Anne Boleyn - May Day 1526
Slipping away from Catalina, Harry made his way to the gardens. She was waiting for him, as he knew she would be.
"Anne." He would have pressed his lips to hers ardently, but she pulled back, and helf out her hand instead. He kissed her palm reluctantly, then stepped half a pace away from her. Surely now she would yield. He had worn her favour at the joust, he had danced with her almost incessantly, and he had watched the children's tableau with her at his side. He had even sent her sister, his former mistress, to Hever to spend the summer with her children, leaving her as the only Boleyn girl at Court. What more could the girl want?
"Your sister is gone. As you wished. Now will you give yourself to me, Anne?" he pleaded.
Still she shook her head. "No, Henry. Not until you are loyal to me. Loyal to me, and me alone. Above all others."
"I am!" he protested. Anne shook her head firmly.
"No. You may think you are. But really, you are loyal to the Queen above all others."
What?! This was preposterous. He scarcely saw Catalina any more!
"Anne, please! I scarcely see her!"
"Yet she still sits at your side on a throne. At your right hand in matters of state. I do not."
"For appearance's sake only, Anne, I swear. She means nothing to me now."
"Still, she is your Queen, and ever present. I feel her eyes on me, Henry. And those of her spies. Look at us, for God's sake. Meeting in secret. Talking in whispers." Anne sniffed disdainfully before she continued. "It's hardly conducive to passion."
Harry looked around them. Now that he came to think of it, Anne was right. They had to get away from the Court. Go somewhere they could give free rein to their desires.
His imagination was fired, and he could scarcely pay attention to what Anne said next.
"I thought Tudors were hunting men."
"We are!" he exclaimed, determinedly suppressing the memories of his father and his elder brother, Arthur, neither of whom had particularly enjoyed riding out with the hunt.
"I thought hunting men enjoyed the passion of the catch."
"We do. But the thrill of the chase is just as good to us, Lady Anne." he replied,
wondering what she was going to suggest next.
All of a sudden, she shrieked "Let's see how well you can catch me then, Your Majesty!" and ducked away under his arm.
With a great bellow of mirth, he was after her.
He caught her, as she intended he should. He caught her up in his arms and whispered "Ride with me, Lady Anne. Ride with me away from the Court."
She did. They galloped away through the woods, until they reached the clearing where, seventeen years before, he had sworn everlasting love to his wife and Queen, the Spanish Princess Catalina.
He helped Anne from her horse, and twirled her in his arms, until they were both reeling with dizziness.
Then they collapsed on the ground, Anne's dark hair spread out on his lap, and talked while the moon began to rise in the sky, and give everything a eerie sense of dangerous beauty.
In that moment, Harry knew what he would have to do to gain Anne's favour to such an extent that she would give herself to him. He would have to marry her and make her Queen.
He turned her on his lap so that she was looking up at him, wove his fingers into her raven tresses, and whispered "I will marry you, Anne. I swear it. I will marry you and make you Queen."
She looked up at him.
"Make me Queen?"
"Aye. You will be hailed as Queen Anne Boleyn. Queen Anne Boleyn of England, France and Ireland. How do you like that, sweetheart?"
"Your Majesty, I like it very well indeed." Anne tipped her face up towards him invitingly. Harry leaned in, and for once, Anne did not pull away. His lips found hers, and there, beneath the silvery moon, they kissed for the first time.