Christmas at Hampton Court is my favorite time of the year. Days, and nights of dancing feasting, all through New Years. The only down side is the God wrenching smell of puke, waste, urine and you know what. Walking among the halls I saw my mother, Catherine Of Aragon, Queen Of England. She was a good distance away, but that couldn't disguise the clear tears that streamed down her face. The halls were uncharacteristically quiet and empty. I had left with my ladies to find my mother, instead of praying before lunch.
She seemed to be comforted by one of her own ladies in waiting, holding, brushing her hand endearingly as a priest faced my mother with sorry eyes. At that I walked towards them with all the grace and pride of my station. Mother's ladies noticed me first. It was clear they thought they were alone.
Looking at my mother she was half done whipping her tears away, already painting a smile for me. I bowed respectfully. "Lady Mother?"
Holding out her hand to bidding me to stand, and come to her. "My pearl, what are you doing here?"
Taking her hand in mind, formalities have been excused. Looking up at her, I loved how lovely she is. She's stopped bleeding, yet her red blond hair halos from sunlight, her blue Hansel eyes regally looking down even as my mother, I couldn't understand why Father cares to have any mistresses. If my lord, Father is called Defender of the Faith why doesn't he'd fallow his duty as a husband to be true to his wife? This I've often questioned this.
"Mary darling?" I heard my mother say. Snapping out of my thoughts I remade eye contact with her. "My lady, Mother why are you crying? Where is everyone?"
Your Royal highness it is unbecoming of a Princess to bout like this. One of my ladies said to me, as we all dined in the great hall of Hampton Court. Admittedly I forgot where I was. Mother wouldn't say anything but that I must keep my God & prayers near.
She only says that if she means it or if she doesn't know what to say. I wish she would tell me her troubles instead of shielding me. I than heard my father laugh. He always is laughing with his fellow friends or my mother. Looking hoping to glimpse an image of my parents smiling, like they used to, I saw my father with some lady. I've seen her before. She came to court perhaps two years ago. Looking over to my mother, she was not there.
This only confirmed what this could be. Perhaps 2-4 times? I don't remember, but whenever my father is with some lady my mother prefers to secluded herself or stay with ministers and counsel men. Father although not entirely faithful, will tire soon anyways. The lady wasn't exactly the usual beauty. Most men prefer plump, pink cheeky girls with golden locks. This lady was thin, dark haired, and particular round eyes. Brown, no blue? She was so far away, and even so color didn't escape her eyes. It was odd. Though seemingly harmless she was dressed shamelessly. The current French Fashions in my father's court. How dare she? I thought. My father is against the French King.
Before blowing out my candle I was able to ask my ladies who my father was dancing and chatting with at the party. My ladies faces dropped, silent, looking at each other, finally one brave lady stepped forward. Lady Kat. "Your royal highness, your father the king has been courting the lady Anne Boleyn, one of your mother's ladies in waiting." They looked at me waiting for my response.
"Is this why my mother was crying?" I asked. Again they all looked at each other unsure. Something in me snapped. "How am I to run my household with frightened kittens?" My ladies could only lower their heads and stay silent. At this I bursted through the doors, I didn't know where I was heading but I needed space and air. Yes I may be just eleven years old, but I am a Princess, heir to the English and Irish Throne. How can I not be taken seriously? All this built up frustration blinded me from noticing where I was going. I could vaguely hear my ladies calling me to wait as they must have been trying to keep up. When I found myself bumping into someone.
Looking up it was her. The Lady Anne Boten. She looked at a little shocked than smiled, like I was some fool I bet. Composing herself, she turned towards me and bowed respectively. "Your Royal highness." She said. I looked at her with disgust. How dare she pretend to be so pure. "How long have you been my father's mistress?" She looked at me surprised again feigning innocence. Cracking a smile and a laugh she looked at me declaring she hasn't slept with him. I wanted to shout, call her out on her lie, make her apologize, but all of a sudden my father soon came up behind her before I could do anything.
"Mary? What are you doing?" He asked. Realizing where I was and who I was, I was ashamed. I let my own anger make a fool of me. Everyone was in the great hall, so by some form of mercy, I, Anne, the King, and my ladies seemed to be the only ones present. At least to my knowledge. God knows what servants witnessed this behavior.
Looking up at my Father it's clear he didn't seem to know what was going on. Suddenly Anne Boleyn spoke. "The Princess was just asking what was so amusing at dinner to make us laugh as we did." She took his hand endearingly which infuriated me. Was she flaunting her influence or was that of habit, I wondered.
Before I knew it, Father bid me goodnight, as my ladies and I retired to my bedchamber. Did this Anne take me for a fool? Or was she trying to stay on my goods side? For a long time I couldn't sleep but wonder these thoughts. Soon I found myself waking up to the windows being opened. Letting in the winter light in.
Mother was furious. After learning my outburst and questioning towards Anne the other day, mother had decided to finally explain after lecturing me on my role and how my behavior was out of line.
Apparently this Anne Boleyn is a Lady in Waiting to my mother by my father's insistence. He's been courting her for quite some time. Apparently they truly haven't slept together. Anne Boleyn is an educated lady whose spent her youth as lady in waiting to two other queens in Europe. Queen Anne of Austria, Queen French Queen, my aunt, Mary Tudor. Who remarried for love to Charles Brandon a year before my own birth.
Apparently this courting has been going on for years and my mother has silently endured this humiliation. Now it seems my father wants a divorce. He can't do that! How could he do that?! I begged my mother to explain, but the more she tried the more confusing it became. By some reasoning my mother, who my father believes wasn't a virgin when they married, and therefore made their marriage not fit, reasoning why they don't have a son and heir. Not true. I am his heir. I am alive and healthy. My own mother lead an army against the Scots leading to Scottish King's death. As Queen Isabella of Castile my own Grandmother fought against the unholy infidels of her lands. Even my own great great grandmother on my Father's side fought to place her son on the English throne establishing the Tudor Dynasty. Now my father wants to replace this God ordained royal lineage be ignore for some common whore? True she is noble but still beneath such things. How dare she a lowly maid reach for the crown other than to polish it?
Who is this Anne?