Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (22 page)

With the service over, the King and Queen processed through the Chapel. Still somewhat vexed with the King—although Lord knows, it was not his fault—I kept my eyes downcast and avoided his stare. Henry tried to catch my eye as he walked by, yet I felt disinclined to reciprocate. Before long, the King’s Gentleman of the Privy Chamber and Katherine’s ladies-in-waiting also followed the King and Queen along a private gallery from the church towards their separate privy chambers in the main part of the palace. There they were to prepare for the investiture ceremony which was to follow.

Still simmering with jealousy, I felt suddenly that I might suffocate; I could not face seeing Katherine at Henry’s side for one moment longer. As we approached a door leading off the gallery, I was seized by an overwhelming desire to escape. I grabbed Nan’s hand as she walked beside me; before she could say a word of protest, I pulled her through the doorway and into the passageway beyond, leaving the main party to continue along its way.

The release from the intense solemnity and stuffy court etiquette of the morning caused us both to collapse into a fit of girlish giggles as we hurried along the corridor. As crisp and cold as that frosty November morning was, I hankered to get some fresh air and absorb the tranquil peace of the palace gardens. Stopping briefly at my family’s apartments, Bess helped both me and Nan into rich furs to protect us from the winter chill, before we made our way outside.

Winter’s icy grip had chased away the colourful mantle of the autumn. Yet the harsh frost brought its own pure, white beauty. Soon, I was walking arm-in-arm with my friend through the palace’s privy gardens which were splendidly laid out in front of the Queen’s lodgings. Nan and I ambled through those gardens, clutching our furs about us. We huddled together both for warmth, and so that we might share the latest court gossip without being overheard by those lurking unseen behind the tall yew hedges that divided the garden into a number of smaller, more intimate spaces.

I had spent a great deal of time with Nan since first arriving in Anne’s world, so I knew a considerable amount about her. Most importantly, I knew that she was a most loyal and dependable friend, someone I could count on, no matter what. Nan was a little older than me, then in her early thirties, although she was so fresh-faced it was easy to mistake her for a woman some ten years younger. Unusually, she had not married and I often wondered why; a young and vibrant woman, full of
joie de vivre
with an easy-going and accepting nature. However, she had become the target of one gentleman’s affections; a Master George Zouche had taken a fancy to Nan earlier in the year. It was clear that my friend was entirely enamoured with her potential suitor, and much of our time together was spent deliciously dissecting his intentions and the courtly pursuit of his intended love. As we walked along, side-by-side, I drew a deep breath and felt the air’s icy tentacles reach deep inside my chest, sweeping away the stale air of the Palace.

‘Oh, it is so lovely to be outside on such a beautiful morning!’ I said taking another long and satisfied breath.

‘Anne, you are wicked! You will get us into so much trouble, stealing away like that when we should be waiting upon the Queen,’ replied my friend. Yet as much as she scolded me, I knew that Nan shared my sense of mischief and was as glad as I to escape.

‘Let us forget Katherine and our duties for now . . .’ I turned to face Nan and with a twinkle in my eye, I continued, ‘and let us talk of more interesting things.’

‘Such as?’ Nan looked at me quizzically.

‘Such as a certain Master Zouche?’ I raised my eyebrows and smiled at her, teasing my friend and causing a sudden flush of scarlet to race across her cheeks.

‘Tell me, have you heard anything from him recently?’

‘Well’ Nan looked at me and smiled coyly, ‘as a matter of fact, I have. He wrote a letter to me and told me that he was returning to court this very day for the King’s investiture. Oh Anne! I am so excited! A woman of my age; I should know better and yet I feel like a young maiden in the first flush of youth.’

‘Do you love him, Nan?’ I asked, searching her face, which was already lit up at the very thought of seeing her lover again.

‘I do believe that I am falling in love with him, yes.’

‘Then all is well. Why shouldn’t you enjoy it? Falling in love is one of life’s delicacies and should be enjoyed as such.’ Recalling what I knew from history—that Nan would live well into her nineties—I took her hand in mine, and smiled broadly as I said, ‘I predict that you will live a very long and happy life, dear friend. Live it well and perhaps you will remember me and our friendship in your old age.’ Nan stopped and turned to look at me.

‘Why should you say such a thing like that? We will grow old together; you and I, and we will always be friends.’ Nan was one of life’s eternal optimists. I said nothing more, for how could I possibly explain to her what the future had in store for Anne Boleyn. For a while more, we ambled our way through the garden, stopping occasionally to admire its naked beauty. Eventually we found ourselves at the centre of the garden; a circular space surrounded by tall, sculpted hedging. In the middle of the space was a stone fountain carved with heraldic beasts. The icy temperatures caused part of the water to freeze, creating an ice sculpture that cascaded down from the top of the fountain across its stony tiers. It was an unexpected sight of breathtaking beauty. The morning sunlight was breaking through the dawn’s freezing fog and its rays, refracted through the icicles, caused the fountain to glisten as if studded with a myriad of precious jewels. It was as if a piece of art had been created just for us to delight and marvel in, and like appreciative patrons, we stood awhile in silence, drinking in his beauty. Nan broke the silence first as we circled around it.

‘But what about you, Anne? You must have noticed that the whole court cannot take its eyes off you. The King seems enraptured, and I hearsay that if he gets his annulment of his marriage to Katherine, he intends to make you his Queen.’ I glanced toward my friend. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, I asked, ‘And where pray tell did you hear such gossip?’ The tone of my voice was light and playful. Until this point I had kept my counsel, avoiding my friends’ repeated attempts to draw forth the truth from me. Yet, still somewhat irritated from watching Katherine and Henry together, I suddenly felt that perhaps the time was right to shake things up a little. I sensed Anne’s intrepid spirit urging me on to raise the stakes.

‘Actually, I overheard the Queen herself talking to one of her ladies, Maria de Salinas. They were speaking in Spanish and I’m sure they didn’t think for a moment that I could understand them; but as you know my father was keen that all his children should be well schooled. I confess, I cannot speak the language fluently, but I know enough to have understood Her Grace to say that she believed that the King’s true intention is to make you his Queen.’ Nan looked at me with a mixture of pride in her ability to have gleaned the gossip in the first place, and curiosity as to how I would answer. Fixing my stare straight ahead, I answered matter-of-factly,

‘Yes, the King intends that we should marry and that I will be crowned Queen.’ Nan stopped dead in her tracks. I suddenly realised that she probably thought that Katherine had been over-exaggerating. Then, sinking into a deep curtsey, she exclaimed,

‘Your Majesty!’ My brother had often teased me as such, yet this was the first time anybody other than him had addressed me as ‘Majesty.’ Whilst there was much lightness in our interaction, I could tell that Nan was filled with awe; for the first time, I felt a great weight of responsibility and expectation bearing down upon me. It was not an entirely unpleasant experience; I knew even then that Anne was a willing apprentice to fate and destiny.

‘Nan, you must be careful, for you know as well as I that to say such things is treason!’ Nan had risen from her curtsey and retorted,

‘It’s not treason if it is the will of the King though, is it? Just think my friend, the Queen of all England!’ At that moment, our conversation abruptly halted as we heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel pathway coming towards us. We turned our heads just in time to see a gentleman of the court emerge through an archway in the hedging. It was Nan’s lover, George Zouche.

‘Why, Master Zouche! This is indeed a pleasure.’ I proclaimed with a broad and mischievous smile. ‘Mistress Gainsford was just telling me of your imminent arrival at court.’ Playfully, I went on, ‘I trust, Master Zouche, that you have come a-courting? I saw that Nan was blushing furiously, her head dipped coyly, praying, that I would say little more.

‘Mistress Boleyn, Mistress Gainsford.’ He bowed courteously to us both before going on, ‘Indeed, I have returned to court as soon as my business in the country would allow. I thought to come and find Mistress Gainsford at the earliest opportunity. One of Her Grace’s ladies told me that you had both slipped away together, and I wondered if I might find you here.’

‘Then it is only meant that I should leave the two of you to talk alone, for such sweet pastime, between two people in love, is precious indeed. Master Zouche! Nan!’ I inclined my head to each of them politely, before excusing myself and leaving the two lovers alone. Walking briskly away, I made my way back through the formal gardens towards the Palace. Passing under an old rose bower, I suddenly came face-to-face with my brother, George.

‘Sister! I thought to find you here.’ He said with devilish charm. This was the George I had come to know; he was a wit and a raconteur through and through. I had seen his handsomely rugged good looks and disarming smile win the hearts and minds of the more cosmopolitan, younger courtiers - men and women alike. I looked at him circumspectly for a moment before replying a little sarcastically, ‘Then you were right, dear brother, as you can plainly see.’

‘The King has been asking after you—as ever.’ No doubt Henry made such remarks openly in the hope that George would seek me out and bring me to him, as was quite often the case. However, despite my playful exchange with my friend, my mood had not lightened and my previous irascibility surfaced easily once more.

‘Has he indeed! Then let him ask as it will do him good to miss me!’ Somewhat haughtily, I swept past my brother and continued on my way. Of course, George could not help but tease me for my disdain.

‘Oh, we are feeling a bit precious!’ He said, gently poking fun at me as he began to follow me along the path.

‘I am not amused, brother!’ I retorted as I continued on my way, not looking back.

‘Pray tell, what has disturbed you thus? Has the King offended you? A note of sincerity now crept into his voice. I swung about extending out my arms, palms up in exasperation,

‘Honestly, are all men so completely insensitive! I am weary of being the ‘other woman’, bowing to and flattering that woman.’ The more I thought on it, the more I sensed Anne’s anger involuntarily gripping my body. Suddenly, I just wanted to scream with frustration, instead I added, ‘Does nobody understand what it’s like? Henry can beckon me to his side whenever he wishes for me to be his . . .’ I waved my hand about as I struggled to find the most apt word, ‘entertainment. That’s of course as long as I’m out of sight and back in my box whenever anything significant is happening! What is more, every moment I have to spend with that woman is insufferable! Why doesn’t she just realise that Henry doesn’t want her anymore and just fuck off to a nunnery . . . or even better, go back to Spain!’ My words were harsh and intemperate, and it had certainly intrigued me that Anne spoke with a crassness that I had wrongly assumed was reserved for later centuries. But in truth, I was no longer sure whether this was purely Anne speaking through me, or whether these had become my own sentiments. Exhausted from my outburst, I exhaled loudly, exasperated as my eyes rolled to the heavens and my palms fell down with resignation against my sides.

Suddenly, through the turmoil of my emotions, I saw in my mind’s eye a series of images; a young girl and boy riding out from Hever Castle at full gallop, the wind tearing at their hair and clothes as they rushed headlong towards the forest. I knew from their faces that this was a much younger Anne and George, although just children of about nine or ten years old, they were already expert riders – fearless, as children often are. I recognised these images were not my own; just as those that I had experienced on my arrival at the Palace of Beaulieu nearly three months earlier. I was sure by then that these were Anne’s memories, that somehow I had access to them, as if our consciousness was not only merging in the present but also in the past. Before I had chance to gather my thoughts, Anne spoke through me clearly and with resolve.

‘George, do you remember when we were children and one of us got into trouble? We always knew what the other was thinking and as soon as we could, we would escape together, riding out on our horses until we were both far, far away from Hever; exhausted but deliriously happy to be free?’ I took one step toward my brother. My whole countenance had changed, transported to a happy memory of a carefree childhood; the tone of my voice, I noticed, was much softer.

‘Of course, sister! How could I forget?’ George laughed out loud as he went on, ‘We were always as one, you and I. Do you remember our mother used to say that with our high spirits that we would one day be the death of her?’ For a fleeting moment, I thought of Anne and George’s demise and how their mother lived on but barely another two years before dying in obscurity.

Oh my poor mother! Now, here I am in the Tower; I can hear the Yeoman Guard gathering in the courtyard below; soon Master Kingston will come and fetch me to die, and my mother’s prophecy will finally come true; both of her children, dead and gone afore her; it will break her heart. Yet, back then, I had swept those thoughts away, as there was nothing more I wanted to do than live my childhood once more. I longed to be away from the palace, even for a couple of hours; to ride out again with my brother and to be free as the birds in the sky
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