Chapter Seventeen
But now I do perceive that naught it moveth you,
My good intent, my gentle heart, nor yet my kind so true.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
What followed were months of mostly quiet.
Norfolk had convinced the king to pardon his son, though he’d been encouraged to retain his residence in the north instead of at court. ’Twas bittersweet. I’d hoped that we might have seen the bastard axed, but victory was not yet mine.
While the king worked on keeping tabs on the north of England, his territories in France, Wales and Ireland, those of us at court kept vigil over the queen. There was more time spent on interfacing with the Lord our God over those months than I had spent my whole life. My knees had permanent calluses and bruises from the time spent praying on the cold, stone floor. Mass was increased to three times a day, and we all went, got down on our knees and prayed. In between Mass was more prayer, Bible reading, scripture copying into journals sent out into the public for daily prayers, embroidering psalms on shirts and blankets that were given to the poor.
King Henry’s church earned more money from its lords and ladies in those five months than it had any other time of year. For we all hoped our gifts would bring forth a prince to the realm. Even had we not offered up our gifts to the Lord, the church’s pockets grew thick with coin.
The Reformation was in full swing, the dissolution of monasteries old news, and each day a new one torn down, its money, relics and the like all going to King Henry.
Rumors came from Edward, who spent much of his time traveling with the king—atop one of his new white horses—that the king with all his new coin was itching for another war with France. He did not just want Calais and the surrounding little territories he’d procured. He wanted it all. He wanted to call himself King of England, Wales, Ireland and France, and mean all the land when he said it. What’s more, he was starting to whisper of trying his hand for Scotland again.
Yet Edward had done well and convinced His Majesty now was not the time. In the gentle way that Edward had, his voice calm, face void of emotion, hands held lightly behind his back, where he could look as though he minded not what your decision was and he’d have been happy with either, he reminded the king of Queen Jane’s condition. Would not the king want his wife to worry naught while she carried the future king in her belly? ’Twas said that when a woman who was with child suffered undue anxiety, the baby suffered, too, and sometimes this was why a babe might be born long since gone to its maker—a subtle hint to all the miscarriages Henry and his queens had suffered. A very tactful advance from Edward. I was quite impressed.
According to Edward’s missive, the king had thrown an apple at my lord husband’s head when he had said this, but also had canceled all of his plans to go to war, not another word spoken henceforth.
Reginald Pole was also keeping himself well hidden. I had received one short and bitterly sweet note from Anthony from abroad, as he’d been sent once again with Sir Francis and Sir Nicholas to rein in the would-be usurper. He had thanked me for the opportunity and dared me to deny I had anything to do with his being chosen to help Sir Nicholas and Sir Francis. I had not even bothered to tell him the truth as I had known he would not have seen it that way in either case. The three men were coming home soon, so that they’d be by His Majesty’s side when Jane entered her confinement, but on the understanding that if more news of the traitor Pole arrived, they would leave immediately to see to his capture and subsequent execution.
Annie Bassett has been made most useful to me, and to Jane for that matter, during this time. While His Majesty was in residence, I’d sent her to his chambers, and she had pleased him well. But this time, things were different. I did not know if Mistress Annie had said something to King Henry, or if Jane had spoken, or if perhaps the king had come to some sort of realization himself, but he did not acknowledge Annie Bassett in public, despite the fact that she graced his bed nearly every evening. The king also did not openly seek any other woman’s sheath to delve inside. Annie Bassett was all he needed. But one secret the little nymph had told me: He did not call her Annie, but ’Nan instead. He’d confessed he’d never be able to rut another woman and call out that name ever again, for fear it would send him straight into the bowels of hell.
My mother and Sir Richard had kept quiet and to themselves after I sent news to them of their overlord being arrested for suspicion of treason and added very cheekily how odd it was that he had been accused on a day that he had been at Wulfhall rather than in London. I had hoped they would understand my hint, and indeed they must have as they’d stayed away from court and had had very little, if any, correspondence with their daughter Lizzie, who had found time to thrive at court. She was quite a fast learner, and I was confident that in a few years I might even be able to establish a suitable marriage for her.
Elizabeth Seymour had approached me again about marriage, and I had promised that as soon as Jane birthed the babe, preparations would be made to procure the betrothal between her and Gregory Cromwell. Hints had already been made prior, and in fact the young man had begun flirting with Beth, even attempting to write her a poem or two.
Thomas Cromwell himself appeared to approve of the match, however much he might have despised aligning himself to our family permanently. With his decline in popularity and the increase in Edward’s time spent with the king, he had realized it would be a bold and intelligent move.
Nurse Jacqueline brought my little Eddie to visit me this last month, along with a staff of two dozen of his household. He crawled around my solar and chambers with a vibrancy and exuberance known only to the innocent. He smiled up at me, a grin of two teeth and gums, his tufts of brown hair sticking out at all angles, just before he’d pull things from a shelf. He was a sweet boy, and both Edward and I were very proud.
Alas, Jane called to me. Her back pained her something fierce these days. Her small frame was not managing well with her giant baby belly and all the kneeling. It was time for me to give her spiced cider, press warm compresses to her back while some of the other ladies massaged her feet and legs. With luck, we’d be able to get her to sleep tonight for more than a few hours at a time.
The midwife had warned me, yet I told no one… The babe’s head pressed against Jane’s spine—breech. With the birth only a fortnight or less away, the child should have turned head down. Yet, this one was stubborn. I would pray extra tonight and offer another pound gold to the church if only God would see fit to make the baby turn.
October 3, 1537
Hampton Court
Servants ran thither and yon, like a bunch of chickens, heads already chopped off and tossed into the cesspit. We’d only just arrived at Hampton Court—true to His Majesty’s word—and preparations were in full swing for Jane’s arrival.
Sheets, blankets, linens, basins, oils, herbs, pitchers. They brought every item multiplied by four that the Queen of England might need for her lying in. The windows and mirrors were covered in black velvet as was custom. Candles were lit around the room. The fire blazed so hot the servants and ladies-in-waiting had beads of sweat above their lips and brows and dripping down their spines.
But the room must be perfect, and everything in accordance to His Majesty’s wishes. The floors, walls, windows, doors, ceilings, fixtures, furniture had all been scrubbed and disinfected thoroughly. The room smelled clean, fresh. But with the windows covered, the heat of the room and number of bodies coming and going, the fresh clean smell would soon be replaced with a stink worse than that of the great hall on a summer day.
Queen Jane would arrive within the next several hours. Prepared to spend the next month or more in these chambers. She would attend her child’s baptism—if the king so wished it—then remain in her rooms until she’d had her churching. I remembered undergoing my own churching, and I did not recall feeling specifically purified, but I did feel spiritually uplifted, freer.
Plans were set in place for the queen to be churched seven days after giving birth, and then she would remain in her rooms for another thirty-three days but would be allowed to receive visitors during that time. Because she was the Queen of England, it was impossible to keep her shut up with only her maids behind closed doors.
I had taken it upon myself to embroider a special churching veil for Jane. It was fringed white, damask, and in the corner I had embroidered her initials and a phoenix. The veil was delicate, feminine. After going through the ordeal of labor, a woman needed to feel feminine again. I had even ordered her some special lavender oils and soaps to smooth her skin and wash away the scents of labor.
I may have been a wolf, but I dearly loved Jane, and she was my lamb.
A tall courtier in the courtyard beyond the window caught the corner of my eyes and thoughts of Anthony flashed in my mind. On closer inspection I saw that it wasn’t him, and disappointment sizzled through me. Loneliness filled most of my days, and I regretted having pushed him away just as much as I thanked God I’d had the strength to do it. Thoughts of his kiss that I’d never feel again. Would he be a gentle lover like Edward or full of uninhibited ardor? Anthony held such a passion that ignited and burned. Having such thoughts would only lead to pain, as consummating my relationship with Anthony would be ruination.
I wondered how other women could deal with such emotions. I’d often felt I was a strong woman, indeed had been told by many that I was. Why was it then, that I could be whisked away only to be dropped from the sky into an ocean of hurt?
But ’twas neither here nor there, as I did not plan on letting Anthony enter more fully into my life again. Only Edward and Eddie. All others would get the cold side of me, the political side. No more sharing, tender Anne.
But I had plenty now to keep me occupied.
I would spend the next several weeks with Jane, planning for the arrival of the next heir to the throne, keeping Lady Mary at court, and quelling Sir Anthony’s small retaliations toward me since his return to court from abroad—which included taking up a bed with Jane Rochford. This last offense in itself was deplorable and dangerous. Gertrude herself had come to warn me, before I might see them dancing and making merry. Which I had on more occasions than one. Gertrude knew nothing of my past with Anthony, but worried over him sleeping with the enemy.
Jane Rochford had no qualms about tittering gossip, and I had to make use of my various spies to see that she repeated nothing. She was vicious, more so than myself, but the difference was I calculated my moves—an excellent chess player I was, too. Jane Rochford was spontaneous. Her plans often backfired, and when they did, there was no telling what she would concoct to support her story, who would be paid off to corroborate and what damage could be done. Take her poor late husband, George Boleyn… The man had never bedded his own sister…
So when the volatile Anthony and the sniveling Jane Rochford had become bedmates, naturally, I was very horrified.
But, alas, I’d been surprised. Anthony did not bleed a word to her. In fact, it appeared he genuinely enjoyed bedding the wench—which I found completely odd. His own wife, Alice, was quite a beauty, but rumor around court bleated of her prudishness and the tediousness of bedding her. Despite that, she and Anthony managed for her to become with child within the first month of marriage and now had a brood numbering close to a dozen.
Edward was busy running errands for the king and attending council meetings. He and Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, had become close comrades of sorts, and in so doing, I was spending more time with the Duchess of Suffolk, accompanying Gertrude on many occasions to the duchess’ home to dine and while away the day.
Sweet, dear Catherine was a wonderful woman. So friendly and charming. Queen Jane, seeing how close Catherine and I had become, had invited her to court to serve as a lady-in-waiting, but Catherine had declined. For as sweet as she was, the woman had a rigid backbone and declined a life at court. She despised it. “The stench,” she called it. But not necessarily an actual smell that bothered her nose. It was more the entire aspect of court. Sniveling, seekers of fortune, gossipmongers, adulterers, the lust and outright licentiousness disgusted her. In truth, when I looked on it with the air of an outside eye, I saw why she thought so. We lived deplorably. Mounds and mounds of delicious food and sugared treats was presented to us, half of it going to waste while those in the city starved, children lay dying of hunger. Indeed, the pox was probably just as prevalent within the castle as it was in the Stewes of London. Prostitutes by the thousand were ready and eager to do any man’s bidding and pass along whatever disease and filth covered their woman’s parts. ’Twas the influence of dear Lady Suffolk which made me aware, and dare I say it, made me care.
“My lady, all is set and ready.”
I turned toward the voice of the servant who’d pulled me from my reverie, a short, squat maid who looked like she’d worked from the time her mother had pushed her out.
“We shall see,” I answered.
I went round and inspected every surface, nook and cranny, for King Henry himself would do the same. Ran my fingers along the doorjambs, tops of furniture, to see if any dust came up. The floorboards shone with their newly buffed and waxed surfaces, but they weren’t slippery at all. In fact, my slippers felt as though they could grip the surface better now that the floors had been restored.
“Anne.” Edward came up beside me, but I did not look up as I examined each bottle of herbs set in an armoire in the queen’s bedchamber. “I have a surprise for you.”
It was then I caught the smell of that very unique and intoxicating scent—baby. I turned and almost dropped a bottle of chamomile.
“Eddie!” I hadn’t seen my baby boy in nearly a month, and already he’d grown so much I barely recognized him.
Soft, light-brown curls fell around his forehead and ruddy cheeks, no longer sticking every which way. His bright blue eyes took me in, and plump red lips curved into a smile, showing six pearly-white teeth.
I grabbed him in my arms and hugged his chubby little body tight. He babbled in my ear and gripped the sapphire and pearl necklace at my throat. He was adorable, and I had not realized until then how much I’d missed him.
I carried him on my hip as I finished checking the rest of the queen’s rooms and let him play with my gable hood, yanking at it every so often.
When my inspection was over, I took Eddie with me to my chambers, where his nurses waited. They told me all about his latest moves, that he’d perfected some odd crawl, like a “knight with a bum leg,” they called it. I laughed as he demonstrated his skills.
The nurses informed me they’d decided to have the entire manor of Wulfhall cleaned from top to bottom and so had brought Eddie on Edward’s order to see me as a surprise. He would not stay long, which saddened me, but then again, I had plenty of work to do anyway.
“Come here, little bird,” I crooned, and his squeal and giggles echoed off the stone walls as he half crawled, half dragged his chubby little body toward me.
God, let Jane give birth to such a precious babe. Our futures rode on the queen’s ability to push a squalling prince into the world.
October 10, 1537
The clock chimed eleven times before it stopped. I lay in bed, unable to close my eyes. Jane had not been feeling entirely well today. She’d eaten little, drunk little, and had barely had the energy to work on the tapestry that would adorn her baby’s nursery walls.
I could not help but be worried. Was this a sign she would go into labor soon? Was all well with the child? She had reported that the baby was kicking with full force, which was sweet news to our ears, yet she was not well.
The midwife had been called for. She’d asked Jane several questions and, seeming satisfied, had reported that the queen needed rest, the babe was fine.
My chambers at Hampton Court now were adjacent to the queen’s with a connecting door. If anything should go amiss, the servants would come rushing in as I instructed. But, still, I could not sleep, and my nerves were rubbed completely raw. I stood from my bed, slid into my robe and slippers and entered Jane’s apartments. A fire was lit to blazing in the hearth. Servants slept around the warmth of its flames, softly snoring.
I tiptoed around them, nodded to two of the guards who were on watch, and then knocked softly on Jane’s chamber door.
From inside I could hear what sounded like whimpering and heavy breathing.
“Majesty? It is Anne.” I knocked again with the knuckles of my forefinger and middle finger.
“Come,” came her weak call through the door.
I entered the room. The fire had died down, and a chill wrapped around my legs. A dim candle was lit on the table beside her, and behind the filmy curtains of her massive oak bed, Jane’s frail body was curled into a ball, shaking.
“Oh, Jesu!” I ran forward, knelt on the floor and placed my hand on her forehead. She was sweating but cool. No fever. “Is the baby coming?”
“I do not know! I am fine one minute, and then the next I have much pain in my back,” she sobbed.
I rubbed small circles into the small of her back. “Any pain in your belly?”
“No, none.”
“Your skin is cool. Can I light the fire?”
“Yes, thank you, Anne. A servant knocked earlier, but I bade them go away.”
I nodded and stood to restock the hearth and get the flames burning once again.
“I am so thirsty.” Jane’s teeth chattered as she spoke, but I suspected it was more from fear than chill.
I handed her a cup of wine, hoping the alcohol would dull her pain somewhat, and her nerves.
“Am I going to die?” Jane’s voice was so small and frail.
“No, Majesty.” I had to give her hope. Already, she looked ready to bolt from the room, find the nearest window and jump to her death.
“But women die in child birth all the time.”
This time a chill of fear shook me. She spoke the truth, and she was so frail already… I shook the thoughts from my mind, refusing to let fear take root.
“The king will see to it you have the best care, Jane. Do not worry about that. You will bring a beautiful baby into the world very soon.”
Jane’s face paled even further, if that was possible. “What if it is a girl? He will put me aside or have me beheaded.” Her tone was shrill. Her hands came up to grip her neck. Small, bony fingers wrapped around her throat.
I pulled her hands away from her neck and held them tight. I looked her straight in the eyes when I spoke. “Jane, do not say such things. I have been at court for a long time, as have you. Never has he loved a woman as much as he loves you. His Majesty would never set you aside or have you sent to your death. If you bear a sweet daughter, then, by the grace of God, you show you can produce children. Sons will follow.”
Jane nodded a little too emphatically. I pushed the cup of wine back into her hands, and she gulped heavily.
I sat with her a few more moments. We prayed. I read her a passage in Joshua from the Bible to calm her. “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.” By the time I was finished, her eyes had closed in peaceful rest.
I let her sleep and went out to her presence chamber. The midwives assigned to Jane were amongst the servants sleeping. I woke one and told her of Jane’s pains. She assured me this was normal with some women and that most likely she would go into labor on the morrow.
With that knowledge, I crept back to my room to try to get some rest. Lord knew, I would need all my wits about me for the coming birth of the king and queen’s child.