Hello! I hope this finds you all well. I thank everyone for your kind reviews, honestly, whenever I get a notification, I open that damned document again.^^
My updating schedule is more than slow at the moment but, as everyone else, I know, I have a ton of work. Updates will be slow, I'm sorry, but I will finish this story. I'm also sorry for all descriptions of pregnancy. I have no idea how a pregnant woman feels but I asked friends who have already been through childbirth. I left out the gruelling details. :D So, without further ado:
Hampton Court Palace
January 1533
Catherine
~o~
The king and Lady Anne would hear mass privately this morning. They had done so numerous times, so no one was surprised. Lady Anne Boleyn wore a fine new gown and an exquisite new headdress. She had done so numerous times, so no one was surprised. No one suspected anything. But today was the beginning of a new era for England. Henry would take Anne Boleyn as his wife. And Cat and Charles would be present. First, Cat had to get rid of the contents of her stomach, though, as she often did these days. Charles waited for her with a glass of lemon juice and water and a breakfast of fine French bread with butter that she could not touch. She knew it would be better later in the day.
The church was silent, the bride and groom had not yet arrived. It was an unconventional ceremony, of course. Only her and Charles and the Boleyns, Norfolk, too, but not Elizabeth. The great Dukes stood as witnesses, above reproach as everyone and everything had to be, just so that nothing would or could ever taint their marriage. They had fought long enough for it.
Henry entered through a side door of the chapel, silently, without the usual pomp. He wore a simple doublet but the ring he brought with him was everything but that. It was the largest ruby Cat had ever seen on a ring, it would probably lengthen Anne's left ring finger an inch at least. It was inscribed, she could see the letters but could not make out what it said. Perhaps it should stay an intimate secret.
The Boleyns entered, one by one, all lavishly dressed as if they were on their way to some state banquet. It was a great day for them, too. Charles was seemingly annoyed by their ostentatious display of wealth but Cat understood. Anne came last, of course, walking down the short aisle with her father. There was no music, even her shoes seemed to have padded soles. It was the most silent wedding Cat had ever been to.
The priest was from London, an old man, trusted by both the king and the Boleyns. He spoke quickly, almost rushed, in a voice so soft that even she, barely six feet away, could not understand him well. In the same hushed tone did the couple say their vows. Anne promised to serve Henry and Cat wondered how long it would take her to regret that. She was not made to a servant, not even a king's.
The whole affair was over within the quarter of an hour when Henry put the ring on Anne's slender finger. The ring was slightly to be and the stone dropped to one side. Anne held it in place with her middle finger, pretending it was fine.
"We're husband and wife," she smiled, and Cat had never seen her smile like this before. Those who knew Anne well also knew that she was rarely completely happy. There was always an impediment to her happiness, something that would prevent her from feeling complete joy. Despite the circumstances, the manner of their wedding ceremony, she smiled differently now. Her lips had raised only little but there was joy in her eyes, deep, unfiltered, unclouded joy. And she deserved.
Henry smiled, then kissed. "Not quite yet," he said, his tone an inappropriate whisper. Thomas Boleyn kindly turned away, but smiling, too.
"Thank you, my friends, for being our witnesses today. Your loyalty will not be forgotten." The king looked at Charles now. Even Cat was impressed with his politeness today.
"But as you well know, my lady wife and I have urgent marital matters to attend to. We will see you all tonight for a splendid feast in RIchmond Palace, away from the prying eyes of the others. Until then."
The king and Anne, his wife, left through the king's door, on their way to his suite of rooms, and left them all behind. The regular service would begin in an hour so there really was no use in waiting.
"We should go back, you have to break your fast." Charles kissed her gently on her part.
She really was hungry. "Yes. And we could also fulfil our marital duties," she kissed him on the lips, not chastely, as he was wont to do these days. Only for the briefest of moments did his gaze travel to her belly. He tried hard not to be the overbearing father-to-be, she granted him that.
"If you think that will do no harm," he said and kissed her back, but his response was so passionless, so meek that she did not feel like it any longer.
Charles sensed her bad mood but waited for the privacy of their rooms before he broached the subject. "Cat, you know I want to lie with you. I just couldn't forgive myself if something happened to our little one just because I could not tame my lust."
talking about it only made it worse. He was right and she knew that but she could not imagine spending the better part of the year just holding hands, talking about the food she had eaten and the food she had then lost again.
"I only want things to be normal. At least for now. It's still so small, nothing will happen. At some point though it will become...difficult." She felt her cheeks redden. "I miss it." She was probably red as a cherry now.
Instead of a reply, Charles kissed her. It was not quite the same as it had been, he was much more careful in everything he did, but afterwards, she felt better. They broke their fast in bed and he did not once tell her to eat more honey or fewer apple slices or whatever else the king thought he knew about the diet of a pregnant woman. It was the best morning Cat had had in weeks. And, she was quite certain, Anne had the best morning she had ever had.
They were not in the chapel for the service but they were there for lunch in the Great Hall. Anne had changed into another lavish dress and she wore the King's ruby proudly on her middle finger. She would have it altered but for now, in this secrecy, it was perhaps even better that way. Once Cranmer had finalised everything, Anne would be crowned Queen, no doubt in the most lavish ceremony the English had ever seen. Her friend was a person of superlatives.
A month after their clandestine wedding, Anne paid Cat a visit in her chambers. That was highly unusual. Usually, she did not leave her own elegantly decorated rooms. Henry and Charles were off to a council meeting, so Cat was alone, reading by the window.
"I have waited forever for you to come. It is almost nine!" Anne exclaimed.
"I am never with you before nine, Nan. Is something wrong?"
Anne sat down opposite her, giddy with excitement. She was fidgeting in the comfy chair like a ten year old.
"Not wrong." She said. Her eyes were smiling but her mouth was not. "You have to guess."
"Cranmer is finally done and you can openly marry?"
"No." Anne flinched. "Again."
"The king gave you something?" Cat guessed, not truly in the mood for the game, but not wanting to disappoint her friend.
"In a way…" Anne grinned.
The penny dropped. "So soon?"
"You were terribly slow, Cat."
"It must have happened in France then, right?"
"Oui oui, ma chère. Our son is French." Anne giggled.
"That is wonderful news." Cat took Anne's hand. "And even better, perhaps he'll claim the French throne one day."
Anne laughed. "Well, he will be King of England first. We'll take it from there."
Cat did not want to cloud her friend's joy but she wondered why Anne was so certain it would be a boy.
"I'm glad you will allow him to make some decisions for himself."
"Oh, I don't know that yet," she grinned. "Do you think he'll look like a Tudor? Perhaps he'll have my hair. Or my eyes. That would be wonderful."
"Let us hope he does not have your vanity." Cat gave back.
Her heart was overflowing with happiness. They children would be friends, that much was certain. They would be the same age, they would learn together, grow up together, just like their parents. They had waited long for their happiness, all of them. And now they were rewarded so generously. I only pray that the Father shows us some constancy. Queen Katherine had been happy, too, once, perhaps as happy as Anne was now.
1st June 1533
Westminster Abbey
Catherine
~o~
Today was Anne's great day. She would be crowned Queen of England in Westminster Abbey, with King Edward's Crown. No queen had ever been crowned with such pomp and splendour.
For the past ten days, there had been pageants every day, culminating in the glorious progress Anne had made through London yesterday. The people had cheered for her, though whether it was for Anne, the pompous display of wealth, style and luxury or the generous alms she had given out along the way, Cat did not know. Only that Anne, beautiful in white and cloth of silver, had never looked happier. She was round with child now, as was Catherine, and they had both ridden in a carriage rather than on horseback. That had not changed anything, however, quite the contrary. Anne's womb was praised by the people, blessed by them. Everyone seemed certain that finally, a Prince of Wales would be born, most of all Anne and Henry. Every astronomer, seer, doctor and midwife had agreed with them. Cat certainly hoped they were right. A daughter would be a heavy blow to king and country. A blow their love could take, hopefully.
Anne's arrival at Westminster could not have been grander. She wore white and cloth of gold, her hair cascaded down her back in shiny black curls. She was a vision and she knew it. Only an angel could have been more beautiful. Her belly was clearly visible and Anne drew attention to it with her hands. She was excited, too. The benches of the Abbey were crowded but Cat and Charles sat right in the front row to witness this historical moment. The Queen walked down the length of the Abbey over a carpet of red velvet, more costly than anything Cat had ever own. She had insisted on walking on her own although Henry had offer to help her. "I am a Queen carrying the prince, not an invalid," Anne had countered and ended the discussion. In truth, Henry indulged her every whim. If she had asked him to don motley and play her fool, he would have readily agreed. Because he, too, is certain it will be a boy.
Queen Anne had finally reached the altar where the Archbishop of Canterbury was already waiting. She knelt, gracefully despite her state, and prayed. Cat thought she knew for what. Then the queen rose again and walked up the short flight of stairs. Right in the centre of the altar, she turned around. Her sister, who was her first lady on that day, draped the train of her gown and cloak behind her. Cranmer held the crown of St Edward in his hands, the crown that until this day, only kings had been crowned with. But Anne was no ordinary queen and she carried the heir to the throne.
"Queen Anne, I crown you Queen of England and France and Lady of Ireland in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit." He set the crown down on Anne's black hair and for a short moment, Anne swayed. The crown was heavy. But then, Cranmer gave her the rod and sceptre and she straightened. This was her moment and she would savour it.
"She's beautiful," Cat whispered. "She makes a wonderful queen."
For once, Charles agreed. He even smiled. "She does. Let us hope she can give Henry what Katherine could not."
He truly hoped so, Cat could see that. Charles had finally made his peace with Anne. Dear Father who art in Heaven, please, please give Anne and Henry the son they so desire. I don't mind if I have only girls, as long as she bears him a prince.
The ceremony was over. To the chants of the rich and noble of England, Anne walked down the aisle again, this time accompanied by Henry. Cat sang the Te Deum with more fervour than ever.
The feast at Westminster Hall was splendid but Cat was bone tired by then and longed to rest.
~o~
Her own situation at the moment was easily described as uncomfortable, with traces of irrational happiness.
Sitting down was uncomfortable. Lying down was worse. Standing was most agreeable but her whole body ached and she did not know when she had last seen her feet. It was now time for her to go into confinement. She had pleaded with the midwives so that she could witness Anne's coronation. Now however, she still did not feel as if she truly needed to lie in bed or sit in a comfy chair all day, without sunlight or fresh air for months. Charles did not question this custom, however.
"Where do you want to go? Just so I can have the rooms prepared." He kissed her chastely. As chastely as he did everything these days. Cat missed his energy, his naughtiness.
"I don't want to go into confinement just yet."
She had thought about this for a long time, weighing her options again and again. Spending the whole summer locked in a dusty dark room was a nightmare but if she didn't and something happened to her baby...she would probably never forgive herself and neither would Charles. Still, she could not imagine that the confinement was really that healthy. She felt much better after walks outside, in the fresh air, after days inside. Of course she should not stay at court with all the people and the dirt of the city. But perhaps, she could stay at Penshurst where the air was clear. She always felt better after a week in the countryside, even in her current state. And the children would be there. There was no better place for childbirth. In her current state, she often felt dizzy after spending a long time in Anne's crowded reception chamber. She could not even imagine how it would feel like in a confinement chamber. No, Cat was adamant, she would spend her summer at Penshurst, even if Charles would not accompany her.
Charles seemed taken aback. "But is that not how it is done?"
"It is not how I will do it. I will spend the summer at Penshurst. If you would rather go on summer progress, so be it. But I will not be locked away for months in a stuffy chamber, just lying in bed all day with nothing but sewing needles. Sooner or later, I would be tempted to prick myself."
He smiled, that was good. But then furrowed his brow. "What if something happens to the child?"
"So you find it acceptable to lock me away for months and months as long as I deliver your heir?" That had not been wise. Or nice. He was only worried. But he had voiced exactly her fears and that had troubled her.
Well, whatever her reasons had been, he was angry now. "Of course not, you know I don't...I just want the best for you...two. I don't want to lock you away but I thought all women do it that way."
"Common women don't. Handmaids and scullery maids and bakers, they cannot afford to go into confinement. And their children are just as healthy."
Charles nodded slowly. "If you think so...I will come with you. And the midwives. I just hope that, well, you know, it will all go smoothly."
Now Cat laughed out loud. "I don't think that there is a single woman on earth who would say that about giving birth. I never goes smoothly, Charles. But I trust in myself, and those French midwives of course. I will go and pack then."
Most of all, she would have to trust in God. Childbirth was difficult and dangerous but He had always shown himself gracious, hadn't he?
July 1533
Penshurst
Catherine
~o~
Charles had stayed with her all summer. While the king and his queen were on summer progress, they had lived a quiet life away from court. But neither of them was bored. Perhaps, Cat mused, they grew too old for court life. Or perhaps, they had been too used to it. Now, after months at Penshurst, she looked forward to returning to court in autumn. But first, she would have to give birth.
She was not sure whether she wanted Charles to be present. He had been there for her all the time but perhaps in the confinement chamber, there and then, that was a woman's sphere. She knew no man that had witnessed birth but doctors. Her father had been away from home, usually. Charles said that it was her decision but she knew he wanted to be present. It would be harsh to deprive him of that moment. But there was still time to consider.
In that, Catherine was wrong.
She was rushed to her bed at midday, when suddenly, she had felt waves of pain rippling through her body. IIt was the pain that had not been prepared for. In fact, Cat thought, no one could ever be prepared for such pain. She was sweating, her hair sticking to her forehead. Charles was holding her hand. She was still not sure whether she wanted him to witness this but it was too late for discussion. Her child wanted to leave her womb. Afterwards, Cat could not tell how long it had taken. She only knew that it was over because the pain had lessened. The midwife between her thighs was fumbling around with something but she did not say a word. Alarmed, Cat shifted, tried to get a better look.
"What is it? Is something wrong? Why is there no crying?" She had heard that newborns cried, that's how you knew they were healthy. "Why is my baby not crying? Please, tell me? Is my child healthy?" Her voice was thin and shrill and did not sound like her own. She could feel Charles fidget next to her, as scared and anxious as she was, though he concealed it better. For me.
"Madam?" he inquired, his voice unstable.
There was a faint noise of flesh hitting flesh, then crying. Loud, strong, healthy crying. Cat cried, too, now.
"Your Graces, you are the parents of a healthy boy. He is just a little lazy, that is all."
Through tears, Cat looked at Charles. "See, he takes after you already." Then she motioned towards the midwife. "I want to hold him."
"Your Grace, you are still…" The midwife motioned to the bleeding ruin between her legs. "Perhaps a bath, to clean yourself, to wash it off?"
"I need to hold him first." There was no way she would put that off. So the midwife obeyed. Her son was wrapped in clean linen sheets but there was blood on him still, sticky stuff as well. But Cat did not mind.
"Hello, my love." She kissed him on the brow. Charles beside her caressed the boy's face with one finger, so softly that Cat doubted their boy noticed it. He was sleeping now, his little eyes squeezed shut.
"He is so beautiful." Charles next to her could not take his eyes off his son. "So beautiful."
"He takes after his parents, Your Grace," said the midwife, chuckling. She, too, seemed in a good mood. A healthy child. How often did she see the opposite?
"Our little Henry." They had long decided on the name. The king would stand godfather to their little one, that had long been decided, so they had decided that a boy would naturally be named Henry. They had quarreled over girl names but thankfully, for now, they did not have to quarrel further.
"Henry Brandon." Charles looked at him. "You are a wonder."
