Sorry about the delay in updating. Life has been hectic lately.

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Chapter Eight

30th May 1536

Her wedding dress was the most beautiful gown she had ever owned, far lovelier and far more lavish than even the gowns her father bought for her when she was going to court to be a lady-in-waiting in the service of the Queen... of the Lady Anne.

Although he was not a wealthy man, her father surprised her with his insistence that she should go to court outfitted with only the best, or at least the best that his purse could stretch to provide for her. She might only be the daughter of a simple knight but nobody would have known that from her gowns. She dressed as richly as the daughter of an earl, at least, though her gowns were modestly cut, of delicate shades of blue and green, as befitted a virtuous maiden and, although he also insisted that she should bring a selection of the jewels that had been carefully hoarded in his coffers since the day her mother died, those pieces were simple too.

She had not known at first why her father would believe that such measures were necessary or why he would add to the already considerable expenses of providing for all she would need to live at court, when he was not a rich man by any means, not until she was actually at the court, and she first received a message from the King, who asked to serve her, addressing her with a humility and a near-reverence that she could never have imagined any monarch using towards a subject, least of all one as humble as she was, begging her to be Guinevere to his Lancelot.

She had been presented to the King before, when he visited Wolf Hall, just before he told her father that she might come to court as a lady-in-waiting, but she had never have imagined that he, who might have any woman he wanted, would ever condescend to look at her, but her father and her brother must have seen something in the King's eyes that she did not, and when they brought her to court with them, they made certain that she could equal any lady at court as far as matters like gowns and jewellery were concerned, not wanting her to be handicapped by simple, countrified gowns when other ladies would swan about like peacocks in the latest fashions and might catch the King's eye because of the beauty of their attire, not just the beauty of their faces.

This was Jane's chance, and they intended to see to it that she would have everything she could possibly need in order to make the best of her opportunity.

Initially, she was flattered by the King's attentions, as she was sure any young woman in her position would be, but she did not want to be his mistress and she hated to think that her father and brother might have that fate in mind for her, that they might be thinking of the advantages that they might reap from her shame and that they would hope to press her to give herself to the King, knowing that she would wish to please them and to see her family prosper, and that they would be thinking of the benefits they would derive in the short-term instead of her future security and happiness, knowing that if her virtue was lost, her hope of a good marriage would be slim.

Some might see it as an honour to be the King's mistress but it was well known that the honour was inevitably a fleeting one.

The King was a handsome man, although he was no longer as young as he once was, and there were always many women ready to lie with him, so he could take his pick and was rarely satisfied with the same lady for very long. Sooner or later, his interested waned and he had his eye on his next conquest, thinking little of his last mistress and what might become of her.

If Jane became the King's mistress, then she would enjoy his favour, for a time and her family would be treated with favour, granted lucrative posts and perhaps awarded with estates or even titles, enriching the Seymour coffers and ensuring that her father and brothers would enjoy prominence at court, reaping the rewards of royal favour. Even Anne would be powerless to do anything to her or to say anything to insult her, even unable to object to the idea of Jane being honoured with a position as one of her ladies when the whole court knew that she was at court for the King's pleasure rather than the Queen's, no matter how much it embarrassed her.

The King's favour would protect Jane from Anne's malice... at least for a while.

Once it was over, once the King lost interest, as he inevitably would, he would forget about her, as though she had never caught his eye in the first place, and, if Anne decided to publicly shame her by banishing her from service in her household and from the court as a strumpet as soon as she saw that Jane had lost the King's interest and that it was safe for her to vent her spite on her if it pleased her to do so, the King would not lift a finger to prevent her dismissal, nor would he take any great interest in her future, unless he sired a child on her, in which case, she might be fortunate and have a husband provided for her so that their child would have a name.

She did not want that.

She wanted to leave Anne's service as she entered it, as a virtuous maiden of impeccable reputation, a maiden that no gentleman would be ashamed to call his wife and the mother of his children. She didn't want to be a toy for the King's pleasure, discarded after a few weeks and left for her father to arrange the best marriage he could for her, to any man willing to take her.

She deserved better than that.

Then they told her that she might be Queen.

Instead of being the King's mistress for a brief period, uncomfortably aware of the fact that although there would be many courtiers who would court her favour as their passport to the King's good graces as long as she held his attention and love, the same people who flattered her to her face when they could derive some benefit from doing so would scorn her as a strumpet when her back was turned, speculating on how long her position in the King's affections would last before Anne won him back or before another lady caught his eye and drew his attention away from her, and snub her once she was set aside, she might become the Queen of England, the highest lady in the land and the beloved wife of the King, mother of his Princes.

Only a saint could fail to be tempted by so glorious a prospect, and the fact that she could be the cause of Anne Boleyn being set aside as Katherine was before her sweetened the prospect for her.

Jane would be the first to admit that she was not highly educated, and that almost all of the legal and theological arguments regarding the King's Great Matter and the Act of Succession were beyond her comprehension, even when her brother Edward tried to explain the matter to her in simple terms, knowing that she needed to know something of such matters if she was to go to court, where she would need to tread carefully and avoid giving the King cause for offence, but even if she did not understand the arguments, she understood what was right.

It wasn't right that Queen Katherine, a good woman, a loving wife and mother, and a devoted Queen who had done so much good for England, and for the poor in particular during the long years of her marriage with the King should be set aside and banished from the court that was her home, so that another woman might take her place. Even if the marriage had been doubtful, even if it was a mistake for them to have wed in the first place, they had married and Jane thought that this was what mattered most of all, far more than any legal impediment.

If they had learned of an impediment to their marriage early on, before they had any children who would be affected by the proceedings, and decided to annul it then, it would be one thing, but when they were married for so long, when a child was born of their union and when that child was old enough to understand what it meant to be a princess and what it would mean to be a bastard, and to be hurt when she learned that she would have to exchange the former for the latter, Jane couldn't think that it was right for Katherine to be set aside, regardless of any impediment.

She should have been allowed to retain her place as Queen for as long as she lived, and Princess Mary should have retained her rights as the King's legitimate daughter. When Katherine died and the King was a widower, he would be free to remarry if he chose, and he would have sons by his new wife if God willed it so, but without causing pain and humiliation to such a good, kind woman, as well as great distress to his innocent daughter. Jane was certain that, if not for the fact that Anne had caught his eye and held out for marriage, refusing to yield to his advances as long as she had the chance to obtain a greater prize, the King would have allowed Queen Katherine to remain his wife as long as she lived, as a kindness to her after all her love and devotion.

It wasn't right that, when Queen Katherine refused to say that she was never truly married to the King, she was punished for doing so.

She was a good, devout woman who would never have fought the annulment of her marriage if she did not believe in her heart that it was a true, lawful union and that her daughter was legitimate and the rightful Princess of Wales.

Even if the marriage was invalid, even if Princess Mary was illegitimate, Queen Katherine shouldn't have been punished for doing what she thought was right. She would never have defied the King out of malice, only because she thought that she would be wrong not to. She shouldn't have been sent to miserable lodgings, deprived of the attendants she needed to tend to her, the money she needed for her expenses and even fuel and decent food, while hope of greater comfort was dangled before her as an inducement to get her to renounce her daughter's title and her own.

It wasn't right that Queen Katherine and Princess Mary should have been forced apart for so long, forbidden to see or to communicate with one another for years, and even denied the comfort of a last visit together when Queen Katherine was dying and longed to see her daughter, just one more time, so that she might bid her farewell in person and give her her mother's final blessing.

Jane was shocked when she heard that the King had refused to allow them even that much.

Eustace Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador, had dined with Jane and her family last week, and he confided in her that it was his fervent belief that the King was not wholly responsible for the privations and humiliations that Queen Katherine had had to endure during her last years, years that should have been spent in honour and comfort as a beloved Queen.

The King might have been the one to issue the orders but Ambassador Chapuys firmly believed that Anne was the one who insisted on the measures against Queen Katherine and Princess Mary, determined to see the woman she viewed as her rival hounded into acknowledging her as Queen and little Elizabeth as Princess instead of Mary, or else into an early grave, encouraging the King to be harsh with her and objecting to any suggestion that Katherine should be treated with greater honour and respect and viewing those who made suggestions to that effect as her bitter enemies.

He also believed that Anne was the one who refused to allow Mary to see her mother when she lay dying, and that she had filled the King's ear with poison whenever she got the chance, doing everything in her power to persuade him that he could not allow the two women any opportunity to be together, even under the circumstances, for fear that they would plot against him if they were given the chance to be under the same roof. He said that this was the same reason that, when Princess Mary was ill and calling for her mother, the King refused to consider the idea of allowing her to go to her so that the Queen might care for her, as she begged to be allowed to do.

The King was not an ill-natured man, but Anne had held great influence over him, and used it to turn him against those she viewed as her enemies.

Jane badly wanted to believe that this was true.

If she was to marry the King, then she needed to believe that he was not a man who would be capable of treating a woman he had loved, a woman who still loved him devotedly, with such callous cruelty, because if he could treat Queen Katherine so harshly, after all she had done for him, what would keep him from doing the same to Queen Jane if she failed to please him?

She had to believe that it was Anne's doing, or she would never have the courage to go to Westminster Abbey today to marry the King.

It wasn't right that Princess Mary should have been stripped of all the royal honours that she had enjoyed since her birth. Even if an impediment was found to her parents' marriage, a way should have been found to ensure that she could remain legitimate and continue to be regarded as a Princess – and if such means did not exist, they should have been devised!

It wasn't right that Mary should be humiliated by being ordered to wait on her little half-sister, not when she was once the Princess, the one who was royally attended and to whom people paid homage instead of her being demanded to pay homage to another, just as it wasn't right that she should be banished from the court and exiled from her father's favour, pressured to take the Oath and threatened when she would not. It was cruel to demand that a young girl should repudiate her mother and own herself a bastard in exchange for a restoration to her father's good graces.

Jane could understand that, while Anne lived, the King did not want to risk angering or upsetting her by softening towards Mary and welcoming her back to court without obliging her to take the Oath, especially when Anne was carrying a child and needed to be kept calm and happy for the sake of her unborn child, so that it would be born strong and healthy.

He must have known that she was likely to view it as a threat to her position and to little Elizabeth's if he showed his affection to Mary too openly – and perhaps his refusal to yield was even motivated by a desire to protect Mary, for fear that if Anne believed that she had cause to worry that there was a possibility that Mary might be restored to her father's good graces and so pose a threat to Elizabeth's place as his heir, she would not shrink from employing poison to remove her daughter's rival! – but she prayed that, now that Anne was dead and the King knew that his new wife would never object to the idea of Mary's restoration, he would be willing to welcome Mary to court and to tell her that there was no need for her to take the Oath.

Mary needed a mother, somebody who would fill the void that Queen Katherine's death had left in her life, somebody who would care for her as a mother should care for her daughter and ensure that she was kindly treated, honoured at court as the King's daughter should be honoured, and that she had somebody who would speak on her behalf. Even though Jane was not many years older than Mary, she was determined that she would be a kind and loving stepmother to her, somebody Mary would know she could count on as a loyal friend.

The King might not have agreed to her request when she told him that, once she was Queen, she hoped to see Mary restored as heir to the throne but, even if he was not prepared to consider the idea now, even if he had made up his mind that he would rather continue to acknowledge Elizabeth as a Princess and as his heiress, Jane was sure that he would change his mind, in time.

Once she persuaded him to allow Mary to return to court, once he was able to get to know the daughter he used to cherish again, and to remember his love for her, Jane was sure that the King would want to do right by Mary and to restore her to her former position.

Once she bore him a son, then he would have little reason to worry unduly about which titles were applied to his daughters, as it would no longer affect the succession; surely he would see that Mary, who had enjoyed the honours of a Princess for so long before she was deprived of them, should be legitimised and given the right to call herself Princess Mary once more, while Elizabeth, who was so young that she was unlikely to be profoundly affected by any change in her status or to resent it, would soon learn to content herself with Lady Elizabeth.

It would be the right thing to do.

Jane stared into her reflection in the polished mirror before her as her maids applied the final touches to her gown and coiffure. Behind her, her sisters, Bess and Dorothy, fussed with their gowns, delighted with the becoming shades of blue silk. Within a short time, they would get into the carriage that would take them from Durham House to Westminster Abbey, where her father would be ready to lead her down the aisle, to where her future husband, the King of England, would be waiting for her, waiting to take the vows that would unite them as man and wife.

Before the day was over, Mistress Jane Seymour would become Queen of England, consort to King Henry the Eighth.

The thought was both exhilarating and frightening.


His wedding costume was of gold and white silk, a splendid outfit that his tailors had crafted in honour of this special day, the day they viewed as a day of celebration but one that Henry couldn't help but feel serious misgivings about.

As far as his tailors knew, this was a day for nothing but rejoicing; their King, after two unsuccessful unions, the first of which was doomed from the beginning because of an insurmountable impediment that rendered it invalid and ensured that God would never bless it with living male issue, while the second was doomed because the bride had proven herself unworthy of the exalted position to which her marriage had raised her, was finally going to marry a woman he loved and who was worthy of him and, with both of the women who had laid claim to the title of Queen dead, nobody would be able to challenge the validity of this third union, or the legitimacy of the male issue that would surely be born from it.

Henry, however, knew something that they did not.

He knew that, although almost every man, woman and child in England believed Anne to be dead, her headless corpse hastily interred in the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, within the precincts of the Tower, she was alive and well in Wales. Their marriage had not been annulled and would never be annulled which meant that, although only a handful of people were aware of it, she was and would remain his lawful wife, the true Queen of England and the mother of his only legitimate child.

Today, he would go to Westminster Abbey and wait for Sir John Seymour to lead Jane down the aisle to the altar, wait for him to place Jane's hand in his so that they might make their wedding vows, unaware of the fact that Henry's hand was no longer his to give.

He was a married man and he was deceiving a woman who loved and trusted him.

Jane would believe that, after today's ceremony, she would be his wife and England's Queen.

She would believe that their union was a lawful one, and that they were blessed, little realising that they were living in sin and that she was his mistress, not his wife and, while he hated the idea of putting her in that position, he felt that he had no alternative. He could not go back to Anne, not even if he wanted to, because that would mean uncovering the deception that was wrought on the English people, along with the fact that their King had allowed a woman to be killed in Anne's place so that he might be free to remarry, nor could he decide to remain unmarried.

His Privy Council would allow him no peace if he announced his intention not to remarry.

For the present, Elizabeth was his heiress presumptive, and the Act of Succession confirmed her status, but Henry was under no illusions. He still needed a son.

If he died tomorrow, although Elizabeth was his lawful heir, there would be those who attempted to champion Mary instead, especially as Elizabeth was so young, and could not claim the same powerful kin as her half-sister. Even if Mary could be convinced to take the Oath and to admit that she was a bastard with no right to succeed him, she would still have supporters and it was very likely that there would be civil war between those who upheld Elizabeth's rights as heir and those who sought to deprive her of her succession rights in favour of Mary.

If he and Jane had a son, that son would be recognised as his heir.

Even Anne had accepted that this would be the case when she agreed to cooperate.

Henry might know that his union with Jane would never be a valid one but his people wouldn't. Once Jane bore him a son, they would have no reason to dispute his status as a legitimate prince, or his right to take precedence over both of his half-sisters as the heir to the throne. They would welcome him as their Prince, civil war would be averted and his kingdom's future security would be assured. It was Henry's duty to give his people a male his people could look to as their future King, and if he had to sin, and to make Jane sin in order to do so, that was what he would do.

He would treat Jane with love and affection and honour and respect at all times, he vowed inwardly as he finished dressing and examined his appearance in his mirror. He would act as a good husband to her, even if he was not her husband in truth and never give her any reason to suspect that their union was doubtful, never allow her to learn that the true Queen of England lived in seclusion in Wales. When their son was born, he would accord her all of the honour due to the mother of his heir and, with God's help and mercy, they would be happy together.

After everything, surely God would agree that he deserved to be happy.

Surely He would forgive him his deception.

He felt a slight stirring of pity for Cranmer. The archbishop was his faithful servant, he knew that, but he was also a devout man, who would not be comfortable with the idea of performing a marriage ceremony he knew to be bigamous and invalid, and as he was fond of Anne, he would not like the idea of presiding over the ceremony that would make people think that Jane had the right to bear the title of Queen, the title that was rightfully Anne's, but he would never voice an objection to it. His loyalty to Henry ensured that.

Henry listened with half an ear as Cromwell made his report, explaining that all was readied for the marriage ceremony at Westminster and cheerfully noting that the crowds gathered outside the church seemed to be as welcoming as they might have expected them to be. It was irritating for Henry to see, when Anne was first arrested and word of it leaked out, that his people, who had rejected Anne when she was crowned Queen and insisted on cleaving to Katherine instead, had sided with the woman they used to abhor, viewing her as a victim, an innocent woman who was being accused of horrific, capital crimes to facilitate her judicial murder, so that Jane could take her place and it was a relief for him to hear that things were settling down a bit.

He wanted Jane to be welcomed by his people.

She was a good woman, and he wanted them to see that. He wanted them to accept her, and to appreciate the lovely qualities in her nature that drew him to her. She didn't deserve to be blamed for what had happened with Anne – what the people believed had happened with Anne – or rejected for it. If his people would give her a chance, they would see that she would be a fine Queen, and a loving wife and stepmother, the perfect consort for their King.

She was already seeking to be kind to Mary, encouraging that the girl should be welcomed back to court. Henry had not liked to deny her request that Mary should be invited to the wedding, but since Mary had not yet taken the Oath, he could not allow her to be permitted to come to court until she did. Although it had irritated him when she pressed him to restore Mary as heir when she knew that Elizabeth was the legitimate princess, he couldn't be too angry over it, and he was even rather touched by it. It might have been foolish of Jane to solicit Mary's advancement instead of thinking of the children she would bear him, and wanting to safeguard their interests ahead of those of their half-sisters, but it showed her generous heart.

There wouldn't be many women who would speak for a future stepchild instead of focusing on securing the position and interests of their own children.

Perhaps, in time, when Mary took the Oath, they could be a family.

"…and it is my belief that, when the time comes for Lady Jane's coronation, the people will welcome…"
"No!" Henry surprised himself as well as Cromwell with the vehemence of his refusal. It was bad enough that he was bringing Jane to the church today, to mock the sacrament of marriage by going through the motions of the ceremony when he knew full well that he was not free to marry, but the coronation was a sacred ceremony. How could he allow Jane to be anointed with the holy oil and crowned with St. Edward's crown when he knew that she had no right to be? He drew the line at this sham marriage. He would not profane the sacred rite of coronation by knowingly allowing his mistress to be crowned, as though she was Queen in truth. "No." He repeated more quietly, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to appear agitated when he went to the church, knowing that if he did, it would make people speculate about whether he regretted Anne's supposed death and he didn't want that. "I do not want to discuss that now."

Cromwell inclined his head respectfully. "As Your Majesty wishes." He murmured before subsiding into silence, knowing his master well enough to know when it was dangerous to push him.

Henry sighed, scrutinising his appearance in his mirror.

He could remember the day he married Katherine as if it was only a matter of weeks ago, instead of many years. He was not much more than a boy then, barely on the threshold of manhood, and even though his father had spoken to him on his deathbed, telling him that he ought to send Katherine back to Spain and look elsewhere for a bride, he refused to listen.

He was determined to marry the lovely Spanish princess who had been kept in his father's palace, more a hostage than an honoured guest, her position at court and the level of comfort in her household fluctuating depending on how affairs between his father and hers stood, and he would not listen to any suggestion to the contrary. Because his father was so recently dead, and the court was in mourning for him – though Henry imagined that there were few who were truly sorry to see him gone! – the ceremony was a simple one, without the usually pageantry that usually accompanied such occasions but he was determined to make up for it later, by staging a splendid coronation for the new King Henry and Queen Katherine.

The people had cheered them on their coronation, delighted to see that their young, golden Prince was replacing his dour, miserly father as their sovereign, and that he had already showed that he was a truly chivalrous knight by keeping his word to the Spanish princess who was his promised bride for so long and making her his Queen, instead of listening to those who would have him jilt her in favour of another princess, a younger girl, with a larger dowry.

Everything seemed golden in those days, and the future seemed bright.

With Anne, the wedding was a hurried, simple one but for a very different reason.

She carried his child and they could no longer afford to delay while the pope procrastinated, refusing to commit to a decision, one way or another, unwilling to grant Henry justice for fear of offending the Emperor but also unwilling to deal honestly with him, and make it clear that he would never do the right thing. They could not afford to take the chance that the son they both confidently expected would be born a bastard, so they had to marry in secret, and leave it to Cranmer and Cromwell to sort out the details and legitimise the union after the fact.

It was nothing like the ceremony Henry had envisioned when he first asked Anne to marry him.

He had pictured them marrying in Westminster Abbey, or else in the Chapel Royal at Whitehall, in a lavish ceremony that would have the people gaping in awe, astounded by the beauty of their new Queen, whom they would welcome into their hearts as soon as they saw her, and instead they wound up hiding away in a deserted attic for a marriage ceremony presided over by a priest who was heavily bribed in order to secure his cooperation, witnessed by only a handful of people, those who could be trusted to keep their mouths shut until the pope finally delivered the bulls that would confirm Cranmer as Archbishop of Canterbury, making him the highest authority in the English Church, qualified to deliver a verdict on the case once England's ties to the papacy were severed.

However, he didn't mind the simplicity as much as he thought he would have.

He was marrying Anne, and that was all that really mattered. He was marrying the woman he loved, a woman who had already proven herself fertile and he was so happy to be able to do so at last, after waiting for so long to put his ring on her finger and speak the vows that would bind them together, that the location of the ceremony, and its simplicity, did not trouble him unduly.

How could he have known that evening, when he stood next to Anne in the attic, that the child she carried was not the Prince he confidently expected but just another daughter, that little over three years after their wedding, he would sign her death warrant and that, but for the timely intervention of who knew what force, her head would have been struck from her body at his orders? How could he have known that, although Anne pledged to love and to honour him for the rest of her days, she would betray him by shamelessly indulging her carnal lusts, with any man who was willing to satisfy her… or had she betrayed him?

Something was protecting her, that much was undeniable.

He would have liked to believe that it was the Devil interceding on behalf of one of his disciples, but it didn't make sense that the Devil would step in to defend Anne from execution when it would surely have been easier for him to prevent the investigation and the trial in the first place.

The Devil would surely have the power to strike down anybody who might have accused her before they had a chance to breathe a word against her, or else he could have used his dark powers to shield the child that Anne had lost, ensuring that he would remain rooted in her womb until he was strong enough to be born and knowing that once she was the mother of a Prince, Anne would be protected. Nobody would dare to speak a word against the mother of the Prince of Wales and the future King of England, and Henry would have punished anybody who so much as hinted that Anne was unworthy of her place as Queen or cast the slightest shadow of doubt over his son's rights as his heir. He had waited too long for his son to allow any man to call him a bastard, and live.

If the Devil had wanted to save Anne, there were easier ways.

God could step in to defend the innocent.

He had saved Daniel when he was cast into a den of lions, so could He have saved Anne from the executioner's sword?

Henry didn't want to believe it.

He couldn't allow himself to believe it.

Anne had to be guilty because if she wasn't, he had forced his wife into exile so that he might set up his mistress in her place, knowing that the bastard sons Jane would bear him would unknowingly usurp the throne that belonged to Elizabeth, his only legitimate child, by rights.

Anne had to be guilty because, if she wasn't, justice would demand that he cancel today's wedding ceremony, and leave London to go to Pembroke Hall, to make amends with Anne and to conduct her back to London as his Queen, abandoning Jane and his chance to be happy with her, admitting the truth to his people about Anne being alive and facing their inevitable scorn at his actions.

He couldn't do that.

He was committed to his course of action, and he would see it through.

Now that a substitute was executed in Anne's place, there was no turning back. Anne would stay at Pembroke Hall, in his past, and Jane would preside over Whitehall Palace and the court as a beloved Queen, giving him a new future. After everything that had happened, he refused to give up his future with Jane.

He had earned it.

"Come, Master Cromwell," he said, in the heartiest tone he could manage. "We must hurry. Today is my wedding day, after all – it wouldn't do to keep my bride waiting!"

Anne might have been saved from death, but he would not allow that to keep him from moving on without her.

TBC.