“No man shall be my master, least of all the fattest and most corrupt of God’s representatives!” Henry roared, pounding his fist on the rickety table for effect. “He has no say in the politics of England!”
I didn’t even flinch; these were the words I had wanted to hear for two years, two long, cold, uncertain years. Ever since I had played this mighty king of England for a lovesick fool, nothing could move forward in my quest for the throne unless Henry rid himself of his current wife, Catherine of Aragon. However, Catherine had the whole power of the European monarchies behind her, as well as the Pope and the Catholic Church.
“Yes Henry, he’s not your master. Only the holy Lord in heaven is. Why should we have to depend upon a foreign leader for access into paradise?”
“We should not. Damnit Anne, I will have a son to follow me!”
I stood there, silent. I knew deep down, if I didn’t get a son from Henry, he would turn against me as he was now against Catherine. I knew deep down that Catherine had done nothing wrong, but only that Henry had tired of her. This lustful king was all about the chase; when it was over, he immediately sought another. I had to keep him coming forward, and yet hold him off, and I had to do it without him realizing that I was playing him for all it was worth: the crown of the Queen of England.
Henry dropped down into a chair, as though exhausted. I went and knelt at his feet, and looked into his eyes. He disliked a direct stare, and his eyes clouded over with more anger.
“Henry, my love, I swear to you on my life that God must not approve of your living in sin with Catherine. I can give you a son.”
“Anne, my darling, marry me.”
I could not believe my ears. This is what I had been waiting for. My position was assured now.
“Oh Henry, of course. I would want nothing more.”
Henry set out to break with the Church. I helped him along by supporting the purging of Catholicism and making a pure religion. Once the Pope was no longer in power in England, the clergy learned that while the Holy Father of the Roman Catholic Church may have been their spiritual leader, their king was a good deal more powerful and closer to home. Henry emptied the coffers of the churches and put them into the falling Treasury. Along the way, many opposed the divorce, and several of Henry’s advisors resigned their post in silent protest. Henry felt he was forced to execute one of his greatest friends, Thomas More, for defending his wife.
I believed that Henry did at one point actually love Catherine, but that love was gone now and replaced by the burning desire he now felt for me.
I was fed up by turns from all of the opposition Henry and I were facing. His greatest advisor, Cardinal Wolsey, was trying everything he could to bring about a speedy end to the divorce, but the Pope in Rome was under the threat of the Emperor Charles V of Spain, Catherine’s nephew. While Charles held the reigns of Europe in his grasp, the Pope couldn’t run the risk of granting Henry’s request without endangering his own livelihood. So, for the time being, Henry and I were unable to move forward.
Wolsey, however, wasn’t exactly keen on the idea that Henry marry me; he wanted an alliance with the French, intending that Henry marry the Princess Renée, the daughter of Louis XII, the previous king of France.
I guess it was my outbursts of temper that really made me, and everyone else for that matter, realize that I had such complete control over the king. When I learned the Catherine still sewed Henry’s shirts, I was furious.
“Anne, she has sewed my shirts since she came to live with me. I had no idea that it would offend you.”
“Of course it would offend me! She still treats you as if she were the mistress of your household, and you allow her to do so. By God Henry, you have hurt me with this!” I shouted.
“Anne…”
“No! Obviously, she is still considered your wife by all. I shall leave and make my home at Hever.”
“Anne, my love, don’t say such things. I shall tell her that I don’t wish her to sew them anymore.”
“I bid you a good day, Your Majesty,” and with that, I curtseyed low and backed from his privy chamber. I fled to my own apartments. The next day when I awoke, there was a splendid ruby necklace and matching bracelet lying on my dressing table with a loving note of apology.
What power I had over the king! If only I had seen how far my fall would be from this great rise.
Later on in the year, the king came to me with accusations of my having had an affair 4 years previous. The man in question was Henry Percy, the heir to the Earl of Northumberland. He had been a page to Wolsey, and I had been a lady of Catherine's court. Percy and I had wanted to be together, and with my sister and father's fortunes rising, I thought that we could have anything. There was only the matter of convincing his family. Alas, it was not to be. On the king's order, Wolsey separated us and sent Henry off to the North to his father's choice of a bride. I too was banished down to our family home of Hever in Kent. Now, the king was bringing us this incident in my past, because someone had set is curiosity aflame. It was essential that I knew whom.
"Who told you this slander?"
"Anne, my love, you have already assured me that it was nothing. I saw to it that it went no further than nothing." Henry pleaded with me, trying to avoid having to tell me the name.
"Then I shall leave. As I am no longer trusted, I am no longer bound to your service." I was only testing him, although my anger was real enough.
"No! Anne, I only needed to hear you reassure me that it was nothing. I know that you are a shinning perfection of womanhood and purity. If he had been any other, I would have hit him around the head and sent him from my court."
"Oh, so this was a trusted friend? Henry, tell me who."
He paused for a long time, and finally said in a low voice, "Suffolk."
So, it was that little rat of a friend, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk. He had married Henry's sister Mary, and both were close to him.
