The Secret: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (Tudor Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  ‘I didn’t mean burn for taking a lover, George, although if we were discovered I dread to think what would happen.’ She began to shiver at the thought of Henry’s anger and Monseigneur’s wrath, and George tightened his arms around her. ‘I mean God. Will we be condemned to burn in hell by God? For loving each other like this?’

  ‘I think God understands love, Anne. I love you, above and beyond anything in this world. That can’t be wrong, such a love. It is my misfortune that you are my sister, but beyond that, you are my love. I haven’t forced you, or ….’

  ‘No, George, no. Never think that. I am with you because I too love you so completely that there could be no-one else for me now. I just hope we are not discovered, and that God will understand, because surely no-one else will.’

  ‘But we must always be careful, my love. We do not speak of this except with each other, we do not confess it, we do not pray about it. It is our secret, yours and mine alone.’

  Anne nodded into his chest and raised her lips for his kiss.

  ‘Our secret,’ she whispered her promise. ‘Now let us speak of other things, my love, before you leave me.’

  So George spoke of his frustrations at being at the beck and call of the King at every waking moment, of seeing Anne in her court of poets and musicians, and of not being able to touch her, speak to her, love her as he wished.

  Anne told him of Henry’s appreciation of her quick mind, his love of instigating heated debates about the issues of the day, politics, religion, anything really, and letting her take the opposing side so they could enjoy trying to argue their case, each to the other. She told George of the nights of fumbled encounters, over quickly so the King could leave her bed and sleep in his own chambers. She also told him that, since she had told Henry of her pregnancy, he hadn’t visited her bed. The church forbade a husband claiming his marital rights when his wife was carrying a child, and Henry didn’t want anything to happen to his new prince.

  ‘If you were my wife, I wouldn’t stay away. I couldn’t bear to stay away,’ said George, kissing her breasts and working his way back down her belly, his fingers busy between her thighs and her gasps becoming shorter and more urgent. ‘Damn the church, I would want you every time I saw you. I do want you, every time I see you.’ His fingers stilled as her climax came again and again.

  ‘As I do you, my love,’ Anne’s own mouth began a journey down George and he lay back and closed his eyes, smiling quietly.

  Cranmer anointed Anne’s forehead with Holy Oil, then removed the gold circlet and replaced it with the Queen’s crown. Anne gasped at the weight of it and wondered if her slender neck had the necessary strength to hold her head up whilst she was wearing it. Finally Cranmer made the sign of the cross, then the choir began to sing the ‘Te Deum’ and Anne had to walk back the length of the Abbey to be greeted by cheering ladies and gentlemen of the court but not many of the populace. Henry was there to greet her, and handed her carefully up into the carriage, ever conscious of the precious burden she carried in her womb.

  ‘How now, sweeting.’ Anne thought how weary she was of that greeting. ‘Are you well, sweetheart? Not too tired by all the pomp and ceremony eh?’ Henry smiled at her and gave her a smacking kiss on the mouth. Anne smiled tiredly at him. ‘A little overwhelmed, my Lord. But I’m sure I will rally when I have had something to eat.’

  Henry suddenly realised that Anne would have had nothing since she woke, and called through the carriage door for some fruit and a goblet of watered wine. Anne pounced on the food gratefully and smiled at Henry.

  ‘Much better now, Sire,’ she said, through a mouthful of sweet apple. The carriage clattered through the streets of London, and some cheering crowds pleased to see the King, whether he was with his Concubine or not, and soon arrived at the palace of Westminster, where the banquet and ball were to be held to celebrate the coronation.

  Anne took her seat at the high table next to the King. Also at the table were Norfolk, her father and mother, Charles Brandon as Henry’s best friend and brother in law, her sister Mary was also there, and George of course. Having to lean forward to catch her brother’s attention made Anne think of the meal many years ago; when she was small and knew she was going to France – her great secret. She had an even bigger secret now!

  Chapter 16 - 1533

  nne screamed and writhed and pulled hard on the knotted sheet that the midwife had tied to the end of the bed to help with the birth of the prince. Anne’s constitution was strong, but her hips were narrow and her frame small. The midwife could see that the Queen wasn’t built for child bearing but hoped that, with her skill and experience, both Queen and babe would survive the event.

  Henry was in his own apartments, getting raucously and uproariously drunk with Suffolk, while Monseigneur, Cromwell, Sir Thomas and Lady Boleyn and George all waited in the anteroom outside Anne’s lying-in chamber, listening to her screams. Mary, Madge and Jane were helping the midwife, whilst other ladies of Anne’s household made themselves as useful as they could, bringing cold water to wipe the Queen’s brow, hot water for the midwife, and cloths and linens as required to replace ones stained and full of blood and mucus that they carried down to the kitchen to be burned. It was taking such a long time, and they were all very tired.

  Between contractions, Anne couldn’t believe how much pain she was enduring. How did women stand this more than once, she thought. Her mother had seven babes, although only three had survived into adulthood, Mary had borne two, both healthy and strong, and poor Queen Katharine had had endless pregnancies and births, but only one daughter to show for all this agony and mess and sweat and pain! Another contraction overwhelmed her and she screamed again. If she had hoped for a boy for Henry’s sake, she hoped for one even more now, so she didn’t have to go through this again.

  ***

  George stiffened his shoulders and closed his eyes every time a scream came from the other room. He couldn’t bear to hear her in such agony, yet he could do nothing for her. He couldn’t even pace up and down, like a worried husband, glad to be on the move. All he could do was sit in the ante-chamber and listen as Monseigneur spoke endlessly about how a prince from their family would make their position of power unassailable, and after this one was born, another in her belly as soon as the King could manage it. A baby a year, with some daughters to marry abroad and make England’s position secure on the world stage. Cromwell, not invited to get drunk with the King, was agreeing with Norfolk and suggesting possible foreign powers that might appreciate a marital alliance with England. George stood up abruptly, not being able to endure listening to this political posturing any longer.

  Anne screamed again, louder this time, and again, and again, almost without a breath between, until George thought he would go mad with the sound, then, suddenly, silence.

  Silence was worse!

  Then, surprisingly, the lusty wail of a healthy child, indignant at being brought into such a loud, light world. George snorted a laugh and looked across at his mother, who was silently offering a prayer of thanks for her grand-child’s safe delivery. He wanted to rush into the room, to Anne’s side, and tell her how brave she’d been, how beautiful the baby was, how much he loved and cherished her. He could do none of these things.

  The whole group watched as the door opened quietly and Mary came out, carrying the baby swathed in linens but with tears in her eyes and on her cheeks.

  ‘Anne,’ breathed George.

  ‘Is well,’ replied Mary, then swallowed and continued, ‘as is our Princess here.’

  The air went out of the room as everyone slowly realised what she had said. A girl! Another girl! Norfolk angrily stamped out of the room, followed by Cromwell, who said, ‘I will inform His Majesty.’ Anne’s parents briefly glanced disappointedly at the bab
y before they too left the room. George went over to Mary and asked, ‘May I hold her?’

  Mary gently placed the baby in his waiting arms, and went to change the apron she had over her gown, stained as it was with the fluids of childbirth. George took the child back into the fetid, miasmic air of the birthing chamber, smiling down as the baby waved her fists angrily and made sucking sounds with her lips.

  As a man entering the mystic realm of women and child-bed, he drew sour looks and tuts and clicks of the tongue from the midwife, who was burning the after-birth in the open fire, creating smoke and an even worse stench. George tried not to gag, and swallowed hard against the bile that threatened to rise into his throat. Madge was just finishing getting Anne into a clean shift and George’s wife Jane was combing Anne’s hair and braiding it neatly before the King saw her looking so exhausted and dishevelled. As she caught sight of Anne’s baby in the arms of her own husband, Jane’s mouth tightened and she looked away.

  George brought the baby to the bed and smiled down at Anne, who looked up with enormous, shadowed eyes filled with tears. ‘Your daughter is quite beautiful, sister,’ he said quietly, and placed the babe in her mother’s arms. Anne looked down at the round red face and was overwhelmed with love and a feeling of fierce protectiveness.

  ‘She is,’ said Anne. ‘MY daughter is indeed beautiful.’ She smiled down at the child, then stiffened slightly as she heard the loud, alcohol-laced voice of the King further down the gallery.

  ‘How now, sweeting,’ said Henry. Anne looked at him and smiled tremulously, fearful of what was to come. How angry would he be? ‘A daughter, eh?’ He looked at the little bundle and smiled. ‘Well, a son next time. We are both young after all. We will call her Elizabeth, for both your mother and mine.’ And with that, he turned and strode away, although George heard him as he turned to Cromwell and muttered, ‘Alter the proclamations, and cancel the joust.’

  Tears fell from Anne’s eyes as she looked down at her new baby Elizabeth. She vowed that her child would never feel unloved for a moment, and would know that she was the most important thing in her mother’s world. Her eyes found George, lounging against the wall in the corner where Henry would not have noticed him. They weren’t alone in the room; Madge, Jane and a returned Mary bustled round, tidying up, paying the midwife and sending for the already engaged nurse and wet-nurse to care for Elizabeth while Anne regained her strength. But as Anne gazed at her brother, dark eyes to green ones, the space between them seemed to shrink and they were united as parents to a new baby – their baby, regardless of the reality of conception.

  They would fight for this child

  Chapter 17 - 1534

  nne sat on the floor in her solar, a slender figure in a puddle of blue velvet and silver brocade, holding a beribboned rattle just out of the grasp of Elizabeth, who laughed delightedly to be playing with her mother. Anne looked up at Thomas Cromwell, who had asked to speak to her.

  ‘Do you have any children, Master Cromwell?’ Anne realised she knew very little about this man who was so trusted by her husband.

  ‘I have a son living, Your Highness. My wife and two daughters died of the sweat, the year you yourself were so ill.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Anne, not really sure how to respond to that information. ‘That is indeed tragic, Master Cromwell. I hope your son is a comfort.’

  ‘Gregory is a good, hard working boy, Your Highness. He is helping me with my business in Antwerp and the Low Countries at the moment.’

  Anne regarded Cromwell curiously. He was a man of fearsome reputation, investigating discrepancies in the Church, and channelling funds away from Rome and into the coffers of the Crown. But this, she knew, was at Henry’s instigation, although Cromwell took the blame as Henry intended he should. She also knew he had another quite different reputation for philanthropy and kindness, taking in apprentice boys to train in his accounting and law firm at Austin Friars, and being a patron of both art and music. He was even a friend of Holbein, the artist who spent so much time at court, painting everyone at Henry’s request. Henry too wanted the reputation of being a patron of the Arts.

  Anne smiled as the baby almost grasped the rattle and thrust it into her mouth. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at Cromwell. He still hadn’t told her the reason he wanted to speak to her.

  ‘Your Highness, I bring you a musician.’ began Cromwell. ‘Your court is famed for enjoying music and poetry, and this young man is indeed gifted, at playing the lute and singing songs of his own composition.’ Cromwell half turned and signalled a slight, blond young man forward from the back of the room. Anne hadn’t noticed him at the doorway, but she carefully looked him over. He was obviously impoverished, his doublet threadbare and his boots down at heel, but his looks were pleasant and he had an enthusiastic air about him.

  ‘What is your name, Maestro?’ she asked kindly, as the boy looked overwhelmed and terrified in equal measure.

  ‘Smeaton, your Highness, Mark Smeaton,’ the boy stammered out his name.

  ‘Can you sing, Mark Smeaton? Can you play? Could you teach my Princess Elizabeth here to play the lute?’ Anne looked fondly at the baby, then got to her feet, shaking out her blue gown. Elizabeth’s nurse came forward and picked the baby up.

  ‘Yes, your Highness, oh yes!!’ Mark was excited to be offered the position of lute teacher to the royal household.

  ‘Join my musicians and play something cheerful,’ commanded Anne, just as Norfolk strode into the room and walked straight up to Anne, who was organising Mark’s employment with Cromwell, passing him a small purse of money so Mark might be better dressed for his next appearance at court.

  ‘All right, Cromwell, off you go!’ bellowed Norfolk, dismissing Cromwell without a thought, ‘I want to talk to my niece in private. Family business.’

  Cromwell bowed to Anne, nodded to Norfolk with an irritated look, and took his leave. Mark, after receiving Anne’s purse from Cromwell, went over to the musicians in the corner and began to eagerly discuss royal tastes in music. Norfolk took hold of Anne’s arm and brought her roughly to the window, away from prying ears.

  ‘Are you with child again yet?’ he asked abruptly. Anne stared at him, horrified by the question.

  ‘Elizabeth is only five months old, Uncle,’ she said coldly ‘Don’t you think it’s a little soon?’

  ‘No, girly, I don’t. Hell’s teeth, woman, Henry wants a prince. You should be three months along with your next by now.’

  Anne was becoming flustered with Norfolk’s questioning. ‘But the King….. I mean Henry doesn’t ….. He can’t always …. !‘ Anne raised her head, breathed deeply and schooled her thoughts. ‘It isn’t my fault, Uncle.’ she said calmly, looking Norfolk in the eye impassively.

  ‘Of course it’s your fault!’ he snapped ‘If Henry can’t, or won’t, then use some of those French whore tricks you must have learned abroad on him. We need a son. And so does he!’ Norfolk gestured with his head as loud voices from the corridor outside announced the arrival of the King.

  Anne’s face flamed with embarrassment at the discussion with her uncle, then she stepped smilingly forward to greet her husband, who was barrelling through the room, nodding as all the courtiers bowed or curtseyed as he passed.

  ‘How now, sweeting,’ he gave his usual hard kiss. ‘And Norfolk. Why are you here? Come to admire my beautiful daughter eh?’ Henry took Elizabeth from her nurse and carried her round the room, showing her off to the court. Anne smiled proudly. One thing in Henry’s favour, she thought, he did like babies.

  Norfolk grimaced tightly, which Anne thought he might consider a smile, then bowed to the King and took his leave. Henry was still parading round with Elizabeth, and George came to Anne’s side.

  ‘What did he want, sister
?’ he asked softly, taking the hand that was hidden in Anne’s sleeve and entwining his fingers with hers. Anne shivered in delight.

  ‘A prince, and soon,’ she replied, a hard note in her voice. George pressed her fingers and let her hand go. He smiled into her eyes, then turned to talk with Tom Wyatt and Harry Norris. When Henry brought Elizabeth back to Anne, George stepped forward to take the baby in his arms, and then played a game of tossing her up and catching her. The baby adored it and shrieked with delight.

  Henry helped himself to a goblet of wine from the side table, then gestured towards George and the baby.

  ’It’s time she had a brother, sweetheart,’ he drank deeply, as Anne watched the game and smiled. ‘I shall visit you tonight.’ He gulped the rest of his wine, kissed her hard again and then turned to leave. His gentlemen scrambled to accompany him, and George gave Elizabeth back to her nurse gently.

  ‘Thank you, Kat. Take the princess back to the nursery.’ Anne kissed her daughter, then Mistress Ashley took Elizabeth from the solar as Anne watched her husband, thinking of the night to come.

  ***

  George strode into his apartment, hot and sweating from his sword practice with the King’s Guard in the late afternoon sun, unlacing his doublet as he walked to the basin and ewer. He dropped his doublet onto the bed and swiftly took his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair for the laundry maid. Pouring water into the bowl, he bent his head and poured it over his hair and face. He would have preferred to bathe, but had been summoned by Henry, so a quick sluice with water would have to suffice. He straightened and put his hand out for the linen to dry his face quickly.

  ‘He hurts her, you know. Your precious Anne.’