Anne Boleyn, a King's Obsession

“You could bloody well cheer up.”

“You lose three sons in a row, see your husband chasing other women and sense your enemies ready to pounce—you’d be cheerful, I’m sure! But Father, I do try. And maybe God will give me a son now that my marriage is not in doubt. When that happens—”

“Anne, be realistic. Katherine lost five children. You’ve lost three. Is that telling you something?”

Her hand flew to her mouth as the possibility of Henry being in some way at fault dawned on her. “But if that’s true, what can I do?”

Father shrugged. “Nothing but pray. And be watchful. Those Seymour brothers are greedy, ruthless, and cunning, and they are in daily contact with the King. And there’s another thing you should know. Our friend Cromwell has willingly obliged your husband by vacating his chambers so that Sir Edward Seymour and his wife can lodge there. The King can access these chambers from his own apartments by certain galleries without being perceived. You can imagine what his purpose is.”

“You mean Cromwell is encouraging this infidelity?” That chilled her to the bone.

“He has been accommodating. What worries me more is that the wench and her family are insisting that His Grace pay his addresses to her only in the presence of her relatives. It’s supposed to be a discreet arrangement, but it’s being bruited about the court as if the town crier had announced it.”

“Dear God!” Anne whispered, sinking back in her chair. “If she’s playing that game, what end to it can there be but marriage? Unless he tires of her, which I pray he will. But this preservation of her virtue smacks to me of preparing her for queenship. I, of all people, know that! And if Cromwell has readily facilitated this, then he obviously takes it seriously. I have long suspected that he had become my enemy—now I know. Well, he shall hear about this from me!”

Angrily she summoned Cromwell to her closet. He bowed low before her.

“Your Grace. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Don’t cozen me, Master Secretary. I’ve just learned that you have readily given up your lodging to the Seymours, so that my husband can dally with his mistress.”

“Your Grace must not call her that,” Cromwell said. “Mistress Seymour is a most virtuous lady. Had she been otherwise, I would not have agreed to it.”

“Virtuous or not—and I beg leave to doubt—trying to steal her mistress’s husband is not edifying behavior.”

“No, madam, it is not.” He looked pointedly at her. By God, he went too far! “May I give you a word of advice?” he went on. “Do not meddle in state affairs. The King doesn’t like it.”

This was outrageous! “You mean, Master Secretary, that you don’t want me interfering with your plans for the monasteries. Now that Parliament has approved their closure, you will make the King rich and grateful. But he listens to me too—I am not so far out of favor as you might like—and I mean fiercely to oppose the wealth of these houses being sold off wholesale to buy support for the royal supremacy. I think the King would be shocked if he knew that, under the guise of the Gospel and religion, you are advancing your own interests.”

“Not so!” Cromwell protested. She could sense him becoming riled. It was satisfying to pierce that urbane facade.

“So you don’t plan to put everything up for sale? You don’t accept bribes to confer ecclesiastical property and benefices upon the enemies of true doctrine?”

“I am the King’s good servant,” he replied coldly.

“I think Sir Thomas More said much the same thing, and look what happened to him! I tell you, Master Secretary, other reformists support me. My almoner, John Skip, is one of them. We are determined to see a substantial portion of the confiscated riches used for educational and charitable purposes that can benefit everyone.”

“And you think the King will agree with you?” Cromwell smiled patronizingly, as if she were an ignorant fool. “The treasury is empty. He is a man who likes to live lavishly. I don’t see him turning down this unique opportunity to make himself rich.”

“The King is virtuous too,” she countered. “He loves learning. I know I can persuade him to listen to me—and you know it too.”

Cromwell continued to smile at her. “We shall see, madam,” he said.

“We shall!” The gauntlet had been flung down. “In the meantime, don’t encourage Mistress Seymour, or you will find yourself in the greatest trouble.” And with that she dismissed him.



When Henry came to supper with her the following evening, Anne brought up the subject of the monasteries. “Sir, I know you need money, but would it not be a worthy thing to divert some of their wealth to education and charity? I can think of so many deserving causes. Henry, you could become renowned for founding schools and supporting scholars. You could establish chairs at the universities, set up a fund for the poor who are in desperate need and will be more so when the monasteries are gone.”

Henry was looking at her with fresh admiration. “I like your ideas, Anne.”

“You would be remembered in centuries to come as the King who gave the gift of learning to his people along with the Bible in English. And that would be a greater achievement than any victory in battle.”

“By St. Mary, you speak truth,” he declared. “The religious houses have riches beyond imagining, so I am told, enough to do all these things and fill the treasury.”

“These causes would be more noble than selling off the land to buy the opinions of your lords.”

“I might have to offer some inducements, Anne, but you are right. Some of the money should be used for worthy causes.”

They spent a happy hour discussing those causes in detail, and it felt like old times. There was an intimacy in shared aims. Above all, he had heeded her. Her influence was still a force to be reckoned with. How she would love to see Cromwell’s face when Henry enthusiastically outlined his new schemes. He would know that she had bested him!

And she wasn’t finished with him yet. Like Queen Esther, she would rid the kingdom of corrupt ministers—and at the same time she would show Henry that she would not tolerate any infidelity. She was fighting back.



On Passion Sunday, she had her almoner preach a sermon in the Chapel Royal on the text “Which among you accuses me of sin?”

She sat next to Henry as Father Skip ascended the pulpit.

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