Author’s Note

A considerable amount of research goes into any work of historical fiction, and I am indebted to the writings of the multitude of historians who devote their time and their passion to discovering the truths of history and making the past come alive in the retelling. Particular thanks are due here to Julia Fox, Antonia Fraser, Eric Ives, David Loades, Claire Ridgway, Nicola Shulman, David Starkey, Simon Thurley, Retha Warnicke, Alison Weir, and Josephine Wilkinson.

The facts about Anne Boleyn’s early life are sketchy at best. There isn’t consensus among historians even about the year of her birth. Strong evidence presented by Hugh Paget in 1981 suggests that she was born in 1500 or 1501. Most modern historians accept this date. However, a marginal comment in a seventeenth-century biography of Anne’s daughter, Elizabeth I, suggests Anne was born in 1507. This theory is supported in detail by Retha Warnicke in her biography The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn. Because I wanted to write a book about a teenage girl who returns to a “home” that is patently not her own, I chose the latter date. I don’t necessarily think it is more likely, but it serves my purpose best. I am, after all, a writer of fiction. Though I am committed to historical accuracy in my novels, to me, the story matters most, and I will leave the debate to the experts.

We know that Anne participated in the pageant of The Château Vert at Shrovetide in 1522, performing the part of Perseverance—a name that ultimately describes her well. I suggest that Anne is sent to Hever in disgrace after the pageant, but because she disappears from the accurately dated historical record for a while, there is no evidence to support or contradict this.

There is evidence that Anne formed an attachment to Henry Percy, the eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, during the spring of 1523. In fact, Percy was interrogated twice about this relationship—it would have been an impediment to Henry and Anne’s marriage, but it also might have provided grounds for divorce when things went sour. Both times, Percy swore upon the Bible that there had been no precontract, no betrothal, no attachment. Do we believe him?

During the reign of Katherine of Aragon’s daughter, Mary I (who temporarily was made illegitimate when Henry declared his marriage to Katherine invalid and subsequently married Anne), several stories were written defaming Anne Boleyn as promiscuous and possibly a poisoner. One story involved Thomas Wyatt and a visit to Hever during which he spent the night in her bedroom. Another tells how Henry interrogated Wyatt, who admitted to a relationship with Anne, which the king told him to keep quiet. These stories could be hearsay—invented by Mary’s supporters, who would naturally want to depict Anne and her daughter, Elizabeth, negatively. I have my doubts about the truth of these stories—their intention was slander—but found the concept interesting.

Anne’s detractors also made much of any perceived physical imperfections. Though I don’t believe the myth that Anne had a sixth finger, I give a basis for the invention of one by creating a minor deformity caused by a childhood accident.

Thomas Wyatt’s grandson George wrote a biography of Anne Boleyn as a rebuttal of her detractors. In it, he describes an argument between the king and Wyatt over a game of bowls during which both men produced little trinkets belonging to Anne Boleyn. George Wyatt’s tale was written decades after Anne’s death and, again, the accuracy is questionable—it was probably passed to him verbally by Thomas himself. If my version is slightly different from his, couldn’t it be because a poet would want to present himself in the best possible light—and his rival in the worst?

No one knows the exact timing of the beginning of Henry’s interest in Anne. Some place it as early as The Château Vert in 1522. Others speculate that Henry’s displaying the motto “Declare I Dare Not” at a joust in 1526, proves that was the beginning. And still others trace it to 1527, when they think they can date his first love letters to her. David Starkey, in Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII, suggested The Castle of Loyalty and Christmas 1524, and I have gone with that. I shortened the time line and slightly altered the chronicle of the pageant (which took place over several weeks) in order to preserve the pace of the story. The imagery of that Christmas and the creation ceremony the following summer captured my imagination.

I also took a little poetic license with the card game Anne plays with the men of the court. Primero is a complicated forerunner of poker, with four of a kind being the best hand. However, because of an intricate point-counting strategy, Anne winning with a hand of four kings was not a foregone conclusion, and despite the excellent hand, she still could have lost. I just couldn’t give up the delicious image of the four kings on the table signaling her victory.

Most of the poetry quoted is attributed to the real Thomas Wyatt, though they have been transcribed from the originals to be easier on the modern reader and some have been abridged to suit the context. In the Tudor court, poetry was often spoken rather than written down thus making it more fluid and adaptable to circumstances. I like to think of Wyatt revising and adding to each one as suited him best.

Wyatt dated none of his written works, so placement of them in time is difficult. It is generally believed that the poem that begins “Whoso list to hunt” was written after his ambassadorial trip to Italy in 1527, when he would have become much better acquainted with Petrarch’s sonnet on which it is based. But I chose to move it up a few years—call it poetic license. There is no record of him creating a play about Atalanta, but a poet and a romantic such as Wyatt could easily have done so.

The poem that James Butler quotes about a man who dreams a girl comes to his bed, “content to do him pleasure,” is unattributed, but is known to have circulated the court around this time.

Poetry was extremely useful at court—for saying things that one wouldn’t necessarily say out loud in other circumstances. I owe much of my knowledge of Wyatt’s poetry to Nicola Shulman and her excellent book—Graven with Diamonds—about Thomas Wyatt and his literary canon. However, all allusions and intentions I attribute to the poetry come from my own imagination.

So what happened next?

A simplistic (and not entirely accurate) account is that Henry changed religion—and the Western world—in an effort to terminate his marriage to Katherine because Anne always refused to be his mistress. She finally married him when he succeeded in having his marriage to Katherine annulled—eight years after the events in this book. Again, I leave the comprehensive explanation of this complicated issue to the experts.

George Boleyn rose quickly in the king’s service, acquiring appointments, stewardships, and manor holdings—perhaps due to Anne’s influence? His story certainly continued to be irretrievably linked with Anne’s. Not much is known about his marriage to Jane, and though many assume it was unhappy, the evidence to support that interpretation has been called into question.

Thomas Boleyn became Earl of Ormond in 1529, though the title fell back to James Butler after Boleyn’s death in 1539. He became Earl of Wiltshire the same year, allowing George to become Viscount Rochford. Mary’s husband, William Carey, died of the sweating sickness in 1528. Six years later, she married her second husband, William Stafford, secretly. For love.

Thomas Wyatt went on his first ambassadorial mission to France in 1526—one for which he volunteered. Some say he was heartbroken and had to get away. He spent a great deal of time abroad during the next few years (including a short stay in a Bolognese prison). But at court, he was a favorite of both Anne and the king, and followed them everywhere.

And Anne? Most people know what happens to her. I prefer not to include it here, because in this book, at least, she is alive and optimistic, on the verge of love. About to face the biggest adventure of her life.