Anne was impressed to receive a letter from Henry just two days after she arrived at Hever. A suitable lodging near Greenwich was not to be had, but the Cardinal had found another for her—Durham House on the Strand, by London. And Henry had already ordered her father to see to its refurbishing.
Anne traveled up to London immediately and went with Father to see it. The place was huge, its great empty chambers spacious and echoing. Through the windows she could see gardens and lawns sweeping down to the river. Then she entered what must once have been a bedchamber and stopped. A portrait of a young Queen Katherine hung on one wall.
“She lived here before her marriage to the King,” Father said.
“That has to go,” Anne insisted. “I want no reminders of her.”
They spent an otherwise happy hour drawing up lists of the furniture, wall hangings, and household stuff Anne would require.
“The King has authorized me to requisition from the Royal Wardrobe whatever necessities and furnishings you need,” Father said.
“Then I shall live like a queen!” Anne cried, and twirled around in the middle of what would soon be her own great chamber.
“Indeed you will. His Grace’s express instructions were that you are to have a house fit for his bride-to-be.”
An army of servants and ladies-in-waiting was engaged to serve Anne, so that she could keep as much state at Durham House as if she were queen already. Among her new maids was a sweet, fair-haired girl called Nan Saville, who endeared herself to Anne by her delight in serving her future Queen. Anne had invited her sister Mary to serve her as lady-in-waiting, but Mary had refused. She had her children to think of, she said. So did most of her ladies, but it didn’t stop them coming to court, Anne thought, annoyed at having her olive branch spurned.
Within three weeks all was ready and she moved in. Courtiers came flocking to pay their respects and proclaim their allegiance, George and Father were to prove constant visitors, and on the first evening the King arrived, with Norris in attendance, keeping a discreet distance. Anne suppressed her delight at seeing Norris. Not seeing him daily was the only thing she disliked about living at Durham House.
As soon as they were alone, Henry kissed her, and Anne could sense a suppressed excitement about him.
“I had word today,” he announced. “Cardinal Campeggio will soon be arriving in England. An end is in sight.”
“That’s marvelous news!” Anne cried.
“I have no doubt of the outcome, no doubt at all. God and my conscience are perfectly agreed on the righteousness of my case.” And he pulled her to him again, pressing his lips to hers. “Soon you will be mine!” he breathed.
She took great pleasure in showing him and Norris around Durham House, feeling intensely conscious of Norris’s nearness, but Henry was busy expressing hearty praise for the improvements that had been made, and her taste in furnishings.
They dined in private, off silver plate that had once graced his father’s table.
“You serve a good venison pasty,” Henry complimented her, wiping his mouth with his napkin. There was a knock and an usher entered with a letter.
“It’ll be from the Duke of Suffolk,” Henry said, dismissing the man with a gesture. “I sent him to Paris to welcome Campeggio and escort him to England.” He broke the seal, read it, and frowned.
“What is it?” Anne asked sharply.
“A lot of nonsense. He says that Campeggio’s mission will be mere mockery. I won’t believe it. That legate hasn’t come all this way for nothing.”
—
Henry was away hunting, for it was now the grease season. Anne remained at Durham House, fretting about the legate and waiting for Henry to send her news.
His next letter was joyous. The legate would be in Calais within the week. From there, it was but a short journey to England, weather permitting. And then, he wrote, “I will look soon after to enjoy that which I have so longed for, to God’s pleasure, and both our comforts. No more to you at this time, my own darling, for lack of time, but that I would you were in my arms, or I in yours, for I think it long since I kissed you.”
Henry was unable to stay away from Anne for long. He sent to her, asking her to come to him secretly at Easthampstead Park, his hunting lodge in Windsor Forest. It was more like a palace, actually, and with only Norris and the King’s riding household in attendance, the place seemed empty, but it did afford them some privacy. Yet Norris’s presence was a torment for Anne.
Apart from being overjoyed to see her, Henry was in a good mood. The hunting was proving excellent—they dined on the venison he had killed—and he was optimistic about the coming hearing.
He had started writing another book, A Glass of the Truth, which he was eager to show her. In it he was setting forth—very cogently—his arguments against his marriage and against a female succession. Anne was tempted to dispute the latter, but of course it would not be in her own interests to do so.
It was much later when Henry picked up a beautifully bound volume with a silken marker in it, and handed it to her.
“I would show you this, sweetheart. I found it in my choirbook.” She opened it and saw an exquisitely painted Tudor rose and the date 1515, then turned to the page he had indicated. The text was in Latin, and entitled Quam pulchra es.
“I do not know Latin,” she said, and gave the book to Henry.
“I will translate for you, then,” he said, and read the words, his voice resonant with emotion:
How beautiful you are, my love,
How beautiful and how comely you are;
How beautiful are your cheeks;
Your breasts are more excellent than wine;
Your neck is like a jeweled necklace;
Your eyes are those of doves.
Your lips, your throat, your hands,
Your belly and your face are as ivory.
O my love, lay yourself bare for me, for I am faint with love.
He looked up at her, his eyes aflame with desire. Never before had he used such erotic language to her. She was amazed that the passage had been included in a choirbook, although she knew it paraphrased the sensual, seductive Song of Solomon in the Bible.
“I am become a monk, Anne!” Henry complained. “I ache for you, God only knows how much! You know I am resolved to wait until we are wed before making you mine completely, but darling, there is so much we can enjoy to assuage our desire.” Always he assumed that her need for him was as fervent as his for her. And he kissed her as if he would have devoured her, his insistent hands clutching at her waist, her hips, and her thighs. Gently she disengaged them, but his fingers were soon at her low-cut bodice.