Between Two Kings (30 page)

November 1537, Venice, the Republic of Venice

November was one of the rainiest months in Venice, and the number of sunny days plummeted considerably. Towards the middle of November, the city started experiencing some flooding from the high tides. The weather was quite pleasant even if daylight hours were shorter. It was much warmer than the late autumn in England and even in France. The colors and the afterglow of Venice in the autumn were wonderful and vivid.

Anne Boleyn still was in the city. Anne spent the majority of her time at home and rarely went outside because it was a little chilly and she wanted to preserve her health for the sake of her unborn child. At times, she went outside and made a short journey on the canals on Monsieur Jean’s private gondola, but these journeys were usually quite short.

Anne was ready to jump for joy on the spot when she learnt Thomas Cromwell had been shut inside his own house at Austin Friars and that he had been banished from all the offices at King Henry’s orders. By the time the news about Cromwell’s forced solitude traveled to her, she had already read the incriminating pamphlets by Mellin de Saint-Gelais and the critical book about Cromwell’s role in the Reformation by Clément Marot.

Anne re-read the book several times, every time rejoicing in the thought that the people in England would finally realize how evil and cunning Cromwell had been. She also learnt about the demonstrations the common people had made near Cromwell’s house. Their revenge plan had succeeded and she felt temporarily satisfied.

Anne received a letter from Henry Percy. He notified her that her daughter Elizabeth was still in exile at the Woodstock Manor and that her son Arthur was doing well at her sister Mary’s household. Henry also wrote that Jane Seymour’s son was deaf and dumb. Anne was horrified to hear the news about Henry’s new child. She couldn’t imagine that the child she carried at the moment would be born with incurable defects. She didn’t get any pleasure in Jane’s unhappiness and pitied Jane very much.

Anne admitted that Henry would be probably ready to cast Jane aside. But if so, how would he do it? Anne didn’t want Jane to be put to death. She hoped that Henry in his grief wouldn’t go to the same measures he had undertaken against Anne in order to get rid of her and marry his Jane.

Anne and her French “grandfather” sat in the dining room, having a later dinner. The French dinner had a delicious smell. Anne’s stomach gurgled as the tantalizing aromas of the beautifully presented meal awakened her appetite. As she turned the fourth month of her pregnancy, her morning sickness stopped and her appetite was blossoming.

Anne reached out to the heaped and bulging platters strewn before her. Taking mutton on her fork, she began to eat a large delicious piece. As she was done with the piece, she took another one. “The foie gras is amazing,” she commented.

Jean sipped French wine. “Your Majesty, I see that you have a good, healthy appetite.” He was grinning at her, at times addressing her by her title.

Anne nodded. “Yes, grandfather. Please call me by my first name – Anne.” She didn’t want to be formal with the man who had saved her life. He was her only friend at that moment. Most importantly, she genuinely liked him.

“You are flourishing, Anne,” Jean noted.

Anne only smiled in response. “I am feeling very well.” The pregnancy had been quite easy for her. Her morning sickness had already receded. She wasn’t tired. Most importantly, she wasn’t under pressure and constant stress to provide a male heir to the throne. That pregnancy was the least stressful for her.

“Could you please pass me the mutton?” Jean asked.

Sitting to his right, Anne lifted the serving dish on her left and passed it. “Please take it.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

She sipped wine. “You are welcome.”

“I have some interesting news from England.”

“What is it, grandfather?”

“My close friend writes that demonstrations take place near Thomas Cromwell’s house. Many people have gathered near his house and called him a traitor, a heretic, and the murderer of the wronged Queen Anne.”

Anne laughed outright as she imagined the crowds of people near Cromwell’s house, shouting and accusing him of various sins against the king. “I know, grandfather. Everything is because of those funny pamphlets and the critical book,” she said.

Jean nodded. “Everything is going well. Cromwell’s complete unmasking will happen soon.” He narrowed his eyes to the slits. “And everything was arranged by His Majesty King François.”

Anne sighed. She couldn’t disagree, feeling obliged to François for what he had done for her. “The poets did an excellent job,” she answered in a neutral manner.

Jean smiled ironically. “What a dry comment!”

Anne didn’t react to that irony. At that time, she was done with her glass of wine and asked the servant to pour out a glass of amaretto for her. She sipped the amber liquid, relishing the almond-flavored cordial as it slithered down her throat in a warming stream. “I like amaretto,” she said absent-mindedly.

“Don’t drink too much Italian liqueur in your condition. Wine is better.”

Anne smirked. “Oh, I am drinking just a little amaretto.”

After a short pause, Anne heard her grandfather’s steady, deep voice speaking through the stillness of the room. “Anne, I just hope that now you will learn to trust King François.”

Anne raised her eyebrows and stared in the emptiness of the room. Could she trust François? Should she trust him? So far he hadn’t betrayed her and had done everything he had promised. Their plan was working very well. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. Their relationship was without mad passion and deep love, and it was even better. The child she carried would combine their lives and their blood, strengthening Anne’s position in France. She would have the child of two political allies, but this child would be loved by both parents. On François’ part, their alliance seemed to be working. That was enough, at least for now, Anne mused. “His Majesty King François has not breached his own word,” she finally spoke after a long silence.

Jean emitted a heavy sigh. “Anne, King François is the king in the first place. He does what he must do as the King of France. If he didn’t acknowledge you as the Queen of England in the past, it happened not because he didn’t want to do that and not because he didn’t like you, but because he couldn’t due to many reasons. There was the pope who struggled against you and the annulment of Queen Catherine’s marriage to King Henry. There was the Holy Roman Emperor who had captured King François and weakened France after the Battle of Pavia. King François had to maneuver adroitly between the pope and the emperor, and he couldn’t acknowledge you as the Queen of England,” he explained, hoping that she would listen to his words.

Anne finished her goblet with amaretto. “Grandfather, King François always champions whatever is more beneficial for France, his throne and personal interests.” She tapped her fingertip on the goblet she put at the table. “If His Majesty no longer needs me, he won’t champion my cause.”

“The circumstances have changed,” Jean contradicted.

Anne smirked. “Only because King François also wants his revenge on King Henry,” she parried.

“If you are so worried that King François may annul your marriage, you are wrong,” Jean opposed. “King François would have never done that before you got pregnant by him. Now you are carrying his child, and it is utterly impossible.”

“Maybe,” Anne snapped.

Jean sighed heavily. “Anne, you must leave your past behind because it blinds you.”

To his surprise, Anne laughed at his words. “Impossible! Impossible!”

Jean stared at her disapproving her words. “You must try to forget the pain and the hatred you feel for King Henry. You cannot live with so much hatred in your heart.” He raised his voice. “You must forget King Henry.”

Anne averted her gaze. She knew that the evil forces of hatred for Henry swirled around her, a poisonous fog licking at her heels. She was accustomed to living in danger for so many months, and her mask of polite indifference helped her, covering her pain, hurt, love, and her hatred for Henry. She knew that Jean was right that she had to forget Henry, but she couldn’t. Henry was always on her mind, and many of her actions, including her marriage to the King of France, had been done only because of her strong thirst for revenge on Henry.

She turned to Jean and spoke in a low and cold voice. “I cannot forget death. I cannot forget the cruel betrayal of me and my children. I loved him, but he betrayed me and our children. Everything I’ve done in the past few months was in order to take revenge on him and make him repent.” Then her voice took on a higher octave. “I want to have my revenge on him. I want his repentance,” she reiterated.

It wasn’t necessary to say to whom Anne referred to – King Henry. Jean shook his head. “And you think that you still love King Henry,” he added.

Anne glared at the old man. “Maybe,” she retorted.

Jean laughed. “Anne, you cannot love him because it is not love any more – it is your thirst for revenge.” He took a goblet of wine and sipped it. “There is a thin line between love and hate, but you have surely overstepped the line and moved to hatred.”

Anne sipped amaretto. “I wonder whether I can believe King François. I don’t know whether I believe in love anymore,” she confessed.

Jean put a goblet on the table. His expression softened at her frankness. “King François is not King Henry. They are different.”

She drew a deep breath and held it for a moment. A pause followed. Then she spoke in a steady voice, staring down at her folded hands. “I don’t want to drop myself in the very midst of a dark time, a time of utter destruction, which would surely follow any emotion in my marriage to King François.”

“Anne, even if love is a fiery sickness in the blood, like yours was for King Henry, it can be cured by another love, that is not destructive but tender and lyrical. Destructive love is an insanity that must be cured, maybe even in death. You were so near your own death, but God spared your life, Anne. Now you have a chance to forget your devastating past if you wish it. You don’t need hatred and destructive love.” He trailed off, looking at her face that was so frozen it looked like a marble statue that was expressionless and somber. “Evil can be transformed into good, hatred into love, and a cold heart may become one aflame with emotion. With God’s help, everything is possible. I am telling you this to help you, not to hurt you, though I am not sure that you will choose to listen to me. I am much older than you, and I know what I am saying.”

Anne blinked. She didn’t reply. She had come to Venice with the coldest of souls and hearts, prepared to live in obscurity for the rest of her life simply dreaming of revenge. Fate had forced an opportunity to take revenge on her, and she’d accepted it. She had prepared herself to give everything to avenge the past wrongs, to avenge her brother’s death and her betrayal. It was what she wished with all her soul, and now it was within her very grasp! She could almost feel the coppery tang of revenge. She still craved it but she also felt that something had changed. The world had tilted and she didn’t know what was happening to her. She wished to believe François, and she admitted that she even missed their conversations. Her thoughts about François had no rhyme or reason – they were just her thoughts. Yet, revenge was still in her breath. She was trapped in the past, but she also had her connection with the present through François and the child she carried. How everything would end, she couldn’t say.

Days were passing, and finally a very special day came – the day when her son Arthur, turned one year old. She wondered how he looked and how he was spending his first birthday. Anne longed to meet her son, but it wasn’t possible at that time. Her only consolation was that Arthur was with Mary who undoubtedly loved him with all her heart.

Anne ordered the best goldsmith in Venice to manufacture a set of a dozen gilded toy soldiers for Arthur as a birthday gift. She couldn’t give it to her son today, but she would do so in the future. She didn’t doubt that she would see her son quite soon.

Anne often received letters from François who was together with his army in Piedmont. The letters from François were always given to her by Jacques de la Brosse who was staying with her and ready to serve her every whim. Today she had received another letter from François. He wrote that they were working out the plan for the future battle with the emperor. It was rumored that the emperor had been equipping more than a hundred ships in order to sail to the shores of France and invade Provence from the sea.

Anne often remembered François even without his letters. She was worried for him and for his safety. She was also worried for her own safety. If something happened to François, she wouldn’t know what to do. What would she do, pregnant with his child and alone?

One day Jean de la Brosse told Anne that François had given him a confidential letter for Queen Marguerite of Navarre, the king’s sister. It was a letter which Brosse was to give Marguerite in case of serious trouble or his death. As Anne learnt that, she felt chills running up and down her spine as she imagined his death. She even began to pray for François to live and win the war with the emperor.

Anne was very interested in the Italian war. “Monsieur de la Brosse, when is His Majesty King François planning to have a battle with the emperor?” she questioned.

“Your Majesty, His Majesty King François and Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France, are currently mobilizing all the French troops which are positioned partly in Piedmont and partly in Provence. They often travel between Turin and Marseilles. They are also recruiting the people from the commons and training them,” Jacques de la Brosse elucidated.

“And when will the battle happen?”

“Your Majesty, it will most likely occur after the New Year, in the spring or even in the summer. For sure it won’t happen before the New Year.”

“They need at least several months to recruit and train additional people. They are also working on the strategic plan of the war, as well as on the military maneuvers,” Anne speculated aloud, more to herself than to Brosse.