Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1 Read online

  This evening was no exception, she entertained him as if he were a visiting ambassador that she had to favour. After he had talked with her for a while someone asked if he would sing and he took the floor and sung us one of his own compositions. He asked for a lady to take the soprano part and Anne reluctantly and modestly came forward and said that she would try. Of course she had it note perfect. They sang an encore, well pleased with themselves, and then Henry kissed Anne’s hand and the queen called for wine for our two songsters.

  It was nothing more than a touch to his hand and Anne had him a little aside from the rest of the court. Only the queen and us Boleyns knew that the king had been drawn away. The queen called for one of the musicians to play us another air, she had too much sense ever to be caught glaring after her husband as he started another flirtation. She shot one quick look at me to see how I was taking the sight of my sister on the king’s arm and I gave her a bland, innocent smile.

  ‘You are becoming a fine courtier, my little wife,’ William Carey remarked.

  ‘I am?’

  ‘When you first came to court you were a fresh piece of goods, hardly glazed by the French court, but now the gilt seems to be entering your soul. Do you ever do a thing without thinking twice?’

  For a moment I would have defended myself but I saw Anne speak a sentence to the king and saw him glance back at the queen. Anne put her hand gently on his sleeve and said another soft word. I turned away from William, quite deaf to him, and instead watched the man I loved. I saw his broad shoulders bend and drop down, as if half his power had gone from him. He looked at the queen as if she had betrayed him, his face vulnerable as a child. Anne turned so he was shielded from the rest of the court and George went forward to ask the queen if we might dance, to keep the attention away from Anne, pouring sorrow into the king’s ear.

  I could not bear it, I slipped away from the girls who were clamouring to dance and went to Henry, pushing past Anne to get to him. His face was pale, his eyes tragic. I took his hands and said only: ‘Oh my dear.’

  He turned to me at once. ‘Did you know too? Do all her ladies know?’

  ‘I think so,’ Anne said. ‘We cannot blame her for not wanting to tell you, poor lady, it was her last hope. It was your last chance, sire.’

  I felt his fingers grip my hand a little tighter. ‘The soothsayer told me …’

  ‘I know,’ I said gently. ‘She was probably bribed.’

  Anne melted away, and the two of us were alone.

  ‘And I lay with her and tried so hard, and hoped …’

  ‘I prayed for you,’ I whispered. ‘For you both. I was so hoping that you would have a son, Henry. Before God, I would rather that she gave you a legitimate son than any other wish in the world.’

  ‘But she cannot now.’ His mouth shut like a trap. He looked like a spoilt child, who cannot get what he wants.

  ‘No, not any more,’ I confirmed. ‘It is over.’

  Abruptly he dropped my hands and turned away from me. The dancers parted before his rapid advance as he strode through the sets. He went to the queen, who was seated smiling on her court and said, loud enough for everyone to hear: ‘I’m told you are unwell, madam. I could wish you had told me yourself.’

  At once she looked to me, her sharp gaze accusing me of betraying her most intimate secret. Minutely I shook my head. She looked for Anne in the dancers and saw her, with George’s hand in hers. Blandly, Anne looked back.

  ‘I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ the queen said with her immense dignity. ‘I should have chosen a more fitting time to discuss this with you.’

  ‘You should have chosen a more immediate time,’ he corrected her. ‘But since you are unwell I suggest that you dismiss your court and bide by yourself.’

  Those of the queen’s court who grasped at once what was happening whispered quickly to their neighbours. But most of them stood and stared at the king’s sudden storm of bad humour, and at the queen’s white-faced endurance.

  Henry turned on his heel, snapped his fingers for his friends: George, Henry, William, Charles, Francis, as if he were calling his dogs, and marched out of the queen’s rooms without another word. I was pleased to see that of all of them, my brother George swept her the deepest bow. She let them go without a word, and rose and went quietly into her own privy chamber.

  The musicians who had been fiddling away sounding more and more ragged, found their tune had died and they looked around for orders.

  ‘Oh go,’ I said in sudden impatience. ‘Can’t you see there’ll be no more dancing and no more singing for tonight? Nobody here needs music. God knows, nobody wants to dance.’

  Jane Parker looked at me in surprise. ‘I’d have thought you’d have been glad. The king on bad terms with the queen, and you ready to be picked up like a bruised peach in the gutter.’

  ‘And I’d have thought you’d have had more sense than to say such a thing,’ Anne said roundly. ‘To speak thus of your sister-in-law to be! You had better take care or you won’t be welcome in this family.’

  Jane did not back down to Anne. ‘There’s no breaking a betrothal. George and I are as good as wed in church. It’s just a question of settling the day. You can welcome me or you can hate me, Miss Anne. But you can’t forbid me. We are promised before witnesses.’

  ‘Oh what does it matter!’ I cried out. ‘What does any of it matter?’ I turned and ran to my chamber. Anne slipped in after me.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded tersely. ‘Is the king angry with us?’

  ‘No, though he should be, for we did a nasty piece of work in telling him the queen’s secret.’

  ‘Oh aye,’ Anne nodded, quite unmoved. ‘But he was not angry with us?’

  ‘No, he’s hurt.’

  Anne went to the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m going to get them to bring the bath here,’ she said. ‘You’re going to wash.’

  ‘Oh Anne,’ I said irritably. ‘He’s heard the worst news in his life. He’s in the worst of tempers. He’s hardly going to send for me tonight. I can wash tomorrow, if I have to.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m taking no chances,’ she said. ‘You wash tonight.’

  She was wrong, but only by a day. The next day the queen sat alone in her room with her ladies and I dined in the privy chamber with my brother, with his friends, and with the king. It was a merry merry evening with music and dancing and gambling. And that night I was in the king’s bed once more.

  This time Henry and I were all but inseparable. The court knew that we were lovers, the queen knew, even the common people who came out from London to watch us dine knew. I wore his gold bracelet around my wrist, I rode his hunter to hounds. I had a pair of matched diamonds for my ears, I had three new gowns, one of cloth of gold. And one morning in bed he said to me:

  ‘Did you never wonder what came of that sketch that I asked the artist at the shipyard to do?’

  ‘I’d forgotten him,’ I said.

  ‘Come here and kiss me and I will tell you why I ordered him to draw you,’ Henry said lazily.

  He lay back on the pillows of his bed. It was late in the morning but the curtains were still drawn around us, shielding us from the servants coming in to make up the fire, to bring him hot water, to empty the piss pot. I swarmed up the bed towards him, leaning my round breasts against his warm chest, letting my hair tumble forward in a veil of gold and bronze. My mouth came down on his, I inhaled the warm erotic scent of his beard, felt the soft prickle of the hairs around his mouth, pushed deeper against his lips and felt, as much as heard, his little groan of desire as I kissed him hard.

  I raised my head and smiled into his eyes. ‘There is your kiss,’ I whispered throatily, feeling my desire rise with his. ‘Why did you order the artist to draw me?’

  ‘I shall show you,’ he promised. ‘After Mass. We’ll ride down to the river and you shall see my new ship and your likeness at the same time.’

  ‘Is t