She nodded, confident of her own abilities, I suspected.
“Have a care what you promise him,” I said. “He always ensures his promises are collected upon.”
I myself had believed that the king and Anne shared not only intellectual agreement on the sovereignty arguments that the reformers made, but also a religious understanding. Just a few days earlier Anne and Henry, both ignoring the priest, had passed her book of hours back and forth in chapel whilst the priest said Mass. Like children in church, Henry wrote in the book and then passed the book to Anne, who seemed to write a response afore passing it back to him. He grinned at her and came very close, I believe, to kissing her in the middle of the service, which would have been shocking indeed.
It would not have been fanciful, then, to believe that Henry would look kindly on reformers even as he set his jaw against religious conservatives.
But it would have been wrong.
In August George had his gentleman deliver a note to me asking to meet in my quarters later that night. I sent a note back agreeing. At the appointed hour he arrived, as did Anne. I showed them in and we three sat round the fire.
“Thank you, Meg, for allowing us to meet here,” George said. “Anne’s quarters, as you know, are the center of all things these days and mayhap not as private—or safe—as I’d like.”
I nodded.
“And my own, well, my wife hangs round me listening, waiting, wanting, and nearly all hours of the day. She is scarce company at night, though, when a wife might be expected to be present. Who knows whom she might whisper to, and what.”
I looked at him, alarmed. Was he suggesting that his own wife would betray him?
“In any case,” he continued, “I trust you’ve not heard.”
“Heard what?” Anne asked.
“About Thomas Bilney. He was dragged from his pulpit today, midsentence. Taken to Lollard pit and burned alive.”
“Dear Lord,” Anne said. “For…?”
“Lutheran sympathies.” George unrolled a small scroll that he withdrew from his sleeve. “He said, ‘Scripture is more pleasant to me than the honey or the honeycomb; wherein I learnt that all my labors, my fasting and watching, all the redemption of masses and pardons, being done without truth in Christ, who alone saveth his people from their sins; these I say, I learnt to be nothing else but even, as St. Augustine saith, a hasty and swift running out of the right way.’ He was a very good priest.”
“Does the king know?” she asked.
George shrugged. “But I cannot believe this would be carried out if it were known that the king would strongly disagree.”
Anne looked truly troubled. “But….” She looked to be hard-pressed to place her thoughts into words. “I thought we were of a mind.”
“Mayhap he is being advised from two opposite quarters,” George said.
Later, Anne came to my chambers, cuddling her little dog Pourquoi, a gift from Lady Lisle, in her arms. “I have heard that there are secret meetings going on within the court. I need to know who attends—who is honest and true, who may be plants and spies. Since the king sent Katherine away all know that our marriage is nigh and it becomes dangerous to me…. as you may imagine.”
I nodded, thinking of Jessica, of the duchess, of Bilney.
“As your sister is a known reformer, no one will think it strange if you attend a meeting should you be found out. Especially as you are not known to be…. devout. Will you cloak yourself and attend after the Christmas celebrations?”
“Will it help you?”
“’Twill, or I wouldn’t ask it of you,” she said. She held my gaze. “But ere you agree I must confess. I have heard from George, who heard from Latimer and Parker, that Will Ogilvy is back from Antwerp and may be in attendance.”
THIRTEEN
Year of Our Lord 1531
York Place
Richmond Castle Greenwich Palace
My sister, Alice, was present at court and the day after my discussion I drew her aside in Anne’s chambers. “I’d like to speak with you.” I gave her a meaningful look. “Will you be at your rooms after dinner?”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I will wait for you.”
Later that evening I made my way through the ravenish shadows of the ladies’ courtyard chambers where my sister was quartered. She was not nobility, as I was as the widow of a baron, nor even as tightly connected with Anne, so her rooms were comfortable but meager. She served willingly in spite of that fact. I knocked sharply on her door and she opened it and let me in. “My dearest,” she said, taking my shawl from me and patting the chair closest to the fire. “How fare you?”
I hugged her tightly before sitting down, the scent of her lightly perfumed hair evoking memories of my running into her arms when I’d been hurt or harrowed as a child. I wondered if I would ever outgrow the need for her comfort or have a child of my own to offer it to. “I have a favor to ask,” I began.
“Anything.” She drew near to me and offered a small platter of comfits.
After taking a bite of one as a courtesy I said, “I understand there are some reformer meetings going on at court. I’d like to attend one. Or more.”
She cocked her head warily. “For yourself?”
These times, perhaps, would bring much good and yet could still make a beloved sister question another. “For Anne.” I explained the situation briefly. She had, of course, heard about Bilney. “And mayhap for myself.” I did not mention that it was a man I sought and not his God.
She nodded. “Of course.” She let me know that the meetings were often held in rooms and chambers furthest out from the circle of courtiers, though not always; directed me to a few; and gave me a password to use if I should be questioned. “Romans eight,” she said. “Do not forget that.”
I had no idea what might be found at Romans 8, but of course I would remember it as if my life depended upon it, as well it might.
Nighttime at court was quiet. The halls echoed and amplified the softest of steps because most were safely behind doors. Some closed doors sheltered right and honest activities, sleep or reading; sewing; discussion or pleasant discourse of intimate sorts between husbands and wives. Some doors hid corrupt activities, thieving and plotting and horrors upon which one didn’t like to let the mind dwell. Some doors, like the one I crept toward, hid activities that were just but might not always be perceived thusly. I pulled my cape around me, left the hood up, and knocked lightly on the door. A young courtier I did not recognize opened it to me. “Romans eight,” I whispered, and he nodded and let me in.
I admit to it. I immediately scanned the room looking for Will and was unsure if I was disappointed or relieved not to find him present. A priest whose name I did not know but recognized as a friend of Matthew Parker, whom Anne had helped install as a chaplain at court, was speaking from the front. I did not listen to him at first but continued to look about me. Most people were courtiers I recognized but had few dealings with. Few held copies of what seemed to be Holy Writ. I leaned over and glanced at the copy of the woman next to me. I could just see that it was written in English before she glanced at my hooded form. She closed the book and slipped away. After all, it had been just the year before that Henry had decreed an injunction against anyone owning an English Bible and Bilney’s ashes were not yet cooled. Though there were a hundred or more people packed in the chamber, I only recognized one woman whom I knew to be a lady in the service of the Duchess of Norfolk, Anne’s highly placed aunt and sworn enemy.
She looked in my direction but could not recognize me, as my cloak was pulled tight about me and fell down from my forehead. Is she here as a spy for her mistress, as even I am? Or does she have questions she cannot voice to her mistress and seeks answers here?