“I have no cause to love him either,” Anne said. “I cannot forgive his breaking my precontract with Harry Percy. And he had the gall to call me a foolish girl in front of his household. It was doubly an insult, coming from one so lowborn.”
“He will soon have cause to regret it,” Norfolk assured her. “We have long been searching for a means to deprive him of the King’s favor, and we are here today to ask for your help.” He leaned forward, steepling his hands on the table. “Seeing the great affection that the King bears you, and the influence you enjoy, you would be the perfect instrument to help us topple the Cardinal. What say you?”
Anne did not hesitate. “I am ready!” she declared. “The King would be far better off ruling this realm, and securing a divorce, without the interference of Wolsey.” That long-ago insult still rankled. Revenge would be sweet.
—
Later, over supper, which Mother caused to be served with much ceremony in the great hall, Father revealed that he and Uncle Norfolk, with many nobles and lords of the Council, had been urging the King to send the Cardinal to France to enlist the support of King Fran?ois.
“The French King might be willing to persuade the Pope to extend Wolsey’s legatine powers, which would enable him to adjudicate on the King’s case,” he said, spearing some beef on his fork. “But our intent and purpose is to get Wolsey out of the way, so that we might have leisure to undermine him in the King’s eyes in his absence.”
“What we want you to do is persuade the King to send the Cardinal to France,” Norfolk added. “Can you do that?”
“I can, and I will,” she said.
That very night, she wrote to Henry. Soon afterward he informed her that Wolsey had departed for France. It was time to go back to court.
—
Anne found Greenwich buzzing with gossip and speculation about the Great Matter.
The Queen welcomed her warmly, asking after her health and saying how glad she was to see her. She was so kind, so solicitous, that Anne was again stirred by guilt, knowing what would soon befall her gracious mistress. Katherine looked more drawn, more lined, than when she had seen her last. Did she know what was going on? Anne wondered.
Henry sent her a message. She was to come to the lime walk near the friary at eleven o’clock. When she arrived, wrapped in a hooded cloak, for all the warmth of the June night, he enveloped her in his arms.
“Anne! Anne! Thank God! It’s been hell here. I have missed you more than I can tell you.”
She tried to respond to his kisses with a similar fervency. But soon he drew apart, looking troubled.
“What is wrong?” she asked, panicking a little.
Henry sighed. “Tomorrow I am going to speak to the Queen. I have to, or she’ll hear about our matter from someone else.”
“Tomorrow? Sir, I’m waiting on her in the morning. I don’t think I should be there.”
She couldn’t face seeing what this would do to Katherine.
“Don’t worry, darling. I won’t mention you. This is between the Queen and me.”
—
All morning Anne found it hard to face the Queen or meet her eye. She was filled with dread for her, and with such heavy guilt that no amount of rationalizing could dissipate it.
Henry arrived at ten o’clock.
“Leave us,” he commanded. Anne found herself trembling. When the ladies began busying themselves in the bedchamber, she strained to listen to what was happening next door, but all she could hear was the murmur of Henry’s voice.
Then she heard a howl that made her blood freeze.
It was the Queen, wailing, her words one long, unintelligible lament.
—
When they heard the outer door slam, Anne hung back as the other ladies ran to their mistress, urging her to have a care to herself and steadying her with a cup of wine. Katherine gulped it down. She was shaking uncontrollably.
“His conscience is troubling him,” she whispered. “He wants to end our marriage. He fears that it is an offense to God.”
There was a chorus of disbelief. Surely not! His Grace had been misled by those who should know better. All would be well in the end. Anne could not speak, for she knew that all would not be well for Katherine ever again.
“No,” the Queen whispered. “He spoke of taking another wife.”
They burst out in outrage at that.
Katherine rested her head back on the chair. “This is the Cardinal’s doing. He hates me and Spain, and he has never forgiven my nephew the Emperor for not making him Pope.”
She drew herself up in her chair, more composed now. “Whatever they say, my marriage to the King is good and valid.” It sounded like a battle cry. “The Pope himself sanctioned it. My duty now is to persuade my husband that he is in error, and I will do it, so help me God!”
Her ladies applauded her resolve, and as she thanked them for their loyalty and their love, Anne found herself fighting back tears. Katherine smiled at her. “I am all right now, Mistress Anne,” she said, taking her hand and squeezing it. Anne understood in that moment how Judas Iscariot had felt.
—
Later, Anne looked for Henry and found him in his garden, unusually morose and feeling very sorry for himself.
“The Queen was very distressed after you had gone,” she told him.
He grimaced. “She was in great grief, as I had feared. I told her I wanted only to resolve the doubts raised by the Bishop of Tarbes, and that everything should be done for the best, but it did not help. All she kept saying was that she was my true wife.”
“Give her time,” Anne soothed him. “She must come to accept it.”
Henry swallowed. “I am not so sure. When I saw her this afternoon, she told me she had no doubts at all that our marriage was lawful, and that I was wrong to question it.”
“If the Pope rules against her, she will have to accept it.”
Henry shook his head. “Anne, she means to fight me.”
“You have a strong case.”
“Yes, which is why I am confident that I will win it. By the saints, I hate this unpleasantness. It’s not my fault that the Pope was in error.” His tone was plaintive.
“Did you mention me to her?”
“God, no! I want to keep you out of it until the Pope has spoken. I have not mentioned you even to Wolsey. No, Anne, until this matter is resolved, I mean to show that all is well between me and the Queen. I want to be judged in a favorable light, for I fear that Katherine might incite the Emperor to war if she feels she is being treated unjustly. Bear with me in this. I know how to handle her.”
You’re afraid of her, Anne realized.
“Be of good cheer,” Henry urged, squeezing her hand. “Most people at court support me. Archbishop Warham is lukewarm—he’s old and he hates change—but he told Wolsey that, however the Queen might take it, the Pope’s judgment must be followed. Anne, I am absolutely convinced that I am right to pursue this annulment. And I am absolutely determined to marry you, whoever opposes me.” His eyes were dark with passion. “I am mad for you. But right now, you must go home.”
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