Chapter Twenty-Six
And if to light on you my luck so good shall be,
I shall be glad to feed on that, that would have fed on me.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
January 5, 1543
The king took months to recover. Nearly a year had gone by and even still his health was failing. The leg had to be drained nearly twice a week, and the sore never healed. He had a poultice applied daily, and he now walked with a cane.
To make up for his misery he had taken to gluttony. Lavish feasts, of which he ate everything offered. He’d grown to massive proportions.
I was a mother yet again, having found out I was with child just after the king’s harem party. My precious daughter had been born on Christmas morning, and just as I had sworn I would never do, I had named her Anne. Yet, another Anne at court. But I could not not have named her such. She was the spitting image of me. Edward had laughed when he’d seen her, and she’d frowned at him, eyebrows drawn together in such a way, he’d said it mimicked my stern glance like no other he’d ever seen.
Edward placed the baby back in my arms. “Tom came to my office roaring mad before I departed Whitehall.”
I rolled my eyes, preferring to languish in the bright blue gaze of baby Annie. “Whatever for?”
“Seems the king has set his sights on a new bride.”
“So soon?” I asked innocently.
“You are a coy and devious woman.”
“Edward, you flatter me.”
“So you know of what I speak.”
“I may.”
“He intends to court Catherine Parr,” he stated accusingly.
’Twas about time. I ignored his irritation and smiled winningly. “How did Tom find out?”
“He went to the king asking for permission to court her with the intent to marry—even though her husband still lives. Apparently the old sod is so ill he no longer speaks, and they expect him to pass at any moment.” Edward paused and studied me as if he waited for me to say something. I did not, and so he continued. “He was turned down. King Henry told him he’d taken a liking to the woman himself, and Tom’s dear sister-by-marriage had in fact recommended the great lady.”
I smirked. “How lovely of the king to confess it.”
“Tom and Catherine will try to ruin you, Anne.”
“They won’t be the first, Edward.” I smoothed a blonde curl on baby Annie’s forehead.
“But this is my brother and the future queen.” His arms were outstretched, imploring.
“Yes, it is, and since when have you ever been afraid of your simpering, foolish brother? He and I have been at odds for years. Yes, everything might be at stake should the king marry her, but we are stronger than they are. We are aunt and uncle to the future king. Who is Catherine Parr? The king favors us over Tom, and do not worry. We shall come to the field with an arsenal should battle ensue.”
“I trust you will make good on your promise.”
“I shall, Edward. When have I ever failed you?”
Edward eyed me warily, and I had the distinct impression he was thinking of two times in particular: my affair with Anthony and the loss of our baby. I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes.
Finally, he whispered intently, “Never. You have never failed me.”
But I knew better.
February 25, 1543
Even though we were miles from court, Wulfhall bustled as if the king had laid down his house here.
Messengers came every few hours, and the servants were busy with daily chores, meal preparations and the caring of my two children.
Not only did Edward keep a steady stream of news and updates coming my way, but I was in receipt of letters from the Duchess of Suffolk, Elizabeth Cromwell, and the Lady Mary. All had eyes open to the goings-on at court and were keeping me privy, even seeking my advice as to their own course of actions. Gertrude sent me correspondence that was light of heart, and she’d embarked on an affair that seemed to be keeping her in pleasant countenance.
Soon, I would travel back to the viper’s den, immerse myself within it, and wait for Catherine Parr’s fangs to sink into my flesh, whereby she would next send me into the waiting and violent embrace of her thrust-aside lover, Thomas Seymour.
But I had news for them. Best they kept to themselves, or perhaps a rumor of their own lusty escapades would whip rampantly on wagging tongues.
I walked out of the great hall and toward the stables. The grass was crisp underfoot, little tiny icicles popping beneath my feet from the evening’s dew freezing upon the blades. My breath came out in a fog. The temperature was slowly rising, and spring would soon be here. But this was my favorite time of year, when the weather was still cool and crisp from winter and trying desperately to grasp the dawn of a new season, new life.
Amid the turmoil of court and family demands, I must find some escape, and having been confined to the interior of Wulfhall for months, I needed to break away! Feel the wind fly through my hair. I was looking for just a moment of peace and abandon before returning to court.
No groom was in sight as I walked through to find my mare. Tizzy was lazily gnawing on some hay when I found her. I rubbed her muzzle, and she lipped my palm, looking for sugar.
“You are up early, my lady.” The voice of Francis Newdegate, our steward, startled me, and I jumped, which in turn caused Tizzy to startle and whinny.
“Did not mean to frighten you both. Shall I take her out and saddle her up for you?”
“Yes, please.”
“I was going to take a ride myself. Would you like some company, my lady?”
I eyed him warily, not really wanting any company, but he was a pleasant man and perhaps simple conversation would take my mind away from things. “Yes, that would be nice.”
I was both surprised and disappointed when Francis did not speak on our ride. I had wanted to chat with someone, but then again, just the common peace and tranquility we found as we rode were comforting. I liked this man. He seemed to know what I needed without me having to tell him and without me really knowing myself. I suppose that was his job.
Whatever the reason, I hoped the next time I was at Wulfhall, we could go for a ride around the grounds again. My heart warmed at the idea. A spark of something tried to ignite inside me, but I quickly extinguished it. I was a grown woman who’d learned quite well the rights and wrongs of life.
July 12, 1543
They were to marry today. With Lady Latimer’s husband dead and buried nearly four months ago, she was free to marry again.
Catherine Parr and King Henry.
The rumor of my matchmaking had become rampant, and Catherine had no qualms about glaring blazing daggers in my direction. However, Henry himself was pleased of my idea, and so I had no need to worry on that respect.
Although, I did worry greatly of a repeat of past events… Catherine and Tom were so heartbroken over the turn of events, I could almost see him breaking into her bedchamber at night to ravish her before running down the back stairs as the king came to claim his marital rights from his bride.
As much as I abhorred the both of them, I disliked more someone else dying—even if only remotely by my hands. But, sadly, I was the only one with such feelings. Others would have had things another way. The Howards, Norfolk and Surrey mostly, had gone into hiding after the latest queen debacle, but now they were inching from the woodwork again. They were a family of non-quitters, just like Edward and I—and even Tom.
But thank God for small favors. There was no denying we held a powerful position at court—or rather, Edward did, over the Howards and over Tom. Edward had gained my respect immensely over the years and had become quite a man of his own word. While he still took my advice, it was not as often. He made his own choices, which were sometimes reckless.
I still had the recurring dream. The one I once believed Jane Seymour had shared with me. The scaffold. The wood was splintered now, and large, jagged pieces of it stabbed into my bare feet as I marched up the precariously thin steps to the top. But when I got there, it was not my execution.
It was Edward’s, and I’d come to collect his body. His head was in a bloody straw basket, and I picked it up as if I were shopping on market day. His limp body lay on the floor of the scaffold, blood seeping from the stump that used to hold his head. His bloody neck.
Then I’d wake, drenched in sweat, rapid-beating heart, breaths coming so fast they nearly choked me.
I was afraid. For he was increasingly taking on more duties, playing with power, playing with the king. The king’s new bride despised us. Catherine had taken up arms with Tom, and Tom would see Edward dead for both revenge on losing the only woman he wished to marry and to gain a title, lands, wealth.
I shook the vision from my limbs and began preparing for the day with Jenny’s help. A gown of silver silk, pearls and diamonds encrusted on the bodice, hem and cuffs. My hair in a perfect coiffure, matching hood. Dainty slippers on, and my toilette was complete.
“You look beautiful.”
Edward stood in the doorway, a winning smile on his face. I could not help but appreciate the man. He stood tall, well-muscled and handsome. The strain of court living had done nothing to mar his features, only distinguish him. Little crinkles had formed at the sides of his eyes, and a few strands of gray lightened his dark hair and beard, but other than that, he was still the image of the young man I had married.
“Thank you.” I curtsied and smiled, before placing a kiss on his lips. “Shall we go and show the people what a handsome and formidable pair we are?”
“Indeed. For there are many who have wished, and still wish, to see us put asunder.”
The wedding ceremony was brief and yet, while regale, not as full of splendor as those ceremonies in the past—a true testament to what Henry now wanted. Companionship.
The king ambled slowly down the candlelit aisle and took his place, dressed in cloth of gold and silk. You could almost see the shadow of the man he’d once been.
On my left stood Edward, and to my horror, Sir Anthony took his place on my right, his own wife just on the other side of him. Years it had been since I’d laid eyes on him, and I’d thought my feelings for him long since banked, but they rushed to the surface again. My stomach plummeted. Fire flashed in Edward’s eyes as he leaned forward and nodded a greeting to Anthony. I looked straight ahead, suddenly very interested in the depiction of Jesus on the cross hanging above the altar. And then the future queen entered the chapel. Our gazes followed her as she walked slowly down the aisle, and her longing look in Tom’s direction did not go unnoticed by anyone, save the king himself, who believed Catherine fancied him above all others.
Archbishop Cranmer began the sermon, and Anthony began to whisper in my ear.
“How is our child?”
Shock registered in my gut, and my heart stopped beating for half a second. I ignored him.
“I know Beau is mine, Anne.” His words tickled against my ear, sending pleasurable memories careening along my flesh, and fear that what he had said was true.
Still, I did not speak for fear of Edward becoming privy to our conversation.
Anthony continued, even though I tried desperately to ignore him. “Just turned four this spring, he did. A handsome little fellow.”
I sucked in my breath. How had he seen my boy?
“I stopped by Wulfhall on my way back to court from visiting my own estate. He was a most gracious host and Lord strike me now if he is not the spitting image of me.”
I swallowed hard. Would he blackmail me? Use me in some ill fashion to keep the truth secret?
“Have no fear of me, Anne. I would never do anything to harm a child, especially not one of my own, and despite how angry it makes me, I realize he is better off with Edward’s name than mine. But I would ask a boon of you.”
My fingernails curled into my palms at my sides.
“When he is seven, let him come to my estate for his fostering. Let me at least have that part of his life.”
The idea had merit, and Anthony’s home would be just as good a place as any when Beau was ready to be fostered out for his education. Imperceptibly, I nodded—despite the fact that Edward would certainly never allow it. I felt Anthony’s fingers curl around my own and squeeze for just a few brief moments, but then they were quickly gone.
I was overcome with sadness, the emotion washing over me in waves, tears pooling in my eyes. I blinked them away and pretended to be totally engrossed in what Cranmer was saying, listening to the songs of the choirboys and then as King Henry gave his new queen a light kiss on the lips. If only things had been different. If I had never met Surrey and never had to rely on Edward as my savior, if I had been allowed to dance, flirt and be merry at court as any other court lady, it was entirely possible I could have fell for Anthony first, lived out my life with passion.
But those were the stupid and foolish notions of a girl. I never would have risen up as far as I had if I had not suffered first. The greater the climb, the harder I’d work to get there. That was me. In my soul, in my blood, I could not settle for less.
The king and queen walked down the aisle with the archbishop and his attendants following.
“Hell.” The word fell off of Catherine Parr’s lips in a whisper as she passed by me, a fierce rage in her light-blue eyes.
“That woman needs some manners,” I murmured to Edward.
He chuckled. “I shall petition the king at once.”
“For what?”
“You have yet to be called forth as one of her ladies-in-waiting. What better way to teach her than that?”
I crinkled my brow as we followed the crowd from out of the chapel and to the gardens, where a great feast and tournament-style fighting had been arranged in celebration of the king’s wedding.
“If it has to be that way, then I shall be glad of the position and the chance to teach her a lesson.”
The gardens were filled with entertainers, jongleurs, musicians, bards, and on a nearby field, a list had been set up. Knights mounted horses and raced toward each other with lances held high until they crashed into one another. King Henry had ambled his way over to a throne arranged right in the midst of everything.
“Are you happy, Hell?”
The sound of Tom’s whispered voice grated on every nerve in my body.
I slowly turned toward him and gave him an annoyed look. “Cannot come up with your own vile nicknames but must hide behind the skirts of your woman? Oh, pardon me, the king’s wife,” I bit out.
“Leave off, Tom. The match is good. Find a woman who can bear you children. Neither of us wants to see you dead for loving the queen too much,” Edward chided, as if Tom were still a boy in leading strings.
Tom’s face blanched white, but he did not leave right away.
“You know why she calls you Hell, Anne?”
“I said leave off,” Edward threatened. A few guests had turned their attention toward us, the king and queen included.
“Because there is a special place in Hell waiting for you. A special place where only women of your vicious caliber reside. You hide in shadows, my lady, spewing your venomous control and willpower into the wind and those lesser beings, those unable to get away from the spray, do your bidding. Those willing to die for you so you might get ahead. How many of your friends have died? How many of your enemies?”
“What’s this?” The king raised his voice, obviously annoyed that a family squabble was taking the attention away from him and his new bride.
“Yes, what is this, Tom?” I raised a brow in challenge. “You want Hell, you’ll get it,” I threatened under my breath.
“Nothing more than a family dispute, Majesty. My apologies.” Tom bowed low to the king, as we all did, like little children fighting over a sweet treat.
“I say, Edward and Thomas, to the lists with you! We shall all watch you ride out your differences using horses and lances.” The king raised his goblet and downed the contents.
Queen Catherine looked stricken, as did Tom, but Edward smiled with cocky assurance. He would win this fight.
The two men went down to the fields, armored up, mounted their horses and readied to ram each other. The king himself dropped the flag, and the two brothers took off toward one another. Wood splintered in a hundred different directions. Thomas fell backward, and Edward kept his seat, the lance in his hand minimized to only a stick in his fist. The victor!
“It appears Edward is the winner on this day!” the king bellowed.
Catherine turned toward me with a fierce glare, but I only smiled smugly and shook my head at her. If she wanted to play games, she had better play harder than she was. For Edward and I would be the winners on more than just this day.