They were uneasy. I knew what the King had in mind. There was that man who had recently come into prominence—a very clever and artful fellow—a man of the people whom the King heartily disliked personally but who, he had to admit, had clever ideas. This was, of course, Thomas Cromwell—said to be the son of a blacksmith, who had risen high through his cunning. He had made an extraordinary suggestion which Henry could not forget. Since the Pope would not grant what the King wanted, why did not Henry make himself Head of the Church of England, which would mean that he could have his own way in the matter of the divorce—besides bringing many other advantages with it. Why this adherence to the Pope, a foreigner? It was obvious that the Pope regarded himself as the King's master. Had he not recently summoned him to Rome?
Henry had been obsessed with the idea ever since he heard it.
And now he was incensed because some members of the clergy and the nobility hesitated to sign his petition to the Pope.
They wanted discussion on the matter, they said.
“Delay, delay,” cried Henry. “Procrastination. By God's Holy Mother, I have had enough of it.”
He knew that their talk of discussion was just another example of those delaying tactics which was the method of all who feared to bring the matter to a conclusion.
He sent commissioners to the houses of all those who hesitated over giving their signatures, and it was made known to these dilatory men that if they did not sign they would lose the King's favor.
In time this method produced the required result, and the petition was dispatched to Rome, where it lay neglected for some time.
I could not see why Henry and I should not be married as the divines had declared the marriage to Katharine invalid. Why should we wait for the sanction of the Pope? Was not the reason for this that we should act without him?
But Henry's fear was not so much of the Pope as of the Emperor Charles. If he were faced with war through this matter, he would have lost the love of his people.
He was torn between his inclinations as a man and a king.
So the weary waiting went on.
I was getting very tired of it all, and sometimes I thought with yearning of Hever. But how long would the peace of the countryside keep me happy? I had tasted power. I wanted power. I wanted adulation, grandeur and all the accoutrements of royalty. It was to be my consolation for losing the love and marriage which I had planned. Looking back now, I believe I romanticized my relationship with Henry Percy. I had made it into an ideal. Would our marriage—if it had taken place—have been like that? Should I have tired of that windswept castle? Would I have found Percy's gentleness insipid? On the other hand, here before me was grandeur such as, in those days, I could never have imagined would be mine. The King adored me; he would set me up beside him. I was different from all the other women at Court; and because of this I should be the Queen of England.
How foolish to dream of the green fields of Hever! What I wanted was the cloth of gold, the diamonds, the rubies, the homage, given to the power behind the throne.
I was so young and heedless. I had thought because Norfolk and Suf-folk had supported me and, with my father and brother, had been my strongest adherents, they were truly my friends.
How could I have been so foolish, how so simple!
What they had planned for—I know now—was the downfall of Wolsey, and they had seen that I could be of help in this. Now that Wolsey could not rise again, my usefulness to them was over.
The King was in a sullen mood; he was studying me speculatively and I could see that he was suppressing some secret emotion.
I felt a twinge of fear. I had so often thought that the day might come when he would be tired of waiting. It would be understandable, for indeed this patient fidelity of his had amazed me in a man of his sexual appetites. There was something miraculous about it. Sorcery, on my part, thought some; true love, a respect for purity, thought others. I sometimes wondered whether it was because he had passed his first youth. He was thirty-nine years of age. But always in my thoughts had been the fear that I could not hold him off forever.
Now he was seriously disturbed and displeased …with me.
I asked: “Is Your Grace not feeling well?”
His answer was: “I never forget Wyatt and that tablet of yours.”
Wyatt! But Wyatt had been away from Court for a long time. I had rarely seen him since he departed after the affair of the tablet. He had been having an adventurous time and I only heard news of him through his sister Mary. He had left the Papal Court to which he had traveled with Sir John Russell and had wandered through Italy to Ferrara, Bologna and Florence, and to Venice where he had been engaged in some diplomatic work in conjunction with Russell. Traveling from Venice to Rome, he had been captured by the Emperor's troops, and a ransom had been demanded. The adventurous Wyatt, however, escaped, after which he came back to England but only briefly. Henry did not wish him to remain and he was given the post of High Marshal of Calais, where he spent most of his time.
“But I explained to you that he snatched the tablet from me and refused to give it back,” I said.
He must have been on friendly terms with you to do such a thing,” retorted Henry coldly.
“What nonsense is all this!” I was frightened so I went into the attack, dispensing with that ceremony with which even I was expected to address him. “The Wyatts were my family's neighbors, in both Kent and Norfolk. We have known each other since we were children.”
“All the more reason…”
“All the more reason for what?”
He took me by the shoulders and looked into my face. “Wyatt was your lover,” he said.
“He declared himself in love with me, if that is what you mean. Many have declared themselves to be so. Why pick on Wyatt?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is that no one has been my lover in the sense that you imply; nor shall any man be. My virtue is for my husband.” I could see that slack look coming back into his face, so I whipped up my anger. “I see that you have some doubt. Mayhap you have been listening to those who would slander me. I will not remain here to be so treated. I shall go home at once. I will not stay where my word is doubted.”
“Anne… Anne…you are so impetuous…so quick to anger…”
“And so would you be, my lord, if you were doubted by the one in whom you had placed the most trust.”
He said: “The waiting is too long. It unnerves me.”
“I know, I know. But we have the remedy. The divines have supported you. Cromwell believes you can do without the Pope. Yet you continue to bow the knee to him and at the same time you believe calumnies about me. And that is something I will not endure.”
“It was false… that story of Wyatt? But he is an attractive fellow and I have seen you two together.”
“What would you have me do? Say to him, ‘Go away, old friend and neighbor. The King has forbidden me to speak to you.’ No …no…I see that this waiting is wearying you and you must seek excuses to be rid of me. There is no need, my lord. If I am not wanted, I am ready to go.”
He held me close to him. Inwardly I was exultant, while I assumed anger. I could command him. His love for me was not to be destroyed by scandals which my enemies sought to circulate about me.
“I believe you,” he said. “I would always believe you. It is sometimes hard to accept the fact that one so beautiful…so different from the rest…”
“You must believe me, Henry,” I said firmly. “If you do not, I must go.”
“Never even speak of it.”
“I must…if youwish to be rid ofme.”
“By God's Holy Mother, did you ever believe that?”
“Sometimes I do not know what to believe. The divines have declared your marriage invalid, yet you hold back. You are afraid of Katharine.”