The Only Boleyn

Spring 1522 - Dinner with George

"What did you do?" I turn in surprise to see George offering me his arm to go in to dine together. I glanced enviously at Mary for a moment, who was arm in arm and talking with her husband, Lord Carey. The arrangements for me to marry the Count of Ormonde had still not been finalised - not even Chancellor Wolsey, with his fingers in every pie around the country could help us in this matter, which left me husbandless and resigned to walking into dinner on the arm of my brother. This did, however, result in me walking quite high in the order of precedence - the King and Queen walked first, then the Dukes and their wives, then Lord and Lady Carey, then George and I. Had I not had a brother high in the favour of the King, I would have been much further back, and for that I am grateful.
"What do you mean?" The court was moving and the double doors had been flung open to reveal the great hall where we dined. Nothing compared to France, naturally, but quaint in its own way.
"What have you said to Uncle Howard?" I look sharply at my brother, who steadily looks ahead to the dining tables.
"Not much." I say cautiously, not sure how much my brother knows. "Why?"
George chuckles and smiles cheekily at me. "Because he asked me to make sure you let Mary have the full attention of the King when she wins it. And also - "
"What?" I demand, whirling round in the direction of our seat.
"He thinks of you as volatile. He wants you working for the benefit of Mary."
"Why should I do anything for Mary?" I spit bitterly, sitting down at my seat and lowering my voice so that the nosy crowds of people cannot hear us.
"Because we all benefit! Now, you're either being too slow or too stubborn to see it, but if Mary gets raised in favour, we all get raised with her." I was stung by the accusation in George's voice, and was horrified at the thought of Mary being the making of me.
"Fine." I say begrudgingly, "I'll work for him. But I'm not going to pale in comparison - I'm not going to change a thing for myself. But I understand we have to work for Mary."
George smiled and affectionately patted my hand. "There's the Anne we need - and looks like Mary's already caught the eye of the King, eh?" He nodded towards the King and Queen seated on their thrones on the high platform at the end of the room, watching the court dine. Sure enough, King Henry was gazing at Mary with a hungry look on his sculpted face - I'd spent enough time at the flirtatious French court to know what that look means. Mary, for her part, was blissfully ignorant, chatting amicably away to Henry Norris, another of the King's courtiers.
And then - something strange happened. For the first time since arriving in England, I felt something for the Queen. I finally saw her as not just an ageing woman, unable to give her husband a son - I saw the emotions that went with it. I saw the pain in her eyes and she struggled to keep her face perfectly straight and pleasant as she watched her husband, a young beautiful man who married her - then his brother's widow - for love, against the wishes and advice of his closest advisors, lust after another woman. Just a lady-in-waiting - nothing compared to Katherine, daughter of Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon; a woman who was raised in Moorish palaces in Spain, living constantly in fear and awe of the Moors who built such beautiful palaces and yet who fought so determinedly and brutally. She grew up knowing and believing her destiny was to marry Arthur, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne of England, that famed far-away country of great riches and power. She must have dreamed of the life she'd lead in England, with Arthur. And when she finally arrived, she endured then the sudden death of her new husband, and so young she was! So young they were; so cruel that Our Lord should feel it necessary to call Arthur to him in heaven. Yet she never lost her faith, not for one moment - and how glorious she must have felt when a messenger came to tell her that she was to be Queen of England, for the new King Henry wished her for his bride! She transformed from a poverty-stricken Dowager Princess of Wales, living purely off the favours of her father-in-law, to a formidable Spanish princess, leading the court into a new age of glory - she even held off an invasion of the Scots single-handedly as Queen Regent whilst Henry was fighting in France. After all, she'd grown up watching her parents, two tactical geniuses, fight constantly against the Moorish invasions all over her country - she certainly knew how to win a battle, and she did it supremely.
She did it magnificently, of course - diligently ignoring her husband with his mouth practically hanging open with desire for my sister Mary. And I respected her for it.
"And Jane Parker looks like a bitch on heat." George nudged me, drawing me away from my thoughts. I glanced over the the mousey blonde woman who had dared to stare at me on my first day at court - and true to George's word, the woman was almost panting with desire for the King. Her cheeks were flushed and she was biting her lip as if she could hardly contain herself. As we watched her, she pulled down her low cut dress so that her small breasts showed slightly at the top, as if he would look at her, as if any man would look at her.
     George and I looked away, disgusted. And worse, I knew from my Lady Mother that there were ongoing arrangements for George to marry her, the whining fool.
     As if mirroring my thoughts, George said, "I pity the man to marry her. She's a rat."
     I smiled ruefully at him, but kept my mouth shut.