course, was followed by a number of her ladies of the Privy Chamber, all of whom I knew well. Margery, thank God, was by my side, her usual pillar of strength. As the Queen approached, she halted just a few short steps away from where I was standing. The adrenaline that was coursing through my body made my heart pound against my chest wall.

I was cross that Katherine could still provoke such a reaction in me, and I prayed to God that she could not see my discomfort. There we stood; facing each other for the first time since it had become widespread knowledge at court that the King was seeking to put aside his wife. Of course, she held me entirely responsible. For moments that seemed to stretch into minutes, a profound silence filled the corridor. It was as if nobody dared even breathe. Katherine, by her right and rank, spoke first and made no attempt to hide her contempt for me.

‘So, Mistress Boleyn, I see that you seek to have it all now.’ She moved even closer toward me, until we were only inches apart. ‘You are no longer content to be just a common whore, now you think to raise yourself far beyond your status and take the King away from his true and loyal wife.’

At that moment, something primitive stirred within me. I was gripped by the gathering storm of my indignation; suddenly all fear melted away. With our gaze firmly locked, a long, silent battle of wills ensued. I felt anger mount at having my honour so publicly slighted. I no longer cared whether this woman was the Queen of England or a kitchen maid, and when I finally spoke, I matched Katherine’s hushed and even tone, yet danger had crept into my voice.

‘Madam, as for the first, I am a maid, as pure as the day I was born. I have, and shall keep my maidenhead to give into the hands of my future husband—
whomever
he may be. As for the latter, I have not taken anything away from you. The King in his Majesty realises that his bed is now cold,’ I looked at Katherine disparagingly, as if to emphasise how much she had clearly let herself go. ‘And he seeks to find a more fertile one elsewhere.’ By then, I was standing tall, my chin lifted and my head held high. As I glared at Katherine, I noticed a flush of scarlet well up from her breast and her face suffuse with an anger that she struggled to contain. I know by right I should have stepped aside to let her pass, but I was, by that time, beyond myself in my own fury.

With the most minimal gesture of deferential respect required by court etiquette, I inclined my head, made the smallest of curtsies, before gathering up my skirts, as I said, ‘Good day, Your Grace.’ I could not hold back the sarcasm in my voice, and I did not wait to see the Queen’s full indignation. In a flurry of ire, I turned my back on her and her ladies and headed back toward my own chambers with Margery following behind me. I would never again be intimidated by Katherine as I knew well that the balance of power had tipped in Anne’s favour. What I did not know was that in this strange and unfathomable drama, I would never see Katherine again.

Chapter Sixteen

Windsor Castle

March 3, 1528

A few days later, I found myself pacing around my apartment in a somewhat anxious state. I was about to entertain one of Wolsey’s men in an attempt to woo the Cardinal to support my client, Sir Thomas Cheney, to take control of the wardship of Mistress Anne Broughton. Although I was unsure how to proceed in the matter, I knew that I would need all of Anne’s charm, flair and diplomacy to inveigle myself into the Cardinal’s good graces. I also knew that my father had delicately broached the matter with the King earlier that day. Later that morning, as Henry and I walked in Windsor Great Park, I took my opportunity to influence the King. It was not a difficult task. We had spent the morning as two lovers alone, accompanied only at a discreet distance by Henry’s bodyguard, and our chaperones, my mother and Margery. The two of us meandered arm in arm through the first flush of daffodils, which were bursting into flower, announcing the arrival of spring with a great fanfare of yellow blossom.

The King was in a particularly loving and affectionate mood, and I spoke openly of Sir Thomas Cheney’s difficulties and my intention to invite Master Heneage to sup with me, in order to influence the Cardinal. I believe so entranced was Henry with his desire for me, that in that moment he would have given me his kingdom had I asked it of him. It was, therefore, no surprise to me that the King sympathised with Sir Thomas’s plight, and offered to send Master Heneage to my apartments that evening with a special dish prepared for our meal.

Yet, I was not yet finished. I found that Anne had a natural flair for playing the game of court politics, and although I had been in Anne’s world for only nine months, I was no longer a novice either; indeed, the two of us had begun to emerge as a formidable force. Thus, when Henry and I returned to the castle shortly after midday, I dined alone with the King, and most conveniently, Thomas Heneage was one of the Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber who waited upon us. As Sir Thomas lent over to refill our goblets of wine, I said boldly to His Majesty that I felt somewhat aggrieved that the Cardinal had been neglecting me of late. This was all that I needed to do, as I knew that this message would be most swiftly conveyed back to His Grace, the Cardinal, who prided himself on having eyes and ears everywhere at court; I was beginning to understand that if one was shrewd and of great wit, the potential deadly web of relationships and allegiances at court could be made to work in one’s favour.

So it came about that I was to dine with Master Heneage, attended by Margery and Nan, and a gentleman usher. Contemplating the evening ahead, I stared out of one of the two large windows in the main parlour of my privy rooms. I could make out the outline of Windsor Forest in the distance, softly illuminated in the final shards of daylight. On the edge of the forest, I followed the movements of a magnificent white stag until, like a ghost, it melted into the shadows. Only then was I aware of the crisp parchment that I had been turning over and over in my hands. I read the letter once more.

Most gracious lady,

I write to you at this time to understand of your good health and prosperity, whereof to know I would be glad as in manner mine own. I find myself much troubled lest you might have cause to be aggrieved at my rather rough wooing of matters which touch you greatly. I beseech you, good lady think nought but the best of me that I shall not desist until I have brought to pass a favourable solution to His Grace’s present difficulties
.

If it pleases God, I swear that I will ever vary from these toils whilst breath remains in my body. I am and will remain your most loyal and committed servant, esteeming you, next to the King, above all others,

T. CAR
^LIS
EBOR
.

My display of displeasure at Wolsey’s lack of attention toward me at dinner had elicited the intended result. The letter that I received just an hour ago was written in Wolsey’s own compact and tidy hand. I scanned the handwriting again and felt the tension etch into the very fabric of the paper. I could imagine the Cardinal hunched over his desk, composing these reluctant and empty words of affection to the King’s Lady.

I tapped the edge of the parchment rather absentmindedly against my chin as I reflected on its message and the political game-playing that was undoubtedly afoot. I knew that the Cardinal was no fool, and by then understood well the danger that Anne represented to him. It was clear to me, and to many people at court, that he had been back-footed by Anne Boleyn’s sudden ascendancy. I also knew that when Henry inherited the English throne after the death of his father in 1509, the Cardinal had rapidly and cleverly made himself utterly indispensable to Henry; he had taken from the young, energetic King the heavy burden of state business, allowing Henry to indulge in his favourite pastimes of hunting, hawking, jousting, dancing and making merry. Yet, Wolsey had grown intolerably arrogant and vain, wielding, largely unchallenged, the power behind the throne. No one, not least a woman, had ever threatened his dominance at court. As a result, quite simply the Cardinal had not seen Anne coming, and I imagined that he was now furious with himself for his great laxity and short- sightedness; so that by March 1528, Wolsey was playing catch up. I could see from his letter that he was seeking the Mistress Boleyn’s favour; but history taught me to doubt the sincerity of his intentions. For the present, Anne and Wolsey shared a common agenda. And so, I decided to make the most of it to obtain the Cardinal’s support, both for Anne’s sake in the matter of the King’s annulment, and to obtain a favourable result for Sir Thomas Cheney.