1528
Through her numerous spies, Anne Boleyn had learned that Cardinal Campeggio had visited Queen Catherine in her rooms.
"Why would he do that? " She asked no one in particular, although she was speaking to her sister in law Jane. "I thought he was on the King's side? Indeed, as every man of sense should. England needs to have an heir and she is just standing in the way. "
I was seated a few steps from her, pretending to be engrossed in the prayer book I was reading.
"Why? " Jane asked foolishly. "Did he promise her support from Rome? "
"Of course she has support from Rome , " Anne snapped. She was a woman who could not abide stupidity, even in her family. "Her nephew has the Pope, doesn't he? Rome will support her whether it wants to or not. "
Jane did not seem to mind her sister in law's volatile temper. She idolized Anne. "Then what did he tell the Queen? "
"Dowager Princess, " Anne corrected. "She was never the King's rightful wife, or England's rightful Queen. He asked her to accept the reasonable terms Henry had offered her. He told her this was her last chance to get this good a settlement. "
"I hope she accepted them, " Jane said pleasantly, "She was always a good mistress. "
Anne's eyes flared up. "A good mistress, huh? Do you think she was also a good wife, and a good Queen? A rightful Queen? Why are you in my service then? Why don't you run to your great Mistress and grovel at her feet? "
Jane's face had blanched white. She was truly a simpleton; she adored the family she had married into and would never go against her Sister in Law's interests. Anne knew this, I was sure. She was simply looking for someone to let her anger out on, a whipping boy so to speak.
"Anne, I only meant... "
Anne silenced her with a dismissive wave. "It does not matter what she chooses anyway. Henry will still be rid of her. " She paused, as if measuring whether or not to utter her next words. "And I shall be Queen Anne of England. "
* * * * * *
The King followed Anne Boleyn around like a bee after a flower.
But the little bee found the petals closed shut against it.
Anne Boleyn played him like the Smithfield strumpet she was, but he was completely entranced, a fool for love.
In the midst of all this the sweating sickness broke out and England nearly fell into uproar. Anne Boleyn fell ill and the King, mortally afraid of sickness, sent her home to her family's castle in Hever along with one of his best physicians.
He, on the other hand, took Queen Catherine and Princess Mary with him on progress and it was as though Anne Boleyn had never been and we were back to the old days when the King had only eyes for his wife, although he took others to his bed.
As her lady in waiting, I knew I had to go with her. But I would not. I would not follow that whore to her family nest like some slave bound to her. I approached her as she lay on her bed, pale, sweaty, and both afraid and irritated and the King's recent reunion with his wife. She turned her dark eyes to me and I looked down.
She cackled. "It is only the Seymour spinster. What is it you want?"
I swallowed the bile that rushed into my mouth at her taunt. "My Lady, I beg you leave to go to my Family home at Wulfhall."
I did not dare look up. I had to seem humble and daft, otherwise she might call me too proud and find a reason to keep me at her side as punishment. She kept silent for a while, and then she took a deep breath.
"No."
I looked up. "No?"
"I said No," Her eyes glittered with malice. "You Seymours, you think my star is descending don't you?"
We all knew her star was nowhere near descending. In fact it was faster on the rise as evidenced by the King's pleading love letters to her, begging her to understand why he abandoned her, which she chose to ignore.
I made as if to speak, but she stopped me.
"No need to try and lie to me. I will be honest with you, Jane. I never much liked you, and you never much liked me. I do not trust you, and I will never ever let you out of my sight. You hear me? You will serve me forever."
* * * * *
William Carey, Mary Boleyn's husband, died of the sweat and by looking at his distraught widow you would think she had loved him. Well, she never was much of a wife for him in life and I was glad he was dead. It was a release for the poor cuckold.
Anne Boleyn did not leave her bed for two weeks and I was beginning to think that she might die of the sweat, and half of England hoped for it. The Howards would not have it. Anne was their key to power and they could not bear to lose her. Her mother, sister and sister in law were at her side for all the time, nursing her, and even her Uncle Howard, the great Duke of Norfolk, visited her at her sickbed and brought her sweetmeats.
When the remedies from the King's own physician would not work, they sent for a Moorish doctor out of sheer desperation.
Three days later she rose from her bed and ordered her bags packed.
We were returning to court.
* * * *
The King was now more determined than ever to leave his wife. The few months he had spent away from Anne Boleyn had done little to change his mind, even though the Queen's friends had tried to lure him with their pretty, less ambitious daughters who would warm his bed and keep out of the Queen's way.
Anne Boleyn returned to court in full force, restored back to her former glory. Queen Catherine looked as though she had grown twice as old in the few months I had not seen her, and beside the radiant King and his glowing Boleyn whore, she looked like she could be their grandmother. Some of the common people who knew nothing of the court's intrigue said that it was unfair that the King should be burdened with a woman who looked so old, and who could not give him a son for his trouble.
* * * *
The Queen spent all her days on her knees now, praying for the king and the country, and wore her hairshirt under her beautiful gowns as penance for her selfish husband's sins. The ecclesiastical court was still on, and everyday they examined her marriage to the late Prince Arthur and summoned former chamber maids and pit boys to give testimony to what they had seen and heard in their rooms. It was humiliating, that the King even made the court public so that any peasant could come in and hear of the Queen's private life, of what she did in her private chambers.
Her Motto Humble and Loyal had now been proved true. Never was a Queen more loyal to a lying, selfish, philandering husband. Never had a Queen been so humbled.
