At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (31 page)

But what about the events that were to happen this very night? What would God think of a woman who gave herself to her king, not for love, not for money, but because she loved the queen? Would God think such an act a sin? Or is that what Jesu meant when he said to lay down one’s life for another is the greatest love? Verily, Madge did not wish to lie with the king but she was willing to do this in order to save the queen. She could see for herself how easily the king could be led astray by a pretty face, the sound of a soft voice, a delicate hand. She would guide him back to his wife and then, the royal couple would get the prince the whole of England longed for. If bedding the king was the only way she could get his ear and help him find his way back to Anne, then so be it.

Though she could work things out thus in her mind, in her heart, Madge felt full of doubts and trepidation. Her love for Arthur weighed on her and she feared he would leave her out of jealousy once she became, in body and soul, the king’s own woman. How could he still love her, knowing she had pandered herself to the king? How could he be at court each day, seeing Madge and the king together, wanting her for himself? Would he not begin to despise her for what she had done?

Madge fell onto her knees, holding Cate’s rosary. For the first time, she felt herself surrounded by a Presence. She knew God was with her and she told all her troubles to this God, the way she used to confess everything before the priest. Time passed and still she prayed, crying and then laughing and then crying once more. Her eyes rimmed red and her nose matched. She did not care. Perhaps if she were no longer “Pretty Madge,” the king would not desire her. She prayed that this cup pass from her lips, but she knew such deliverance would not happen. She thought of herself like a coney caught in a trap of twigs, no escape. No escape.

Exhausted, she ceased her prayers, lay down on Cate’s pallet, and slept.

*   *   *

“Maddie, wake up! Wake up, I say!” said Cate, prodding Madge’s torso with her foot.

“What time is it?” said Madge.

“Late afternoon! I was called into Mistress Seymour’s room to help milady with her sewing—she was stitching a lovely shift of satin, for her wedding night, she said. I let out a bit of a ‘humph’ and she then said, ‘You might be surprised to find me married by next year, dear Cate. Surprised indeed.’ I know more than she might think—I knew she meant the king! That prim, dough-faced wench plans to marry the king! Now I know that whatever you do to save the queen is the right thing—we are all safe as long as Her Majesty is safe. But if she were to fall, the Lord help us. I said no more to Mistress Jane but hurried so I could come to you, Maddie-girl. I knew you would have need of me,” said Cate, prattling away as she gave Shadow some tidbits of food and straightened the blue gown, which Madge had mussed a little as she napped.

“I must ready myself—I wish some great wind would blow me away from all of this—away from court and the queen and the king! I would fain not do what I must do this night,” said Madge.

“I know, I know. I felt that way too, until I heard from my own ears the schemes of Mistress Seymour! She hath nerves of iron. But come, dearie—let us fix your hair and get you ready to meet Sir Weston,” said Cate.

“Cate, think you God will forgive what I am about to do—’tis a mortal sin, well, two, I suppose—fornication and adultery,” said Madge.

“I do not know what God might or might not do. But, though it be a sin, if you can save the queen and your family, you should do so. Now, let us sweeten your hair and soften your skin. Take off all your clothes, girl. I know just what you need,” said Cate.

Madge obeyed, thinking again about Arthur and God and her mother and the queen and the king. Her thoughts churned about as confused as the golden fish that crowded in the king’s garden pond. She could feel each heartbeat throbbing in her head and her ears buzzed. Finally, after fidgeting about, milling around and around Cate’s room, and moving every second or two, Cate handed her a glass of fine wine, which settled her a little. But she had no appetite and when Cate brought supper, Madge ate only a piece of bread dabbed with drippings.

“You are the loveliest girl, well, woman in all the court, Maddie. I will pray for you throughout the night,” said Cate as she hugged Maddie good-bye.

Madge made her way to the garden and waited by the stone bench near the roses. Soon enough, Weston walked toward her.

“My Lady Margaret! How pretty you are! You will surely please His Majesty,” said Weston.

“It is my desire to do so, sir. How far to the barge?” said Madge.

“We shall walk a ways to the river. All is in readiness. If your ladyship will take my arm?” said Weston.

“Yes. Lead on,” said Madge.

*   *   *

“I thought the king would be on board,” said Madge after she had been seated.

“Aye, such is what he said. But I mentioned it might be more prudent for His Majesty to meet you at the house. The court is full of spies and gossips. His Majesty would not wish the whole world to know his business,” said Weston.

The river was crowded, as was usual for a summer night. Lords who lived along the banks of the Thames enjoyed an evening sail with their ladies. Merchants and tradesmen often headed for home by river and Madge could hear lutes being strummed and the sound of flutes floating on the evening air. The king’s barge was sumptuous, with large pillows for reclining. His Majesty had sent wines and ales for Weston and her, as well as various meats. There was marchpane in the shape of a cupid and a plum pudding. Madge’s stomach felt as if it were in her throat, so she did not partake of the generous supply. Weston, however, ate his fill.

They did not speak for a long while.

“Finally, we arrive, milady. Allow me to help you ashore,” said Weston as he poled the barge into the shallow water and set a board for Madge to walk on. He gave her his hand and led her onto the yard in front of a small manor.

“Just follow the path in the grass and you will find the king in the house, waiting,” said Weston, who seemed suddenly to grin at her. Once he saw her face, however, he suppressed his smile.

“Thank you, Sir Francis,” she said with as much dignity as possible.

Madge walked up the narrow path and knocked gently on the front door. She hoped no one would answer, but was quite surprised when the king himself opened the door to her.

“Pretty Madge! Come in, come in. ’Tis a pleasant night, eh? I see Orion and his bear!” he said, pointing at the sky. “Look there—a good omen for us—Venus, the bright evening star,” said the king. Then he ushered her into the front hall of the cozy manor house. Tapestries hung on the walls and there was a small gaming table set with wine and food. Two chairs sat on opposite sides of the table. At first, Madge thought they were completely alone, but then she heard the sound of virginals coming from another room.

“Have some wine, dearest? Mayhap a sweetmeat?” said the king, offering her a drink served in his own gold plate. Her stomach fluttered.

“No thank you, Your Grace. I fear such spirits would overheat me,” said Madge with the sly smile she had cultivated over the past month, a smile that hinted at what might be in store for its recipient.

“Perhaps you are right, dearest. I should despair if I, too, should become
overheated,”
said the king. “Shall we adjourn to the sitting chamber where Master Smeaton is playing his incomparable music?” said the king.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Madge with a curtsy.

“Mistress Margaret, on this night, I am, simply, Henry. Please do not call me by any other title—unless it be sweetheart,” said the king.

“Of course, Your—I mean, Henry,” she said.

He offered her his arm and together they strolled into the next chamber, an even smaller room with two tiny windows covered by heavy damask draperies. Master Smeaton sat in a corner with his virginals, a merry melody tinkling from its keys. He smiled a greeting to her when they entered the room.

Madge walked over to him, trying to mask her fears.

“Mistress, you look lovely tonight,” said Master Smeaton, his eyes seeming sad. Madge thought he lacked his usual good cheer.

“Thank you, sir. Are you ill? You seem not yourself,” said Madge.

“I am … ever in the king’s service, though he breaks my heart,” said Master Smeaton with a strange smile.

“Has he been cruel to you, Mark?” said Madge.

“No, mistress. He is ever kind—it matters not—I wish you well,” said Master Smeaton.

“Give us a merry jig,” said the king.

Immediately, Master Smeaton changed his tune to one familiar to Madge from the rolling hills of Great Snoring. Though he played as well as ever, Madge watched as his doleful eyes followed the king’s every move.

The king began the familiar steps to the reel and Madge knew exactly what to do. That the king would know a dance common to the poor farmers in the north country surprised Madge. What learning escaped this king?

By the end of the song, Madge was breathless and she and the king were laughing at the whirling and spinning they had completed together. They collapsed upon a bench beset with soft pillows covered in silks and velvets. The king motioned for Master Smeaton to stand near them and told him to lay aside the virginals and bring his lute. He then instructed him to begin an old ballad of King Arthur and his lady Guinevere. The king began to sing softly to Madge in his fine tenor.

Though the king had chosen the song for its tale of love, the sound of Arthur’s name over and over brought a great sadness to Madge. She tried to imagine he were with her in this comfortable manor rather than the king. But in His Majesty’s presence, her Arthur seemed inconsequential and she was overwhelmed by the king’s own person. This, too, made her sad.

“’Tis a lovely tune and most sorrowful,” said the king after the song was over. “You have a tender heart, lady, to be so moved by my song.”

“Who could not be moved by such a tale? And Your Majesty’s—” said Madge.

“Uh, uh, uh, lady. I am Henry tonight, remember?” said the king.

“Yes. Forgive me … Henry. Your voice gives such feeling to the music—’tis as if the melody is in your blood,” said Madge.

“I have always loved music, Pretty Madge. And I will confess it moves me often to tears. We share so many things,” said the king.

“Yes. Our great love for the queen being another,” said Madge.

“Speak not of the queen, Pretty Madge. Instead, speak of your feeling for me. This is our first night as mistress and her humble servant. And I would serve you well, lady,” said the king.

“I cannot help but speak of her who brought me to court. After all, were it not for the queen, I would not be here with you tonight,” said Madge.

“’Tis true, ’tis true. What say you? Shall we send Master Smeaton away and enjoy our little lovers’ nest while the night is yet young?” said the king.

“Whatever you desire, Henry,” said Madge.

The king wasted no time in paying Master Smeaton with a small bag of gold and hurrying him out the door. Then, after latching it, he returned to Madge.

“Let us to bed, Pretty Madge. I wish no longer to wait,” he said, pulling her up from the pillows and into his arms. He kissed her, his small thin lips pecking against hers. There was no tenderness in his kisses and she felt nothing like the passion she knew when Arthur had kissed her. But Arthur’s lips were full and soft, and when he kissed her, it seemed their mouths melted one into the other. The king’s kisses felt as if a rooster were kissing her. Madge giggled at the thought.

“What amuses you, lady?” said the king in a husky voice.

“Nothing, Your Grace. I am more than a little nervous and when I feel this way, I often giggle. I fear it is a folly of my youth,” said Madge. She felt herself blushing.

“No reason to be afraid, my pretty one. I have deflowered many a maid and have been told afterward there has never been a more gentle and kind prince,” said the king, lifting her to him until her feet left the ground. He swept her up and carried her into yet another room, this one already lit with tapers and candles. A large bed with much elaborate carving on the headboard filled most of the space and Madge could see that the covers had been properly brushed and arranged. “Come, my dearest,” said the king in a soft voice.

Madge felt secure in his arms as she continued to be amazed at his strength. Though approaching his old age, Henry retained some of the physical gifts of youth. He laid her across the bed and began to take his clothing off. He was in his very fine nightshirt when he came to her. She could see his manhood poking at the thin linen, making a sort of tent.

He then began to remove her clothes. He began with her shoes and then her hose. He pulled her to a seated position and removed the sleeves of her dress, then her bodice. As her breasts revealed themselves and fell loose, he began to unfasten her stomacher. Slowly, the midnight blue came apart to reveal her shift beneath it. She started to unfasten the necklace but he caught her hands.

“I am
your
servant this night, milady. Allow me,” he said. He took the daisy crown from her hair and kissed each flower. Then he removed the necklace and kissed her neck all around. He quickly moved to her breasts, which he sucked and kissed, first one and then the other, for a very long time. In spite of her coolness of feeling, she did begin to stir within her own person. But she could not allow her lusts to overcome her; she must begin her work for the queen with a clear head.

“Henry, will you answer me a question?” she said as he rubbed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, very gently.

“Anything, dearest,” he said, nibbling her nipple.

“What if … what if there is a child?” she said.

“What if there is! What wondrous news that would be! Any woman in the kingdom would be proud to bear the king’s seed! I would provide all your needs and our babe would be brought up like a prince,” said the king as he rubbed the palm of his hand lightly over her breasts.

“Or a princess?” said Madge.

“Or a princess. Have no worries, Pretty Madge. If you give me a healthy son, you will receive all the homage and honor I can grant to you,” said the king.