Thank you for the lovely reviews everyone 3. I'm pondering who else I should feature and how this should go on.
There had been many times that Elizabeth Boleyn had wished her youngest had been a girl - because oh, how far Henry would have risen had he been a girl. But now, now it looked like he would rise further than anyone had dreamed, having caught the eye of Queen Anne. When the sweating sickness had carried off Queen Margaret, there had been relief that the youngest Tudor princess had been so brilliantly trained to be a Queen. And indeed, she was proving a golden Queen. Her sister Margaret's consort, King Charles had hastily been installed as the Dowager Prince of Wales, with full honours due to him, though the marriage had not been formerly pronounced or consummated. Her lover Charles had been honourably married off to Margaret's great friend Catherine.
And Queen Anne had fallen in love with Charles. They had been happy together for a time, despite having only one living child - a son, Prince Matthew but Charles had fallen out of favour - he was much older than his wife and was rather more pious and more interested in prayer than dancing and witty conversation. Only the fact that his aunt had become Holy Roman Empress had kept him this safe, Elizabeth reflected sourly.
Then her son had caught Anne's eye at a masque and she was enchanted. Though perhaps, it was not entirely surprising. Henry, her Harry, was a bright, brilliant boy - educated far more than most sons were and able to read and write in several languages, with a genuine interest in scholarship as well as riding, hawking and jousting. She knew that in the English court her son stood out - he was not merely a warrior and a good father and carer for children. He was a challenge. And he had politely told Anne no.
I cannot be merely a lover. My body is to be my gift to my wife, Your Majesty.
It had merely inflamed her desire for Henry.
