Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, The Other Boleyn Girl or history. Clear?
AN: Sorry to all those of you who wanted Henry to propose to Eleanor in this chapter – it's not happening. This one is taken up by Blackfriars, and the proposal will probably happen next chapter. However, they do open the chapter together. Enjoy!
Oh, and Bella - I'd love it if you'd make a trailer for this! Thanks for the offer!
Chapter 11
Blackfriars
"What am I going to do, Henry? I can't delay these proposed marriages forever." I grumbled, leaning back against the nearest oak tree. Henry Brandon, who had patiently listened to the rather lengthy account of all that had happened in my uncle's chambers, and the delaying tactics I had been using ever since, bent his handsome dark head over me, and stopped my mouth with a tender kiss.
"Just tell Anne you're in love with me and that we want to be betrothed. She has the King's ear, remember, and you're her favourite sister. She could do anything for you." he whispered, laughter colouring his voice as my golden tresses, which I had left unpinned, tickled his face, neck and shoulders.
"Hmm. You'd be right, if it wasn't for this dratted court case. It takes up all her time – and King Henry's." I slid down the tree, and moaned softly, half in complaint and half in delight, as Henry pushed back my hair to kiss me on my neck, throat and shoulders, more and more passionately.
"Then wait a while. Wait until we know whether the royal marriage between King Henry and Catherine of Aragon is valid or invalid. After that, nothing can stop you. No-one can stop us. We'll marry, Eleanor, with or without permission, but I know you would not be happy without Anne's approval at least."
"She is my sister. One way or another, she is my own flesh and blood, and I do have to live with her."
"I know, I know. Which is why you're going to tell her, and ask for her blessing, and the King's blessing, as soon as the court case is over. Now stop worrying, my darling." Henry left a blazing trail of feather light kisses upon my forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips. I rolled along the ground towards him, laughing my seductive laugh, and inwardly begging him to go further, to take me then and there.
As if he sensed my desire, Henry loosened my stays, and pushed the neckline of my gown lower and lower, even though we were in the orchards together, and could be come upon at any moment.
As we were then. My eldest sister, Mary hurried round the corner, calling my name.
"Eleanor? Eleanor? Where are you, sister?"
"Curses! Henry, I'll have to go." I swore under my breath, and scrambled up, pulling my dress up again, hating the laces for being at the back where I couldn't reach them.
"Here. Let me." Henry came to my rescue, lacing me up as gently as though he were one of my sisters. I thanked him with a kiss, and then ran to join Mary, praying she would not notice the flush of disappointed desire that coloured my usually creamy skin.
"I'm here. What is it?"
"Anne's nervous again. The case starts tomorrow. She has to appear, and I can't calm her."
"Oh, not again! All right, I'll see what I can do." With an exasperated sigh, I set off for the palace.
The month was May, anno domini 1529, and the case to try the validity of King Henry's marriage to Catalina de Aragon was due to open the following morning, and my sister, Anna-Maria Jane Boleyn, was a bundle of nerves because of it.
I went straight into her private chamber, not even bothering to knock. She raised a head which was stained with angry tears and drained of colour towards me. I ran to her side. "Anne, please. You have to stay calm. You can't lose your nerve, not now."
"How can I stay calm, sister, when I know that, if this court doesn't rule in our favour, Henry and I might have to wait years to marry? I'm not getting any younger – I've just had my twenty-first birthday. If I don't marry him soon, I may not be able to deliver on my promise – my promise of the son and heir he so desperately needs."
"Your Twenty-first birthday. You're still young, Anne. You've years and years ahead of you yet. You'll give Henry a son, I swear." I soothed, trying to get her in the right mood to pay heed to what I would say next. "Just be patient, all right? Patience is the key here. You need to present a calm façade. I heard the French Ambassador saying you can scarcely disguise your nerves, and we can't have that – especially as the Emperor isn't even represented in England at the moment."
"You are supporting me, aren't you, Eleanor? You and George and Mary? Mother, Father and Uncle? All of you?" Anne's voice held a tremor I had never heard before. This was bad news.
"Of course we are! But you have to lead the charge, Anne. You're going to be the next Queen, after all. Lead us Boleyns as, one day, you will lead the Court of England."
Anne closed her eyes as I pacified her, and eased her highly-strung nerves, stroking her glossy black hair, as I sang the tune of "Wie Schoen leuchtet der Morgenstern.", a song from the German state of Cleves.
"Wie schoen, wie schoen leuchtet der Morgenstern..." I sang the first lines softly, only to look down upon Anne's head, and find her, worn out with the strain, to be fast asleep.
****
The following morning, Mary, Anne and I, clad in our best gowns, watched and waited as Queen Katherine came to the hall in Blackfriars Monastery, amid the delighted shouts of the populace.
"The crowds are with her, Anne." Mary whispered.
"The crowds have no vote, Marianne." Anne replied tersely. I was about to respond when Anne suddenly hissed "She's coming towards us." and lost her bravado. I would have laughed at her sudden panic attack, but then people might have thought I was laughing at the Queen, and that would never do. Instead I curtsied silently alongside my sisters. Queen Katherine stopped and looked at each of us as we rose up from the floor.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Boleyn whores."
"Your Majesty -" I found myself protesting.
"Not you, little Eleanor. You have always been a good girl, though a little too loyal to your family. Nor you, Mary, for you would have been loyal, had your family not pushed you into my husband's bed. I do not blame you. But as for you, Mademoiselle Anna-Maria, what have I done to make you hate me so that you would try to set me, me, the rightful Queen, aside?"
I could not help but feel sorry for Katherine, as she made this plea in her strongly accented English, but Anne had no such qualms. Her voice was clear, cold and hard.
"You failed to give England an heir."
"And that upsets you so?"
"What upsets the King upsets me, madam. Besides, I am not setting a Queen aside, but rather a Spanish Princess, a Queen Consort. I seek to become second Queen Consort to the greatest King England has ever seen – His Majesty Henry Tudor. I will wed him and bed him, and I will deliver where you have failed – I will give him a son so great, that he will rule over England for two score years and ten, an heir so great that his descendants, the House of Tudor, will rule over England forever."
"I do not think you will, Anne Boleyn, for why should God grant you with a woman's greatest consolation, when he did not grant me, his most loyal servant, with one? And remember, I am beloved where you are not. Beloved Aunt to the Emperor. Beloved sister to Doña Juana of Castile, the last true Queen of Spain. Beloved of the people of the people of England. Beloved mother to the true heiress, Princess Mary. Most of all, I am the beloved wife and Queen to a King that you, Mistress Anne, have bewitched. You cannot take my place. Not with success."
With that, Queen Katherine swept past us, her red velvet skirts swishing, her gold brocade petticoats clearly visible as they flared in the sun. She went to her seat on the dais, opposite the King's. As soon as she was out of earshot, Anne growled "I will have a son, curse her! I will have a son and he will be Henry's heir!"
Mary whispered "Leave it, Anne. She's still Queen, you know. She could organise you a meeting with an executioner if it pleased her. Just let it be for now and come and sit down."
Mary glanced over Anne's shoulder to me, and I nodded almost imperceptibly. We two blonde Boleyns, in our gowns of silver taffeta, flanked our dark sister, in her dress of emerald silk velvet and escorted her to the seats that King Henry had had set up for us behind a screen.
We had barely seated ourselves before the criers called "King Harry of England, come into the Court."
"Here, my lords!" King Henry's voice rang out, firm and clear.
"Katherine, Queen of England, come into Court!"
"Here, my lords!" she shouted, and as she raised her head, I caught a glimpse of her face. Gone was the tired, defeated old woman who had called Anne a whore only minutes before. In her place was Catalina de Aragon, a daughter of Isabella de Castilla, a woman who had been raised on the battlefield, and knew how to fight, for it was in her blood, the Trastamara blood. She was animated and ready. Ready to battle for her crown, her throne, and her right to rule the country.
She sat like stone as the King began to speak, telling us all how he had doubted his marriage right from the beginning, but had overruled these doubts because of how much he loved her. He denied her permission to have her case heard in Rome, due to the fact that the Pope was the Emperor's prisoner, but he promised that this makeshift legatine court would be nothing but fair and impartial – something no-one really believed.
When he had finished, Queen Katherine was called upon. She rose, walked forward until she stood before King Henry, and then knelt at his feet. We watched with bated breath. What was she doing?
She was making a public appeal to the King. Her accented, broken English rang through the hall, sending shivers down the spines of all those who heard it.
"Oh my sweet Lord, tell me – How have I offended you? These past twenty years, I have lived with you, obeyed you, and cherished you as a wife should always cherish a husband. I have favoured all those whom you favoured, be it for personal reason or for political reason. I have never once raised my voice in complaint against you, and I have birthed you many children, though it has pleased God to call them to him before we believed they should have gone. That is no fault of mine, nor of yours, but we have our Mary. Our sweet Mary, the pearl of our world. She is our future King, Henry. Our future King and our future Queen, all in one person. I beseech you, for the love you bear her as your daughter, let me have justice and right. Hear me and believe me when I tell you this – when you lay with me on our wedding night, I was a virgin maid without touch of man. On this, I take God as my witness, and I swear it by his one true law. Whether it is true or not, I put to your conscience. You are a King, my husband, so be one."
Queen Katherine rose and curtsied deeply, then turned and left the hall on the arm of one of her gentlemen, whom I knew to be her receiver-general, Griffin Richards.
Cardinal Wolsey shouted for her to return, but she paused, spun around, fixed the whole room with her steely eyes, and declared "I am no Englishwoman, my Lord of York, but instead a Spaniard born. If I am not His Majesty's wife, then I am not his subject, and as such, come under no jurisdiction that exists on these shores. Good day to you."
Then she strode out of the hall, every inch of her regal and defiant.
She ignored the rest of the shouts for her to return, and instead went out amongst the common people, who cheered her and clapped her, roaring their support for Katherine of Aragon, who in their eyes, was the true Queen of England.
King Henry looked stunned. No-one had ever defied him like that. Anne, at my side, burst into hot angry tears. I heard her choke out ""She is my death or I am hers! I will see her buried, please God, before she is the end of me!" and Mary whispering soothingly, doing her best to calm her little sister, but I paid little heed. I was staring after Queen Katherine. By walking out like that, she was openly displaying her distaste for this legatine Court, and her contempt for its ruling.
Even if the jury ruled in the King's favour, she would carry on fighting, and we had little or no cards left to play. If Queen Katherine fought on, fought for her daughter's right to rule England as a Queen Regnant, what were we going to do?
