The Secret: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (Tudor Chronicles Book 1) Page 17

  ‘Jealous! A knot in my stomach every time they spoke about her. Every time I thought about her. But she was still in France, and I was here at court, so we wrote and wrote. Then, when she came home for her betrothal, I realised how I felt. But I didn’t speak about it until she was ill with the sweat. You were busy with Will, and I had to watch Anne, not knowing if she would live. And I swore to myself that, if she did live, I would tell her how I felt,’ he stopped, overcome for a moment, with the memory.

  ‘And did you tell her?’ Mary asked gently. George recovered his voice.

  ‘I told her to come back to me, and she did.’ He swallowed hard and took a deep breath ‘She came back to me in every way, Mary.’ He began examining her hand again, and Mary stroked his bright head with her other hand, overwhelmed by the emotion in her brother’s voice.

  ‘Then we had to be as careful as we could, for as long as we could,’ he continued. ‘But not careful enough, obviously,’ he ended ruefully, shoulders shrugging, mouth in a wry smile.

  ‘George, Henry would say anything now, to have Anne found guilty. He is taking every bad word anyone ever said about her, about her friends, and having Cromwell turn it into solid evidence against her. Against you!’ Mary clasped both his hands in hers.

  ‘Whatever the truth between you,’ she looked at him closely, ‘I know you love each other. And I also know that I delivered your baby.’

  George gasped. ‘Mary,’ he began, ‘I….I’

  ‘He was beautiful, George. And it saddens me that you never saw him.’ Tears came into both their eyes. She stood up and turned to him. ‘Anne has asked me to go back to my children after I have seen you. I shall. I know I shall not see either of you again.’ Mary was sobbing now. ‘But know that I love you both, until my last night too.’

  George took her into another, even tighter embrace.

  ‘I know we will not live through this, Mary. Henry wants us gone, so he can wed his milk-sop wife. We will be together in the next life.’ He kissed her forehead and led her to the door.

  ‘Good bye, sweet Mary.’ Mary could not speak to say goodbye, so she stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then turned and left his chamber.

  George returned to his writing table and picked up the missal lying there. Carefully hidden between the pages was the favour Anne had given him at the joust. He held the scrap of silk to his lips and closed his eyes, remembering Anne as she had been in her blue silk gown at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. It was his favourite memory of her, and he could feel her presence as the lavender scent of the silk surrounded him.

  ‘Til my last night, my love,’ he whispered.

  Chapter 24 - 1536

  nne was woken from her fitful doze by the sound of hammering. She slipped off the bed; her and George’s bed, she thought, remembering the night before her coronation, and the tears started again, unbidden and unheeded. She peered through the narrow window. If she looked sideways and stood on tiptoe, she could see the scaffold on Tower Green where George and her other friends had died two days ago, but the hammering that had disturbed her came from immediately below her window. Why were they building another scaffold? Privacy, she realised. They dare not kill a Queen in public!

  Her mind went back to her trial, where she had refuted all the charges, declared them lies and treachery. They had read Mark Smeaton’s testimony to her, and she had indignantly denied his lies. She had supported the testimony of the others, declaring they had not plotted treason but had simply been playing a game. She had also managed to school her features when the diatribe of Jane Rochford had been read. Looking at the Lords in front of her, she knew they heard the words of a jealous wife and she thanked God that they didn’t believe what Jane had said.

  That gave her some comfort, but when they read out the charge of witchcraft, she knew her fate was sealed. There would be no nunnery. Henry had decided that she had ‘bewitched him into the marriage, and into performing unnatural acts in order to procure a child with him’. The bible forbade the sexual act with the woman on top, at least the bible they were reading from did.

  Her face flamed as she recalled what she had done, and that was enough to seal her guilt. Burning or beheading, at the King’s pleasure. If they found her guilty of all the charges, then George would have to be, wouldn’t he, she thought, as one could hardly commit incest alone.

  Meg had been her eyes and ears at the trials of her friends and George. Meg had told her that Tom, Will and Harry had all denied any carnal involvement with her. They had constantly avowed that they were her lowly courtiers, and they loved her as their Queen. They had played games of wit all the time, but had never conspired, wished or even thought about the death of the King. They had not committed treason.

  They had not been believed!

  Mark Smeaton, Meg had said, was the only one that had cried and admitted that he had slept with the Queen, but then he kept changing his story, depending on who asked the questions. He had said that he had only known the Queen once, and she had given him money for the experience, then he had said he had known her a hundred times.

  Meg described how, when Mark said this, the Earl of Northumberland, ‘my Harry’ thought Anne, sadly, had got to his feet and told Norfolk he would take no further part in listening to these lies against the character of the Queen.

  ‘My Lord Norfolk started to shout at him, my Lady,’ said Meg breathlessly, ‘but my Lord Percy ignored him and walked out. My Lord Suffolk had to make my Lord Norfolk sit down and carry on asking his questions. But those foul old men were hanging off Mark’s words, my Lady, drinking in his lies about you. Nothing he could say was enough. They all wanted what he was saying to be true. They didn’t care if it actually was.’

  Anne remembered curling up on the ledge of the window so she could watch as Mark and Tom, Will, Harry and George were led out onto Tower Green for their execution. She hadn’t been able to hear their speeches, she was so far away. Indeed, she could hardly see them, for tears coursed down her face constantly. The King had been merciful, for they were all to be beheaded, even Mark, who was first to the block. His speech wasn’t very long, Anne thought. Probably just asking God’s mercy. Considering how much he had lied, he would need it!

  Tom, tall, dark, laughing Tom, with his astonishing blue eyes and unruly hair, so enthusiastic and funny, was next. His speech was longer, and Anne thought she heard a sprinkle of laughter at something he had said. She smiled through her tears at his bravery. Then blond Harry, his curls bobbing in the breeze, and after him strong, silent Will.

  Finally George.

  Her George.

  His speech was the longest, and drew some cheers from parts of the crowd. She couldn’t possibly imagine what he had to say that the crowd would dare to agree with, much less cheer! She watched him stride the platform with his easy grace; his silk shirt rippling in the breeze, his long legs encased in black leather breeches, his soft leather boots. His hair needed a trim, she thought, it was almost touching his shoulders. Then she gasped.

  He had stopped speaking, and the headsman had received his blessing, but before he knelt down in the straw, stained bloody from the friends who had gone before, he turned and looked directly at her window, knowing she was there. She doubted he could see her, high as she was and shrouded in the stonework of the window, but he looked at her all the same.

  In Anne’s imagination, his green eyes met her dark ones and it was as if the world stayed still, sounds faded away and the distance between them narrowed. Anne put out her hand as if she could bridge the gap and touch his face, and as she looked, sobbing loudly, she saw her brave, beloved George kneel for the headsman’s blow.

  The hammering beneath her window had stopped and the door to her chamber opened, admitting her attendants carrying her
gown and linens for her final walk outside. Madge was weeping, and it was Meg who had to help Anne dress in the grey damask gown and matching coif that would hold up her hair.

  Sir William had told her the day previously that the King, in his mercy, had engaged the services of a headsman from France, skilled in the use of a broadsword rather than an axe. A sword would be more accurate, and there would be no pain, he assured her, trying to be kind.

  ‘He will find it quite simple, Sir William. I have such a little neck,’ and Anne had started weeping again uncontrollably.

  They didn’t know that she didn’t weep for herself. She wept for her friends, all now dead for a game. She wept for her daughter, who she hadn’t been allowed to see, and she wept for her wonderful, strong, shining George, who had gone bravely before her, dead because of a jealous wife and for loving the wrong woman.

  Anne smoothed her grey skirts, then straightened her spine and lifted her head. She wouldn’t shuffle to her death, swamped in shame. They had shamed themselves with their lies at her trial, and before God, she wasn’t ashamed of the truth of her and George. Anne picked up her prayer book and rosary, then left the royal chamber and began to descend the steps to the garden.

  They had decided to make this execution private, so only the King’s council and the clergy were in attendance. Anne lifted her head even higher as she climbed the steps, then she passed her missal to Meg and thanked the girl for all her kindness.

  ‘Go home to Mary,’ she whispered as she clasped her shoulders, and the tearful girl nodded, unable to speak. Anne kissed Madge, and gave her the rosary she was carrying, pressing it into Madge’s cold fingers. She had nothing else to give her friend, and had no words to offer comfort at the loss of Harry. Then she turned and gave the headsman his fee and her forgiveness.

  Anne spoke to the crowd, although she didn’t have a great deal to say to them that they would believe. She asked the King’s forgiveness and his blessing on her daughter. She asked for God’s blessing on her soul, and then she knelt. There was no block, and she looked round, unsure of what to do. The constant shadow, just out of her line of sight was still there, nearer now. Suddenly she heard a singing sound, a sword swishing though the air, and the dark shadow finally caught up with her.

  All went black.

  Suddenly light came rushing towards her through her eyelids, and she realised her eyes were closed. Then, slowly opening her eyes in dazzling sunlight, she looked up and saw George, clad as always in black and silver striding towards her, carrying a babe in his arms. Anne, a bubble of laughter springing into her throat, picked up her blue silk skirts and ran.

  ***

  Historical Notes

  nne was sent to France as maid in waiting to Princess Mary Rose (Henry’s sister) when she was around 6 years old. Together with Mary Boleyn, she served at the French court until she was about 19.

  Mary was sent home in disgrace for having an affair with the French King Francis, but when she came back to England she had an affair with Henry, bearing him two unacknowledged children.

  Harry Percy wanted to marry Anne when she returned from France but Henry had Wolsey banish him to Northumberland.

  “Alas my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously”. The opening line of ‘Greensleeves’, a song Henry VIII reputedly wrote for Anne when they were courting.

  Henry waited to marry Anne for six years. He created her Marchioness of Pembroke so she would be welcome at the French court, but she still wasn’t considered sufficiently royal. Henry tired of waiting for a divorce from the Pope, so he declared himself Head of the Church of England, granted himself a divorce and married Anne secretly.

  Anne was pregnant at her coronation and bore Elizabeth in 1533.

  Henry had a serious jousting accident in 1534, the shock of which allegedly caused Anne to miscarry. The gender of the foetus was indeterminate. The accident caused the ulcer in Henry's leg which would plague him for the remainder of his life.

  In 1535, Jane Seymour, a placid, obedient girl was a lady in waiting to Anne and caught the eye of Henry. Anne was urged by her family to give Henry another child. Discovering Henry and Jane together was given as the cause of Anne miscarrying a son.

  Anne was arrested at the May Day joust in 1536, together with the gentlemen of her court, who had been accused, along with her brother George, of sleeping with her. The main accuser was George’s wife Jane Rochford. All were found guilty and beheaded. A swordsman was brought from France to behead Anne, as it was considered to be more accurate.

  Henry married Jane Seymour 11 days after Anne’s execution.

  Bibliography

  Lives of the Queens of EnglandAgnes Strickland

  Wives of Henry VIII & Their Political InfluenceMartin A S Hume

  Rise & Fall of Thomas CromwellJohn Schofield