The Concubine (40 page)

N
O CHANGE OF SCENE IN
even the best-planned masquerade had ever been made so swiftly, Emma Arnett thought grimly, looking around the place; one minute a crowd, the next nobody but themselves; one minute the law taking its course in ordered ritual, the next everything abandoned and in confusion.

She had always known that the world was a cruel, heartless place, but even she could hardly believe that it would be left to Anne’s women, almost senseless with grief and shock, to deal with the mutilated corpse of their mistress. What happened, she asked herself, when the executed person had no faithful friends?

She waited a moment for Lady Lee to take charge; she was by every standard the one to do so; a lady born, cousin to Her Grace, a dear, close friend. But Margaret, shaking, weeping, leaned against Mistress Savile, who, shaking, weeping, leaned against her; and the May sunshine beat down upon the headless body, the severed head, the bloody straw.

Emma said, “There must be a coffin,” and waited a little. There was no coffin. Inside the Tower everything was done to order, and no one had ordered a coffin. The King who had decked his darling with jewels, with furs, brocades and velvets, who had crowned her when she pleased him, and killed her when she ceased to please, had made no provision for decent burial. There was a grave—if you could call it that—Emma said to herself, a shallow hole scooped out alongside the place where George Boleyn and the others had been laid; and there was an old man, more than half drunk, leaning against the wall, waiting to shovel…

“There
must
be a coffin,” Emma said again. She ran about, to the guardroom, to the Keeper’s lodgings where Sir William, thankful for once for his wife’s attentions which included the provision of strong beef broth well laced with red wine, said, “I have carried out my orders. No coffin was mentioned. Tell the woman to go away.”

Emma ran back to the room Anne had occupied and snatched a sheet from the bed, and took a damp cloth from the washing-stand.

Back by the scaffold she said,

“There’s nothing; no coffin, no arrangements. You’ll have to help me. I can’t do it all single-handed.” The last words came out bitterly; she wished she could. But time was short. The old man with the shovel was already mumbling about his dinner and the two graves he had to dig in the afternoon. Unless they were quick he’d be dragging this corpse, as Emma guessed he had dragged a good many, uncoffined, by the heels, into the makeshift grave.

“If you could brace up, and wash her face, and wrap her in this sheet, I’ll find something,” she said.

And finally she found it; an old arrow chest; too short, oh good God! And why, why, why, should I still, at such a moment call on that name? But too short, good God, for any one who had…who had died a natural death. Long enough for what remained of the body which had housed the brave defiant girl, the gay woman, the anxious woman, the crafty, the honest, the kind, the cruel, the altogether puzzling and contradictory human being whom Emma Arnett, without knowing it, had loved for thirteen years. And lost.

The old man, though unsteady on his feet, was obliging and helped them to carry the makeshift coffin to the grave.

Margaret said, “We must at least say a prayer.”

“Not too long, lady, please,” the old man said. “I want me dinner. And I’ve got two to dig for this afternoon.”

Emma knelt with the others, and folded her hands, but she did not pray. She thought—This is a dog’s burial. Worse. When our old Nip died my father laid him by the foot of his favorite tree in the orchard and I put a bunch of gully flowers there.

They left the old man to his task and stood aimlessly for a moment.

“We must tidy up,” Emma said, and they went back to the Queen’s lodging where fresh pain waited. Her clothes, still bearing her body’s imprint, still fragrant with her scent; the pillow with her head’s pressure visible; her brush, her comb, her handkerchief.

“I’m not sure,” Margaret said thickly. “I believe that when people are…when people…” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I think all their belongings are confiscated.”

“Property,” Nan Savile said, “and titles. Not things like…Who’d want her poor little clothes?”

They started crying again.

“Come along now,” Emma said. “We’ll pack. What happens after is not our business.”

And when, tearfully, fumbling, all trace of Anne’s occupation had been folded away, Emma said,

“There’s your own gear, too. I brought nothing. I’ll help you.”

They went along to the room which Margaret and Nan had shared. Instinctively they kept together, three people against the world. Nobody came near them; it was as though the stroke that had severed the neck of their mistress had severed their contact with the world.

And at last there came the moment when all was ready, not a hairpin left. Nothing to do but go away and leave her there, in the traitor’s unhallowed grave.

Margaret sat down on the bed and said, “Her chaplain, what happened to him? And her aunt, Lady Boleyn. Wouldn’t you have thought that she…I know that those who were outside,” she was thinking of and excusing her husband and her brother, “it was difficult for them. But her chaplain and her aunt, they were here, couldn’t they between them have tried…She was a Christian: she should have had a Christian burial.”

Nan Savile said, “Yes. So she should. Even if…We
know
there was no truth in the accusations, but even if there had been she had made her Confession and taken the Sacrament; she died in a state of grace, and she should have been buried decently, not like a dog.”

“Oh, I’ve known a dog buried with more ceremony,” Emma said. She told them about old Nip.

Margaret said, in a musing tone, “Under his favorite tree.
Her
favorite place was Norfolk.”

“Not Blickling,” Emma said quickly. “I know for a fact that she was once very unhappy there.”

They looked at her questioningly.

“It’s a long time ago, and she was young and things had gone wrong with her. But she was brave, just as she was today. Nobody will ever know just how often things went wrong for her, or how brave she was. Most people thought she was lucky. But I knew.”

“I was jealous of her once,” Margaret said. “My brother could never speak highly enough of her. I could never see why—until I came to know her.”

“Did you?” Nan Savile asked. “Did you ever know her? Was there ever a moment when you could say with any certainty what she would do, or say? She confounded me time and again.”

“But that was part of what I liked, the not knowing.
He
may not realize it,” Margaret said, with a sudden vicious note in her voice, “but he’ll miss her. To the end of his life! And so shall we.”

They wept again. Emma watched and wished that she, too, could weep.

Margaret suddenly stopped crying, mopped her eyes and said,

“Salle! That is in Norfolk. Her father’s people lie there, her grandparents…”

“That would be seemly,” Nan said. “Could we do it? It’s a long journey?”

“We’d need a cart,” Emma said. She did not add, as most women would have done—And a man to drive. She was still capable of driving a horse.

“Our gear justifies the use of a cart,” Margaret Lee said. “But could we lift her? The old man helped.”

“We were unstrung and doing what we had no mind for,” Emma said. “If I thought that it’d please her…” But she was dead, dead, dead and nothing would ever please her again; and yet…“I could lift her myself, myself alone.”

“Oh no. We’d help,” Nan said. “But at the other end…we must think of that. It must be properly done, and the priest there would need to know.”

“We could never tell him,” Margaret said. “People who…people who die as she died, can’t be moved without the King’s permission. I don’t think he’d give it. So we couldn’t say…”

Emma said, “We could use my name. Salle is where I was born. There’ve been Arnetts there since the time when the wild men, with horns, came in raiding. To hear my grandfather talk you’d have thought Arnetts had driven them back with their bare hands. But we’ve been gone from there more than forty years. The sheep drove us out. So there’s none left to question. One of us Arnetts fancied to be buried in the old place and had money enough to pay for the journey, would that sound reasonable? I know it isn’t what she
should
have had, but she’d be with her own.”

And she thought to herself, Why bother? Deny God and what was the difference between man and dog? Why not be content with the shoveling away of something which left about would become an offense to eye and nose, and an attraction to flies? Why not?

She had a sudden blinding flash of something there was no name for; a feeling that all along, as a Catholic in her youth, as a Protestant in her maturity, as rebel against it all, when God seemed to have failed her, she had been misled and mistaken. There was something behind it, the unnamed, unrecognized source of all virtue. Some people were honest and kind and loyal, dogs were faithful, donkeys were patient, flowers were beautiful…and nothing could ever come from nothing, so somewhere there must be a source of perfect honesty, kindness, loyalty, faith, patience, and beauty…And the future that had stretched before her, barren and narrow, wouldn’t, she felt, be like that, it would be a search for the real truth, the hidden thing which had just revealed itself for a moment, and then vanished. But she’d find it again.

Nan Savile said, “If we could do that I should feel so much easier in my mind.”

“We
will
do it,” Margaret said.

“I’ll ask for a cart to be here at about eight o’clock; it will be growing dark by then,” Emma said.

Their voices were steady; they could look at one another dry-eyed. They had stumbled, by chance, upon the oldest solace for the oldest of mankind’s sorrows—the decent laying away of the beloved dead.

The Concubine

Introduction

There she was; sixteen years old, with no advantages whatsoever; the Cinderella of the Queen’s ladies, and, it seemed, about to turn the fairytale into real life.”

In Tudor England, advisers to Henry VIII put a stop to the youthful love affair of Anne Boleyn and nobleman Harry Percy at the King’s request. The lady-in-waiting has caught the monarch’s eye, and when Anne realizes his intent, her entire world shifts. She leads the King on a merry chase for more than a decade, holding on to her chastity and keeping his attention fixed. And when the already-wed King promises Anne the ultimate reward—the Queen’s crown—it shakes the very foundation of the country and seals her fate.

Set amid the splendor and intrigue of the sixteenth-century English court,
The Concubine
is a fascinating portrayal of the rise and fall of Anne Boleyn—and the personal, political, and religious forces of the time that helped shape her tragic destiny.

Discussion Questions

1. “People began to say that there must be more in the thin, sallow, sloe-eyed little girl than appeared on the surface. What was it? Nobody could say. It was a mystery.” Why are there such conflicting opinions about Anne Boleyn’s beauty and charm? What is it that first attracts King Henry VIII to Anne? And what subsequently keeps his infatuation going strong for so many years?
   
2. How does Anne initially view Henry, and what are her feelings toward him both as a man and as the King? In what ways does she change throughout their courtship and marriage?
   
3. Henry sought to annul his marriage to Catherine because, he claimed, “I’ve lived in sin, with my brother’s wife, these fourteen years.” Is the King’s conscience truly a motivating factor in his decision to dissolve the marriage, or are there other reasons why he wishes to do it?
   
4. For years Anne refused to become Henry’s mistress. Why then does she consummate their relationship before they are married? How is this event a turning point in Henry’s infatuation with Anne?
   
5. How do political and religious factors come into play in determining the outcome for Anne? In what ways is she used as a pawn by others, from the King and her family to the Vatican and even her maid, Emma Arnett?
   
6. Anne’s sister, Mary, advises her not to become involved with Henry, telling her, “He’s dangerous…. Half of him is just a simple, lighthearted boy, greedy and selfish as boys are, but there’s another side, dark and ugly, like the Devil.” Why does Anne not heed Mary’s warning?
   
7. After Anne suffers a miscarriage, she is reluctant to tell the King and devises a way to secretly become pregnant by another man. Are Anne’s actions at all justifiable? Why or why not?
   
8. Discuss the accusations against Anne and the means by which the King and his advisers “prove” the charges. Why does no one at her trial, not even Harry Percy, speak out in her defense? Furthermore, why do the noblemen who comprise the jury never question the fact that the evidence against Anne is highly dubious?
   
9. How much was Anne an architect of her own fate? What could she have done—or done differently—that might have changed things for her?
   
10. Even on her deathbed Catherine “looked upon [Henry] as a fellow victim,” believing that “he was easily led, he had been badly advised, he had fallen prey to an evil woman.” Why does Catherine continually refuse to hold Henry accountable for the actions he took against her and instead assign all the blame on Anne?
    
11. After the verdict against Anne is rendered, Margaret Lee implores her to write to Henry and “beg for mercy.” Why does Anne refuse to do this? Given what you know of Henry, do you believe he would have relented? Why or why not?
    
12. Chapter XLV begins with excerpts from two letters, one in which the Spanish Ambassador writes: “No person ever showed greater willingness to die”; and one by Sir William Kingston stating: “This lady had much joy and pleasure in death.” What truth is there in their observations? Why does Anne herself admit, “But for the actual doing, I shall be almost glad to die”? What is Anne’s state of mind in the days and hours leading to her execution?
    
13. Before she is executed Anne addresses the spectators, saying, “In days to come I shall be remembered as one of the wickedest women that ever lived. Henry must justify himself and to do that he will see that my so-called sins are remembered.” What did you know about Anne Boleyn prior to reading
    The Concubine
    ? What is your opinion of the way in which Norah Lofts presents the controversial Queen?
    
14. Discuss the roles of women in the sixteenth century as portrayed in
    The Concubine,
    using the circumstances of Catherine, Anne, Mary, Lady Bo, and Emma as examples. Is there one character in particular with whom you empathized? If so, which one and why?
    

Enhance Your Book Club

• To learn more about Henry VIII, his wives, and everyday life in Tudor England, visit www.tudorhistory.org.
  
• Set the tone for your discussion with a CD such as
  Great Music from the Court of Henry VIII
  or
  Music for the Six Wives of Henry VIII,
  both available at www.tudorshoppe.com.
  
• Visit www.joyofbaking.com/EnglishTeaParty.html for a collection of English Tea Party recipes such as scones filled with jam and Devonshire cream. There are also tips for preparing and serving tea.
  
• Test your knowledge about Tudor England with the quizzes at www.englishhistory.net/tudor.html, including one about Anne Boleyn.