“That they have found some other solution to the problem.”
“I shall not leave it at this. I shall approach the Cardinal.”
“Approach the Cardinal! Do you think the great man would concern himself with our trivial affair?”
“This was no trivial affair, Anne. I know our marriage was to unite the families and secure the title and fortune for our children and so satisfy two sides; but the marriage was an affair of state, suggested by your uncle Surrey to the King and the Cardinal because they wished to keep the service of my father in Ireland. The position is still the same. They need my father and they want to satisfy your father's claim. Why this sudden change?”
“I know not.”
“I shall not let it rest.”
Nor did the ardent young man. He very foolishly attempted to see Wolsey; he must have been very persistent, for he succeeded.
He told me afterward that the Cardinal was very short with him and told him not to meddle. There was no longer to be a marriage between him and Anne Boleyn.
It was good news to me, but I was rather sorry for James. He was very sad; and shortly after that he went back to Ireland.
A great burden had been lifted from me. I no longer had to fight for my freedom. I was in my element. I enjoyed the days; Court life suited me. I was not averse to the serious side as some of the ladies of the Queen's entourage were. In spite of my love of dancing, singing and masquing, I loved to read, and to write too. I tried my hand at verses, which, although they were not great poetry, had a certain charm. I missed Marguerite and I wondered what was happening about the changes in the Church which Martin Luther had suggested. Marguerite would have been up-to-date with developments. There was no chance of such discussions here. The Queen was completely devoted to the Church of Rome and believed—in spite of her gentle nature—that heretics should be burned at the stake, which was what the Inquisition, which had been so ably assisted by her mother and Torquemada, was doing in her own country. The King had written his book and was the Defender of the Faith. I could imagine the sort of opinions I should find here if I attempted to discuss the matter.
There was a great deal of excitement at Court because the Emperor Charles was visiting England, and there would, of course, have to be lavish entertainment to welcome such an important man.
François was now our enemy and the Emperor our friend. To the delight of the Queen, the latter was coming for his betrothal to the Princess Mary. There would be masques in plenty and we ladies should escape the religious duties imposed on us by the Queen, to join in.
I was in attendance on the Queen at Greenwich, where the Princess was to be presented to the Emperor. Poor little girl! She was the same age as I had been when I had gone to France. How would she feel about being presented to the man, so much older than herself, who was to be her husband; the Dauphin would have been more her age. This is the fate of women, I thought, to be bandied about to whatever suits their rulers best at the time. I would never be so treated. Once more I was thankful for the extraordinary turn of fate which meant I did not have to go into battle over the Butler affair, uncertain what the outcome would be.
We stood at the door of the great hall of Greenwich Palace, the Queen holding the little Princess by the hand while the barge came up. There was the King, great and glittering, his considerable size accentuated by the padded garments he wore—richly colored velvets scintillating with jewels. The Emperor looked almost insignificant beside him.
The King surveyed the scene with pleasure: his docile Queen, his pretty little daughter whom he was giving to the mighty Emperor as a sign of the amity between the two countries.
His eyes swept over us. Did they pause for a fraction of a second as they alighted on me? Did I glimpse the expression of anger? Was he going to remember every time he saw me, and one day, perhaps when he was in an ill temper, would he give vent to his resentment? The result of that would be—exit Anne Boleyn from Court.
But this was a happy occasion.
Little Mary behaved just as her mother had taught her to, and after that we went into the Palace.
Inside, we ladies talked together and someone said that when the Princess was twelve years old she and the Emperor would be married.
“Providing,” I said, “nothing happens to prevent it.”
“Hush,” I was told. “You should watch your tongue, Anne Boleyn.”
Was that not what the King had told me? It was true. I should, if I wanted to remain at Court, and there was no doubt in my mind that I did.
There were to be some exciting entertainments for the Emperor even though he was the sort of man who would rather be discussing politics. But the King must show him honor and what a brilliant Court was his. So there would be lavish festivities.
Charles had brought with him a large company of diplomats who were perhaps a little more eager to enjoy the merriment than their master was.
It was an exciting time for us all. We sat with the Queen and watched the jousting in the courtyard. The King was much to the fore. He was always the victor. I smiled to myself. Who would dare score over him; I had tried—in a different way, of course—and now here I was expecting every moment to be banished from Court.
He really was a magnificent sight. I often thought of François when I watched him. François glittered less; he never padded himself so outrageously; he wore subtle colors which always blended to perfection. The purple and gold of Henry would have been condemned as vulgar by him. He would say that the Tudors were nouveau riche, newcomers to power and glory and determined that no one should doubt for a moment that they now possessed it.
The joust always amused me, for there was an element of romantic love involved in it. The knights were supposed to be jousting for the honor of the ladies whom they would seduce and discard with impunity if given a chance. Henry himself rode a horse resplendent in silver, with the motto in black and gold: Elle mon côeur a navera. Who was she who had broken his heart? Certainly not the Queen. Certainly not my sister Mary or any of the ladies whom he honored. It was a game and he was always a player of games. In that respect he never grew up.
Of course he was triumphant. He came to the Queen afterward and bowed before her, playing the faithful husband who had been true to her over the years in spite of the fact that she had bitterly disappointed him in not giving him the son he longed for.
After the joust there was to be a banquet at York House, the Cardinal's splendid palace which rivaled the royal residences. There was to be a masque afterward in which I was to take part.
It was a most brilliant occasion. The hall was decorated with rich brocade and tapestries, and lighted with what must have been a thousand candles. But what was so exciting was that the floor had been covered with green material to resemble grass, and at one end of the room had been erected a building which was the exact replica of a castle in miniature. Banners hung from the towers, from which came the sound of music.
At the sight of it everyone gasped with admiration. Only my lord Cardinal could go to the expense of providing such a setting for the night's entertainment, they said.
At the battlements of this mock tower sat eight ladies all clad in white satin; they had been chosen for their fair hair, blue eyes and very white skins. They were the Virtues and they all bore placards—Beauty, Honor, Kindness, Constancy, Pity, Mercy and so on. Seated on the mock greensward at the foot of the castle were the opposite of the Virtues, the Vices. I as amused—and a little piqued—that they had chosen brunettes to play the wicked Disdain, Danger, Unkindness, Jealousy and other failings.