Mary Boleyn: The King's Lover

The King

Mary could not bear to look at William now. If he smiled at her she turned her head, if he reached for her, she pulled away. She felt no jealousy when he would dance with other women. All the feelings she once had for him were gone, they had disappeared in a moment. She almost wished that he would begin a serious flirtation with another woman so he would ignore her completely.

How could he talk about obtaining his knighthood if she became Henry's mistress? Was that how he saw her now, merely a means for him to advance at court? She had felt betrayed by her family when she realized that they meant to push her at the king, but now she felt betrayed by him, too. She thought she had a husband who loved her, she thought that she had found love and now she felt abandoned by the man who had pledged his love to her.

She was expected to appear in his company and present the picture of a modest and contented married couple. She appeared at court on his arm, the false smile of a courtier on her face. Uncle Norfolk informed her that for the sake of her relationship with the king, there must be no inclination that she and William had become distant from one another.

The king! Henry had not yet made a move toward her, but his interest was every day implied. He would send her a delicacy from his table, and if he was walking with his courtiers, he would pluck a flower and present it to her with a smile. He was not too obvious for he did not wish to arouse the jealousy of the queen, but it was plain to any who would see that the king was smitten with the lovely Mary Boleyn. Sooner or later she would be in the king's bed, whether it was as an acknowledged mistress or if he chose discretion and hid it from the queen.

Henry was not like his father, he found the work associated with being a monarch boring--he would rather seek out ways to amuse himself and leave the hard work to Wolsey who gladly took it off his hands. With the business of the kingdom in the care of the capable cardinal, Henry was free to pursue his favorite pastimes of hunting, tennis, dancing, and parties.

Henry had been watching the lovely Mary and noticed she looked wan and unhappy, so he decided that a hunt in the fresh spring air was the thing to cheer her. The obliging Wolsey organized the hunt, including the king's favorites as his companions for the day.

There would be a picnic after the hunt where they would possibly be joined by the queen. Catherine of Aragon was feeling poorly after losing yet another child, a much hoped-for boy. Her ladies were whispering that this was the last child she would bear and held no hope that she would remain in the king's affections for long. He had always favored her, and been devoted but since Bessie Blount had born him a son, things had changed.

The courtiers gathered in the courtyard on their mounts, the ladies like flowers in their colorful riding habits. The whippers-in had gathered the hounds that stood around impatiently waiting to be let loose. The company was waiting for Henry to join them, wondering why they had been summoned and if their monarch was going to join them. Why were they dallying in the courtyard when the day was so fair?

Had they been at the stables they would have found their answer. A groom was helping Mary onto her dapple-grey mare, a long-legged hunter that had been a gift from William when they first married. How far away she felt now from that naïve girl who had joyfully wedded her handsome husband. She patted her mare's neck and looked up to see the king riding to her side.

"That is a handsome mare you ride, Mistress Carey, how are her gaits?" He smiled at her, and she could not help but smile back.

"Her gaits are so smooth that anyone could ride comfortably on her. The mare is also fast enough to be a racehorse, I've lost to Mary more than once and found myself losing the money I wagered. My wife is an excellent rider and never falls behind." William rode up behind the king, startling him.