Happy New Year!
Thanks to another lockdown, I have some free time on my hands, so I wrote two new chapters, next one will probably be up at the end of the month or in early February, as I still have to proof-read. As always, please let me know what you think!
Late Summer, 1533
London
Catherine
Cat left her confinement chamber soon enough but she had only little time to get to know her young son for the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk were soon called back to court. Anne's pregnancy was proving much more difficult than Cat's, and although Henry viewed this as a sign that the babe would be a boy, Cat thought it might be due to her friend's slender frame that wasn't used to carrying that much weight. Anne was plagued by nightmares and more than once did Cat visit her in her confinement chamber at Greenwich Palace to find that Anne, usually so well composed, was a mess of tears and fury. It was especially bad on a hot August day, when the smell from the city wafted through creaks and crannies into the royal confinement chamber and the ladies in waiting cut open oranges and sprayed the expensive lily-of-the-valley perfume Anne so loved to cover the stink. To no avail. Although the windows had to remain closed, the chamber reeked of feces, stale water and burnt meat and Cat hoped for a rain shower to clear the air soon.
Anne sat in her bed, her belly protruding from the covers proudly, but her face was puffy and red.
"Oh Cat," she exclaimed when she entered, "I had the most horrible dream."
She waited for her ladies to leave before she confided in her friend.
"It was a terrible nightmare," she started in a low voice, "and at the end, I faced the same fate as your father, on Tower Green, with ravens circling me and the king away, abed with another."
This was absurd. "Anne, you are no traitor. What do you think the king would sentence you to die for? An anointed queen, his own wife, the woman he divided the holy church for? What reason could there possibly be?" The worst crime a queen could commit was unfaithfulness, and even then, she would be imprisoned or sent to a nunnery, but not executed. It had happened in France, some two hundred years ago. Merely, well. But no crime merited the death Edward Stafford had suffered, apart from murder, perhaps, or heresy. But that was completely unthinkable. As were all other crimes, of course. Anne was a queen above reproach, she woud always know how fragile her throne was. She seemed well and truly frightened now.
"It just felt so real. I was so scared."
"It was only a dream, Your Majesty. The king loves you fiercely."
"Only a dream," Anne nodded. "I have to rest so badly, I am always tired but this chamber…"
Cat knew full well what Anne meant. It was stuffy and warm, not to mention the smell, and Cat was already feeling a headache throbbing in her temples.
Yet, Anne had to do what was expected of her. Any deviation from tradition meant that she would be blamed for every misfortune. She would be blamed, even if she stayed here, but then, it would be slightly better.
"There might be rain tonight, then I'll tell the servants to open the windows, just for a brief moment."
Anne shook her head. "No. There might be a chill. You know as well as I do that I cannot allow myself a single misstep." She had her hands on her belly now. "Everything depends on him."
Cat only smiled and prayed that God would bless the Queen with a son.
But perhaps God's favour was all used up for her already.
~o~
Anne went into labour in late summer, when the cherries had been all picked and the plums were almost ripe. Cat was there with Anne, holding her hand as Charles had held hers. The king was fearful, awaiting word from the midwives in his study.
Anne was having a hard time. There was much blood, so much blood, and Cat was quite certain it hadn't been that bad when she had given birth. Or had she just not seen it?
"You need to press, Your Majesty," said the midwife. She gave Anne a piece of wood to bite on, so that she wouldn't shatter her pretty teeth and Anne needed it soon enough.
"What if I die, Cat?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper after the screams of pain.
"You won't die, Nan. You need to press and soon you'll hold your babe in your arms."
But the queen was growing pale, an unhealthy pallor, yellowish and sick. Stil, the blood was flowing from her, and with it, life.
"If I do...you need to protect him from the vultures. Promise me, Cat."
She squeezed Cat's fingers so hard that they went numb.
"I promise to take care of your child, Anne, of course I do, but it won't be necessary."
Anne's grasp got weaker. "Good," she whispered. She had lost much blood but the babe was still not out.
"Your Majesty, we're losing the child. You need to keep it up for not much longer. You can rest soon."
Anne nodded. "I know. It just hurts so much, and I'm so cold."
She really was. Cat put a shawl around her and told the serving woman to make a fire.
"Call for the king." Cat said quietly to one of the attending ladies. Anne never heard her, her eyes were unfocussed and half-closed.
And truly, the king came. He waited in front of the chamber door, however. Men were usually not allowed in the confinement chamber.
"My love," he said through the door, "my love, you have to stay with me. I'm lost without you."
His voice seemed to reach Anne.
"Do you hear me, Anne?" he asked, a little louder.
Anne nodded and raised her head a little. Her face was positively grey now, Cat noticed with shock. She's going to die, she realised. But she couldn't cry, not now, when Anne still needed her to be strong.
"She hears you, Your Majesty," Cat replied, trying to ban all fear from her voice. It didn't work, but she sounded much steadier than she felt.
"Don't leave me, Anne, I command you," now the king's voice broke, "I can't be without you."
Anne's grasp was stronger now. With a grim look on her face, she nodded. Her eyes saw again.
"I won't," she said. And then, she finally found the strength to press.
The king still stood in front of the door. "I will always love you, Nan."
The midwives were clearly uncomfortable but Cat was glad. Henry left again, no doubt told to leave the women to their business, now that he had said goodbye.
But Anne was a fighter. While she still looked like a corps, she seemed to be regaining some strength- She had survived the Sweat, too, Cat recalled, with only her willpower. The midwives, who had looked troubled before, were encouraged by their queen's new fervour.
After half an eternity, Cat saw the little head, heard a scream. The prince was born.
"Is it a boy?" Anne asked the midwife, her voice full of fear and pain. The women were all quiet. A bad sign, Cat thought, but there was a crying babe. Alive, breathing. A healthy child was more than one could hope for.
One of the midwives cleared her throat. "A healthy girl, Your Majesty," she said. Anne sunk back into her pillows, all hope gone from her face.
"A girl." Her voice was grave.
"The king will be told soon," the midwife said.
The king was no doubt in his study again, pacing up and down, nervous and expectant. Charles would be with him. Perhaps he would help to soften the sting of disappointment, but probably there was no one capable of that. But Henry had just declared his eternal love for all to hear. That gave Cat hope.
~o~
Charles
~o~
The king was beyond disappointed. He had been happy at first, happy that the woman had survived so far but the child's gender had soon left room for nothing but disappointment and anger. He felt betrayed, betrayed by the doctors and the seers and most of all by Mistress Boleyn.
"She promised me a son, Charles. A son."
Henry was crying. He had wanted a son ever since he had ascended the throne and years of bitter disappointment had taken their toll.
"That's all I wanted. And she betrayed me."
"The queen is surely as disappointed as you are," he said, cautiously.
"She failed me. She failed England," Henry's disappointment never lasted long. Soon enough, it would make way for outright fury. And a king's fury was a terrible thing. He did not envy the queen. Maybe he even found it in him to pity her, although pity was the last thing Queen Anne Boleyn wanted.
"The queen is still young. Many sons will follow, Your Majesty. And a girl you will need for the French dauphin, or the emperor's son."
Marriages bound the royal houses together and the Tudors needed strong alliances.
"You are right. We will have many children." Henry nodded. "A small Tudor army, with my hair and her eyes."
"And just think about all the pleasure you will have building that army," Charles grinned.
"You know me well enough," Henry said, and a small smile flickered over his face. "It will be a pleasure." He was slightly more content now. "She's not like Katherine. Far more willing, far more…" He left the sentence unfinished but Charles knew what he meant. Lady Anne was no doubt a passionate lover. That was part of her appeal. She would have to use that well to keep the royal favour.
"As soon as she has visited the church once again, we will try once again. We will have sons. We're both young. And she comes from a fertile family."
The Howards were one of the most powerful families because they had a pea in every pot. The Duke's own daughter had been wed to the king's natural son, though she was a widow now.
"She does. There will be sons, Your Majesty. And you have time. You are still a young man, and a man of vigour, too."
Henry nodded once again. "I am." Then he flinched. "The tournament has to be cancelled though. That girl will never be my heir."
"I will see to it."
Henry took up a staple of papers from his desk. "And these need to be changed as well."
Charles knew what these were. The announcements of the birth of a prince.
"There is enough room for an "s" to be added," Henry said, his voice toneless.
And so, soon enough, letters were circulated, announcing the birth of a "princes". It was a humiliating affair for both the king and his queen, though Anne Boleyn would be the one people blamed. The weeks and months ahead would not be easy for the queen but Charles did not doubt that the Boleyn woman would carry her head high and ignore the detractors. "Let them grumble, this is how it will be," her words had been. They would prove true once again. Henry's love had received a blow but it was far from cooling down. The queen would persevere.
~o~
Catherine
~o~
Anne held her daughter when Cat visited her.
"Look at her, Cat. Isn't she the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?"
Cat thought about her son with his perfect mop of brown hair and beautiful blue eyes in his crib at Penshurst and her heart burst.
"She is beautiful," she agreed.
"Look at her hair. Doesn't she look like Henry? The nose, the lips. She is a true little Tudor, my mother said so, too."
Cat thought the girl looked like nobody really, only like a baby. Her eyes reminded her of Anne's in shape, maybe, but that was all. She remembered however, how she had spent days just looking at little Henry, finding in his face both traces of both his mother and his father with a heart so overflowing with joy.
"She is a perfect little princess," she agreed once more. "How are you, Nan? Are you feeling fine? No pain, no fever?"
Anne raised a brow. "No pain? Cat, I wonder how you gave birth to your child."
Cat laughed. "Well, the pain grows weaker with every passing day if that consoles you."
"I need no consolation as long as I have my little princess." Anne paused for a moment, then looked Cat in the eye with familiar sharpness. "I will have a son though, won't I? Henry will have his heir. I have one healthy child, I will have another."
Katherine of Aragon's image lingered in the room, Cat was certain that Anne thought of her, too. Pregnancy after pregnancy and too many little graves.
"Of course. Your mother had a child every year, didn't she?" Although only three of them had reached adulthood, Cat conceded, uncomfortably. "You are still young, you are strong and God knows, you will not give up before you have what you want."
Anne chuckled and kissed her daughter's head. "A brother for you, darling. Would you like that?"
Henry would, that much was certain.
"Have you thought about a name for her yet?" Catherine changed the topic.
"Elizabeth," Anne said with a smile, "After the king's mother and mine."
"Princess Elizabeth," Cat said. "A strong name."
"A strong name for a strong girl."
~o~
Charles
~o~
Charles was already abed when Cat came back from the queen's rooms at Greenwich Palace. The chamber was dark but for the glowing embers in the hearth.
"Are you still awake?" she asked in an audible whisper. She wanted him to be awake, apparently.
"Yes."
He heard the rustling of her gown, then she sat down on the bed next to him.
"Why don't you help me undress?" He heard the smile on her voice and was immediately awake.
"I can be your maid," he said and fumbled with the laces of her gown. She had already taken off her hood, he smelled the bathing oils on her hair. Soft as feathers. He kissed her neck and she leant back at him.
She only chuckled. Soon he had undressed her and pulled his own chemise over his head. This was the first time they lay with each other after she had given birth. He would have waited longer, as one should, but if she wanted it, he would certainly not object. She was eager, almost impatient.
He kissed her, he touched her, but she pulled him on top of her.
"Shall we light some candles?" he asked. He would like to see her. It had been so long.
"No," she said, too fast, too panicked. She doesn't want me to see her naked. Birth had changed her body, of course it had. He found her as beautiful as before. He hadn't known she was self-conscious about it. But if that was what she needed, they would do it in the dark.
"I have so missed your touch," she said, in a voice that did not sound like her own. Cat didn't say things like this. Perhaps she was trying to play a role now? "I don't want to wait." Too eager. Too...openly seductive. This wasn't like her. But he allowed her to guide him in, to wrap her legs around him and then he got carried away.
"Have you missed it, too?" she asked. "Is it as you wanted it to be?" There was thinly veiled insecurity in her voice, and fear. And then he knew what was on her mind. It was not desire that motivated her, it was fear that he would turn away from her, now that they were back at court. That he would take another woman to bed. He got angry and had half a mind of telling her what he thought of her act but then he reconsidered. She was scared of being rejected by him. Scared that he would leave her. If he stopped now, she would feel rejected. So he continued, but there was no joy in it anymore. He was disappointed and sad and he had no idea how to address the topic without humiliating her. It took ages for him to finish, long enough for her to ask him whether she should help him otherwise. When he finally lay next to her again, tried to pull her close, she refused and turned her back to him.
"It is too warm, my love," she said, but her voice was cold and sad. His heart felt heavy as he fell asleep next to her, oblivious to her silent tears.
~o~
Henry had not overcome the disappointment yet. There was a banquet for the birth of a child, though not the planned feast for the birth of an heir. A healthy child and a healthy mother were still cause for celebration after all. Henry was in a good mood, finally. There was a play, Orpheus and Eurydice. A story of two passionate lovers that did not end well. Had only Orpheus trusted his lady more, then the woman's fate could have been averted. But he had not, had allowed himself to be corrupted by Hades' shadows and Eurydice had stayed behind in the realm of the dead. Charles felt uncomfortable watching it. If only there had been someone to tell Orpheus to trust her, if only there had been someone to warn Eurydice against that Aristaeus who had caused her death. Watching this was not an altogether pleasurable expierience, he found, and Orpheus did not really deserve being with Eurydice, although it was sad for her. Charles knew full well why he preferred the comedies, with their ribald jests and simple problems.
Catherine, however, would have liked this play, he thought, but Catherine stayed with the queen. She would join them later for the ball. Charles was looking forward to it. Perhaps dancing woud relief some of the tension between them, would lighten the guilt, the anger, the disappointment he felt when he looked at her these days.
It would still be weeks before the queen could join court again. Childbirth had been difficult for her. Thankfully, that would give him time to make things right with Cat again. They would find their way back to each other, he was certain. There was no God of the Underworld meddling in their affairs after all. So lost in thought, it took him a while to notice that Henry's eyes had come to rest on a young lady, a Lady Eleanor or Elizabeth, perhaps, now that he came to think about it. She was pretty, he admitted, and quite different from the queen in looks. Henry had never looked at another woman while Anne had been in confinement, when the babe in her belly could have been a boy. But the king was not at all over the disappointment, it seemed. Perhaps this was his way of paying back what he perceived as cheating or perhaps it was only his need. Either way, Cat would be furious. And rightly so, Charles admitted. The queen had risked her life for that child, and a strong, living child was more than Katherine had born him in the last ten years. He felt the king's slight against the queen strongly and was surprised about the sympathy he felt for Anne Boleyn.
Henry's gaze was still set on the fair lady. "She is a beauty, isn't she, Charles?"
Charles nodded briskly.
"It's been too long. Tell me, is there someone that caught your eye?"
"Only Cat."
Henry chuckled. "You have changed, Charles. With the duchess just out of confinement, you must be looking for a distraction."
"I don't. I would much rather wait for the main course than still my hunger with starters." It was a rather tasteless metaphor, though the king laughed at the comparison.
"In olden days, you would have taken both, gladly, and still be hungry for desert."
His cheeks burned with shame. Thankfully, Cat heard nothing of this.
"It's not the olden days anymore and Catherine is different from her predecessors."
Henry sighed. "That she is beyond doubt. As is Anne. Yet, whenever I think of her, Charles, I think of the promise she broke and of the girl in the cradle."
"A healthy girl," Charles said, though it sounded forced.
"When did you start liking her, Charles? As far as I recall, you detested her."
"I have warmed up to Her Majesty."
"And it seems I have cooled off." Henry shrugged. "That is the way of things sometimes."
Sometimes, very rarely, Charles felt an intense dislike for his king.
~o~
Catherine
~o~
It was her first time back at court, truly at court. The ball was a tiresome affair, lacking luster without Anne. Ever since their night as husband and wife, Charles behaved somewhat odd. He had been disappointed by their encounter, by the change of her body, although she had done her best to entice him. She had scarcely touched her food since then and soon felt that the maids had been able to lace her gowns tighter again. Soon she would have regained her old figure. It still hurt between her legs but that would heal soon, too. And then, all would be as it once was. The thought, however, did not bring her joy.
The king was bored, she saw. He was dancing with one of Anne's cousins, an uncomely girl that Lord Rochford had cleverly put forward. Henry could hardly refuse in front of the whole court. But while he damced, Cat saw Henry's eyes linger on a pretty young maid of honour that danced with swaying hips and a wide smile. She was a Luke, Eleanor, Cat recalled, only at court since Anne's coronation, a nobody...For now at least.
Anne wasn't granted any rest, it seemed.
Charles next to her had seen it, too. He busied himself with his plate, careful not to look at her.
Suddenly, she grew angry. He had never liked Anne. He probably even approved. A man could stray from the marital bed without raising a single disapproving brow. Some, usually men, even said it was a man's right to take his pleasure. How long would it take Charles to follow his friend's example, now that he found her so revolting?
She pushed back her plate. "I am not hungry. But I know men have a great appetite, so enjoy the feast."
She curtsied for the king though she could not bring herself to smile for him.
In the warm solitude of her chambers, the tears started to flow. She was so full of feelings...Her son was far away from her in the care of a stranger, her whole body ached, now her closest friend's husband was beginning to fall back into old patterns, something that would hurt Anne like a knife in the heart. And she feared her own husband would follow his friend's example, too. Things had been so much easier when she had been a girl.
A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts.
"Cat? Are you awake?" Charles stood in the doorway, uncertainty clouding his face.
"Yes."
"Are you feeling –" The "fine" died on his lips. He cleared his throat. "Cat, you know Henry. You cannot be surprised. Not truly."
Anger rose in her again and hot tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. "You mean people never change?"
Charles knew he had made a mistake and stayed silent.
"What does that tell me about you then? What have I missed when I was in childbed, fighting for my life and the life of our child? Have you enjoyed the days with a strapping young wench from the village? Has a kitchen maid pleased your wandering eye? If people do not not change, then why have I married you?"
His jaw clenched. "You are not yourself these days."
"My body made a human, of course I am not myself. Do you think that I don't notice how you look at my stomach, wondering whether it will ever look as it did before? Do you think I do not notice how long it took you to finish that night, that my body cannot please you anymore? I gave birth to a son, I did everything you wanted and this is what I get? How long until I will be discarded like the old queen was, like Mary Tudor was?" Hot rage coiled in her stomach. All the fear, the humiliation, it burned inside her.
Charles was silent and in the muted light of the chandelier, it took Cat a moment to realise he was crying.
"Catherine," he said, his voice hoarse. He turned to hide his face, used the heel of his hand to wipe away the tears awkwardly.
The rage died down, the burning fire left cold ashes. Regret and shame and pity mingled with a defiant voice that insisted her rage had been justified.
"Charles."
He looked at her, his eyes rimmed red. Then he bit his lip, inhaled deeply and walked over to her. He knelt down in front of her, his hand on the mattress, close to hers but not touching it.
Cat could see the wet traces of his tears on his cheeks and the little droplet of blood that welled up on his lower lip. She brushed it away with her thumb on instinct, then withdrew her hand quickly, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious with this man that knew her so well. Charles caught her hand midway and held it, pressed it to his lips and kissed her fingers, then clutched it to his chest.
"I love you. I love you more than the king, more than anything. I understand your anger. I cannot phrase my thoughts as well as you. Yes, most people cannot change but I have. For you. You are the reason for almost everything I do, Catherine. I am a simple man, thank God, and I have very simple feelings. Yes, your body has changed but you are wrong if you think I do not desire you any longer. You are beautiful. Yes, I am scared to hurt you but you insisted on...Well, I would have been happy to just hold you for now. It feels different but it is as good as it always was. I had three children before our Henry but with none of them I experienced this part. I do not know how to behave, this is new for me, too. I just want to do the right thing. Because I love you." He laughed, but it was bitter. "Because I didn't want to hurt you."
It was needless to say that halfway through Charles' little speech the dam had broken and flooded Cat's cheeks with hot streams of tears.
She sometimes wondered where she stored all that water, there had to be a lake behind her eyes.
"Alright," she managed to say, finally, and Charles laughed. It was still a little shaky but definitely a laugh.
"And I always considered you the eloquent one."
He did not kiss her, just caressed her cheek, and she was grateful for it. It was as if her heart was sore and she needed this distance between them for a little while to heal. From what she did not even know. Just that she had definitely never felt like this before.
"I want to be closer to him. Henry. Harry." That was what she had called him in her head all along, Harry Brandon.
"Harry. I like that." Charles nodded. "But how can we be closer to him? We can't bring him here."
Everyone knew that the London air was bad for a child.
"Then we must go to him. I have to, at least. I need to see him, I need to know he is well." And she suddenly knew why she was so sad all the time.
"It is not what is usually done. And with the Queen just…" he trailed off when he saw her face. "As you wish. We will depart as soon as possible."
~o~
"You can't leave," Anne declared. "I need you." She was looking much healthier. In about a fortnight, she would return to court, though her star had sunk a little already. Anne did need her for what was to come, she knew. But she would be back then. And before this war at court, before resuming her position as Anne's soldier, as Anne's first general, she wanted only a few days of peace, of absolute harmony. Perhaps she could mend the rift with Charles, too.
"I will be back the day before your return to court. We will discuss which gown you are to wear, my queen, and whom you will favour with a smile, whom you will favour with a dance, and how you will treat those that displease you."
"They're all full of glee that she's a girl. They're rejoicing. They've been waiting for me to stumble –"
"Allow me to stop you right there, Your Majesty," Cat said. "You have not stumbled. You have given birth to a very healthy princess, a girl that looks much like Henry, a girl that will take England by storm, no doubt, with you as her mother. Yes, they might sneer and laugh but never forget you have what it takes."
"The king's love?" Anne said, "Because I am no longer certain –"
"You have a backbone of steel, a mind like Machiavelli and a courtier's flexibity. You will persevere. The Queen has foreseen that so long ago when she gave you the role in that pageant. And you will."
"I am the Queen now." Anne said, referring to Cat's mention of Katherine.
Cat raised a brow. "And it is exactly that kind of eagle-eyed observation that I'm talking about."
For the first time this evening, Anne smiled, though weakly.
"What if he turns to other women? He has done so before."
Cat thought about Lady Eleanor Luke.
"Then you'll turn a blind eye –"
Anne started objecting but Cat put a hand on her arm.
"Whatever you do, Nan, don't risk Elizabeth's fate. Not for your pride, not even for your love. It is not worth it. Katherine turned a blind eye during all those years and he always returned to her in the end."
"No." Anne said, as if Cat was a fool, "He evidently didn't."
"Forgive me, but I think the chance of a second Anne Boleyn is slight enough to let it slip. You know that no other woman could have done what you did."
Slowly, Anne nodded. "I don't know whether I can do it. What she did."
It was only a small moment, but they both thought of the old queen with admiration, reluctant admiration, actually, on Anne's part, and quite a bit of guilt.
"Well, you're as good as her, aren't you? You will learn as quickly as you learn everything."
"I will do my best. For my daughter."
Cat smiled. "We all will."
"Go to your boy then," Anne said and banned almost all the bitterness from her voice as she spoke about Cat's son. "But return to me soon."
"As my queen commands."
I took some minor liberties with the Greek story of Orpheus and Eurydice, so that it fits in better context-wise.
I also adopted Henry's first mistress after Elizabeth's birth from the TV show, not history. Chapuys mentions a nameless lady the king turns to, though that is not yet Madge or Mary Sheldon, so that's Lady Eleanor Luke.
I have now decided how I will finish this story and with the plan in mind, it's much easier to write.
