Philippa Gregory - The Boleyn Inheritance

He smiles. “That is a matter for the Germans. She can be sent home against her will, if she does not cooperate.”

“Not even the king can abduct her and fling her out of the kingdom.”

“If she could be entrapped into saying that there was a precontract.” His voice is like a whisper of silk. “If it came from her own mouth that she is not free to marry…”

I nod. I begin to see the favor he would have of me.

“The king would be most grateful to the man who could tell him that he had a confession from her. And the woman who brought such a confession about would be most high in his favor. And in mine.”

“I am yours to command,” I say to give myself time to think. “But I cannot make her lie. If she knows she is free to marry, then she would be mad to say otherwise. And if I claim that she has said otherwise, she has only to deny it. Then it is her word against mine, and we are back to the truth again.” I pause as a fear occurs to me. “My lord, I take it that there is no possibility of an accusation?”

“What sort of accusation?”

“Of some crime?” I say nervously.

“Do you mean she might be charged with treason?”

I nod. I will not say the word myself. I wish that I could never hear the word again. It leads to the Tower Green and the executioner’s block. It took the love of my life from me. It ended the life we lived forever.

“How could it be treason?” he asks me, as if we do not live in a dangerous world where everything can be treason.

“The law has changed so much, and being innocent is no defense anymore.”

Abruptly he shakes his head. “There’s no possibility of him accusing her, anyway. The King of France is entertaining the Holy Roman Emperor in Paris at this very moment. They could be planning a joint attack on us even as we speak. We can do nothing that might upset Cleves. We have to have an alliance with the Protestant princes, or we risk standing alone to face a Spain and France that have united against us. If the English Papists rise again as they did before we will be finished. She has to confess herself betrothed to another and go home by her own free will so that we lose the girl and keep the alliance. Or if someone were to trap her into making a confession, that would be good enough. But if she persists in saying that she is free to marry and if she insists upon marriage, then the king will have to do it. We cannot offend her brother.”

“Whether the king likes it or not?”

“Though he hates it, though he hates the man who contrived it, and even though he hates her.”

I pause for a moment. “If he hates her and yet marries her, he will find some way to be rid of her later.” I am thinking aloud.

The duke says nothing, but his eyelids hood his dark eyes. “Oh, who can foretell the future?”

“She will be in the greatest of danger every day of her life,” I predict. “If the king wants rid of her, he will soon think that it is God’s will that he is rid of her.”

“That is generally the way that God’s will seems to be manifest,” the duke says with a wolfish grin.

“Then he will find her guilty of some offense,” I say. I will not say the word treason.

“If you care for her at all, you will persuade her to go now,” the duke says quietly.

I walk slowly back to the queen’s rooms. She will not be advised by me, in preference to her ambassadors; and I am not free to tell her what I truly think. But if I had been her true friend, I would have told her that Henry is not a man to take as a husband if he hates you before the wedding day. His malice toward women who cross him is fatal. Who would know better than me?

The lady-in-waiting Jane Boleyn seems troubled, and I tell her that she can sit beside me. I ask her, in English, if she is well.

She beckons my translator to come and sit with us, and she says that she is troubled by a matter of some delicacy.

I think it must be something about precedence at the wedding; they are so anxious about the order of the service and what jewels everyone may wear. I nod as if it is a serious matter and ask her if I may serve her.

“On the contrary; I am anxious to be of service to you,” she says, speaking quietly to Lotte. She translates for me; I nod. “I hear that your ambassadors have forgotten to bring the contract that releases you from a previous betrothal.”

“What?” I speak so sharply that she guesses the meaning of the German word, and nods, her face as grave as my own.

“So they have not told you?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say in English. “They tell nothing.”

“Then I am glad to speak with you before you are ill advised,” she says rapidly, and I wait as the words are translated. She leans forward and takes my hands. Her clasp is warm, her face intent. “When they ask you about your previous betrothal, you must tell them that it was annulled, and that you have seen the document,” she says earnestly. “If they ask why your brother failed to send it, you can say that you don’t know, that it is not your responsibility to bring the papers – as indeed it was not.”

I am breathless; something about her intensity makes me feel fearful. I cannot think why my brother should be so careless of my marriage, then I remember his constant resentment of me. He has betrayed his own plan from malice; at the last moment he could not bear to let me go smoothly from him.

“I see you are shocked,” she says. “Dearest Lady Anne, be warned by me, and never let them think for a moment that there is no document, that you have a previous betrothal still in place. You must tell a powerful and convincing lie. You must tell them that you have seen the documents and that your previous betrothal was definitely annulled.”

“But it was,” I say slowly. I repeat in English so she cannot be mistaken. “I have seen the document. It is not a lie. I am free to marry.”

“You are certain?” she asks intently. “These things can be done without a girl knowing what plans are made. No one would blame you if you were at all uncertain. You can tell me. Trust me. Tell me the truth.”

“It was canceled,” I say again. “I know that it was canceled. The betrothal was my father’s plan, but not my brother’s. When my father was ill and then died, then my brother ruled, and the betrothal was finished.”

“Why do you not have the document, then?”

“My brother,” I start. “My foolish brother… My brother is careless of my well-being,” Lotte rapidly translates. “And my father died so recently, and my mother is so distressed, there has been too much for him to do. My brother has the document in our records room, I myself have seen it; but he must have forgotten to send it. There was so much to arrange.”

“If you are in any doubt at all, you must tell me,” she cautions me. “And I can advise you what best we should do. You see from my coming to you and advising you that I am utterly loyal to you. But if there is any chance that your brother does not have the document, you must tell me, Lady Anne; tell me for your own safety, and I will plan with you what we can best do.”

I shake my head. “I thank you for your care of me, but there is no need. I have seen the documents myself, and so have my ambassadors,” I say. “There is no impediment, I know I am free to marry the king.”

She nods as if she is still waiting for something else. “I am so glad.”

“And I want to marry the king.”

“If you wished to avoid the marriage, now you have seen him, you could do so,” she says very quietly. “This is your chance to escape. If you did not like him, you could get safely home, with no word against you. I could help you. I could tell them that you had told me that you are not certain, that you may be precontracted.”

I withdraw my hands from hers. “I do not want to escape,” I say simply. “This is a great honor for me and my country, and a great joy for me.”

Jane Boleyn looks skeptical.

“Truly,” I say. “I long to be Queen of England, I am coming to love this country, and I want to make my life here.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, on my honor.” I hesitate, and then I tell her the greatest reason. “I was not very happy at my home,” I admit. “I was not highly regarded or well treated. Here I can be somebody. I can do good. At home I will never be more than an unwanted sister.”

She nods. Many women know what it is to be in the way while the great affairs of men go on without them.

“I want to have a chance,” I say. “I want to have a chance to be the woman I can be. Not my brother’s creature, not my mother’s daughter. I want to stay here and grow into myself.”

She is silent for a moment. I am surprised at the depth of my own feeling. “I want to be a woman in my own right,” I say.

“A queen is not free,” she points out.

“She is better than a duke’s disliked sister.”

“Very well,” she says quietly.

“I suppose the king must be angry with my ambassadors for forgetting the papers?” I ask.

“I am sure that he is,” she says, her eyes sliding sideways. “But they will give their word that you are free to marry, and I am sure it will all go ahead.”

“There is no possibility of the marriage being delayed?” I am surprised at my own feeling. I have such a strong sense that I can do much for this country, that I can be a good queen here. I want to start at once.

“No,” she says. “The ambassadors and the king’s council will resolve it. I am sure.”

I pause. “He does want to marry me?”

She smiles at me and touches my hand. “Of course he does. This is just a small difficulty. The ambassadors will undertake to produce the document and the marriage will go ahead. Just as long as you are certain that the document is there?”

“It is there,” I say, and I am speaking nothing but the truth. “I can swear to it.”

I am to help the queen to dress for her wedding, and I have to get up extremely early to get everything ready. I would rather not get up early, but it is nice to be singled out from the other girls who sleep so late and are so lazy. Really it’s very bad of them to lie in bed so late when some of us are up and working for Lady Anne. Truly, everyone but me is completely idle.

I lay out her dress as she is washing in her closet. Catherine Carey helps me spread out the skirt and the underskirts on the closed chest as Mary Norris goes for her jewels. The skirt is enormous, like a great fat spinning top, I would rather die than marry in a dress like this; the greatest beauty in the world could not help but look like a pudding, waddling out to be eaten. It is hardly worth being queen if you have to go around like a tent, I think. The cloth is extremely fine – cloth of gold – and it is heavy with the most wonderful pearls, and she has a coronet to wear. Mary has put it out before the mirror, and if no one else was here I would try it on, but already, though it is so early, there are half a dozen of us, servants and maids and ladies-in-waiting, and so I have to give it a little polish and leave it alone. It is very finely wrought; she brought it from Cleves with her, and she told me that the spiky bits are supposed to be rosemary, which her own sister wore as a fresh herb in her hair at her wedding. I say it looks like a crown of thorns, and her lady secretary gives me a sharp look and doesn’t translate my remark. Just as well, really.

She will wear her hair loose, and when she comes out of the bathroom she sits before her silver looking glass, and Catherine brushes her hair with long, smooth strokes, like you would a horse’s tail. She is fair-haired, to be just to her she is quite golden-haired, and wrapped in a bath sheet and glowing from her wash, she looks well this morning. She is a little pale, but she smiles at all of us, and she seems happy enough. If I were her, I would be dancing for joy to be Queen of England. But I suppose she is not the dancing sort.

Off she goes for the wedding, and we all fall in behind her in strict order of importance, which means that I am so far back it is hardly worth my while being there, nobody will be able to see me, even though I am wearing my new gown that is trimmed with silver thread, the most costly thing I have ever owned. It is a very pale gray-blue, and suits my eyes. I never looked better; but it is not my wedding, and nobody pays any attention to me at all.

Archbishop Cranmer is to marry them: drone, drone, drone, like an old bee. He asks them if there is any reason why they cannot be married, and if we, the congregation, know of any impediment and we all say very cheerfully, “No, we don’t,” and I suppose only I am fool enough to wonder what would happen if someone said, “Stop the wedding, for the king has had three wives already, and none of them died of old age!” but of course, nobody does.