As she walked from the kitchens, back through the portico shaped like a sun, the warm stones under her feet, she heard the hooves of horses and saw a servant running to raise the royal flag. Henry was back in residence. Anne rushed to find a place to hide. She was ashamed and betrayed, having trusted in him. She had thought he was becoming a man of comfort and righteousness. But he had spent all his good intentions in Catherine’s bed, hadn’t he? Anne looked the fool. Whether queen or concubine, forever she would be giving her heart and losing her dignity, in a dance that returned her again and again to this cowering moment. Shame burned in her stomach, branding her cheeks with red blotches. How could she have been stirred to love him? How could he have slept with Catherine if he professed to love Anne? She had not slept with Henry, but this was in obedience to God’s law. How would God let her be humiliated for it?
A whiff of the fires caught her again, turning her stomach. God was on no one’s side in this. Anne frowned.
A hand on her shoulder made her jump. Her Yeoman had found her, huddled in a dark hallway, unsure of where to run. It was a gesture that could cost him his life, but neither moved. His grip flooded her with peace. She closed her eyes, letting it wash down her body and work into every knotted muscle. She remembered being a child, when her father would cradle her or her brother would take her hand as they walked. There was still goodness in the world, she thought. There was still hope.
He dropped his hand and led her back into the portico. Henry was just entering and saw her. The Yeoman stepped into the shadows. Anne reached for him, but he was gone.
Henry took the distance between them in four strides. He towered over her, taking her hands in his own and lifting them to his lips. She was pulled into his embrace. His hands circling around her waist, she was tempted to believe she was wrong. Henry stroked the hair back from Anne’s face, tucking it behind her ear, her jeweled crescent hairpiece letting too much hair spring loose. Henry ran his fingers over her face, setting little curls back into place.
She looked at him as he loomed over her. Her doubts were too weak to stand in his presence. He bent to kiss her, but she pulled back.
“What is it, Anne? Am I not to have even this?” His voice had an edge.
“I thought you would have had your fill,” Anne replied, her heart pounding. She couldn’t believe she had the sudden strength to test him. It was strange to her that he could make her so weak and so enraged in the same breath.
“And if I had, what business is it of yours?” He could turn in the same breath too.
She saw the courtiers all frozen, some from fear at witnessing an intimate moment, others in great hunger for more detail. This would make the gossips favoured seating partners at tonight’s dinner.
“Leave off!” he shouted. Everyone fled like scurrying mice.
Now Anne was completely alone, drifting in the center of the portico. Henry circled around her, his anger setting itself in his jaw, flashing in his eyes. She looked down at her feet. The hairs along her arms prickled and rose. She could sense Henry behind her.
His arm shot out, grabbing her around the waist, and she screamed as he dragged her into the shadows.
They were alone in a stairwell, the cool air tainted with the scent of mould and leaching moss.
“I’ll not be made sport of in public,” he said.
“You come from Catherine’s bed and accuse me of making sport with you?” she asked.
“Anne, she sent her case to the Pope, refusing to acknowledge me as her authority. I went there to convince her to step aside with grace, to save what little dignity she has left.”
“And what of me, Henry, what of me? What of my dignity? Am I nothing but the king’s whore?”
He slapped her. Anne placed her hand over her stinging cheek, turning to run from him. He caught her, pulling her in tightly. “Anne, Anne …”
She shoved back from him, fighting against his tightening grasp, jerking her arms, trying to stab him with her elbows.
He gave her a little freedom, releasing her only enough that she could look at him, keeping her arms pinned against her body.
“You have ruined me!” she cried. “If you let me go, what good would I be? My sister only received an offer of marriage after you ordered it. Who would dare love me?”
“You think I am going to discard you?” he asked.
Anne stumbled for a second over his sudden shift in humour. She took a deep breath, exhaling before she met his gaze.