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ANNE WAS PLEASED TO have been chosen as a member of the Queen’s household, but she found the company somewhat dull. The Queen and her ladies embroidered a lot, and sang, and gossiped but most of all they prayed as Queen Katherine was a very pious woman. She insisted on mass twice a day for all her ladies and the rattle of rosaries and the constant crossing of oneself made Anne very uncomfortable.
When she could do so unobserved, she had spent a lot of time studying the works of Martin Luther and his new ideas about religion. She knew that would be regarded as heresy, so she said nothing, but she was finding the strict Catholic dogma in the Queen’s household to be tedious in the extreme. Anne could not simply follow it all and believe, she needed to question, but she dared not question aloud.
What brightened her evenings was that Cardinal Wolsey often visited the King and when he did so, his page, one Lord Harry Percy, tarried in the Queen’s apartments with her ladies. One in particular caught his eye, that same Mistress Boleyn he had met before, but now they spent much time whispering in corners and laughing together.
That was the start of it and, as well as their evenings in the Queen’s company, they often met alone, in the same spot, a clearing among the trees in the palace grounds. Unless anyone was particularly looking, they would not be noticed, although they had no reason to keep their meetings secret. They talked. Anne told him about her life in France, at the French court, about how much she loved the Queen of that country. Harry talked about his childhood in Northumberland, about how he had been groomed to be the very important and illustrious Earl of that county when his father died.
Their blossoming love for one another meant everything to them and they just wanted to keep it to themselves for a little while, before consent needed to be sought from his father and hers, before their elders got involved and tried to arrange everything.
“That Butler chap thinks you are to marry him,” he said. “You’re not, are you?”
“Not if I have a say. My father is in dispute about the title, thinks it should be his. I am supposed to calm things.”
“They have promised me to the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury,” he told her. “Her name is Mary, Mary Talbot, but I shall refuse to marry her if you say you will have me.”
They were lying together beneath an oak tree. They had been just lying there, looking up at the clouds, and wishing this could go on forever.
Her eyes sparkled as they met his, as they searched his face to be sure he spoke the truth. Then she reached for him, held him close to her and kissed him. Those kisses were something she had never known before and they aroused feelings in her she could never have imagined. She wanted to feel him against her, feel his body close to hers, wanted to feel that final test of love that she had heard about.
“Yes, I will have you Harry Percy. I love you.”
“And I love you. We must hold out against the promises made by our fathers. James Butler is wanting to take you to Ireland.”
She shook her head.
“I’ll not go,” she said. “I suppose we must ask the King for his consent.”
“I suppose so; and the Cardinal.”
“I was told the King had commanded my marriage, although I have no idea why he would have an interest.” A sudden fear clutched at her heart and she leaned in closer to him, held him even tighter. “Oh, Harry,” she said. “What will we do if they refuse?”
“We will elope,” he said. “We will run away together and live in a wooden hut.”
“Will we, Harry? Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
He kissed her then, held her so tight she could scarcely breathe and she felt that unfamiliar throbbing deep inside, that need that was as powerful as hunger or thirst.
They had no idea they were being observed.
***
CARDINAL WOLSEY LISTENED carefully to the young page. He was a rather unpleasant young fellow, named Clarence, the sort of person who was always trying to be first with the gossip so as to make himself important. But still, his latest piece might well be worth hearing. It seemed it was, as Clarence related every detail of the conversation he had overheard.
Wolsey knew something that young Clarence did not, that nobody else knew. The King himself had told him that he had his eye on Mistress Boleyn and he was to be sure her planned marriage to James Butler did not happen.
Wolsey was sure the King would be just as eager for this association with Lord Percy to be stopped and the King’s reaction to the news proved him right.
“They must be separated, at all costs,” ordered the King.
Wolsey’s purpose in life was to please King Henry and this was no different. He knew that Percy’s father, the Earl of Northumberland, would likely refuse his consent, even without the King’s interference, so it should not be too difficult.
He would not send for young Percy. He would wait for their evening meal, where he could best display his authority and make his opinions clear.
When Harry arrived in the Cardinal’s hall at Westminster that evening, his head was full of Anne and the love they had for each other. He hated to leave her this evening, wanted to take her to his bed and make love to her, wanted to satisfy his need for her. He had no space among his thoughts for anything else and he failed to notice the silence that fell over the company when he appeared.
It was not until he approached the dais and noticed the angry gaze of his employer that he realised something was very wrong, although what, he could not have guessed. Perhaps someone had died; Harry could think of nothing else that would account for such a sombre atmosphere.
“Ah, Lord Percy,” said the Cardinal. “Thank you for joining us. I hear you have been very much engaged with entertaining young Mistress Boleyn.”
Harry’s eyes met his defiantly. What he wanted to do was ask Wolsey what the hell his love life had to do with him, but he knew that it had everything to do with him. Yet to ask about his private business here, among the whole household, was crass and ignorant in Harry’s opinion. What more could one expect of a man of such low beginnings? Who was he to treat him like this? Nothing but the son of a butcher.
“As it happens, Your Grace,” he replied, “you are correct. Anne and I are betrothed and wish to be married as soon as may be.”
“Do you indeed?” said Wolsey. “Well, you need to remember your place, young man, as well as your duty to your family.”
“What does that mean? My duty to my family involves marrying and procuring an heir. That is what I intend to do.”
“Not with Mistress Boleyn,” said the Cardinal. “You are promised elsewhere, and you know it. She too is promised elsewhere. Your father’s consent to this ill favoured match will not be forthcoming, neither will mine. I very much think the King himself will have a say.”
“The King? Anne wondered why he had commanded her marriage.”
“The King commanded her marriage to settle a long standing family dispute. He’ll not be happy to have his wishes ignored. Your choice is not good enough for the son of one of the most important and wealthy earldoms in the kingdom.”
Harry was furious. He looked about him at the staring eyes, all firmly fixed on him. There were even some sniggers from his colleagues, yet he found no opinion in the countenance of James Butler. He stood silent, his eyes and expression showing nothing of how he felt about this abuse to his position as Anne’s betrothed.
Harry had no time to consider what that meant; he had to reclaim his dignity in whatever way he could.
“Anne might well be the daughter of a mere knight,” he said. “But her mother is the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. She is easily my equal.”
“The King has forbidden it,” said Wolsey.
That was when Harry felt tears gathering in his throat. If the King had, for whatever reason, forbidden it, there was nothing he could do. He was going to lose Anne and he was certain he would never recover from that loss.
“Surely the King will relent when he knows how much we love each other,” said Harry. “I am convinced my father can be persuaded.”
“We will see when he gets here,” said the Cardinal. “I have sent for him.”
Wolsey knew for certain that the Earl of Northumberland, Harry’s father, would refuse his consent because Wolsey would make sure of it. Once he knew the match found no favour with the King, he would have no choice other than to refuse. What no one must know was that the King himself had a fancy to take young Mistress Boleyn to his bed.
He had already known one sister; why not the other?
***
ANNE WAITED FOR OVER an hour in their secret meeting place, but Harry never came. She knew well he would not have let her down if he had a choice, so something must have happened to keep him from her. It must have been something to do with his duties for the Cardinal, something he could not avoid, but knowing all that did nothing to ease her disappointment.
Fighting back tears, she told herself firmly that he would be here tomorrow. He would not disappoint her two days in a row; he might even have sent a note. It could be waiting for her in her suite. Now the sun was moving across the sky and she needed to get back to her own apartment before she was missed.
It was not a note from Harry that awaited her; it was her father. That was unusual, strange even; he never visited her. But he was visiting her now and he did not look pleased.
“Father,” she said. “This is an unexpected honour.”
“Unexpected? It should most certainly be expected, since you have seen fit to entangle yourself with young Harry Percy without my consent, nor the King’s.”
Anne caught her breath. It was only yesterday that she and Harry had pledged themselves to each other; gossip travelled fast in court circles, but not this fast, surely. Someone must have gone out of their way to tell Sir Thomas of his daughter’s betrothal and she had a good idea who that someone might be. The butcher’s son, Wolsey, he who believed it was his place to interfere in the lives of his betters.
“You should be pleased, Father,” she said. “He is the heir to Northumberland, not a minor earldom like Ormond.”
“You stupid girl!” he shouted. “You’ll never be allowed to marry into that family, you, a mere nobody and just when I was beginning to gain some favour with the King. You have likely lost me my title.”
“You have no title.”
“Not now, no, but I would have.”
Anne bit back a retort, but it would not stay hidden. She was angry and her temper had ever had a will of its own.
“Still enjoying the spoils of whoring out your daughter?” she said.
She did not see the blow coming; it was too sudden, too fast, but she certainly felt the sting. Holding her cheek to soothe it, she stepped back and fought against the tears that sprang up.
“You are to return to Hever, at once,” he said.
“No. I will marry Harry. I love him.”
“Harry Percy is confined to his chamber while he awaits the arrival of his father. He’ll likely take him back to Northumberland; he cannot stay here now.”
She shook her head, still clutching her injured face.
“I want to see him,” she said.
His mouth turned down in a grimace, as though disgusted with her and he likely was.
“You are even more stupid than I thought,” he said. “Nobody is going to let you see him ever again. The sooner you get over him and let him concentrate on his marriage, the sooner we can all get back to normal.”
“His marriage?” she said. “His marriage to a girl he’s never met, one he does not want? He wants me! We love each other.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head, flung open her clothes chest and let the lid bounce against the bedpost.
“Have your things packed. We leave in an hour.”
She watched him go, then a maidservant came in to pack her boxes for the journey to Kent. Anne sat in the window seat and stared out at the beautiful palace gardens, her memory full of Harry’s promises. He would not let anyone stop them; they would elope, run away together and be married. But where was he now?
Anne knew well he would be here to keep his promise had they not locked him up to wait to be taken home to Northumberland in disgrace. It would be a week or more before his father could get here, but Anne would have no chance to sneak in and see Harry. She would be in Kent, waiting for a marriage to a stiff and silent Irishman who likely wanted her no more than she wanted him.
What did it matter? Without Harry, nothing mattered. It made no difference if she were in Ireland or in London, she would be just as miserable, just as lonely.
Sir Thomas came back to see if she was ready to leave, another personal touch she had never before encountered.
“You are packed?” he asked.
She stared at him defiantly.
“I’ll not marry the Irishman,” she said. “And Harry’ll not wed Mary Talbot.”
“He will if the King commands it,” he answered. “That or lose his head.”
“He is no traitor!”
“Defying King Henry is not a wise choice. He’ll find something to twist it into treason if he so wishes and you should be thankful. His Majesty has taken a particular interest in your wellbeing.”
She made no reply. If he spoke the truth, Anne knew well his meaning, but she would not go the way of her sister. All at once she was glad to be leaving court.