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Chapter Four
17th May 1536
Lady Kingston was slightly plump, with a face that looked stern in repose, with a severity that never entirely left her expression, even when she was smiling, but Anne was still very glad to see her. The other woman, who had made her home within the precincts of the Tower for over a decade, since her husband was first appointed to the position of Constable, had taken charge of her as soon as Master Kingston conducted her to his house, curtseying deeply as she explained that she would tend to her needs and see to it that she had all that she required.
Anne had followed her with uncharacteristic meekness, stunned by what was happening and feeling as though she might, at any moment, wake up in either her apartment at the palace and realize that this had all been some strange, unpleasant dream, perhaps the product of a fanciful imagination and too much strain over the past months, since she miscarried her boy, or else in the chamber used as her prison, with this faint hope of a reprieve snatched away from her.
The sky was still dark when Master Kingston came to the chamber in which she had been confined for the past two weeks, bowing deeply when he asked that she dress as quickly as possible and accompany him – and it was a true request, not just a command couched as one for the sake of politeness and deference to her rank as Queen. Deciding against asking what was happening, she merely nodded comprehension, waiting until the Constable had excused himself before allowing her maids to help her dress in a dove grey gown and comb her hair into a neat twist. Once she was dressed, one of the maids let Master Kingston know that she was ready and he offered Anne his arm to escort her out of the room, explaining that he was bringing her to his own house for the moment.
When he explained that the executions had been cancelled, that a second investigation into the allegations made against her had been proven to be false and that the King had ordered that she was to be released, Anne was half-inclined to think that it was a cruel joke, a way for her enemies to give her false hope and to make the shock of learning that she really was going to die all the more painful but Kingston's expression was sincere, his tone gentle as he explained it.
"The King investigated the matter personally, Your Majesty." Kingston had explained to her as he escorted her across the Tower Green to his house. "He re-examined the evidence and questioned the witnesses and he came to the conclusion that the charges against you were false."
Was she supposed to be grateful for this? Anne wondered, as Lady Kingston and her maids helped her into a tub of steaming water, washing her hair and perfuming her skin with scented oils.
If Henry had been willing to speak to her when this started, to listen to her when she appealed to him to give her a chance, for Elizabeth's sake, then she could have assured him that the charges alleged against her were completely false and that he had no reason to doubt her fidelity. They would not have needed to endure any of this. He had not listened to her then, he had not wanted to.
She knew that it must have suited his purposes very well when he first heard the rumours about her relationships with some of the men of the court. If he persuaded himself that she was guilty of adultery, then he could send her to her death as a traitor, marry that Seymour wench and make the brats she bore him his heirs. Henry knew this and so he had been unwilling to listen to her when she pleaded with him to. He didn't want to allow her the chance to persuade him of her innocence because it would mean that he would not be able to condemn her and he would not be able to marry Mistress Seymour. He had stood by and allowed her to be arrested, locked up like a criminal, subjected to an unjust trial and sentenced to death, all for that wench's sake. Jane Seymour and her family had known well how to play Henry and they were determined to hold out until they could put that stupid slut on the throne, regardless of the cost. And Henry was willing to go along with it.
Was she now supposed to be thankful to him for the fact that conscience had finally awoken, at the eleventh hour, preventing him from allowing her to die?
He should never have allowed it to happen in the first place!
"Close your eyes, Your Majesty." Lady Kingston instructed, waiting until Anne had complied with her instruction before pouring a jug of warm, clear water over her hair, rinsing out the soap. Her personal maid, pressed into service to help prepare Anne, was holding a linen towel in front of the fire to warm it before holding it out to Anne, to wrap her in it as soon as she stood up.
Once Anne was bathed and dry, Lady Kingston and the maids helped her into a clean shift, petticoat and kirtle before helping her into a fresh gown that Lady Kingston had sent for, one of plain black silk. When she was dressed, one of the maids combed out her hair, so that it could dry in front of the fire.
"I'll send for some bread, meat and fruit for you to break your fast." Lady Kingston told her with a deep curtsey, once she had Anne settled in a chair in front of the fire. "I'm sure that you must be hungry, Your Majesty. The King is to be here at noon to meet you." She explained. "He will accompany you back to the palace."
"What about my brother?" Anne asked anxiously, worried about the fates of the men who had been accused of being her lovers. If it was known now that they were innocent, at least they would not be executed, but she could only imagine what the past couple of weeks had been like for them. They would not have been afforded the same comforts that she was. "And my father?" Surely nobody could fault her if she enquired after her relatives, although she was half-afraid that if she mentioned the others, it might be construed as evidence against her, that she cared for them more than she should.
It might sound absurd, but it was no more absurd than the original charges laid against her were.
"My lord has brought them from the Tower to this house, Your Majesty, along with the other gentlemen who were arrested with you, and who were falsely convicted." Lady Kingston responded, deciding against mentioning that Mark Smeaton had not been brought to the house with the others. There was a crowd gathered outside the Tower already and there would be many more people there by noon, when the time came for the prisoners to be released. The last thing the King and his Privy Council wanted was for anybody to see the state that the musician was in, so he was to be cared for by physicians until he was stronger, and then quietly set free, with as little fuss as possible, in the hopes that it would go unnoticed. "They will all be released at noon, when you are."
"Thank God!" Anne said quietly, accepting a cup of ale from one of the maids and sipping it slowly, staring into the heart of the fire, only half-aware of the movements of Lady Kingston and the maids as they tended to her.
In a few hours, she would be set free... but what would happen then?
Henry might have decided that he could not allow her to be killed but Anne doubted that he would be happy to be obliged to take her back, not when he had made up his mind to be rid of her and to move on with another woman. He had wanted to get rid of her so that he could marry Jane.
How were they supposed to move past that?
Even though he had been warned to expect a crowd outside the Tower, Henry had not anticipated that there would be so many people there. As the royal barge glided down the river, he could see that there were people lining up the banks on either side, with the crowds growing thicker as he came closer to the Tower.
When he went out among his people, he was accustomed to seeing smiles of welcome on their faces, with parents lifting little children onto their shoulders so that they might see their King as he passed. He was accustomed to hearing cheers of welcome, or at the very least murmurs of awe and admiration for himself and for the grand state in which he travelled.
Today, however, he saw none of that.
Today, the people watched his approach with stony, unfriendly eyes and he could hear their disapproving mutterings, could hear the sour comments that it was a pity that he had not realized before now that his poor Queen was innocent of wrongdoing and that she would never have betrayed him, before he had put her through the pain and humiliation of a trial and before she had endured the horror of being sentenced to death and left to await execution.
Cromwell had been summarily stripped of his office as Lord Chancellor the previous night. He was confined to his quarters for the time being and Henry had every intention of ordering the man's arrest and having him sent to the Tower, charged with trying to bring about the death of the Queen of England by falsely accusing her and manufacturing evidence against her, but he rather regretted that he could not benefit from his former chancellor's advice right now.
Cromwell would have known how best to tackle the issue of the crowds and what he ought to do in order to ensure that they would cease to think of him as the villain.
Sir Thomas Audley, temporarily pressed into service as acting Lord Chancellor, until a suitable replacement for Cromwell could be found, had hit on the idea that it would be best if the King and Queen demonstrate a united front for the people. Instead of staying at Whitehall while Anne was brought back to court, Henry should be the one to travel to the Tower to meet her, so that he might be seen to conduct her away from prison and back to her home. Audley advocated that the best possible course of action would be for Henry to show himself as Anne's fellow victim, not as her accuser or as the man who might have sent her to her death.
The King had been grieved to learn of the Queen's infidelity and, though it broke his heart to imagine that she might be capable of such evil, he had had no choice but to order an investigation into the matter, to grant him peace of mind and to ensure that there was no possible chance that the Queen might be guilty, that she might be placing the royal succession itself in jeopardy with her behaviour. When he learned of her guilt, he was filled with profound sorrow... but he had never suspected that his own trusted councillors might have taken advantage of the accusations made against the Queen in order that they might be rid of her. He had believed the investigation and the trials to be scrupulously fair and completely impartial and he was horrified and dismayed to learn that this was not the case. As soon as he knew that the Queen had been falsely accused and unjustly condemned, he immediately ordered the execution stopped. He was now going to free her from imprisonment and, when the time came, he would see to it that those who had dared to falsely accuse her were punished for their crimes.
He was relieved and overjoyed that his wife had been found to be innocent, and he was deeply repentant for ever having doubted her.
When Audley had explained his strategy, Henry thought it a very clever one, and he pacified his conscience with the thought that it was true... for the most part. He had believed Anne to be guilty, he had never suspected that Cromwell would ever dare to fabricate evidence against her and he was relieved to know that she had never truly betrayed him... even if that did mean that he would never be able to marry Jane.
He heard her name mentioned as his barge glided past, heard the hissed whispers speculating about where Mistress Seymour was and how she must feel now that the Queen's innocence had become public knowledge and she knew that she could no longer cherish any hope of replacing her.
He would have to deal with Jane too, and her family.
He had sent a message to them last night, ordering Jane, her father and her brothers to come to court at once. They would be there by the time he returned to Whitehall with Anne, if they were not there already, but he did not know yet what he was going to do about them but one thing he knew that he would never be able to do would be to make Jane his wife.
If his people knew what he had given up, then they would surely appreciate the sacrifice that he had made by proclaiming Anne's innocence. Even if it was the right thing for him to do, the only thing his conscience would allow him to do, he was still going to pay a high price for doing it. He had given up his chance at making a new marriage, perhaps even his chance at fathering a son. They should appreciate what he had done for Anne.
So should she.
Her father looked years older than he had when she last saw him, before they were arrested and brought to the Tower. His period of imprisonment had not been kind to him and, even though he, like the rest of the men, was given a chance to wash and to change into fresh clothes, it was obvious that his time in the Tower had taken its toll on him.
Anne was astonished when his first action upon seeing her was to pull her into a tight hug, with a quiet, heart-felt "Thank God!"
She couldn't remember him ever hugging her like that since she was a little girl.
"Are you alright?" Boleyn quizzed his daughter, holding her at arm's length and scrutinizing her face as though he could read from her expression how the past couple of weeks had affected her. For two weeks in the Tower he had tasted the bitterness of total defeat, knowing that he was likely to lose everything that he had gained through his daughter and more. He might not have been charged with any crime but he knew better than to think that when all of this was over, he would be allowed to return to court and to enjoy the benefits of the offices he had been awarded when the King loved Anne, and to continue to enjoy the King's trust and favour. When he was freed... if he was freed, disgrace and banishment would be his lot.
He would have to retreat to Hever, never again showing his face at court, he would lose the significant portion of his income that he derived from his court offices and royal stewardships and he would be left childless. He had disowned Mary when she made her ill-considered second marriage and he had fully expected to hear that Anne and George were to be executed... and they would have died, in part, because of him.
He was the one who pressed Anne to capture the King's attention and who had urged her to aim for no less a prize than the Queen's crown once it became apparent that the King wanted more than to simply make her another mistress.
If he had not done that, if he had not wanted to use his younger daughter to secure advantage for himself, then Anne and George would never have been arrested or sentenced to death.
As relieved and grateful as he was for this reprieve, he could not forget how close a call it had been, or that he bore some of the responsibility for what happened.
"I'm alright, Papa." Anne assured him, feeling absurdly grateful for his strong arms around her, remembering when she was a little girl and her father had lifted her in his arms, swinging her around and hugging her close. There was part of her, a large part, that would have loved nothing more than to be able to return to her childhood at Hever, before she had ever imagined going to court and living in close proximity to royalty, a time when her Papa was there to play with her and to keep her safe.
"Thank God." Boleyn said again, kissing his daughter's cheek before releasing her and feeling a stab of guilt at how pale and drawn her face was. The terror of the last fortnight had left its mark and he suspected that it might be quite some time before Anne recovered from her experience, if she was ever able to fully put it behind her. He knew that he would not soon forget how it had felt to hear that he was under arrest, and then to be subjected to relentless questioning at the hands of Master Cromwell – a man who seemed to be completely ungrateful for all of the help that the Boleyn family had given him for his own rise to power; he was perfectly willing to lead the investigation that would condemn Anne to death, despite the fact that, but for her, he would still be a humble clerk, one who would not have survived the fall of his former patron unscathed, much less risen as high as he did.
He hadn't spoken in Anne's defence.
He suspected that even Master Cromwell was surprised that he made no attempt to defend his daughter or to argue that Anne would never have dreamed of betraying the King, as it was suggested that she had – although Boleyn could not deny that if the idea had occurred to him, he might have considered the idea of hinting that Anne should take a lover in order to conceive the son that would secure her position, as it seemed that the King might have difficulty siring strong sons, provided that they could find somebody suitable, somebody who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut, no matter what – but he had known better than to speak in Anne's defence.
If he had tried to argue that Anne was innocent, he was sure that it would not be long before he found himself being charged as her accomplice, accused of being the pander who had encouraged Anne in her infidelities and helped her lovers to enter her chamber undetected, hoping that one of them would be able to sire a grandson for him, a healthy baby boy that Anne could pass off as the King's child and as the rightful Prince of Wales. If he had tried to argue that Anne was innocent, he would have joined her on the scaffold.
He had no doubt of that.
The only way to save his own life was to turn on her, to condemn her and to hope that it would be enough, that he could ensure that Cromwell and the King knew that, if he was freed, he would not seek to champion Anne's cause, declaring her to be innocent and accusing the King of murdering her. They would never take that chance. They would rather keep him in the Tower for the rest of his life, or even to cut his life short, rather than allowing him to do that.
"I condemn them utterly. Utterly. All those men, whatever their rank or station who... where I... where I... Whatever their rank or station who... deceived the King and slipped between the sheets with his lawful wife." He hadn't used her name; Anne couldn't be his daughter, he couldn't refer to her by name, he had to think of her only as the King's wife and to give the same answer that he would have given if the Queen of England had had no connection to him. despite his efforts to remain calm and collected, his tongue faltered as he spoke. "I cond... Utterly! For such awful adultery, there should be only one punishment."
With those words he had given his unspoken consent to Anne's death – and he had not known then that it was not just his youngest daughter who stood accused but his only son as well. He had shown himself to side with the King in this matter.
He couldn't afford for them to think that he sided with Anne.
Anne relaxed in her father's embrace for a moment before extracting herself from his arms, biting her lower lip to make sure that she did not shed a tear. Her father's smile was encouraging as he gave her a gentle push to stand at the forefront of the group, ready and waiting for the moment when Henry's barge would arrive, signalling that it was time for them to be released. Of the other men present, only Wyatt would meet her eyes. He gave her a wry half-smile, his eyes betraying his relief and pleasure at the fact that she had been released. He hadn't been charged, which was rather ironic as Anne knew that he was likely to be the only man arrested who even wanted to be her lover. Of the other men, not even George would look in her direction.
She couldn't see Mark.
Surely he too would be freed!
"Yes, Your Majesty, Master Smeaton will be freed." Master Kingston told her placatingly when she demanded to know why he was not present, afraid that she might cause a scene if he did not reassure her that there was no need for her to be concerned about the musician's fate. Under the circumstances, this was the last thing they needed, not when the crowd was gathered around the Tower and might hear her words if she spoke too loudly. "But not just yet."
"They tortured him, Anne." George told her flatly, still studiously avoiding her gaze. His tone was sharp with anger and bitterness as he spoke. "I doubt that he's fit to be seen."
"Is that true?" Anne demanded of Kingston, horrified at the thought. She should have known that Mark, who had been a friend to her, would never have made a false confession that would condemn her unless he was forced to do so. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the pictures her mind conjured of the kind of torments that must have been inflicted on the gentle musician before he could be induced to speak, the agony that he would have endured because of her.
"I'm afraid so, Your Majesty." Kingston responded regretfully. "But I promise you that he will be comfortably housed, well-fed and cared for and given the best medical attention, in order to heal his injuries."
George snorted derisively but he did not say anything. They all knew that if Mark had been tortured, the injuries that had been inflicted on him were not ones that were likely to be easily healed, if they could be fully healed at all, without him having to point out that fact.
The heavy wooden gates of the Tower were shut but they could still hear the crowd outside.
Anne hadn't thought that she would ever hear the people calling out for her as Queen rather than concubine, calling on God to bless her. The shouting of the crowd became louder, taking on a more disapproving edge and she guessed that Henry's barge had arrived.
When the gates opened, Henry was standing there, soberly clad in a black velvet suit and a heavy, fur-lined cloak. He was flanked by a couple of lords and followed by a company of guards, who held back the crowds, preventing them from surging forward as he walked through the path that had been hastily cleared for him, through the gates and into the Tower Green.
Henry refused to look around him, knowing that whether he looked to the left or to the right, he would see the angry faces of a crowd that was decidedly hostile to him, disgusted with him for allowing Anne to be arrested and put on trial for a crime she had not committed. He kept his eyes fixed directly ahead of him as he walked, doing his best to tune out the crowd's disapproval, and he strode towards the small group of people awaiting him, making a bee-line for Anne. When he reached his wife, he bowed slightly, reaching out to take her hand and bring it to his lips before leaning forward to kiss her on both cheeks.
Anne allowed the ceremonious embrace but she did not respond to it, not showing the slightest hint of pleasure at his presence, or even relief at the fact that she was to be released from captivity, saved from death at the last minute. Her skin was pale and cool to the touch.
"My Queen," he greeted her courteously, offering his arm as he knew he was expected to.
Anne dipped a curtsey, as distant as a stranger. "Your Majesty." As conscious of the watching crowd as he was and knowing that they were expected to make a show of unity for their sake, she allowed him to tuck her hand through his arm as he turned to look at the other men.
"Masters, you are all free, by order of your King." Henry declared, sounding as magnanimous as he would have if he had been ordering the release of men who were guilty of some crime, out of his mercy, instead of granting innocent men the freedom that they should never have lost in the first place. The five men standing in front of him bowed in acknowledgement of this but none of them said a word and Henry felt awkward and uncomfortable standing there in front of them, knowing what they must all be thinking of him, how angry they must be over how close they had come to being executed. He forced himself to smile as he turned to look at Anne, remembering what Audley had told him about the importance of showing himself to be a relieved and repentant husband. "Come, my dear, it is past time that you were home."
With the other men following, Henry led Anne towards the gates and the waiting royal barge, quickening his step as much as he could without being obvious about it, anxious to be able to get away from the crowd and safely back to the palace, safe from the angry, accusing eyes. As he walked, he could hear the people muttering, either sympathetically and encouragingly if they spoke of Anne, or accusingly if they were looking in his direction.
"It's alright now, love, you're safe."
"Shame on him for treating you the way he did!"
"God save the Queen!"
"He should have known that you'd never do it!"
"Poor lady – look how thin she is!"
"She's as pale as a ghost and no wonder, after being locked up in this place."
Despite himself, Henry found himself looking at Anne when he heard the last comments, scanning her figure anxiously and wondering if she had lost weight during her time in the Tower, despite the orders given to ensure that she was well cared for during her period of imprisonment. Her face was as white as a sheet and her eyes looked larger than ever in her face, with faint shadows under them. In the black gown she wore, she looked thin but he did not think that she had lost much weight. He would have been lying if he said that there was no sign of the difficulties she had endured in the Tower, however.
They had left their mark on her and he could not deny it.
He steered her towards the gates and, as they crossed the threshold, he felt droplets of water caress his face as a light rain shower began to fall. He was amazed to hear a soft chuckle from Anne, although he had no idea what it was she found so amusing.
For Anne, the shower of rain brought to mind the day she was arrested when, terrified about what was going to happen to her, she lost control over her tongue and heard herself babbling all kinds of pleas and threats... among which was the prophecy that there would be no rain until she was set free. Now, the moment she stepped out of the Tower, the rain began to fall, proving her prediction correct. She glanced back at Master Kingston, seeing from the amazed expression on his face that he was also thinking of her words and, despite herself, she smiled.
She felt something heavy draped around her shoulders and registered that Henry had tucked his cloak around her, although she couldn't tell whether the gesture was for her benefit or for the benefit of the crowd. Either way, the cloak felt impossibly heavy around her shoulders, weighing her down as well as guarding her from the rain. Her skin prickled, as though it could not bear to be in such close proximity to an item of Henry's clothing.
As she was tugged in the direction of the barge, she stopped in her tracks, drawing herself up to her full height and managing to make herself look regal, despite her damp hair and clothes and the oversized cloak she had been bundled in. When she addressed the crowd, she spoke only two words; "Thank you."
It seemed like so little to say in response to their support, the support that she had never thought they would give her. They believed that she was innocent and that was more than many people had been prepared to do. They had known that she was wrongly accused and they cried out against her accusers over it, calling upon them to allow her justice.
Perhaps it had been his people's shouting that had prompted Henry to reconsider the idea of allowing her to be murdered, that had awoken his sleeping conscience, which refused to allow him to see her put to death for a crime she had not committed in order to enable him to marry Mistress Seymour.
Perhaps she owed them her life.
She was going to see to it that they never had cause to regret that they had spoken in her favour. She was going to be the best Queen that England had ever had, and she would see to it that Elizabeth would feel the same way when the time came for her to rule. She had distributed charity before but now she would redouble her efforts, committing more time and more resources to helping her poorest subjects. There were so many people in England who were poor and hungry and she was going to do everything in her power to alleviate their suffering. She would give them every reason to be glad that they had cried out in support of her during her time of need.
Until then, all she could do was thank them.
Henry's arm was strong as he guided her towards the royal barge, gaily bedecked with the royal standard, lifting her onto it and conducting her towards the cushioned chair made ready for her before sitting down himself, giving the order to the oarsmen to set sail.
The barge began to glide away and they left the Tower behind.
Anne shrugged off his cloak as soon as they were inside the palace, allowing a servant to take it from her without a word and then turning to walk away.
"Wait!" Henry called out to her instinctively, not wanting her to leave like that. She stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him and waiting silently for him to speak. He felt awkward, unsure what to say to her and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "We're going to have a banquet tonight – in your honour." He told her, feeling like biting his tongue as soon as he said it. As skilled as the palace cooks were, they would require more notice than this if they were expected to provide a proper banquet, with the fantastic array of food and the intricate subtleties that were expected of a royal celebration. However, he had said it and he could not unsay it so he soldiered on determinedly. "To celebrate your return... and the fact that we've found out that you are innocent. We should celebrate." He finished lamely, looking at Anne and hoping for some sign of pleasure, or any emotion but seeing nothing.
Her face was almost expressionless as she returned his gaze and, when she spoke, her voice was calm. "Are you commanding my attendance, Your Majesty?" She asked quietly, her tone almost entirely emotionless.
"No, no, no." Henry said hastily, shaking his head vehemently. "It's not an order, Anne, it's a request – an invitation, if you like. You don't have to come but I'd like you to and..."
"Then I decline the invitation." Anne cut him off, her voice quiet but determined.
"But..."
"I don't need to celebrate finding out that I was innocent – I've known that all along." Anne pointed out coldly, turning again and beginning to walk away.
"Anne!" Henry caught her by the hand but she pulled away from him as though his touch burned her flesh, backing away in haste.
"Don't touch me!" She all but screamed the words, her eyes bright with distress and her breathing growing shallow and rapid. "Don't you dare touch me!"
Before he could say a word, or even register what she had said, she was gone, running away from him and through the maze of corridors in the direction of her own apartments. Henry's first inclination was to run after her but he had no idea what he should say when he caught up with her, or if there was even anything that he could say.
So he let her go.
Anne was aware that her rapid pace was attracting attention as she hastened through the corridors, with courtiers hastily backing out of her way in order to let her pass, but even though she knew that she ought to slow down, even though she knew that it was hardly seemly for the Queen of England to be seen tearing through the palace like a madwoman, her feet seemed very reluctant to obey her when she ordered them to slow to a more seemly pace.
She had to get to her own apartment and she had to get there as soon as possible.
With great effort, she managed to slow her pace somewhat, enabling her to make the remainder of her journey in a more dignified manner, as her rank demanded, but she couldn't slow the beating of her heart. It thudded rapidly in her chest, as though it might leap from her body, and she felt her hands tremble, clenching her fists in order to hide that from the courtiers she passed in the corridors, not wanting any of them to see how upset she was, knowing that if she allowed one person to see it, her distress was likely to become public knowledge within the hour.
Few people met her eyes as she walked through the corridors. She could imagine that at least some of the people she passed were disappointed to see her here now, instead of in the Tower awaiting the hour of her death. She would have had to be a fool to be unaware of the fact that she had enemies at court, far more enemies than she had friends, and she had never been a fool.
There would be many who would have been pleased when they learned of her arrest and her disgrace, people who were eager to see her cast down and replaced with another woman, people who would have been glad to see her gone, even if they knew that she was being wrongly accused and condemned to death for a crime she had not committed; it would not matter to them, as long as it meant that she would soon be gone.
It was painful to know how hated she was.
The corridors seemed to stretch for miles before she finally reached her apartment but, if she had thought that she would be able to find a place of refuge there, a place where she could forget all about everything that had happened over the past weeks and months and pretend, even for a little while, that she was still the same, happy woman who had first taken up residence in this apartment three years ago, she was doomed to disappointment.
Three years ago, she had been newly married to Henry, with their child quickened in her womb. She was due to be crowned Queen within a matter of weeks and confidently expected to be delivered of a son in the autumn, a strong, handsome boy who resembled his father and who would one day be a King that all of England would be proud to own. She was happy then and her future seemed to be a truly golden one.
Today, she was returning from the Tower of London, where she had been kept as a prisoner for over a fortnight. She had been accused of terrible crimes, afforded no true opportunity to defend herself against the unjust charges laid against her and she had been sentenced to death, to be burned or beheaded at the King – her husband's – pleasure. She had come so close to being executed, to having her head struck from her body by the headsman's axe or, worse still, to having the flesh seared from her bones by cruel flames as she died in one of the most painful ways she could imagine.
And it would have been Henry who signed her death warrant.
Today, she entered her apartment to find her ladies bustling too and fro, unpacking trunks and hastily setting out her belongings, which must have all been packed away as soon as she was arrested. They were working as fast as they could, brushing out her gowns and hanging them up in the carved oak wardrobe where they belonged, and laying the lace cloths she had embroidered over some of the tables before setting out her favourite ornaments but, even so, the room still looked barer than Anne had seen it since the day when Henry first escorted her there. It was bare then because when Katherine was ordered to leave, any of her belonging that she had not brought with her into exile were packed away, as Anne had wanted to keep nothing of her predecessor's there, but it had not taken long for her and her household to make the rooms her own.
Her ladies were so absorbed with their task, so determined to unpack as quickly as possible that it took them a moment to register that she was standing there and, when they realized it, they left their tasks aside for a moment, curtseying deeply.
"Your Majesty." Mistress Gainsford was the first of them to dare to speak and even she looked ill at ease as she spoke. "Welcome back, Your Majesty."
Anne merely nodded in response, gesturing for them to rise and scanning their faces, noticing at once that neither Nan nor Madge were present. "Where is Lady Shelton? And Mistress Saville?" She asked, even though she knew the answer to her question without needing to be told. Madge was her cousin and Nan had been with her since long before she became Queen, back when she was simply Lady Anne and her position was still quite uncertain, with nobody able to predict whether she would one day wear the Queen's crown or whether she was destined to be set aside and left to fade into obscurity.
They must have been deemed to be too close to her for them to be allowed to stay and serve the woman who was expected to be the new Queen... which meant that every other lady who was still there was one who had been willing to stay and serve Mistress Seymour when she married Henry, despite the fact that their mistress was to be murdered in order to make room for the wench.
Out of all of the ladies of Anne's household, only two of them were deemed to be too loyal to her for them to be allowed to stay and be given places in Jane's household.
Two!
At the back of her mind, Anne knew that she was being unfair; her ladies would all have been under the control of their families, who were unlikely to be overly sympathetic if they expressed a desire to return to their homes rather than staying at court to serve Jane. Their fathers and brothers would want them to remain at court, where they could find husbands and be close to the royal circle instead of allowing them to return to country manors. Had Madge and Nan been allowed the opportunity to remain, it was very likely that their families would have pressed them to take advantage of the offer, or even ordered them to do so, whether they wanted to or not, but it still hurt to see that so many were willing to stay, that so many were considered to be insufficiently fond of her, or loyal to her to prevent them from being welcomed by Jane.
She scanned the faces in front of her, recognizing two young women she did not know, although they did seem slightly familiar, and beckoning for them to step forward.
There was something different about these two; unlike the rest of the ladies, whose expressions betrayed awkwardness in her presence – which was understandable, under the circumstances – and relief that she was back, these two young women looked sullen and angry, as though they resented the fact that she was back, as though it was somehow an affront to them to see her standing there. Even before she asked Mistress Gainsford who they were, she had a sinking suspicion that she knew who they were and why they would look at her like that.
"These are Lady Elizabeth and Lady Dorothy Seymour." Mistress Gainsford introduced, bobbing another curtsey and regarding Anne warily, as though she expected her to lose her temper and begin to shout, to stamp her foot or perhaps even to throw things.
Anne was very tempted to do something like that but she reined in her temper, albeit with difficulty. "Seymour." Her lip curled in disgust as she spoke the name, as though it left a sour taste in her mouth. It almost did.
She might have known!
The Seymours certainly didn't waste any time.
She had still been alive and still technically the Queen when these two were appointed. They were undoubtedly given the positions as ladies-in-waiting as soon as Madge and Nan had been dismissed in order to make room for them so that, as soon as Jane married Henry, she would have her own kin – were they her sisters or her cousins? – appointed to her household, ready to serve her and to reap the benefits of royal association. Of course Jane would want to surround herself with members of her own family, and they would want to take advantage of her position in order that they could derive every possible benefit from it.
Now Anne was back and these two stupid girls did not seem to have realized that, although they were technically appointed as ladies-in-waiting while the title of Queen was still hers, their positions in the Queen's household were contingent on their relation wearing the crown.
They stared at her with wide, insolent eyes, meeting her gaze squarely instead of bowing their heads, as etiquette would have demanded. If the sour looks on their moon-like faces were any indication, they were furious with Anne for having returned and spoiled what she did not doubt was an ambitious plan to be the first ladies at court after Jane, the Queen's closest confidantes and the most sought-after maidens at court – did they honestly expect her to feel sorry that she had been spared an unjust execution and returned to be the ruin of their hopes?
She regarded them with a cool, appraising gaze for a few minutes, deciding that, based on their close resemblances to Jane, they were more likely to be her sisters than her cousins, before she finally spoke. "Leave." She said at last, her tone flat.
"My lady?" Elizabeth, the taller of the two asked, trying to sound innocent but betraying the insolence in her voice as she spoke.
"That's 'Your Majesty' to you, Mistress Seymour." Anne corrected, inwardly stiffening at this insulting and deliberate omission of her rightful title but keeping her temper under control, even though her hand practically itched to slap the insolent expression off the young woman's face. "You are both to leave this apartment immediately. You are dismissed from my household." She waved a hand in the direction of the door. "Leave."
The other girl, Dorothy, took a half-step in the direction of the door but her sister reached out to halt her movements, holding her chin high and meeting Anne's eyes defiantly.
"We were appointed as ladies-in-waiting by His Majesty the King, Your Majesty." Elizabeth Seymour stated smugly, her confidence absolute. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying the knowledge that the other ladies of Anne's household were scandalized that she would dare to address her in that manner. "The King granted us our positions and wished for us to serve as first among the ladies..."
"How nice for you." Anne said coldly. "The King appointed you and now the Queen is dismissing you."
"His Majesty has not indicated that he no longer wishes for us to hold these posts." Elizabeth Seymour maintained obstinately, unable to keep herself from scowling at Anne, indignant that she – the sister to the future Queen of England! – should be treated this way by anybody, even the present holder of that title. "We will not leave until His Majesty dismisses us."
"You will." Anne contradicted her, smiling sweetly and knowing that this would unnerve the wretched girl more than an outburst of temper ever could. "You will leave immediately because I will not have Seymours sullying my apartments – we are already going to have to scrub the place down after your wench of a sister was allowed to serve here – and because if you do not leave, I will give orders that you are to be thrown out... and you will not be leaving by the door." She added, nodding in the direction of the windows.
Dorothy Seymour gasped at the thinly-veiled threat and even Elizabeth looked doubtful, unsure whether or not Anne would dare to carry it out.
Anne waited a moment for them to begin to move before shrugging daintily. "As you wish." She turned to Mistress Gainsford. "Fetch the sentries, would you..."
She did not need to say any more than that.
Dorothy ran from the room as though she were being pursued by a wild beast and Elizabeth quickly followed after her.
Anne heard a giggle from one of her other ladies, quickly smothered, and she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth. There was something very satisfying about being able to achieve a victory over the Seymours, even if that victory was a relatively small one.
However, her joy was quickly dampened as she took in her surroundings, together with the fact that the two Seymour girls had been allowed to be present in her apartment, appointed to the Queen's household in readiness for Jane Seymour taking up the role.
Her things had been packed away because it was assumed that her successor would not want to have reminders of her existence and her time as wife and Queen, and the two Seymour girls were appointed as ladies-in-waiting in order to please the woman who was assumed would be Queen before the month was out.
Anne had not been expected to return.
She had not been expected to be alive at the end of the week.
TBC.