The worst thing she had to contend with right now were the hostile crowds who had come running to see their King pass and were outraged to find him parading his mistress in public. They made their outrage felt, loud and clear. Where was the good Queen? they cried, again and again. “We’ll not have the Bullen whore!” There were even calls for Anne to be stoned for the adulteress they believed she was. In the end, Henry had to summon the Queen to join the progress at Woodstock. Anne’s pleasure in it immediately evaporated.
With Katherine restored to her place at Henry’s side, regally smiling and no doubt enjoying her small triumph, Anne found herself once more relegated to discreet obscurity. Nothing had changed. Would it always be this unhallowed triumvirate of herself, Henry, and Katherine, doomed to be shackled together forever?
1529
On the feast of the nativity of the Virgin Mary, the royal train arrived at Grafton Regis, where Henry owned an old hunting lodge deep in the Northamptonshire countryside. It had been arranged that Cardinal Campeggio would come here to take his formal leave of the King before returning to Rome.
Anne had just left the lodging allocated to her when she heard the unmistakable sounds of a party of horsemen arriving in the courtyard. Looking out of a window in the gallery, she saw Cardinal Campeggio alighting stiffly from a litter. She watched as ostlers and grooms ran to see to the horses and the Cardinal’s luggage, and the Knight Harbinger came bustling importantly forward to conduct His Eminence to the rooms that had been prepared for him. And then she saw that someone else was climbing out of the litter on the opposite side. It was Wolsey.
He had aged by about a hundred years. Gone was the air of self-importance, the urbane assurance; there was only an old, sunken man looking warily around the courtyard, plainly uncertain of his welcome—and with good reason, for the Knight Harbinger was seemingly blind to his presence, leading Campeggio away. Soon there was no one else in sight.
Anne stiffened. After the Cardinal’s departure from court, Henry had hardly mentioned him. Out of sight, out of mind, she had hoped. And how lucky that was for Wolsey, for in his anger Henry had threatened to have his head.
A thickset man in black came along the gallery, bowed courteously to her, and peered out of the window, following her gaze. When he saw Wolsey, he recoiled suddenly.
“Your old master, Master Cromwell,” Anne said. She had sometimes seen this bull of a man with his porcine features in attendance on the Cardinal, and knew him for a respected lawyer, but they had never spoken. “I wonder that he has the temerity to turn up here unannounced.”
“If I had been in his shoes, Mistress Anne, I would have deemed it a gross discourtesy to Cardinal Campeggio not to. Had he stayed away, it would have looked like an insult. But it seems he was not expected.” Wolsey was still standing alone, looking at a loss.
“After deceiving the King, he should have known he would not be welcome,” Anne replied.
“He did not deceive the King,” Thomas Cromwell said. “I worked closely with him, and I know how hard he tried to secure a divorce. No man could have done more.”
That could not be true! “I think you are yourself deceived,” she retorted.
He shrugged. “I can only speak the truth as I see it, Mistress Anne.” Then he smiled, revealing a very different face to her. “I should be soliciting your kindness toward him. He is ailing, and he has given his life to the King’s service. To me, he was a good master, a man I respected. You could not know how grieved he is that he has failed you. He sent me this letter.” He reached in the leather scrip he carried and handed it to her.
“?‘This very night I was as one that should have died,’?” she read. “?‘If the displeasure of Mistress Anne is somewhat assuaged, as I pray God, then I pray you to exert all possible means of attaining her favor.’?”
She looked up. “Master Cromwell, you are a loyal servant, and to be commended for it, but I am far from convinced that the Cardinal was working in the King’s cause. The evidence points to him working against it.”
Cromwell’s shrewd features registered irritation. “What evidence? Rumors put about by his enemies? There is no evidence. I was there. I saw what he did. I saw him run himself into the ground to give His Grace what he wanted.”
Anne was indignant. “He bore me much malice, Master Cromwell! He did everything he could to prevent my becoming queen, for he knew I would destroy him.”
“Not so, Mistress Anne, not so. But I see that you have been worked upon by those envious persons who seek the Cardinal’s ruin. I pray you will think on what I have said.” And with that Master Cromwell bowed and walked on. She stared after him, furious. He had not listened to anything she had said.
She turned back to the window, simmering. Below, Norris had appeared. As ever, the sight of him, handsome and debonair, made her catch her breath. Often she thought she had conquered her feelings, but then she would see him and realize that she had deceived herself.
She could not believe her eyes when she saw Norris greet Wolsey and point toward the opposite range of lodgings. They spoke for a few moments, then Norris led the Cardinal away. Clearly accommodation had been found after all. But Wolsey had yet to face Henry, and she was confident that the King would give his former friend short shrift.
—
It wanted two hours until the supper hour, so Anne rested a little, then sat down to write to her mother. But suddenly Father and Uncle Norfolk were at her door, demanding to speak with her, and they were seething.
“The King has received Cardinal Wolsey,” Norfolk spat.
“And as warmly as he ever did,” Father added, grimacing. “The entire court was watching to see if he would disgrace Wolsey publicly, and some had even laid wagers on it, but no—it was as if the Cardinal had never been out of favor.”
Norfolk’s face was puce. “When he and Campeggio came in and knelt before the King, he raised them both with fair words, and led Wolsey by the hand to a window, where he talked with him. No one could believe it. Then I heard the King say quite clearly that Wolsey should go to his dinner, and afterward he would speak with him again.”
“Over my dead body!” cried Anne, who had heard all this with mounting rage. “Wolsey thinks to have his foot in the door, but I’ll not have it. He has wrought enough trouble.”
“Niece,” Norfolk said, “you are in a position of unique influence. Work on the King. It should not be difficult to re-arouse his anger toward Wolsey. Remind him of how the Cardinal deceived and failed him. Use your wiles.”
“I don’t need any advice on that!” Anne retorted. “The King is dining with me here later. I will put paid to Wolsey!”
—
The table in the paneled dining chamber was set for two with snowy napery, gleaming silver, and crystal goblets. Candles flickered in their sconces and there was a fire in the hearth to take the edge off the chilly September evening. Anne had dressed carefully. The full skirts of her black velvet gown accentuated her tiny waist, and its low neckline, trimmed with a pearl-braided biliment, looked enticingly seductive. A crimson damask kirtle added color. Her hair she wore loose, as a reminder to Henry that she was still unwed and a virgin.