The Tudor Wife. Emily Purdy

cannot! It has gone too far! I thought when the court failed to deliver the desired verdict that would be the end of it, and I could wave farewell and dance away from him, but he will stop at nothing to have me! I have become trapped in my own net! And Father and Uncle Norfolk never stop pressing me. Winning is all that matters, they keep telling me—it doesn’t matter how I play the game, only that I win! “Do not fail, Anne!” they caution with such hardness in their eyes it takes all the will I have not to let them see me give way to tears. They come at me from all sides, urging me to “Give in, Anne, give in! It is a great honor to be the mistress of a King!” until it is all I can do not to stamp my feet and scream and tear the hair from my head! Were he not King I would tell him what I truly think of him! Every time I see him I must bite my tongue to keep the words from spewing forth else he send me to the Tower and have them chop off my head, and yet I cannot help but think that at least then I would die with the truth upon my lips; that would be better than living a lie!’

      ‘You mean you no longer want to be Queen?’ I asked.

      Sobs shook her and Anne buried her face in her hands.

      ‘If the prize is within my grasp I shall take it; it would be folly to reject it, and there would be no forgetting or forgiving if I did, but do not ask me whether it is worth it because I no longer know! I am so tired, George, so very tired, yet the battle rages on and I must keep fighting!’

      ‘Then you must rest, darling Nan.’ He stood up and gathered her tenderly in his arms and carried her to his bed. ‘Sleep now,’ he said as he laid her down and drew the covers up over her. ‘And I shall sit here’—he brought a chair close to the bedside—‘and see that no one disturbs you.’

      And there he sat, stroking her hair, until sleep claimed her.

      ‘Damn them all for doing this to you, my sweet sister,’ I, still lurking in the doorway, heard him whisper.

      ‘Now you have what you have always wanted,’ I jibed. ‘Your sister is in your bed! Do not let my presence keep you from joining her!’

      ‘Bite your viper’s tongue!’ George hissed, and flung his slippers at my head.

      I turned my back and started back to my own bed, but my feet had scarcely crossed the threshold when I felt his fingers biting into the soft flesh of my arm.

      He pushed the door shut so our conversation would not disturb his dear, precious Anne.

      ‘Why do you always do this?’ he demanded. ‘Why do you say these awful things? What has Anne ever done to you to make you despise her so?’

      ‘She has stolen what is rightfully mine!’ I rounded on him furiously. ‘She has stolen my husband!’

      George laughed wryly and threw up his hands.

      When I heard him laugh at me, mocking me, I wanted to throw myself at him and claw at his face, raking long, bloody furrows into that handsome visage with my nails. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself doing so, and I hated myself for it. How could I have such violent, bloody thoughts about hurting the person I loved most? It was Anne who deserved pain and punishment, not my beloved George.

      ‘You are a madwoman!’ he declared. ‘You talk naught but nonsense. Anne is my sister. You talk of her as if she were my mistress!’

      ‘She is!’ I shouted. ‘She is your mistress! Mistress of your heart! No brother loves his sister as you do her—it is unnatural, George, unnatural! I should not have to compete with my sister-in-law for my husband’s attention, or his affection, but I do. Every day of my life, Anne is always between us. I know you bed other women, but I never worry about them because I know that for you there is only Anne, and that with her no other woman can compare! You don’t want a wife or a mistress, George; the only woman you want is Anne! And I hate her for it!’

      George just stood there staring at me, then he shook his head and laughed at me. ‘You are deranged,’ he said, and then he left me. He went back to Anne, and I fell weeping onto my bed to cry myself to sleep.

      

      But there would be no true rest for Anne. Henry continued to press her to grant him the ultimate favor, and all of her family, except George, took his side.

      I spied on them one moonlit night in the gardens of Greenwich.

      Anne stood steadfast in a gleaming gown of silver tissue, with diamond stars sparkling in her hair, while the King groveled at her feet like a lovesick swain.

      Suddenly Anne seemed to wilt and pressed a hand to her brow. In the moonlight she seemed very pale.

      Henry saw his chance and seized it. He clutched her close, pressing and grinding his loins, forcing her to feel his hardness through her skirts. His lips found hers, then traveled down her neck to her breasts, trussed high above the low, square-cut diamondbordered bodice. He peeled her gown down from her shoulders until her breasts were fully exposed, with the cool evening air stiffening her nipples. She tried to pull away but he held her fast, his cruel little mouth closing round each rosy pebble of flesh and leaving it glistening with drool. But when his hands began to fumble with her skirts she somehow found the strength to shove him away.

      ‘Anne, have mercy upon me! For three years I have lived like a monk, all for love of you! Do not be so cruel to one who has been nothing but kind to you. Give yourself to me, tonight, Anne!’

      Anne drew up her gown, tucking her breasts back inside and folding her arms protectively across them.

      ‘And tomorrow have you show me what a nimble dancer you are as you dance out of your promise to make me queen?’

      ‘You are queen of my heart already!’ he protested.

      ‘But not of England! If you make me Queen of England I shall share your bed and give you sons; it was that we agreed upon, and I will keep my end of the bargain only if you keep yours!’

      ‘In time, Anne, all shall be yours in time! But for now…’ He reached for her again, but Anne slapped his hand away. ‘Is it not enough that I promise you my undying love?’

      ‘Would you chance your son being born a bastard?’ Anne asked icily.

      ‘No, no.’ Henry sighed, his great padded shoulders sagging in defeat. ‘That I cannot risk. For the sake of my unborn son I must damp my carnal lust, though I am in the sight of God a free man…’

      ‘But not in the eyes of men,’ Anne reminded him. ‘And until that day comes, I shall go alone to my bed.’ And with only the briefest of curtsies she left him.

      Gleefully, I gathered up my skirts and raced back inside, eager to taunt George with what I had just seen. But George was not there and his valet could not—or would not—say where he had gone.

      The valet was putting away some freshly laundered linens when I came in, and every time I asked his master’s whereabouts he studiously lowered his eyes and murmured, ‘I do not know, my lady.’ As he bent over the chest, I drew back my foot and kicked his plump posterior as hard as I could; then, seething with annoyance, I stormed into my own chamber and slammed the door.

      I was very curt with my maid as she undressed me.

      Joan was a timid country girl I had brought from Great Hallingbury to serve me; she had previously been a dairy maid and was not accustomed to waiting on great ladies. Her nervous fingers often fumbled and she was ever prone to dropping things. Father had always taught me that we must be patient with our inferiors, but tonight I was in no mood to remember the teachings of childhood, and when she pricked her finger on my ruby, pearl, and emerald flower brooch and dropped it, and one of the stones popped out of its setting, I swung round and struck her soundly across the face.

      As she cringed and cowered before me, a trickle of blood snaking slowly from one nostril, I should have deplored my anger and tried to comfort her, but tonight I was so incensed by George’s absence that I just could not control myself, and instead I called her ‘a fumblefingers’ and said she was ‘as stupid as the cows she used to milk.’ I seized