The Only Boleyn

Spring 1522 - Mary's Mistake

    The remainder of the day was a hubbub of panic-stricken courtiers hurrying the injured King to his rooms to be attended by his physicians, only for the entirety of the court to hang around in the presence chambers with no clear motive. Now that our King was indisposed indefinitely, we had nothing left to do but fret about the fate of our country.
    The greatest fretter of our party was, naturally, my sister-to-be.
    "I'm quite sure I don't know what on earth we shall all do if His Majesty does not recover," She began, her usually dull grey eyes sparkling with her appetite for gossip and speculation.
    "Our King is young and strong, Miss Parker." Katherine of York gave Jane a disapproving glance after folding the ribbon into the book she was reading.
    "Oh, quite," Jane adopted a scandalised expression, "I would never dare to presume he were otherwise. Yet..." She left the sentence hanging, as if her thought was altogether too scandalous to be heard in company.
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes in annoyance, I indulged her.
    "Yet what, Jane?" I smiled sweetly and cocked my head inquisitively.
    "Well, I daresay I can't see England taking well to a female ruler - if, God forbid, His Majesty should be very seriously hurt." Jane whispered conspiratorially, and quite rightly, too. These words could amount to treason.
    "Whyever not?" I was genuinely confused. "In France, we place great emphasis on a male heir, of course - as in every household in Christendom - yet the people would not object to a Queen, should there only be a female heir to carry on the line."
Before Miss Parker could open her mouth to pronounce some more scandalous opinions, the steady voice of Katherine of York cut across her.
"I have been alive for a long time, Mistress Anne, and spent all my years on true English soil. I have lived to see five Kings on our throne, and watched part of the Cousins' War unfold before me. In my experience, much of the trouble and unrest that has plagued England for the past few years could have been well avoided, had the English been prepared to see a woman on their throne."
"Is this true?" Jane demanded, eager to spread this news.
"Aye," said Katherine sadly, her eyes filled with sorrow.
"What exactly is your connection with the Cousins' War, Lady Katherine?" I understood little of the disputes that had affected England over the last few hundred years. Of course, I was aware that the natural progression of the crown from father to son had failed to occur, yet I knew no more than that - the court of France has little time for the petty English wars.
    "My father was King Edward the fourth," Katherine seemed reluctant to speak of her past, but was too stoic to avoid the question, "And my brother was the King of England for a few months - in name, at least."
    "I could tell you the rest, Mistress Anne," Jane interrupted, "For I have studied this a lot more than yourself, I daresay." She pronounced smugly.
    "I should be surprised if you had not, Mistress Parker - for I have never had need of this knowledge, in the court of France." Jane's grumpy face attempted a smile, and failed miserably.
    "Lady Katherine, would you deign to tell the rest of the tale? If you do not find me too presumptuous, of course."
    "Of course, Mistress Anne. But would you give me leave to postpone until another time? I feel this is not a conversation to be had whilst our King is injured so dangerously."
    I nodded vaguely, but my eyes were no longer on Katherine; nor was my attention.
    "Please excuse me," I said, rising from my cushioned seat, "I must speak to my brother most urgently."
    As Katherine waved me away and Jane glared at my back, most ungraciously, I hurried to catch George, who I had seen slip in, unseen, to the presence chamber we were in from the door that led to where the King was being treated.
    "George," I hissed, catching his arm to prevent him from escaping down the servant's stairway.
    He whirled round in surprise, and gave an alarmed laugh when he realised who was holding his arm.
    "Dear sister, you gave me such a fright!"
    "Serves you right, sneaking around so slyly!" George ran a nervous hand through his dark hair, his eyes darting from side to side, avoiding my gaze.
    "I'm not -"
    "Yes, you are. Now, tell me. How is he?"
    George exhaled and glanced furtively around to reassure himself that we could not be overheard.
    "Anne, it's not looking good. His leg has suffered a really deep cut, with foul poisons escaping from it. The physicians are quite beside themselves."
    "How about his mind? How is he coping?"
    "He sulks like a bear, we all know that. He stubbornly insists that he always intended to lose the joust - he can't bear that anyone might be better than him." I laughed, amazed at the ego of our monarch. "I can't blame him, really," George continues, "He was his mother's favourite little boy, and spoilt - he was never meant to be King."
    I shrug, to show my indifference. "Has he asked for Mary?" This is the most important question, and the real reason I wanted to speak with George.
    "Aye," his eyes danced in amusement, "'Tis a most peculiar sight. He's lying on his great bed with physicians buzzing in and out of the room, and courtiers wheedling for favours whilst they think he's not in his right mind. The Queen's on one side of the bed, and Mary's on the other. They're each too scared about Henry to notice much else."
    I can see the humour in this situation, and I allowed myself a small smile at the image of Henry being publicly waited on by both his wife and his mistress.

*

    Despite our worst fears, the King soon appeared to be recovering, and once he was no longer bedridden, we resumed our normal activity - if not with more care and seriousness than before.
    In fact, the only major change to the court was concerning our little Howard pawn, Mary.
    I had just snuffed my candle out one evening when I heard the door to our chamber quietly open and close. I had assumed that Mary would be talking with the King late into the night, and gone to bed without her.
    Opening one eye lazily, I was surprised to see Mary's face crumpling in the beginnings of a sob.
    Sitting up, I patted the bed next to me and Mary came to join me.
    In the dark, it was hard to distinguish her face, but I could now hear her crying.
    "Mary?"
    "I made Henry angry." Mary hugged her knees and I felt myself become more alert instantly, hardening my gaze.
    "What?" My voice was clipped, and my sister gave me a quick glance as if to gauge my emotion.
    "I knew you'd be cross," Her voice wobbled, and I realised that if I was openly annoyed with her now, she'd crumble completely and I would never get an explanation out of her.
    So, I feigned kindness.
    "Oh, Mary, I'm not cross. I'm just concerned for you. What happened?"
    After a sniff, Mary explained.
    "He banished me from his chamber. All I did was remind him of the promise he made to me before the joust."
    I exhaled, throwing my head back onto the headrest of the bed and hearing its satisfying thump.
    "I didn't do anything wrong, Anne. I was trying to make him feel better. I wanted to remind him that I love him, and he took it the wrong way."
    "Of course, Mary." I said, coldly. I was tired of her sobbing now, and turned away from her to go to sleep. Stupid little Mary. Little did she know she might have just ruined her chance - all our chances. She'd insulted the thing that was most precious to our King; his ego. She'd reminded him that he lost the joust. No wonder he was in a sour temper with her. And now, I'd have to fix her mess.