Bound to Obey and Serve: A novel of Jane Seymour

[PREVIEW] Spring 1536 | part 1

It is a lazy morning in Anne’s apartments. It’s too cold and damp to ride or walk out, so we settle for lounging around on cushions before the fire, chatting idly and listening to Mark Smeaton pick away at his lute. It’s only Mary Howard, Ann and I in attendance at the moment – the other ladies are all at breakfast or with their husbands.

The Queen has been much more mellow in these few weeks since Christmas. The atmosphere has been almost relaxed, and the King has taken to spending more time with his wife. It’s like being back in the happy days when they were courting and everything was rosy between them.

Right on cue, the King arrives with a group of gentlemen. He strides into the room with no formal announcement – we make to get to our feet to greet him properly, but he stays us with his hand. We make do with smiles and a chorus of ‘Good morning, Your Majesty.’

‘Good morning, ladies!’

At the sound of his voice, Anne looks up from her book – she has been curled up in the window seat all morning; wrapped in furs, feet tucked underneath her, alternately gazing dreamily out at the frost-covered gardens and engrossing herself in a book of poetry.

‘Henry!’ she exclaims in delight, beckoning him over.

The King waves his hand at his gentlemen, bidding them be at ease, and goes to join Anne in poring over the poetry.

Will Brereton and Harry Norris flop down on the cushions beside us.

The four of them pass a pleasant half-hour in gossip and flirting. I smile and observe, keen not to draw attention to myself - Brereton and Norris have never had a good word for me. Or, really, any words for me. As time goes on, more ladies and gentleman return from the morning meal, drawn to their sovereigns as moths to a flame.

The room is abuzz with lively chatter when a steward throws open the chamber door announcing ‘a message for the King!’ as a travel-stained messenger stumbles in, looking as though he might faint of exhaustion at any moment. The poor man sways slightly on his feet in the middle of the room as Henry looks at him expectantly.

‘Well, man?’ he calls with impatience, ‘out with it! What’s the message?’

‘Your Majesties, Her Royal Highness, the Dowager Princess of Wales, Katharine of Aragon, passed to God yesterday afternoon in her chambers at Kimbolton Castle.’

I sit bolt upright on my cushion, feeling as though the floor has dropped out from beneath me. I’m stricken in a moment of dizzying grief and loss. To know that such a soul has passed from this world...  

There is absolute silence in the room for a moment. All eyes are on the King as he absorbs the news – how will he react? I see the messenger almost flinching in fear, with no idea what to expect.

The corners of Henry’s mouth turn up, then his face splits in an enormous grin as he lets out a great bellow of laughter. ‘God be praised!’ he exclaims, ‘we are free from all threat of war!’

Anne’s warm, bubbling laughter mingles with his as he seizes her hands. ‘And I have still better news for you, my love.’ She is all but dancing with mirth, ‘I am with child again! I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you.’

‘Oh, Anne!’ he scoops her up and whirls her around until she laughs and shrieks, protesting that he’ll agitate the baby. Setting her on her feet, Henry steadies Anne and kisses her belly. ‘God smiles on me at last!’ he proclaims to the room. ‘Peace in my court, peace in the Kingdom, and a piece in my wife’s belly!’