At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (38 page)

The queen shook her head and then lay back down to nap. It seemed to Madge the queen cared for nothing, least of all the king.

The queen did no celebrating during Shrovetide; she did not leave her chamber. Madge tried to get Her Majesty out of bed, if only to take a turn around the bedchamber, but the queen refused. She cried a good deal of each day and nothing Madge could do seemed to help.

Finally, three weeks into the Lenten season, the queen called for Madge early in the morning.

“Lady Margaret, I would bathe and dress this day. I wish to hear the Mass and make my confession,” said the queen.

Madge immediately set out the queen’s black damask gown and went about preparing her bath. As she bathed Her Majesty, she saw that the queen had lost much of her flesh and her hair lacked luster. She washed the hair with soap and then rinsed it with olive oil to restore its shine. Once the queen was dressed, she returned to lie on her bed.

“Lady Margaret, even this small action has tired me. I must rest a while. You may see to your own body and change your gown,” said the queen. Madge had not had a change of clothes nor had she bathed since she had been attending the queen. She did as the queen commanded and tried to make as little noise as possible. She selected one of the queen’s russet gowns, the color of which almost matched her hair.

When the bells rang, she and the queen rose and attended Mass.

*   *   *

After this, the queen seemed to regain some of her old spirit. Though the court was keeping Lent, the queen invited several courtiers to her apartments for Bible reading and music. She called for Master Smeaton often, as well as Weston, Brereton, Norris, and Wyatt. Her ladies returned and she set them all to sewing furiously in order to have many shirts and gowns completed for the Maundy, as the queen wanted all the poor women and children of London to have something from her own hand. The gentlemen fell quickly into their old manners, bantering and laughing with the women, fawning over the queen especially. Madge found herself once again sharing the spotlight with the queen.

“Ah, Sir Thomas, have you penned any poems for me of late? Or has your affection for your queen grown cold?” said the queen to Thomas Wyatt, who was kneeling to her.

“Good my queen, you know my heart should never grow cold to Your Grace. And yes, I have scribbled a few lines in tribute to your beauty. Would you care to hear them?” said Wyatt, now rising at the queen’s command.

“Perhaps in a little while, Tom. Methinks I am of a mind to dance—Master Smeaton? Could you strike up a fine tune?” said the queen. Madge noticed Master Smeaton did not seem his usual self—that look of sadness sat upon his features. The queen must have seen his low demeanor for she approached him.

“Dear Mark, you must not look for the king nor me to speak with you as we do the others, for you are of low birth,” said the queen in all kindness. She took her fingers and raised his chin so she could gaze into his soft brown eyes.

“No matter—a look sufficeth,” said Master Smeaton.

Madge was glad the queen had taken the time to speak to Master Smeaton as he had been ever kind to all. He strummed a lively tune and the queen took Sir Weston’s hand and began to lead him in a merry dance. They moved well together and Madge thought the queen looked better than she had in a long while. Her high spirits seemed to bring her back to her old self.

For much of the time, the king remained sequestered with Master Cromwell, discussing alliances with the emperor, the German states, or Francis I. They debated whether or not the pope was going to succeed in gathering the Catholic countries to mount a campaign against the English king, who had broken with Rome over a mere woman. When His Majesty did visit the queen, he discussed all these things with her and Anne gave him her opinion about which path to take. Madge listened but did not understand half of what she heard—such talk bored her and she often fell asleep hearing the voices of Their Majesties discussing matters long into the night. Madge did not ever hear them speak of the loss of their boy, nor did she perceive a cross word between them.

Arthur had returned to his father’s lands in Surrey and she missed him. She had no one to explain all she overheard from the king and queen, but that was not what she missed most. She desired his kisses and his strong arms around her. Some days, she felt as if she would burst with such needs. Arthur managed to send her a letter once in a while, promising his love and letting her know he should be able to return to court by Easter. The Lenten season seemed especially long.

Though Madge missed Arthur, she discovered she enjoyed the attentions of the courtiers as they gathered in the queen’s chambers. Sir Francis Weston had been paying her court, saying he should be her servant and asking for a piece of her clothing to carry with him. He was married and Madge knew it, but such flirtations helped to pass the dull time of Lent, when few activities were allowed. Besides, in the tradition of courtly love, married men often served other mistresses—such play did not harm one’s standing but rather enhanced it. Madge observed how the queen delighted in the game and felt she was following in Her Majesty’s steps. There was a tinge of danger to the play between the men and the women. Only when the flirtations became real did the gossips wag their tongues.

The queen also seemed to delight in the company of the courtiers, though her manner had changed since her miscarriage. Her laughter had once again grown shrill and unseemly, as though she forced mirth from deep in her belly. She laughed often. Just as frequently, those around her did not get the joke. She seemed to have forgotten her own edict regarding the proper behavior of her ladies and often went beyond what she had previously allowed. To Madge, the queen seemed out of balance, as though the gaiety she exhibited did not belong to her somehow. One evening, when Master Smeaton was singing a love song, the queen turned to Norris.

“When will you marry my cousin, Lady Margaret, Sir Norris?” said the queen.

“I would tarry awhile,” said Norris. He smiled at her in a most suggestive way.

“Humph, you look to fill dead men’s shoes! If aught were to happen to the king, you would look to have me!” said the queen.

Norris blanched and immediately refuted her accusation.

“No, madame, no such thing!” he said and then the queen ordered him to leave.

Madge could not believe her ears—it was treason to even think of the king’s death, much less say the words aloud. She glanced at the queen who was still angry at the way Norris had spoken to her.

“Majesty, perhaps you should send Sir Norris to your almoner to swear to your virtue,” Madge suggested quietly.

“Yes. Yes, that is a good idea, Lady Margaret. I do not know what comes over me these days—I am not myself,” said the queen. Then, she clapped her hands for everyone to leave her presence.

Just a few days later, Sir Weston brought Madge a gift of green silk, enough for a bodice. Madge accepted it with grace, knowing full-well they were simply playing the game. Weston would serve her for a while and she would pretend to welcome his attentions. He would give her gifts and she would allow him some token to wear near his heart. That would be the end of it.

He bowed as he presented the gift and Madge smiled up at him. The queen rounded on Weston.

“Francis, why come you so often to my apartments? Are you paying court to Lady Margaret? Get thee home to thy wife!” yelled the queen.

Weston seemed at a loss for words. Finally, after stuttering, he said, “I come for another even more fair.”

“And who might that be?” said the queen.

“It is yourself,” said Weston, still trying to play the game, though now with the queen.

“Be gone—and come not back until I call for you!” said the queen, still angry.

For the remainder of the Lenten season, the queen foreswore all companionship and spent most days reading or in deep discussion with Bishop Parker. During the afternoons, she took Urian for long walks and Madge accompanied her with Shadow.

As Holy Week approached, Viscount Rochford was quite visible at court and was awarded several properties, as was his father, now made Earl of Wiltshire. The queen also received property that had belonged to the king’s son, the duke of Richmond, because the boy was quite ill and no one expected he should live beyond the spring. His illness placed even more pressure on the queen to bear a son.

One afternoon, as the queen prepared to attend the Mass, someone knocked.

“See to the door, Lady Margaret. Let naught but my brother have entrance,” said the queen as she rose from her prayers.

“Mistress Mouse! I have been so busy with court business I have not seen you in some time—you grow more beautiful each day,” said Rochford, breezing by her to see the queen.

“Dear sister, I would a word with you—privately,” he said.

“Dearest brother, I trust our cousin in all things—you may speak freely,” said the queen.

The queen and George sat beside each other upon her bed. Madge picked up her sewing.

“Sir Edward continues making troubles for you, Anne. Not only is he parading his sister to the king, coaching her to protect her vaunted purity, he is collecting friends from all those who support the pope and the lady Mary. I fear Master Cromwell has joined his faction,” said George.

“I have known for some time Cromwell is no longer my own man, though it was he who found the way for Harry and me to marry. He could easily turn against us,” said the queen.

“Madame, I have it on good word that Master Cromwell wishes to pillage every monastery in the land to fill the king’s coffers,” said George. “He has bragged that he will make Henry the richest king in Christendom!”

“I am still amazed Harry and I have often discussed the need for
reform
among the nuns and monks. I have been to Syon myself to scold them into better behavior. But I still cannot believe Harry would rob the church to fill his coffers!” said the queen.

“Master Cromwell has his ear in this. Edward Seymour has his ear in the other matter. We must gather our friends and fight them, or they will be the death of us,” said George.

“Always the actor upon the stage, brother! You puff up our danger. I shall speak to Master Cromwell myself,” said the queen.

“Have a care, sister. He is a snake in the grass,” said George.

They rose and the queen kissed her brother on the tip of his nose, thanking him for his help. He walked out, bowing most courteously to Madge.

“Come, Lady Margaret, I must ready myself to meet with Master Cromwell after church,” said the queen.

Thirty-five

Madge and the queen strode briskly to Master Cromwell’s offices. Madge waited on the bench outside his door while the queen entered unannounced and sent his pages, scribes, and petitioners outside. At first, Madge could hear nothing, but as they continued to talk, she could hear the queen’s voice raised in anger. Master Cromwell was almost shouting. This argument lasted well over half an hour and without warning, the queen marched through the door and motioned for Madge to accompany her. They walked out into the spring air and covered ground so fast, Madge felt as if she were floating.

She noted the new growth around her, pale green buds on the trees and the fields turning from stubble to grass. The sun, having been a stranger for many months, now shone boldly as if to reclaim the sky. The queen seemed to take no notice of the delicious spring but carried on as if driven by a whip. Finally, well away from the roar of courtiers and the goings-on of the parliament, the queen stopped short.

“Lady Margaret, as sure as I know murder is a sin, I am wroth enough to commit it!” she said breathlessly.

“Your Grace, what is it?” said Madge.

“That scoundrel … that varlet Cromwell is going to take
every
monastery in the land to make it property of the state—he does indeed mean to make Henry the ‘richest prince in Christendom!’ I will not have it—monies that could feed the poor or send a brilliant young lad to university! I will not have it!” said the queen.

“But madame, what can you do?” said Madge.

“’Tis Easter time, when men must consider the condition of their souls. Our dear Christ was betrayed and died on the cross for such as we. Will we then raid His church to make ourselves the richer? Will those who have much be granted more while babes and mothers starve? I will go to my almoner, Master John Skip, and ask that he preach a sermon on that holiest of days, a message that will remind men of their duty to God. I will sway His Majesty’s conscience to oppose Master Cromwell,” said the queen with great authority.

“Is that not a dangerous course, Majesty? I have heard it said that Master Cromwell does nothing without the consent of the king,” said Madge.

“My course has been filled with danger at every turn, Margaret. Will I turn my eyes from that which I know to be sin? Did our Lord run from Judas? Did he call down His angels to lift Him from the cross?” said the queen. She looked out over London from the top of the hillock on which they stood. Her eyes were wet and there was passion in her voice.

“I know you do not understand me, Margaret. I may do things which seem terrible—but I do them to survive! For if I survive, I can protect those evangels who wish to bring the word of God to all of England. If I survive, I can work for the good—the king needs someone who will tell him the truth, someone he can trust, someone who loves him as a man rather than as the fount of power and wealth. If I survive, I can still give England a son,” said the queen.

Madge saw the color flooding Her Majesty’s cheeks and knew she spoke from her very soul. The queen softened and continued, “All I do is to this end, Margaret. God has raised me to the very throne. I am expected to bring the new religion to all,” said the queen.

“Is your faith so important to you? I am confused by the strength of faith shown by those who burn. I am not sure I would adhere to any belief if I were to die by the fire,” said Madge.

“When I was your age, dear cousin, I did not understand such things either. My head was full of thoughts of love and pretty dresses and dancing until the dawn. Oh, I read many forbidden books while I was in France, but only to be fashionable and a bit rebellious. But now, as Harry and I have traveled across this land, I have seen how our people struggle. I have seen how they look to us for guidance and succor. In these days, I have come to treasure my faith above all else. The Blessed Virgin has been my comfort for I know that she, too, lost a son. No matter what happens, Margaret, remember these things about me,” said the queen.