Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1 (100 page)

To my surprise he stirred at about two in the morning. ‘Light a candle,' he said. ‘I can't sleep.'

I rose from the bed and felt myself ache in every bone of my body from the discomfort of lying unmoving under his weight. I stirred up the logs of the fire and then lit a candle from the flame. Henry sat up and pulled the covers around his naked shoulders. I put on my robe and sat by the fire and waited to know what his pleasure might be.

I noted with dread that he did not look happy. ‘What is the matter, my lord?'

‘Why d'you think the queen could not give me a son?'

I was so surprised at this turn of thought that I could not answer quickly and smoothly, like a courtier. ‘I don't know. I'm sorry, sire. It's too late for her now.'

‘I know that,' he said impatiently. ‘But why didn't it happen before? When I married her I was a young man of eighteen and she was twenty-three. She was beautiful, beautiful, I can't tell you. And I was the handsomest prince in Europe.'

‘You still are,' I said swiftly.

He gave me a little complacent smile. ‘Not Francis?'

I waved away the French king. ‘Nothing compared with you.'

‘I was virile,' he said. ‘And potent. Everyone knows that. And she took with child straightaway. D'you know how soon after the wedding she felt her baby quicken?'

I shook my head.

‘Four months!' he said. ‘Think of it. I had her in foal in the first month of marriage. How is that for potency?'

I waited.

‘Stillborn,' he said. ‘Only a girl. Stillborn in January.'

I looked away from his discontented face to the flames of the fire.

‘She took again,' he said. ‘This time a boy. Prince Henry. We had him christened, we had a tournament in his honour. I've never been happier in my life. Prince Henry, named for me and for my father. My son. My heir. Born the first of January. He was dead by March.'

I waited, chilled at the thought of my Henry, taken away from me, who too might be dead in three months. The king was far away from me, back in the past when he had been a youth not much older than I was now.

‘Another baby on the way before I went to war against the French,' he said. ‘Miscarried in October. An autumn loss. It took the shine off the victory against the French. It took the shine off her. Two years after that, in the spring: another baby born dead, another boy. Another baby who
would have been Prince Henry if he had lived. But he didn't live. None of them lived.'

‘You had the Princess Mary,' I reminded him in a half-whisper.

‘She came next,' he said. ‘And I was sure that we had broken the pattern. I thought – God knows what I hoped for – but I had a thought that there had been some ill luck, or some illness, or some such thing that had worked itself out. That once she could bear one baby who lived then others would follow. But it took two years for her even to conceive after Mary. And then it was a baby girl – and born dead.'

I took a breath, I had been holding my breath listening to this familiar story. The terrible listing of the babies' deaths by their father was as painful as watching his wife on her prie dieu naming the lost ones over her rosary.

‘But I knew,' Henry said, heaving himself off his pillows and turning to me, his face no longer filled with sorrow but flushing with anger, ‘I knew that I was potent and fertile. Bessie Blount had my boy while the queen was labouring over the last dead baby. Bessie had a boy from me while all I had from the queen were little corpses. Why should that be? Why should that be?'

I shook my head. ‘How should I know, sire? It's the will of God.'

‘Yes,' he said with satisfaction. ‘Exactly so. You are right, Mary. That is what it is. It has to be.'

‘God could not wish such a thing on you,' I said, choosing my words with care, studying his profile in the darkness, longing for Anne's advice. ‘Of all the princes in Christendom you must be his favourite.'

He turned to look at me, his blue eyes robbed of their colour in the darkness. ‘So what could be wrong?' he prompted me.

I found I was gaping at him, my mouth half-open like an idiot dawdling on a village stile, trying to think of what he might want me to say.

‘The queen?'

He nodded. ‘My marriage to her was cursed,' he said simply. ‘It must have been so. Cursed from the beginning.'

I bit back my instant denial.

‘She was my brother's wife,' he said. ‘I should never have married her. I was advised against it, but I was young and headstrong and I believed her when she swore that he had never had her.'

I was on the brink of telling him that the queen was incapable of a lie. But I thought of us Boleyns and our ambitions, and I held my peace.

‘I should never have married her,' he said. He repeated it once, twice, and then his face crumpled like a tearful boy and he put his arms out to me and I hurried to the bedside to hold him. ‘Oh God, Mary, see how I am punished? Our two children, and one of them a boy, and Bessie's
Henry born out of wedlock; but no son to follow behind me on the throne unless he has the courage and the skill to fight his way through. Or else the Princess Mary takes it and holds it and England has to bear whatever husband I can get for her. Oh God! See how I am punished for the Spanish woman's sin! See how betrayed I am! And by her!'

I felt his tears wet upon my neck and I held him close to me and rocked him as if he had been my baby. ‘You still have time, Henry,' I whispered. ‘You're a young man. And potent and virile. If the queen should release you then you can still have an heir.'

He was inconsolable. He sobbed like a child and I rocked him, no longer trying to assure him of anything but just to caress him and pet him and whisper, ‘There. There. There,' until his storm of tears blew out and he fell asleep, still in my arms, with his eyelashes dark with the wetness of his tears and his rosebud mouth downturned.

Again I did not sleep. His head rested heavily in my lap, my arms supported him around his shoulders, I spent the night willing myself not to move. This time my mind was busy. For the first time I had heard of a threat to the queen, from lips other than those of my family. This was the word of the king; and that was far more serious for the queen than anything that had gone before.

Henry stirred before dawn and pulled me down into the bed with him. He had me quickly, without even opening his eyes and dozed off to sleep again and then woke as the groom of the bedchamber came in with the ewers of hot water for him to wash, and the pageboy came to stir the fire. I drew the curtains of the bed around the two of us and put on my robe and stepped into my high-heeled shoes.

‘Will you hunt with me today?' Henry asked.

I straightened my back which was stiff from holding his weight all night long, and smiled as if I were not weary through and through. ‘Oh yes!' I said delightedly.

He nodded. ‘After Mass,' he said, dismissing me.

I went out. George was waiting for me in the ante-room, faithful as ever, swinging a gilt pomander stuffed with herbs and sniffing at it. He took a second look at my face as I came from the king's room.

‘Trouble?' he asked.

‘Not for us.'

‘Oh good. Who for?' he asked cheerfully, drawing my arm through his and strolling by my side through the room and then down the stairs to the great hall.

‘Will you keep it secret?'

He made an uncertain face. ‘Just tell me and let me be the judge.'

‘D'you think I am an utter fool?' I asked irritably.

He gave me his most engaging smile. ‘Sometimes,' he said. ‘Now tell me, what is the secret?'

‘It's Henry,' I said. ‘He wept last night for being accursed by God in not having sons.'

George stopped his stride. ‘Accursed? Did he say accursed?'

I nodded. ‘He thinks that God will not give him sons because he married his brother's wife.'

A look of pure delight illuminated my brother's face. ‘Come,' he said. ‘Come at once.'

He drew me down the second stairs to the old part of the palace.

‘I'm not dressed.'

‘Doesn't matter. We're going to Uncle Howard.'

‘Why?'

‘Because the king has finally got to where we want him to be. At last. At last.'

‘We want him to think that he's accursed?'

‘Good God, yes.'

I stopped and would have pulled my hand from the crook of his elbow but he held me tight and pulled me onwards. ‘Why?'

‘You are a fool as I thought,' he said simply, and hammered on my uncle's door.

It swung open. ‘This had better be important,' my uncle said with threatening courtesy before the door revealed us. ‘Come in.'

George thrust me in and closed the door behind us.

My uncle was seated before the little fire in his privy chamber, a pot of ale beside him, a sheaf of papers before him, wearing his fur-lined robe. No-one else was stirring in his household. George took a quick glance around the room. ‘Is it safe to speak?'

My uncle nodded and waited.

‘I've just brought her from the king's bed,' he said. ‘The king told her that he is childless because of the will of God. He's calling himself accursed.'

My uncle's sharp gaze switched to my face. ‘He said that? He said accursed?'

I hesitated. Henry had wept in my arms, had held me as if I were the only woman in the world who could pity his pain. Something of the sense of betrayal must have shown in my face because my uncle laughed shortly, kicked a log into a spurt of flame on the fire, and gestured to George to
seat me on a stool at the fireside. ‘Tell me,' he said, with quiet menace. ‘If you want to see your babies at Hever this summer. Tell me, if you want to see your son before he is breeched.'

I nodded, drew a breath, and told my uncle word for word what the king had said to me in the silence and privacy of his bed, what I had answered, and how he had wept and slept. My uncle's face was like a death mask in marble. I could read nothing from it. Then he smiled.

‘You can write to the wet nurse and tell her to take your baby to Hever. You will visit him within the month,' he said. ‘You've done very well, Mary.'

I hesitated, but he waved me away. ‘You can go. Oh, one thing. Are you hunting with His Majesty today?'

‘Yes,' I said.

‘If he speaks more of it today, or at any time, do as you are doing. Just play on.'

I hesitated. ‘How is that?'

‘Delightfully stupid,' he said. ‘Don't prompt him at all. We have scholars who can advise him on theology, and lawyers who can advise him on divorce. You just keep on being sweetly stupid, Mary. You do it beautifully.'

He could see that I was insulted and he smiled past me to George. ‘She is much the sweeter of the two,' he said. ‘You were right, George. She is the perfect step on our upward stair.'

George nodded, and swept me from the room.

I found I was shaking with a mixture of distress at my own disloyalty and anger at my uncle. ‘A step?' I spat out.

George offered me his arm and I took it and he pressed his hand down on my trembling fingers. ‘Of course,' he said gently. ‘It is our uncle's task to think of the family moving upwards and upwards. Each one of us is nothing more than a step on the way.'

I would have pulled away from him but he held me tightly. ‘I don't want to be a step!' I exclaimed. ‘If I could be one thing I would be a small farm-owner in Kent with my two children sleeping in my bed at night and my husband a good man who loves me.'

In the shadowy courtyard George smiled down at me, turned my face towards him with one finger under my chin and kissed me lightly on the lips. ‘We all would,' he assured me with joyful insincerity. ‘We are all simple people at heart. But some of us are called to great things and you are the greatest Boleyn at court. Be happy, Mary. Think how sick this news will make Anne.'

I rode out that day with the king on a long hunt that took us along the river for miles, chasing a deer which the hounds finally pulled down in the water. I was nearly crying with exhaustion by the time we got back to the palace and there was no time to rest. That evening there was a picnic by the river with musicians on barges and a tableau of the queen's ladies. The king, the queen, her ladies in waiting, and I watched from the shore as three barges came slowly upriver, a haunting song drifting across the fast-flowing water. Anne was on one barge, scattering rose petals into the flow, posed at the front like a figurehead, and I saw that Henry's eyes did not leave her. There were other ladies on the boat who stood beside her and flirted with their skirts as they were helped to disembark. But only Anne had that deliciously self-conscious way of walking. She moved as if every man in the world was watching her. She walked as if she were irresistible. And such was the power of her conviction that every man at court did look at her, did find her irresistible. When the last note of the music had finished and the gentlemen who had been on the rival barge sprang ashore there was a little rush towards her. Anne stood back on the gangplank and laughed as if she were surprised at the foolishness of the young men of the court, and I saw a smile on Henry's lips at the arpeggio of her laughter. Anne tossed her head and walked away from them all, as if no-one could be good enough to please her, and went straight towards the king and queen and swept them a curtsey.