At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (11 page)

“Humph. A pretty boy, I’ll give you that,” said Lady Jane.

“See how he gazes so adoringly at the queen. He sees much to love in our esteemed sovereign. Perhaps you could learn to love her, too,” said Madge.

“You truly are without insight, Pretty Madge, as I’ve heard you called. Smeaton’s gaze is filled with ardor but not for the
queen,
” said Lady Jane.

“What mean you, milady?” said Madge.

“I mean that if the priests of old could have their way, dear Mark would burn like a faggot of wood,” said Lady Jane.

Madge turned away from Lady Jane and stared at Master Smeaton. She did not understand what Lady Jane was talking about. Mark surely loved Their Majesties; one had only to look at him as he stared at the king and queen. Lady Jane had once again turned a friendly gesture into an opportunity to humiliate Madge.

*   *   *

This August day, the queen had sent Madge out to gather some berries in the nearby woods. Blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, and flowers, especially the lacy white flower the queen loved so well that many were calling the bloom “Queen Anne’s lace.” Madge had quickly found Cate and Shadow strolling through the herb garden off the royal kitchen. Soon, the small party was on its way to the green wood.

“What will the queen have made with the berries? A pie? Jellies?” asked Cate, always interested in the queen’s doings.

“I know not, Cate. Perhaps Her Grace wanted her chamber to herself for a few moments during the warmth of day. Or perhaps she knew I longed for the out of doors and found a suitable errand for me,” said Madge, her small pail in one hand, Shadow’s leash in the other.

The two women approached the bushes that edged the deeper forest and Madge saw dark, plump berries scattered there. Birds perched along the small branches and Cate ran at them, shooing them away.

Madge reached for the nearest cluster and plucked as many as she could.

“If anything were to happen to the queen in childbed, what would become of us, think you?” Cate asked softly. Imagining the death of a sovereign was treasonous, and expressing such thoughts dangerous business indeed.

“Do not speak of such things. We pray she will be strong in childbirth. Any other event will bring us back home to Mother, a fate which would suit me fine. I tire of the court. The Boleyns, the Howards, the Seymours, that horrid Cromwell—all bickering and shoving their way to the king and his blessings. I want none of it!” whispered Madge. Her hands kept a steady rhythm as she picked the berries, hearing the satisfying plop as each landed in the pail.

“Yet, childbirth is the most dangerous time in a woman’s life, Maddie-girl. I’ve been told by the serving women that the king will order his own doctors to tend to the queen. You must not let that happen. Those men know nothing of birthing a babe,” said Cate.

“What should I do? I can’t overrule the king,” said Madge.

“When the time comes, go to the kitchen and ask for Dame Brooke. She is the best midwife in London. She has saved many a babe and mother, too. I’m told she’s the one you want,” said Cate.

“Dame Brooke.… When the time comes, Cate, I shall heed your words,” said Madge.

At that moment, Madge noticed two men swaggering up the small knoll toward them. She could not tell who they were but she nudged Cate.

“I hope Sir Norris has not followed me here. If it is he, we shall hurry back to the castle,” said Madge.

“I do not believe that lively gait belongs to Norris, dear. I know those legs and that jaunty cock of the head. ’Tis my lord Brandon and his whoreson.”

Madge shaded her eyes to get a better view of the men. She recognized Sir Churlish’s confident stride as the men made their way to the edge of the green wood. Part of her wanted to run deeper into the shade of the forest while another part seemed unable to move. The men covered the distance quickly and before she knew it, Madge found herself in a deep curtsy to the duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon.

“Your Grace,” she whispered as she stared at the weeds and brambles at her feet. She noticed the fine leather of the duke’s boots.

“Lady Margaret. Please arise. You as well, Mistress Cate. Marvel not that I know your name—my son has told me much of the Lady Margaret and her lovely nurse,” said Brandon as he gently took Madge’s hand and helped her to her feet. He was handsome with dark hair and eyes, the same coloring as his son. Though a little older than the king, Brandon retained much of his fitness and youthful manner. His eyes gave no hint of the sorrow he must have felt after losing his wife, the king’s sister. Madge had not known Lady Mary, but the whole court talked of her beauty and how Brandon seemed lost without her.

“The day is full of sunshine and the bushes fat with berries. The queen has a taste for these, I suppose?” said Sir Churlish as he reached for one and popped it into his mouth.

“Yes. Cate and I are almost finished here. We must return very soon as Her Majesty may have need of me,” Madge said. She couldn’t help but remember his kiss on May Day, though she had not seen him since.

“But lady, your pail is not half full,” he said. “Methinks you seek to deceive.”

Madge had no response and felt her cheeks begin to burn. Cate quickly dumped the contents of her own bucket into Madge’s.

“’Tis full now, sire,” she said and grabbed Madge’s hand, pulling her toward the downward slope. “We must be off!”

“Wait but a little, Mistress Cate, I beg of you. I would you walk with me and help me fill your bucket. I will happily pay for the berries,” Brandon said as he guided Cate by the elbow, taking her toward a large hedge filled with blackberry canes. Cate had no choice but to release Madge’s hand and allow herself to be drawn away.

“My father is at a loss without his wife. He must have company from any fair woman he meets,” said Sir Churlish, smiling.

“My Cate is still fair, though no longer young. But she will have no truck with any man, no matter how high he has risen. She has told me thus,” said Madge, plucking a berry almost as big as her thumb.

“You, milady, are fair and young. What say you to men?” he said.

“To my friends, I say much. To scoundrels, nothing,” said Madge, turning away from him.

“Then I would be your friend, mistress,” he said. “Now, to other matters. The whole court awaits the birth of the prince. How does Her Majesty?” He plucked a handful of berries and ate them, one at a time.

“Well enough. She will soon go into her confinement, I’ll warrant,” said Madge, still turning away from him.

“She has already made merry much longer than most queens. Many wag their tongues, saying she takes no care for the babe she is about to birth. Queen Catherine went to her confinement a full six weeks before the babes came,” he said.

“Such care did her little good. My mistress will be delivered of a prince, one she has done all she can to protect and love, in spite of His Majesty’s doings,” said Madge, her voice tight, full of anger. “And she has not waited longer than any other anointed queen—the babe will not come yet for weeks.”

“His Majesty’s doings? Ah, I see,” he said, smiling gently at Madge. “You cannot think the king would not take his pleasure while the queen is with child! He has always done so,” he said.

“Then he has always done wrongly, Sir Chur—” Madge caught her tongue. She did not want Arthur to know she thought of him often enough to have had his pet name stick in her mind. Though she had called him by that name several times, he might imagine he heard a fondness when she said it to his face after their kiss, which she could not get out of her head.

“So, you still think me Sir Churlish, eh? Madame, I am your friend and defender. I wish you could see that,” he said, staring intently into her eyes.

“How so? I need no defender. I am safe enough in the queen’s company, her chamberwoman, no less.” Madge gazed up at him, daring him to disagree.

“Madame, no one is safe at court. I fear for you if the queen does not bear a son,” he said.

“Best look to yourself, sir. You will not go far on the coattails of your father,” Madge said. Just then, she heard Cate’s girlish giggle and saw Brandon and Cate hurrying to them, blackberries spilling as they ran.

“Tell your Cate to watch herself. My father is noted for his ways with women. And Mistress Margaret, will you please call me Arthur? I long to hear that name upon your lips,” he said.

Madge was appalled at the look of Cate, for her hair had come undone and her bodice was stained with small droplets of purple juice. Charles Brandon’s hands were also purple, sticky with blackberries.

“Oh, Maddie—I am worn out with running! His Grace has tried to eat all the berries in my bucket—a hungry rascal he is,” she said, her face pink and covered with a light sheen of sweat.

“That I am, madame, hungry indeed!” replied the duke and there was no mistaking his meaning.

“We must away at once, Cate! Her Majesty will be expecting us. Come, quick now!” Madge said, pulling at Cate’s hand just as Cate had so recently pulled at her own.

Before she could object, Cate found her feet fairly flying down the hillock, the men standing above them, laughing and yelling.

“Good-bye, fair Cate! I’ll see you anon!” shouted the duke.

“Lady Margaret, remember me as your friend,” shouted his son.

Madge and Cate continued toward the castle, their hair blowing free and their hearts pounding.

*   *   *

“Good Cate, you must know the duke is a rogue! And newly a widower! And as close to His Majesty as a flea,” said Madge. She and Cate sat in a nook on the far side of the knot garden, hidden by a surrounding hedge of boxwood.

“Maddie-girl, I have not had so much fun these many months at court as those few moments with the duke. He made me laugh,” said Cate, reaching down to pet Shadow, who curled at their feet.

“But you are my nurse! My maid! And I must be above reproach! The queen has told me thus many times,” said Madge. She felt her heart beating against her frame. She had never imagined she would have to give instruction to Cate; since childhood, Cate had helped
her
navigate the world.

“I shall be more circumspect, Lady Margaret. You will have no need to reproach me or my conduct,” said Cate, her face serious and full of anger.

“Cate, dear Cate. I am only worried for your sake. They say the duke had three wives at once before he married the king’s sister—and only much later did the pope grant dispensation. He got Sir Churlish on some poor maid; God only knows how many more there are with his blood. I wish only your good,” said Madge.

Cate looked at Madge and smiled. At that, Madge took Cate’s hand in her own.

“We tread dangerous ground, good Cate. Many would do us harm. The queen’s enemies surround us, as well you know. Have a care,” Madge said.

“Ah, Maddie, fear not. I know what Brandon is—but he awoke something in me I did not know was there. With you secluded in the queen’s apartments so often, I am lonely,” said Cate. At this, Shadow sat up and licked her hands. “You understand, don’t you, Shadow? You miss our Maddie, too,” she said.

“After the babe is born, I shall have more time for leisure,” said Madge.

“I shall keep His Grace at arm’s length—of that you may rest assured,” said Cate.

“Good Cate,” said Madge as she leaned her head against Cate’s shoulder.

Fourteen

“Your Grace does me great honor to sup with me privately this night,” said the queen as she sat across a small table from His Majesty. Madge stood behind her, waiting to serve as was needed. Sir Henry Norris stood behind the king, keeping his eyes on Madge’s every move. They were the only people in the queen’s apartments. The king had sent the rest scurrying away.

“Where else would I be, sweetheart? On the morrow, you travel to Greenwich for your lying-in. After the procession to your rooms, when next we meet, I hope to see you holding our bonny boy in your arms,” said the king.

“Pray God it shall be so, my husband. Has the dowager princess sent the christening robe for little Prince Edward?” Anne asked gently. Madge was surprised the queen would mention Catherine at such a time. She knew how the former queen, now referred to as the dowager princess since her marriage to the king had been annulled, hated to part with anything that once proclaimed her his “lawful” wife.

“I fear she has not, my sweet. But do not worry—I have ordered the finest of my silkwomen to stitch our boy a gown for all time,” said the king tenderly. Madge was glad the queen’s remark had not upset him. She wanted the queen to enjoy her time with His Majesty, untroubled by the obstinacy of her predecessor.

“I hope the apartments will be to your liking, lady. I have had the tapestries replaced and have placed several beds within for your ladies. The groaning chair has been prepared and there is but one window to be opened, so no evil airs will enter to sicken you or the child,” said the king.

“Thank you, Majesty. I am grateful for all your care,” said the queen, smiling. She motioned for Madge to refill her wineglass.

“Won’t you have more meat, lady? The pheasant is quite tender,” said the king, his mouth dripping with grease.

“I have little appetite these days, my lord,” said the queen.

“Humph … too early for that sign. You have at least another month to feed our boy, bring him fat into the realm.” Henry patted his own belly, which had grown a bit along with the queen’s.

“He will be fine, fat, and fit, husband. I have taken every care, as well you know. I long to return to your arms,” she said.

Madge glanced at Henry Norris and blushed. He smiled at her, then licked his lips.

*   *   *

The procession into the queen’s lying-in chambers in Greenwich was impressive, with many prayers said for her health and the safety of the little prince. Madge and the other women knew the dangers of childbirth and an air of anxiety filled the apartments.

Every dignitary from the realm crowded into the rooms to pray for the queen and to hear the blessings for the new prince. Madge saw her uncle, Thomas Boleyn, now Lord Wiltshire, the queen’s father. Beside him, his son, George. Norfolk, Cromwell, Sir Nicholas Carew, Brandon, Norris, and other members of the privy council all jostled for space as the king knelt at Anne’s bedside, holding her hand, tears in his eyes. Madge stood on the other side of the queen’s enormous bed with her own pallet laid out on the rushes.