“Her nephew is the most powerful man in Europe. I cannot risk offending him. The Pope!” He snapped his fingers. “Vacillating Clement… swaying in the wind…I will, I won't …What do I care for him?”
“The new religion sets out the wrongs of the Church of Rome.”
“I do not question the Church itself—only its leaders.”
“But the leaders are the Church.”
“Nay,” said the King. “I am as fervent a Christian as any man.”
“So can you be without adhering to the Church of Rome. What did Cromwell say: ‘Why should you not be the head of your Church…the Church of England?’”
“These are weighty matters, Anne, and I, at the moment, am most concerned about what I heard of you and Wyatt.”
“I would know who has whispered this slander to you.”
“I should not tell you.”
“But you will, Henry. I must know who it is who spreads lies about me.”
“I should not have troubled you. Suffice it that I believe the rumor to be false.”
“It does not suffice for me. I must know the names of those who have said this of me.”
“I do not believe the man.”
“So it was a man.”
“Let it be, Anne. It is you I believe. It is you I love. It is you whom I will make my Queen.”
“This can never be if you do not trust me, and if you refuse to tell me the name of my slanderer, I shall know you do not.”
“Anne, if it had not been someone close to me, one whom I love as a brother, I should have cuffed him and threatened him with my displeasure.”
So it was someone close to him! My heart was beating fast. It was not just something which had been whispered in the streets. Someone in a high place had actually come to him and told him this.
It was imperative that I knew who.
“But you believed him …”
“Only until you assured me. Oh, Anne, how I longed for that reassurance.”
“Henry,” I said seriously, “it cannot be as it was between us if you do not trust me. Who was it?”
He hesitated for a moment. Then he said: “It was Suffolk.”
Suffolk! The Duke who, with Norfolk and my father, had appeared to be my strongest adherent. His wife had come to hate me, although she had been friendly toward me long ago in France. She could not forget that once I had been her maid of honor and would—if all went well— soon take precedence over her. She was only the King's sister; I should be his Queen. She, at least, had been open in her resentment; he, the traitor, the sly schemer, had feigned support just until I had helped to bring about the fall of Wolsey, and now he was seeking to bring me to mine.
“Suffolk!” I cried. “Then I must indeed leave Court.”
“Assuredly not. You cannot go.”
“The Duke of Suffolk is your brother-in-law and one of Your Grace's greatest friends. I know how you enjoy his company. I cannot ask you to deprive yourself of it; but that means you must be deprived of mine.”
“Anne, I'll speak to Suffolk. I'll tell him he was wrong. An apology…he shall apologize.”
I shook my head. “I do not trust him. He is a liar. He thinks as his wife, your sister, and resents my presence here. It is better for me to go. Let us have an end of this matter.”
“An end! What do you say, Anne?”
“I say that we have the approval of the divines; we have Cromwell's solution; but still we remain in this state. And you listen to the lies of your dear friend…your brother-in-law, whom I now know to be my enemy and who will not cease to pour poison in your ear concerning me. I cannot remain at Court while Suffolk is here.”
He sought to pacify me. I felt my power over him then. I had to show Suffolk that I would not allow him to go unpunished. As the King embraced me, I held aloof.
“I must leave,” I said.
“Nay, nay sweetheart. Suffolk shall go. He shall be banished from Court.”
“When?” I asked.
“This very day.”
This was victory. Suffolk would learn his lesson.
I was triumphant, but I felt exhausted and very uneasy.
I was surrounded by enemies. Norfolk had never really been appreciative of the fact that I was bringing great glory to the family. It seemed ironic that the Boleyns, whom the Norfolks had always resented, should be the ones to find such favor with the King. My father must now be one of the richest men in the country; George was rising; Mary remained in obscurity, but then that was Mary's own fault and probably her desire; she was unlike the rest of us, completely without ambition. The Suffolks were now my declared enemies. Perhaps I should have been more wary of them than I was. After all, Charles Brandon had always been, from the early days, a great favorite with the King, and there was no doubt that Henry loved his sister. So they were very powerful enemies.
It was impossible to keep news from seeping out. The whole country knew about the verdict of the ecclesiastical courts, and there were even whispers that there might be a break with Rome. People had been used to the old ways for centuries. Many did not like change but there were some who were becoming imbued with the new ideas. This was something quite different. The proposal was not that the religion should change in any way, only that the head of the Church in England should be the King and not the Pope.
Garbled versions of what was actually happening circulated. I was at the center of the controversy, it was said. This was true in a way, for but for me the matter would never have been raised, or would it? Partly it was due to the King's obsession with me and the fact that I would not become his mistress and held out for marriage; but on the other hand he desperately needed a male heir and it was clear that Katharine could not give him that. His continual complaint was: I need an heir. The country needs an heir… and that heir must be male.
If his wife had been anyone but aunt of the Emperor, the matter would have been settled long ago.
And now there was this mighty controversy for which I was blamed. I was a witch. I was a sorceress. I was an emissary of the Devil.
If only I could tell them that I had been drawn into this affair unwillingly at first. I had been robbed of my chance of happiness and because of that I had become ambitious.
Yet, I was the scapegoat. It could be terrifying at times. I was afraid to ride through the streets. They shouted after me. They called me lewd names.
Once, when I was supping with the King, a messenger came in haste to say that a crowd of people were assembled at the stairs waiting for me to leave.
“Your Grace, they look murderous to me,” said the servant.
Henry was angry. He hated little so much as these displays of the people.
I had to leave in haste by a side door and not take the barge. It was disconcerting.
I heard everywhere: “We'll not have Nan Bullen.”
I thought: We cannot go on like this. Something must happen soon.
I had my family and a few good friends like Norris, Weston, Brereton. George was the one I could truly trust. My father was growing uneasy. He was aware of the storms about me. He had so much relished the promotion and the way in which the money was rolling into his coffers. He was not particularly grateful to me; it was the Boleyn tradition, he believed, that the daughters should build up the family fortunes. I was only following along that road in a more spectacular way than my predecessors.
I read a good deal and was getting more and more interested in the new ideas. I always had a book near me so that, if I had any spare time, I could pass it in reading.
One day I found a book on the table which I had not seen before. It was a kind of almanac, a book of prophecies. I was always amused to leaf through such books. I even remembered some of the prophecies and took an interest in seeing whether they came true. I opened the book. There was a picture of the King. He was standing, and, kneeling at his feet, was the Queen. She was wringing her hands. It was clearly meant to portray the recent trial.