Anne followed Henry into chapel, and they seated themselves in the royal pew in the upstairs gallery. Below them, in the main body of the chapel, there was a great concourse of people. Word of Chapuys’s visit had been spread, and everyone was curious to see what he would do. Some, she knew, were probably hoping that he would slight her.
When the time came to make their offerings, Henry made Anne descend the stairs to the altar first, keeping close behind her. At the bottom, she almost collided with Chapuys, who was standing behind the door. There was a pause, and then he bowed to her. She smiled graciously. No one could touch her now. The Emperor would soon be her friend.
Courtesy being the order of the day, she made a deep curtsey to Chapuys as his master’s representative, and was surprised when he did her the kindness of handing her two candles to use in the ritual.
She emerged from the chapel feeling jubilant, and deeply relieved. As she walked along the gallery with Henry at the head of a long train of courtiers, she could not contain her euphoria. “I am sorry that Spain is at war with France,” she said loudly, so that all could hear, “but I am firmly on the side of the Emperor. I have abandoned my friendship with King Fran?ois. It seems to me that, tired of life on account of his illness, he wants to shorten his days by going to war.”
“He can’t shorten them quickly enough for me,” Henry murmured. He escorted her to dinner in her apartments, as was his custom after Mass; often he invited honored guests.
“Will Chapuys be joining us?” Anne asked.
“I have asked him to come,” Henry said, as they sat down at the high table. The room was filling up, but there was no sign of the ambassador. She looked in vain among the group of foreign envoys waiting at the door to be announced. Had Chapuys repented of his gesture already?
“Why does not Messire Chapuys enter?” she asked Henry.
“No doubt he has a good reason,” he answered. “His courtesy to you will have excited much comment, especially among the Imperialists, some of whom who will be angry with him for acknowledging you.”
“They had better get used to it,” she said, and sent her usher to find Chapuys. He returned to say that he was dining with her brother and the chief nobles of the court in the King’s presence chamber. She smiled at Henry, satisfied.
—
The next day, George told her that there had been a furious row between Henry and Cromwell about the negotiations with Spain. From what he could gather from those within earshot, Cromwell had exceeded his instructions. George had seen him slumped on a coffer outside Henry’s presence chamber with sweat running down his face, looking as if he’d just escaped from the hounds of Hell.
“It looks very much as if he is out of favor,” he said gleefully.
Anne smiled. “I will take full advantage of that.”
The following morning, Henry told her that Cromwell was ill and had gone home to his house at Stepney to recuperate.
Good riddance! she thought. She was more concerned about the imminent annual chapter meeting of the Order of the Garter, for a vacancy had arisen for a new Garter knight, and she had asked Henry if George might fill it. Although it was the knights who voted, she hoped that he would make his wishes known.
She was highly displeased to hear that they had chosen Sir Nicholas Carew, whom she had come to despise for his friendship with the Seymours. She knew what people would be whispering: that she lacked sufficient influence to secure this most prestigious honor for her brother.
“But darling,” Henry protested when she took him to task in private, “I promised Fran?ois years ago that I would remember Sir Nicholas, whom he loves, when a Garter vacancy arose, so I felt bound to put his name forward.”
Yes, and because he is known to be close to the favorite, he got the vote. But she could not say that to Henry. It was galling to have to accept that her enemies had scored this small triumph.
—
Walking into her chamber the next day and coming upon Francis Weston flirting with Madge, Anne’s patience snapped. It offended her to see Norris being made a fool of. Madge should not have encouraged it. She did not deserve such a good man.
“Go to my chamber and finish those smocks!” she ordered. Madge fled.
Weston looked at her sheepishly. “Your Grace wouldn’t deny me a little innocent pleasure, surely? She is such a comely wench.”
“If she’s so comely, I wonder why Norris has not yet married her,” she retorted.
The smile vanished from Weston’s handsome face. “Does your Grace want the truth?”
“What do you mean?” she asked warily.
“We all know that Norris comes more to your chamber for you than for Madge.”
Her heart sang, but she must not show it. “Nonsense!” she snapped. “You just want Norris discountenanced because you love Madge and you don’t love your wife.”
Weston’s gaze was bold. “I love one in your household better than them both.”
“Who is that?”
“It is yourself.” There was a silence. Weston loved her? It was the first she had known of it. He was just chancing his luck at the old courtly game!
“I defy you to tell the King that!” she retorted, and left him standing there.
—
“I’m taking you with me to Calais,” Henry said, as he watched Anne raise her bow to shoot at the butts.
The visit had been arranged some weeks before, and she had assumed he was going alone. It was gratifying to hear that he wanted her with him. It was the physic she needed, after receiving news from Hever that her mother was ill with a cough that grieved her sorely. It had come on in the winter and seemed to be getting worse. Anne had written, promising to visit as soon as she returned from Calais, and prayed fervently that Mother would soon be restored to health.
“Bull’s-eye!” Henry applauded. The courtiers clapped.
“We’ll make a progress of it,” he told her, reaching for his bow. “We’ll go via Dover, as I want to inspect the new harbor and fortifications.”
“You’re not planning to meet with Fran?ois this time?” she asked warily.
“I’ve not decided. I have to choose whether to ally myself with Charles or Fran?ois. Charles is insisting that Mary be restored to the succession before Elizabeth, but I’ve told my envoys to oppose his demands.”
“I do not want Elizabeth’s rights overturned,” she said, alarmed.
“I will never allow it,” Henry assured her.
—
The last week of April was mellow and warm with the blossoming of spring. Anne walked daily in the gardens at Greenwich with her ladies, often accompanied by George, Norris, and the other gentlemen she favored. While Henry was busy with state business, she watched tennis matches, played bowls, and ordered baskets of food to be eaten outdoors. Whenever she encountered Jane Seymour, she threw her an icy glance and walked on. Her position seemed once again secure. She would not let Jane bother her.
One fine evening, as dusk fell on a golden sunset, she climbed to the very top of the hill behind the palace to Mireflore, an old tower that had been part of the original palace of Placentia, which Henry had had refurbished but rarely used.