He looked at me in astonishment, his little eyes narrowed. I should have been warned. But I had many lessons to learn and I had not yet mastered one of them.
“Do not feign innocence,” I cried. “It is all over the Court. I will not endure such conduct. Here I am … in this condition…”
“Madam,” he said coolly, “you forget to whom you speak.”
“I speak to my husband,” I retorted, “who should have more concern for me and our child… than to chase my servants.”
I had never seen him look like that before. His face was pale for a moment before the color flamed into it. Then he spoke. “You will close your eyes as your betters did before you.”
I was stunned. I had expected him to deny the accusation. I would not have believed him, but I would have accepted his assurances of eternal fidelity and told myself that this would be a warning to him. That I had not expected such a reaction showed how little I knew him or understood the situation to which I had been brought.
He seemed to have forgotten the listening courtiers—as I had temporarily—but I remembered afterward.
He then said something which sent a shiver through me. He had taken a step toward me, and his expression was almost threatening. “You ought to know that it is in my power in a single instant to lower you further than I have raised you up.”
And with that he turned and went from the room, his companions following him.
I went to my apartments in a daze and sank onto my bed.
It was like a nightmare. Was this the tender lover who had always sought to placate me during my outbursts of temper, the man who had sworn eternal fidelity and worked with such determination—and world-shattering consequences—for seven long years to make me his Queen? And in less than seven months he was tired of me!
I lay looking up at the ornate canopy. I had never been so bewildered in my life.
Then I thought of the child stirring within me. He could do me no harm … not while I carried the heir. This child was what he wanted more than anything…more than he wanted me or the simpering maid of honor he was pursuing.
His words would be reported all over the Court. I could imagine the sniggers of my enemies.
But I carried the heir. I would be the mother of the future King.
I had never loved Henry. But I was already loving the child I carried. The child would be my salvation.
I did not see Henry for three days after that incident. I was glad. I was very uncertain how I should behave toward him. I could not forget the ominous threat behind those words. During those few days I thought more often of Katharine than I ever had before and with different emotions. I had considered her an obstinate woman who refused to make life easier for us all because she would not go into a convent. What anguish had she suffered when he had made it clear to her that he wished to cast her aside? He could not have spoken to her as he had to me. He had not “raised her up”— not the daughter of Queen Isabella and the mighty Ferdinand; she was of nobler birth than he with his dubious ancestry. He could not lower the daughter of kings; it was different for one whose great-grandfather had been a mere merchant of the city of London. Katharine had had powerful relations to guard her; and yet she had been thrust aside by the power of the King.
These, I told myself, were foolish thoughts. I must try to be rational. He was merely having a little sport while I was incapacitated, to while away the time until I was myself again. Jane, with her sly comments, had aroused my anger and without thinking I had flared up—which I was afraid was not uncommon with me.
All would be well when the child was born.
September had come—the month for which we had all been waiting. The birthplace of the child was to be Greenwich Palace, and great preparations were being made.
When I arrived in my barge, people lined the banks to watch me. The cheers were half-hearted but at least there were no hostile manifestations. I suppose even my enemies had some respect for a pregnant woman.
The chamber I was to use for my confinement had been hung with tapestries depicting the history of the Holy Virgins. Here I should bring forth this most important child; in it was a very fine bed which Henry had given me some weeks before. It was ornate and exquisitely decorated and had belonged to a French Duke; I think it came into Henry's possession as the spoils of war. It was the finest I had ever seen. In this chamber was another bed over which was a crimson canopy. This was where I should receive those who came to see me and the infant after the birth.
Heavy and elaborate drapes were drawn across the windows to shut out all light; they gave the room, in spite of its luxurious fittings, a somewhat somber look.
When I arrived at Greenwich, I was taken by a large company of courtiers including my ladies to my chamber where I took communion. Then I was conducted to my lying-in chamber. It was all very ceremonial, for everything must be done in accordance with tradition.
Notices had already been prepared announcing the birth of a Prince. This might seem premature but the soothsayers and prophets had, almost without exception, proclaimed that the child would be a boy. There was only one man who had dared say it would be a girl, and he was so unpopular and had incurred the King's wrath to such a degree that no one else dared mention that disastrous possibility.
The King had come to see me just before I went to Greenwich. There had been a certain restraint between us and if I had expected some humility from him I was disappointed. He had made his point. He would act as he wished, and it was my duty to remember that he was the King and all my honors had come through him.
He kissed me coolly on the cheek and said: “You must not excite yourself. You must remember the child.”
“I think of nothing else,” I replied.
“Then that is well. I have been considering his name. It shall be Henry…Henry IX. That sounds well to me… but that is in the future… far in the future. He has to grow up first. Or Edward. That is a King's name. I have not yet decided.”
I had expected him to ask my opinion, but he did not do so, and this was a further indication of the changing relationship between us.
But at this time I could think only of my journey to Greenwich and what awaited me there.
There I lay in that darkened chamber. My pains had begun. It was a long labor but during the exquisite agony of childbirth my spirits were upheld by what this child would mean to me. Nothing could alter the fact that I should be the mother of the King. Henry's infidelities would be hard to bear, but I should be safe… secure; and once I had my son I would make sure that I regained my ascendancy over him.
At last I heard the child's cry. My baby was born.
I lay back exhausted. It was over. I had attained the very peak of my desire. I was drifting off into an exhausted sleep.
I opened my eyes. A woman was standing by my bed. It was the midwife.
“The child …” I said.
“Your Grace, the child is strong and lusty.”
“Oh, praise be to God. I want to see him.”
“Your Grace has given birth to a fair lady.”
“No,” I cried. “It must be a boy.
“A beautiful child,” went on the midwife. “A strong and healthy little girl.”
“No, no,” I cried. “No, no, no.”
“I will bring her to you. She is a little love.”
I shook my head. I could not bear it. A girl! Katharine had had a girl and much trouble she was causing.
“It's a mistake,” I said.
The midwife was silent.
I lay there. But the prophets… the soothsayers… they had merely said what the King wanted them to say. They had dared say no other. I had failed. Already he was tired of me. And all I had done, after all the trouble, was to produce a girl. Katharine had done that before me.