I found it hard to believe that Katherine, raised by royal parents, would not have known that her marriage was not valid till it was consummated and would not have been coached to achieve that of haste.
I wanted no such talk about the court for Anne. Within hours, I knew, news of the secret wedding and then consummation would travel in a few high and low circles. Anne had been a virgin till the previous night. In recent years whilst Henry and Katherine had wrangled over her maidenhood there had been no proof of her virginity. I wanted to make sure there was no such question where Anne was concerned.
Yes, my lady Anne, my queen, my friend, there are others who may know if a bride is a maiden at her wedding, besides the man, the woman, and our Lord. And I’ve just ensured that news of your chastity will be reliably established.
Anne came to me later, eyes flashing. She pulled my bedchamber door closed behind me and before I could speak said, “You pointedly showed the Countess of Derby my sheets. And my laundress.”
“Yes…,” I began.
“Word has already reached my mother, and through her, me. His Majesty wanted this wedding a secret for now. If it gets back to him, he’ll be livid. With me.”
I tried to explain to her my motives, that it was for her protection, for her reputation, for the legitimacy of whatever child may soon come. But she waved her hand in my face and bade me stop speaking.
“I understand your intentions and affections. But do not implement your own ideas henceforth without discussing them with me.”
She gave me a grim smile and left the room before I could speak again. Apparently, my friend had been replaced by the queen. Or mayhap she had had her first inkling of fear of her most beloved husband.
A week later we returned to London, where my betrothed awaited.
SIXTEEN
Year of Our Lord 1533
Greenwich Palace
Whitehall Palace
His Highness had decided to start the new year off with a bearbaiting. As his bear garden was not quite finished at Whitehall, he traveled the court to Southwark, in the midst of the stews south of London. We boarded a dozen or more finely appointed barges, I along with Anne in Henry’s fine boat, and graciously sailed our way up the river to enjoy the brutality.
Henry and Anne sat in the royal seats, I next to Anne, and, curiously enough, an empty seat remained next to Henry. I raised my eyebrows and looked in the direction but Anne shook her head to discourage me from asking any questions. Though he were married to my dearest friend, Henry was still king and had not a word for me. I do not think he noticed me at all, truth be told. I was content with that. Like the hare, I had no desire to attract the eye of the hawk.
The bear was already chained when we arrived. “I like it best when they are chained by the leg and not by the neck,” one of Anne’s lesser ladies said to me. “’Tis better sport when they can reach out to smack the dogs.” Many placed bets on the outcome of the baiting. I noticed that the future Countess of Blenheim, Will’s sister, Rose, was a particularly enthusiastic gambler.
Women could be partial to blood sport too.
Afore the dogs were set loose someone slid into the seat next to Henry—Cranmer, the priest whom Henry had appointed to be the next archbishop of Canterbury. The old archbishop had passed on some months before and Henry, Anne told me, was eager to replace him with someone who would be sympathetic to His Highness’s philosophies.
Cranmer was a learned man, a good man, an admired priest, and, of course, a reformer who had been convicted to sola scriptura. He’d also been chaplain to the Boleyns and I knew Anne had a firm hand in his appointment.
The bear caller shouted out, “Tha dogs’ll be loose soon, set about ta worry the great beast in fronta ya.” He glanced up at the king and, as he did, seemed worried a bit himself at his royal patron. “I baited ’im with blood meself afore the evenin’ came so’s he’s as heated as one a th’ old bawds in the stews!”
Henry guffawed at the lewd joke before turning to the priest. “Cranmer!” he boomed. “’Tis a good sight to see you. I’ve a mind to settle our discourse on the archbishopric.”
“As you wish, sire,” Cranmer said.
Was there ever a phrase that Henry found more dear?
We all kept our eyes on the bear as well as the dogs now loosed to attack it, but our ears belonged to the king.
“You can plan to celebrate Easter Mass and, uh”—Henry fumbled, uncharacteristically, for a moment—“Whitsunday as archbishop.”
Cranmer noted. “’Tis as good as done, then, sire?”
“’Tis as good as done.”
The dogs challenged the bear, who lashed out at them, barking, biting, baiting. Chained, the bear could not reach them when they backed away from him. “I can like as feel his breath steam my neck when he roars,” I whispered to Anne. She nodded, but I could tell she was mainly concerned with what Henry was saying.
“I shall prepare my thoughts to be read aloud after being invested,” Cranmer said. It was getting harder to overhear them now, as the crowd roared along with the bear and barked out encouragement of its own.
“You are, of course, sovereign in all ways now, in your own realm. Parliament shall pass that quickly as well. But, Your Majesty, if any should protest?” Cranmer asked.
Henry didn’t answer him; instead, he stood to cheer, for at that very moment the great blond bear broke his chain and roared at the dogs, one after another, violently felling each with a mighty swipe of his paw.
We were rowed home late, and after helping Anne I returned to my room and let Edithe help me undress. I would need my sleep. The next night I would entertain my brothers, Edmund and Thomas, in my apartments, for dinner.
“Welcome, Brothers.” I opened the door to my chambers myself. Edithe had helped me to get dressed and Anne had her chef prepare a rich meal to be delivered and had also kindly loaned me one of her menservants.
Thomas breezed in, hugged me tightly, and gave me two kisses on each cheek and one on the top of my head. After popping a sugared plum in his mouth he sat down at my table and poured himself a cup of spiced wine.
Edmund, always more reserved, took my hand, but he, too, looked to be in high spirits. Edithe glanced at him and they held a gaze of a moment. She looked frightened. Edmund looked confused as to why she was looking at him at all. She quickly curtseyed to me and then left the room. The look that went between them was odd; I could not judge what it meant but I knew it wasn’t natural.
Anne’s manservant relit a candle that had blown out and then served the oxen and light manchet. Thomas ate hungrily, Edmund sparingly. He mostly talked.
“Baron Blackston is here,” he said. “He’ll be at the masque tomorrow night, looking for you.”
“Of course,” I said. “Is everything…. settled?”
Edmund nodded. “Simon shall discuss it with you himself but yes, as your brothers, we wanted to let you know that ’tis all settled. I handled the financial matters, of course.”
“Of course,” I said. I was sure he would be oblivious to my irony.
“And Thomas, as eldest brother, of course made the final decision that ’twould be best if you married. ’Tis his right, of course, as Father is…. unwell.”
I looked at Thomas, who would not meet my gaze. “Certainly.” My voice was stony. We made small talk of Allington and Edmund seemed of a lighter mood, even talking about perhaps bringing a bride home soon and that the place could use the warmth of a woman’s touch.