“Most excellent. King Henry has invited us to a banquet. He has seized Hampton Court from Wolsey and will hold the banquet there. Anne Boleyn will be in attendance, I suppose, but you must not speak to her. I will not have you infected with her pratter. Stay with Rose and follow her good example, for she loves you.”
Rose clucked her teeth in sorrow, an involuntary tic that escaped without her willing it. Sir Thomas and Margaret glanced towards the door.
Rose crept quietly back, pressing into the wall so that the darkness hid her well. As soon as she was farther down the hall in safety, she turned and fled to her room.
I couldn’t stop laughing through my tears. David was still shaking from the accidental firing; he had blown a hole through his elderly neighbor’s ceiling three inches wide. She was cursing him in between puffs of oxygen.
“You’re nothing but a scribbler!” She wheezed the word like it was the very definition of filth. “I raised my sons to earn their bread! Not like your kind!”
He sat, the book in his lap. When his own breathing returned to a steady cadence, he noticed what was written. He read the words. And read them again. Looking around the room, he knew someone was with him.
I bent to kiss him but was swept away.
Chapter Nineteen
She walked slowly towards him. Her stomach was lurching and cramping; she had not held on to her breakfast that morning.
Last night she had dreamed again of a black crow, eyes cold and dead, flying to her. The bird alighted on the parched dry grass and craned its neck to peer at her. Anne stumbled back in her dream and fell far, far away, until she awoke sweating and sick. Her Yeoman replaced the dying torch outside her chamber, and she slept closer to the light after that.
Henry sat on a tall wooden chair, its back rising a few inches above his head, emphasizing his height over all the men in the room. They all were nervous around him and cast their glances down and away when she entered.
He wore a crested golden doublet with a golden embroidered robe over his shoulders. His legs were crossed and he sat at an angle, showing them to their advantage.
Anne bowed before him. Obedience came easily to her. It was not godliness. It was her weakness. It was her fear and her secret.
Henry rested his chin in his hands, one finger stroking his lips. His eyes were hungry and hard as he snapped his fingers. Anne heard a commotion behind her as a man’s hands wrapped around her neck. She met Henry’s eyes and sank, her knees giving way. The man behind her moved his hands to her waist, holding her up. Henry’s eyes went up at the corners; he might be laughing at her.
She found her knees could support her and stood, and the man behind her released his grip, returning to his assignment. His hands went round her neck again and cold metal was fastened, pulled tight across her neck. Next he came round and took her hand, slipping a fat egg of a ring on her finger. Her hand was so weighted that she raised it several times without thinking, testing the strange feeling. The man continued until the jewels rested on her body like pikes, driving her further in, making her smaller, pinning her in this body. Her splendour complete, the courtiers raised their eyes to see her, and all bowed.
Henry stood, offering his own hand, weighted with jewels, veined and warm. She took it. Her stomach came alive again, flipping and burning, her body responding with its own language at his touch. His skin was reassuring on hers; no one touched her here except by accident, she thought, or when she was being dressed or fed. He touched her with clear intention, and her body came alive. She clutched his hand tightly, wanting more, wishing it would find her in this dress, under these jewels, and release her from this bright, smothering world. Surely there was a man under those robes, those jewels. She had never known him. If only they could slip free.
“Your rival is gone.”
She did not understand his meaning. “My king, please tell me, who is my rival?”
Henry laughed, looking back at his servants and courtiers, who all laughed, too. They knew, Anne realized. How much happened in these walls—a universe that spun and changed while she was not present.
Henry rose and kissed her on the forehead. His doublet was scented with the thick spiciness of his clove perfume, and she sensed the warm flesh under the heavy robes, the strong beating heart just beyond the gold crest.
“To please you, Catherine has been banished to an old, forgotten estate where she will trouble you no more. She has surrendered the crown jewels to you, as the rightful queen.”
Anne opened her mouth to say something, pushing back from his embrace, and he caught her open mouth with a kiss.
He spoke. “Tonight there will be a banquet in your honour, where I will bestow not one, but two, earldoms upon your father. His name will be secure, and your brother will be the heir. Many will attend tonight to see the new queen and discover what justice God has wrought.”
He leaned to whisper in her ear, and his breath was hot on her neck. Her stomach flipped at the sensation. “See how I love you.”