I should not be doing this - I should be revising for my exams next week, but it is the one year anniversary since I started this story tomorrow, so I wanted to get this out today. Enjoy!
Chapter 25
The news that there was to be an archery tournament to celebrate the King's birthday spread like wildfire and before long every young man at Court was practicing feverishly. And when the King announced that he himself would not be taking part, but that whoever won the tournament would get to crown his own Queen of Truth and Love, their fervour was more than redoubled. It was near impossible to ever obtain a space by the archery butts. Everyone knew that, since the King had declined to take part, the competition was far more open than it would usually be. They were all determined to prove themselves worthy of being crowned the champion.
Marie heard them at it from where she lay closeted in her lying-in chamber and smiled complacently. Let them practice all they wanted. She was sure Harry Percy would be doing the same.
She whiled away many a happy hour imagining the exact moment when her husband would crown Harry champion and he, in turn, would crown Annie his Queen.
Yet she refused to tell Anne what was making her so happy, no matter how the younger girl pestered her. Telling her would both spoil the surprise and lead to disappointment if the impossible happened and Harry either lost the tournament or failed to crown her his Queen. Instead, she encouraged her sister, who'd always had a keen interest in fashion, to help her plan her dress for the event, as well as the dresses both Maria and Meg Douglas would wear, and Anne's own, of course.
Anne excelled herself, as usual, and on the day of Henry's birthday, they went down to the archery butts, Mary resplendent in periwinkle blue trimmed with silver, Maria and Meg in a reversal of the colours and Anne herself in darker blue, darker blue over silver and pale blue underskirts.
It was Marie's first public appearance since her churching and she was determined to make a good impression.
She made an incredible one. As she walked the length of Windsor's halls, Prince Lionel in her arms and Princess Mary at her side, followed by both a train of ladies and the King's little niece, Lady Margaret, the Court cheered itself hoarse for her. All thoughts of her low birth were forgotten in the light of her great achievement, the bearing of a healthy, squalling Prince.
It was only when she put Lionel back in his governess's arms and put a hand out that they quieted.
"I thank you for your love and I am honoured to be your Queen, but today is not about me. He has been nothing but a loyal, loving husband to me for almost a year now and I adore him with all my heart. For the sake of that love, I ask you now to come help me celebrate his birthday, for he deserves it."
With a roar, the Court surged outside and laughing, Marie led the cheers as her husband came to join them.
Kissing her and heaving both Maria and Meg Douglas on to his lap, Henry raised a hand, "Let the tournament begin!"
A few hours later, Harry Percy stood on the edge of the archery field, an arrow nocked to his bowstring. His heart was thudding. He knew that with a couple more good shots, he could win the tournament. Win the tournament and crown his Queen.
With a quick intake of breath and a silent prayer, he released his penultimate arrow, satisfaction flooding him as he realised it would be a bull's-eye.
The crowd applauded and when John Dudley fumbled his shot, making it impossible for anyone to catch Harry, they roared approval, cheering him happily as he playfully shot his last arrow right through the French Ambassador's plumed hat.
"Lord Percy!" The Queen scolded lightly, but the King was laughing openly, "Not only a fine archer, but a patriot to boot! Well done, Lord Percy. You've proved yourself a worthy champion. Now choose your Queen of Truth and Love."
Harry took the finely-beaten circlet of silver ivy and bronze honeysuckle with a bow and the crowd watched him eagerly as he turned to face the spectators. As he had no wife, everyone expected him to choose the Queen, in order to please the King, or else perhaps his mother or one of his sisters. To their surprise, however, he didn't.
Although he bowed courteously to the Queen as he passed her, and smiled at his mother and sisters, he walked purposefully past them, straight up to the young dark-haired girl who stood beside the Duchess of Suffolk. Taking her hand, he kissed it and then set the circlet in her tumbling jet-black curls with the greatest of care.
"All hail Your Grace," he murmured, sinking to one knee before her.
A chorus of murmuring and applause broke out and Anne Boleyn flushed with pleasure.
The musicians were playing lively jigs and the lords and ladies were whirling around the dance floor, laughing merrily as their sovereigns spun through the room, leading the celebrations as befitted the birthday man and his wife.
Henry roared with laughter and suddenly swept Marie off her feet, joy lending him strength. She started, but beamed as he lifted her high above his head, up towards the rafters.
"You're very merry tonight, Sire," she chuckled.
"Don't I have the cause to be?" he breathed, swooping her back down again, "I am a man in his prime, with a healthy son in the cradle and the most beautiful woman in all of England for my wife."
Unable to help himself, Henry let his eyes rove over Marie's newly-slight figure. She had more or less lost the weight that Lionel had made her gain, but her breasts were still slightly swollen. They peeped temptingly over the top of her aquamarine silk gown.
Attuned to his every nuance after nearly a year of marriage, Marie sensed, rather than saw, his eyes darken with lust. She slapped his hand lightly where it lay on her waist.
"For shame, My Lord! I am barely churched with your son and already you think to get me pregnant with a Duke of York?"
"It's not my fault you're so irresistible," Henry flashed back and was rewarded with her blue-green eyes sparkling as Anthony Knivert, his long-time friend and Gentleman of the Privy Chamber whisked her out of his arms.
"Later," they seemed to promise, "Later."
On the other side of the ball room, Marie's younger sister was having a fine time of her own. Clad in damask the colour of burnished amber, she was truly glittering in the candlelight, a fact her brother was quick to remark on as he twirled her around.
"You look positively radiant tonight, Annie."
"Fie, George, I am nothing to our sister. The Golden Queen, they're calling her now, did you hear?"
"Aye, and if that's so, then you must be the Lady of Amber."
"Save your compliments for your wife," Anne retorted, but she was laughing, the crown Harry Percy had presented her with earlier still glistening in her curls as the music came to an end and she curtsied to her brother before letting him guide her off the dance floor.
"You're utterly brazen, George," she sighed, "One day, you're going to get yourself into trouble."
"Not brazen, dear sister, just a Boleyn," George winked and then suddenly melted away without another word. Anne was a little surprised, but seconds later, a wonderfully familiar arm snaked its way around her waist.
"Walk with me," Harry Percy breathed into her ear.
"With pleasure," she murmured in response, happy to allow him to escort her out into the gardens.
The warm June night wrapped itself around them like a blanket and the crickets were chirping softly as they strolled in companionable silence through the flowerbeds. The slightest breeze stirred Anne's curls and she put up a hand to tidy them. But her heart was thudding and her fingers nowhere near as poised as usual. She knocked her crown askew and Harry had to reach up and set it right for her.
"There. Now you are crowned. As you ought to be."
"You speak treason, Lord Percy," she warned teasingly, suddenly breathless despite herself, "Have you forgotten my sister is the Queen? I would not take her place, not for the world."
"Nor would I have you take her place. She is King Henry's choice and fully deserves to be. I only meant that, were I King, you would be my choice. Were I King, you would be my Queen."
"Harry!"
Words failed Anne and she could only watch, disbelievingly, as Harry sank to one knee before her and offered her a ruby and diamond ring.
"I can't offer you a kingdom, Anne, but I can offer you a Castle. I can't make you a Queen, but I can make you a Countess. And I swear to you, before God, the Virgin Mary and all the Saints, London would have to melt into the Thames and snowballs survive the torments of Hell before I stopped loving you. On those terms, will you marry me? Will you be my Lady Anne, my Lady Northumberland, now and forever?"
Tears pricked Anne's eyes and she let them flow forth, pouring down her cheeks as she held out her hand, silently, for the ring. He slipped it on to her finger and it nestled safely against the top of the knuckle of the third finger of her right hand, before she helped him up and kissed him more firmly and more deeply than she ever had before. She didn't even try to hide her tears; didn't care if he tasted the salt on her lips.
"Is that a yes?" Harry asked breathlessly when they finally broke apart. Anne chuckled, her voice cracking on the tears of happiness that still threatened to choke her.
"Of course it's a yes, you dolt! Do you not already know that I'd rather be your Countess than the greatest Queen in Christendom?"
Harry didn't waste any time in asking the King's permission for his union with Lady Anne. As soon as Mass was over the following morning, he slipped out of the Cardinal's train and approached the King with a bow.
"Sire? Might I beg a word, if it please you?"
"Certainly, Lord Percy. What is it you would have? Speak."
Henry did feel a little sorry for the boy, making him ask him so openly for what he wanted. But a public blessing was the only way to ensure the Talbots didn't try to move against the match and ensnare the lad for their Mary after all. And to give the boy his due, though he blanched momentarily, a mere glance at his sweetheart was enough to restore his courage.
"Your Majesty, I have come to ask you to be so gracious as to ensure that I am set free from any unspoken understanding there may be between my family and that of Lady Mary Talbot's about our one day being wed and to set your blessing upon a match between myself and the Lady Anne Rochford."
"I see. And why exactly would you want to abandon such a prestigious match as one with Lady Mary in favour of one with Lady Anne? You realise you are jilting one of the most eligible girls in the North?"
"I realise that, Sire, and I am sorry for it, but I will not go back on my decision. I love Lady Anne and I believe with all my heart that she will make me happy in the same way that Her Grace makes you happy, My Lord. Or in the same way that Lady Mary will make some other man happy."
Privately, Harry doubted that Mary, with her whining voice and nagging ways, would make anybody happy, but the kind words were a courtesy he could well afford her, given the circumstances.
"I see. You love the girl, do you? And will you still love her when I say to you that even if I do let you marry Lady Anne, there'll be no sharing a home or a bed for another year at least? She's only fourteen and my wife's, and therefore my, most beloved sister. I'll not have her damaged or her health endangered, by sharing the marital bed too early. Are you prepared to wait, Lord Percy?"
"I am, Sire. I love Lady Anne and I wouldn't harm her for the world. I've almost lost her once, I will not lose her again. Besides, my sister Margaret always told me that a prize too easily won is no prize at all. I am prepared to wait to take Lady Anne's maidenhead, if you so wish it, for I do not believe there could be any prize greater than my sweetheart's most precious possession. I am even prepared to wait with our wedding, if you wish. All I ask for now is that we are betrothed, unbreakably, before witnesses."
Harry didn't know what boldness had loosened his tongue so, but while many of the courtiers around them looked scandalised at his speaking of Anne's virginity so openly, the King looked impressed. He laughed and extended a ringed hand to clap Harry on the shoulder.
"That's a mighty clever sister you have, Lord Percy. I hope you take her advice frequently."
"I do, Your Grace. You may be sure of that."
"Then I am satisfied. If the Queen and Lady Anne are agreeable, I don't see why you shouldn't marry her. What do you say, ladies?"
The King glanced over his shoulder and the crowd parted to show the Queen, Anne half a pace behind, as usual. The Queen nodded in agreement and Harry looked eagerly to Anne. Her cheeks were aflame, but her voice too was burning; burning with conviction.
"Sire, there is no man I would rather marry. I accepted Lord Percy's ring last night, with the gladdest heart it is possible to have."
"Very well. Kneel. Come here, next to Lord Percy and kneel."
Exchanging stunned looks, Harry and Anne did as they were told. The King wasn't going to have them married here and now, was he?
No. He merely stretched his hand over their bent heads, intoning, "Lord Percy, Lady Anne Rochford, you have my blessing upon your union. As of this moment, you may consider yourselves betrothed."
The looks they exchanged this time were delighted ones. Unable to help himself, Harry grabbed Anne's shoulders, turned her head to his, cupped her cheeks and kissed her fiercely. The crowd of courtiers laughed and applauded. Pulling back from her, Harry couldn't ever remember feeling happier. They were engaged to marry and nothing could ruin this for him. Nothing at all.
It wasn't all that easy. Of course not. While Harry and Anne were celebrating their public betrothal, the Talbot were seething at having their favoured match for their eldest daughter snatched away from them. Yet somehow sensing that the King would not take kindly to having his public blessing of the Rochford-Percy match challenged, they turned their attentions to the Queen. After all, they reasoned, if anyone had the means to make him change his mind, it was the mother of his heir.
George Talbot, Mary's father, was no sooner back from Mass than he was in the Queen's rooms, pleading with her to stop the King from indulging Lord Percy's whims.
"You have to understand, Madam, there has always been an understanding between the Percy family and ours that Lord Percy will marry our Mary."
"I see," Marie's voice was frosty, "And did you have anything drawn up to make this understanding official?"
"Well, no, My Lady. It wasn't necessary. Mary has always been brought up as the future Countess of Northumberland. The arrangement simply made sense."
"Yet, it was an arrangement that no one else knew about, not even the King, who should have had a hand in arranging your children's marriages. Not even Lord Percy himself was sure such an understanding existed, though he did factor it in when he asked His Majesty to let him marry my sister. You cannot blame the King for not taking into account something he did not know about."
"Indeed, I do not. But Mary has just had her future ripped away from her. She is devastated. And to know that the girl who is to take her place as Lady of Alnwick is..." A second before he finished his sentence the way he wanted to, George remembered that the girl he had been about to slander was his Queen's sister and cut himself off hastily. Not quickly enough, however, to stop her voice raising.
"Is what, Lord Shrewsbury? Is of lesser blood than Lady Mary? Is that was you were about to say? Need I remind you that Lady Anne is my sister? If a Boleyn is good enough for the King to crown his Queen, then no wonder that a Percy of Northumberland believes one good enough for him. I advise you to accept his verdict and start looking elsewhere for Lady Mary to bestow her hand. You would do well to do so."
"But Madam...Think of Mary. She's so upset. For Lord Percy to renounce her so publicly...think of how that has hurt her feeble girlish heart."
For a split-second, Marie's face softened. "I'm sure she must be and I am sorry for it. If it is any consolation, you have my word that I will do my best to ensure her a good match. But I warn you, I will never ask my husband to break Lord Percy and Lady Anne apart for her sake. I will not ruin their happiness, not when I myself am so happy in my marriage."
George Talbot stifled a groan and bowed.
"As you wish, Your Grace. If you have no more to say, then, with Your Majesty's permission, I shall take my leave."
"You have it," Marie waved him away, "Go. But remember, I will not have you or anyone else slander any member of my family again. The days when your old blood meant you could look down on us Boleyns are over. Well and truly over."
Then she turned her head away, calling imperiously – more imperiously than was her wont, it seemed - for her son to be brought to her. her point was made and George had nothing to do save back out of her rooms with her steely warning still ringing in his ears.