At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (26 page)

Sometime in the early morning hours, Madge felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Lady, wake up. I would see you,” said the queen.

Madge arose quickly and quietly, surprised to see Her Majesty traipsing about the outer rooms in her shift with her delicate feet bare upon the rushes. The queen held her finger to her lips and Madge moved as quietly as possible. Soon, they were in the queen’s bedchamber where the king lay snoring, his nightshirt still open at the neck.

The queen motioned for Madge to follow her to an alcove where a bench was hidden behind a large tapestry.

“I have failed,” whispered the queen.

“What do you mean?” said Madge.

“I could not rouse him—nothing I did moved him to the act. He had had too much wine and, though he tried as well as he could, there will be no babe from this night,” said the queen.

Madge had no words—she did not know of such matters.

“
Le Roi n’estoit habile en cas de soy copuler avec femme et qu’il n’avoit ne vertu ne puissance.
He has never had much skill or virility, especially in the last year or so. He is no longer young and lusty—at least not with me,” said the queen. “If I do not have a babe, I am lost. What to do? What to do?”

The queen began to sob softly and Madge watched as her delicate hands shook. Soon, the queen’s whole body trembled and Madge could see the fear in her eyes. She put her arm around the queen’s thin shoulders and held her, trying to quell the terror that was rising in her own heart. Could the king do away with an anointed queen? Would he?

Twenty-six

In the twelve days of Christmas, the royal couple ate and danced and played at cards, enjoyed the mummery, and the music of the season. At Epiphany, they attended Mass together and dined on venison and peacock for their main courses with syllabub for the void. No one seemed to know the danger that lurked around Her Majesty and her supporters. The king had no other lady and he kissed the queen often on the mouth. Only Madge knew such actions were a sham. The king even made his way to the queen’s bedchamber several more times during the season, but the results were always the same. He could not play the man.

Her Majesty was beside herself with worry. She cried and tore her hair after the king left her apartments in defeat. He blustered and bragged about his randy ways with his courtiers, but the queen said he had cried in her arms with frustration. She was at her wit’s end.

As if that were not enough, Purkoy fell from a high window and was killed. So much would be her grief that all were afraid to tell Her Majesty. Finally, the king broke it to her. Her sobbing and screaming rang through the stone walls and for six days she stayed in her chambers, refusing to see anyone but Elizabeth. Madge finally convinced her to rejoin the king in the Great Hall for supper, telling her that unless the queen appeared, the king might find interests elsewhere. Madge called the apothecary for a draught that would calm the queen’s nerves and Her Majesty was able to face the court, to laugh and jest and dance and sing, in spite of her loss.

As the winter winds blew and the king’s moods grew more solemn with the confiscation of more and more monasteries, the queen began to behave strangely. Only Madge knew of her desperation and her fears. At night, Madge often woke to screaming—the queen’s eyes would be opened wide and a hoarse choking sound would come from her throat. Madge had to shake Her Majesty to bring her to herself and then the queen would often lie in Madge’s arms until sleep returned.

One day, when much snow lay on the ground, after the queen and her ladies had spent the morning sewing shirts for the poor in preparation for the Maundy, the queen took her rest. She commanded Madge to lie on her pallet nearby and began to talk about the Christian duties owed anointed kings and queens by each person in the land. Then, Her Majesty began to talk about how God had ordered everything so that the whole worked together without difficulty, as long as each person obeyed their betters and remained content in the station God had given them.

“Lady Margaret, do you believe the Lord God would bring me to this high estate only to see me toppled?” said the queen.

“I do not know of such things, Majesty. I believe there are those who would topple you for their own ends. The lady Mary and the dowager princess still have many who support them. They may sign the king’s Laws of Succession—they value their heads, do they not?” said Madge.

“Yes, I know. Capturing a heart is much more difficult than forcing someone to sign a document. I would capture their hearts. I would be as kind and generous a queen as any could desire. But they will not give me a chance,” said the queen.

“If only they could know Your Majesty as I do, they would love you completely,” said Madge.

“Do you love me, dearest cousin?” said the queen.

“You know that I do—have I not served you well?” said Madge.

“Yes. You have served me better than all the others,” said the queen.

They fell silent and Madge napped, in spite of her desire to keep watch over the queen. When she awoke, the queen was leaning over the edge of her great bed, looking at Madge.

“You are a pretty girl, Margaret. ’Tis how the king speaks of you—Pretty Madge, he calls you,” said the queen.

“I am surprised His Majesty would think of me at all,” said Madge.

“He asks about you most solicitously—‘How’s is your dear cousin, Pretty Madge?’ or ‘Does Pretty Madge do well these days?’—I wonder…” said the queen.

Madge said nothing. She was touched that the king still remembered her plight and wished to assure her safety and happiness. She was thankful His Majesty kept Norris busy and away from her. She had only seen him in passing. He had not acknowledged her.

“Are you the pretty one all the court is buzzing about? Are you the one who has caught the king’s eye?” said the queen.

“No, Your Grace. No! I am your woman—I … I care nothing for the king!” said Madge.

“Watch your tongue, cousin! Say not such things even when we are alone. Methinks the very walls have ears,” whispered the queen.

“Madame, my own spies tell me there is no pretty woman. But the king has returned his fancy to the Lady Seymour,” whispered Madge. She hadn’t meant to tell the queen about Arthur’s observations.

“Jane Seymour? I thought we had vanquished her at Wulfhall. I cannot believe my Harry would find anything to admire in that creature! She has no gift for music, no wit nor beauty. She is a fine needlewoman, one of my best. But small, even stitches hold no man. Are you certain of this information?” said the queen.

“I have it on most trustworthy authority. I know she follows the old religion and still loves the lady Mary. Her brothers are forward and the king has, of late, rewarded their service,” said Madge.

“’Tis true. Sir Edward pushes to be made a member of the royal privy chamber. He has not yet succeeded, but he has never been so bold until these days,” said the queen. “As I should know better than any, the king often favors the family of his newest beloved.”

“Majesty, what can you do? How can you secure your crown?” said Madge.

“I must have a son! ’Tis the only safety for us. But how, when His Majesty is sick with trying me? How, when the king has returned his favor to Lady Jane?” said the queen. She continued to gape at Madge as if weighing her. After several minutes, the queen spoke with utmost solemnity.

“Arise, Lady Margaret,” she said as she herself rose from her bed and took her seat at the throne chair. She sat and spread out her skirts so that she looked completely regal. Madge rose and curtsied to the queen.

“Fall upon your knees, Lady Margaret,” said the queen.

Madge went immediately to her knees in front of the queen’s throne. She wondered if the queen had suddenly lost her senses and feared what the queen might do next. She felt the tip of the queen’s scepter on her shoulders.

“Lady Margaret, this day, do you swear by all that is holy that you are my loyal and true servant? And that you will do as I bid, no matter the cost to yourself, even though it cost your life?” said the queen in her most commanding voice.

“Yes, Majesty—I so swear,” said Madge. She could not stop the trembling she felt in her legs and she wondered what the queen was going to ask of her. To her knowledge, no such ceremony had ever taken place in the queen’s apartments. This was a new thing and Madge wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Arise, Lady Margaret,” said the queen as she herself rose and kissed Madge’s cheek.

“Come, let us walk in the gardens. There is much I would say to you,” said the queen.

The two women, one cloaked in ermine and purple, the other in gray wool, strolled in the colorless garden. The queen led Madge far from the prying eyes and ears of the castle to the outer edges of the finely trimmed hedges. There were no benches, so they stood beneath the sheltering wall of boxwoods to keep the chill winds at bay.

“I swore you to my service for a reason, Lady Margaret. For I have a plan, a way to win the king back to my bed,” said the queen in a solemn voice.

“This is good news, Your Grace. I believe you can easily woo him from Mistress Jane,” said Madge.

“I think it is not
I
who shall woo him, Margaret,” said the queen.

“I do not follow the thread of Your Grace’s thoughts,” said Madge as she pulled her cape closer around her shoulders.

“Harry cannot withstand warm looks from a pretty face—and there is none more comely than your own, cousin,” said the queen.

“What do you mean, Your Grace? What are you saying?” said Madge, now trembling.

“My darling Henry is going to stray. Of that, I can be sure. Though I find it most humorous that for the eight years I kept him at bay, he did not follow after any scent but mine own. But now that I am his wedded wife, he falls back to his old ways,” said the queen. Madge noticed that, though she seemed sad when she spoke, her dark eyes had taken on a flinty look.

The queen walked a few steps farther away from the castle and turned once more to face Madge.

“If I allow him to seek his pleasure with Mistress Jane, she and her brothers will ally against me—others will join them. Catherine and Mary’s supporters, those who wish to see England return to the pope, all the old guard who I have insulted or humiliated will band together to push Mistress Jane and the king together,” said the queen.

Madge followed close as the queen continued to walk along the edge of the boxwoods.

“What can be done then?” said Madge.

The queen stopped and again faced Madge.

“If I can put one forth to the king who would be loyal to me, one who would speak kind words about me as they lay upon their pillows, this would serve me much better than to allow Mistress Jane and her crew to malign me. If there were some pretty young girl who the king already favored, someone I could trust…” The queen then fell to her knees in front of Madge and grabbed both her hands.

“Lady Margaret, you would be such a one, for in all the court, no one loves me more. I know you would be true to me. I also know the king finds you fair—he has told me thus many times. Your youth, your innocence, your mild manner—all these will please the king. What say you? Will you serve me thus?” said the queen, still on her knees.

“Majesty, please arise. Such supplication is unseemly,” said Madge as she tried to pull the queen to her feet. “I am not certain I could do as you ask. I lack skill with men and have no desire for the king in that way.”

The queen rose and did not speak for a long time.

“He will kill me, Margaret. I know it. I have heard it prophesied that a queen shall be burned and I have seen the dark looks the people give me. You must help me, Margaret, or I will die. I feel it in my bones,” said the queen.

Madge took in the queen’s words and weighed them. She knew the king was capable of great cruelty and yes, murder. So many had been slain because they would not sign the Act of Succession; others because they refused to give up the old faith. Anyone who crossed the king was at risk, and Queen Anne had surely crossed him by not yet giving him a son. And she had seen hatred flare in the king’s eyes for his queen, especially when Anne complained of His Majesty’s unfaithfulness.

“Your Majesty, I would give my life to protect you—I will also give my virtue if that is your wish,” said Madge, her decision sudden and complete.

*   *   *

“Arthur? Arthur? Are you here?” said Madge as she searched in the great stables. One of the Yeoman of the Guard had told her Master Brandon was feeding the horses and could be found there. She stepped carefully to avoid the scattered piles of dung. The stables were remarkably clean but had to be swept several times each day. As she walked into the dark building, she could hear whinnies and neighs on either side. She saw a figure down at the end of the stalls. She hurried toward the man.

“Arthur?” she called once more.

“Pretty Madge! What are you doing here?” he said, raking up the straw from the floor and placing fresh hay in the manger.

“The queen sent me—we must talk,” said Madge. “Is it safe here?”

“Aye. ’Tis no one here but me,” said Arthur. “Come, let us sit on this bench. I’ll get a blanket from one of the horses to warm us—don’t worry, mistress, I’ll find a clean one!” said Arthur.

They settled on a nearby bench and he wrapped the blanket around them both.

“’Tis a cold, cold January—methinks my nose will freeze plumb off!” he said.

Madge said nothing. She leaned into him and felt herself grow warm. She loved the hard feel of his chest and his arms around her, the stubble of his beard and his strong, square hands holding her own.

“I wish we could sit so forever,” she said.

“Away from court and all its dangers,” he said. “Now, tell me why you have come searching for me. What service may I do our good queen?”

“You may not think her good after I speak. If you will but hear me out, you will see the good in it—for us both,” said Madge.

“Pretty Madge, you sound terrified. What is it, lass? What has you so frightened?” said Arthur.

Madge remained silent for a moment. Arthur held both her hands in his own, waiting.