When Anne finally told the King about her pregnancy, he was overjoyed. He immediately sent to his jeweler and his goldsmith to have some extravagant gifts made for her. He told her that anything she wanted, anything at all, was hers as soon as she said the word. Anne told him that she would like to send to Spain for a Moorish physician and a Moorish midwife. She had heard that they were very learned doctors and scholars. Henry agreed, and Anne set about writing the letter herself. "How very extravagant you've become, my dear", Thomas Boleyn laughed, when Anne told him the news during a private dinner she had in her rooms, in celebration of the good news. "Nonsense my Lord!", smiled Anne's mother. "Anne is a Howard girl. Extravagance is in her blood". She took a dainty sip from her goblet and twinkled at her daughter. Thomas chuckled. "Yes well, I should like to think that her determination and grit come from her Boleyn blood!". Anne regarded her parents thoughtfully, hiding her thoughts behind a courtier's smile.
Years ago, her mother's comment would have made her father scowl, irritating his sensitive pride. Anne's mother had been born Elizabeth Howard, the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. Her father on the other hand, had been born the son of a mere knight. Mary had told Anne years ago that when she was nine years old, their parents had had a row. Their aunt, Princess Anne of York, had taken Mary aside and explained that their mother had not wanted to marry their father, because she felt he had been beneath her. In hindsight, it must have been ironic to Princess Anne, that a mere daughter of a Duke felt humbled by her marriage when she had seen her own sisters, Royal Princesses, married to virtual nobodies. Anne could remember her father always feeling the need to remind everyone that his mother, Margaret Butler, had been the daughter of the 7th Earl of Ormond. Of course, that had only made him even more irritable, as his noble connections were only Irish, and only through the female line.
When Anne was a girl, no more than six years old, she had been sent to the court of Margaret of Austria. She recalled that when introducing himself, her father had often cited that he was the grandson of the Earl of Ormond on his mother's side, and the grandson of the Lord Mayor of London on his father's side. He never liked being in the shadow of women, yet he seemed to spend his life in it. First his mother being the heiress to an earldom, then his wife being the daughter of a Duke, and now his daughter was Queen of England. Yet, her father had made a name for himself through his diplomatic prowess. And he had been made a Viscount, an Earl, and finally, he had been made a Duke- the equal of his wife's father; the equal of his brother-in-law, the current Duke of Norfolk. Sometimes Anne thought that might have been all he ever wanted. He was certainly more relaxed than she could ever recall him being. Indeed, he could now genuinely laugh at his wife's gentle teasing, instead of biting back bile and making gritted teeth look like a smile.
"I'm sure I have inherited the best of the Boleyns and the Howards", said Anne deftly. "Pray God you're carrying a son that inherits the best of the Boleyns, Howards, as well as the Tudors", said Thomas Boleyn, holding up his goblet in a toast. "Amen", said her mother brightly, holding her goblet up as well. "Here's to an easy birth, and a new Prince in the cradle of England". Anne smiled and held up her goblet before taking a sip. Before she could even stop herself, recollections of how silent and cold her parents had been towards her just last year, when she miscarried a child and the King turned his favor from her, filled her mind and threatened to overwhelm her with resentment. She kept her smile steady, and took a sip from her goblet, hoping the sweetness of her wine would wash the bitterness away.
The Moorish physician and midwives Anne had sent for had arrived in England within a month. Anne was amazed at their advice as it was so different from what English midwives and physicians would prescribe. They informed her that she should not drink ale or strong wine as it could damage the babe. In fact, they told her she should have boiled water and watered-down wine if she must have it at all. They told her that she should eat fresh fruits, which was quite outlandish, but she complied nevertheless. They also told her that she should remain active until the time drew nearer and so every day, Anne went out for brisk walks in the gardens, no matter the weather. To her surprise, she felt more invigorated than she had in her previous pregnancies. She continued to do archery, play at bowls, and at times, she and the King would go out for short, gentle rides.
Towards the end of August, Anne requested that the court go to visit Princess Elizabeth to celebrate her birthday, which would be on the 7th of September. The King of course could deny her nothing, and he too was eager to see their little Princess. Anne also wrote a letter to Princess Mary saying that she and the King and naturally, Princess Elizabeth would be delighted if she would come to Hatfield as well. The chosen courtiers, the King, the Queen, and Princess Mary spent a merry week at Hatfield celebrating Elizabeth's fourth birthday. Anne could hardly believe that her daughter had grown so much. Already she was tall for her age, and especially intelligent. Princess Elizabeth paraded around in the beautiful gowns Anne had bought for her and danced with elegance and precision. She played a song for everyone on the virginals and sung in a pretty, surprisingly powerful voice. It was a Welsh song that one of her maids had taught her. Yes, her daughter was learning Welsh! According to her tutors, she was quite gifted in language. Already her French was nearing perfect fluency, and she had begun basic Latin, and now Welsh, courtesy of one Blanche Parry- the maid who had taught her the song.
Anne decided that she too could improve upon her own languages. Her French was perfect of course, having spent a good portion of her young life at the French court, but she could certainly improve upon her Latin. She could learn Welsh too and perhaps Italian and Spanish. Maybe she would even learn German! Why should she not? Now that she was no longer fighting to remain on the throne, she could enjoy being Queen. She could focus on learning rather than scheming. Anne made a mental note that once she was churched, she would find a language tutor for herself. For now, it was a joy to watch her daughter's sparkling courtly skills. Her joyful feelings were slightly dampened, because she knew that in the coming days, Lady Bryan would be breaking some news that might be hard for Elizabeth to take. Margaret Bryan had been Elizabeth's governess since she was born, but she would soon be reassigned to Prince Edward. Anne's distant relation, Katherine Champernowne would take over Lady Bryan's duties. The King had commanded it from the start, but Anne had requested that they wait until Elizabeth was at least four. Thankfully, she would not have to broach the subject with her beloved little daughter herself.
The court returned to Whitehall, the palace which had once been York Place, but had been renamed after the death of its one-time owner who fell from grace, Cardinal Wolsey. Henry had given it to Anne, which had been gratifying beyond belief. Once upon a time, Cardinal Wolsey and the King had been almost synonymous; all those years ago when he had essentially had the power of the King. It was Wolsey who ruled while Henry pursued his pleasures. It was Wolsey who had thwarted Anne's betrothal to Henry Percy, son of the Earl of Northumberland. The two of them had been so in love, and Anne's future had been so unclear at the time, what with her betrothal to James Butler, Earl of Ormond being unsettled for years. She had decided to forge her own destiny and marry Henry Percy in secret. When word got to the Cardinal that they were betrothed, he had given Percy a sound lecture and so had his father. They put an end to it. Percy was married off to his original betrothed, the Talbot girl. Anne was sent to her family's country estate at Hever in exile as punishment. It had been so gratifying to see the Cardinal fall from the King's favor. And when he was charged with treason, it gave her a dark pleasure to have Henry Percy- as he was by that time a peer of the realm- sent to apprehend him, arrest warrant in hand.
It was too bad Wolsey had died on the road to London before he could face true justice. But Henry Percy too was dead now. He had died of failing health earlier in June. As the only man Anne had ever loved, it was a blow to her, especially so shortly after the happy news of her pregnancy. But he had been unhappy in his loveless marriage, and his wife by all counts was a greater shrew than Anne ever could have aspired to be. God willing, he is at peace now, Anne thought. Whitehall was where the Christmas feast would be held that year, not that Anne would get to enjoy it. She would be in confinement by then, awaiting the birth of her child. Brooding on such unhappy thoughts had made Anne weary and so she had decided to enter confinement a little early. She sent word to Princess Mary to ask if she would attend her again. Princess Mary had written back to say that regrettably, she was in poor health, but that she would come as soon as she was recovered. Anne did not know what to make of that. Mary was often in ill health and she knew that she suffered great pains during her time of the month, but it still made her uneasy. She knew that Mary had formed a sort of affection for her, although she knew that it was strained and tainted with a barrage of several other more negative feelings. But she had worked tirelessly for almost a year to endear herself to Mary, and thus gain the support of Mary's supporters. Perhaps it was the habit of constant vigilance of conspiracy that made Mary's actions seem suspicious.
In any case, Anne was happy to have her daughter Elizabeth with her. Elizabeth was not expected to court until the time of the Christmas feast. However, the little Princess had written a few weeks before Anne's confinement to ask if she could come to attend her for her lying in. It warmed Anne's heart. It was not traditional to have a child come into confinement, but she ordered it so. The King allowed her to do as she would these days. Elizabeth would simply leave when Anne's labor began. "Your Majesty, shall I read to you in French? Or Latin?", Princess Elizabeth asked as Anne lay in her daybed. She smiled. "Latin if you please". Elizabeth looked sheepish. "As you wish Madam. But I'll tell you now that I still stumble over may words in Latin". "That's quite alright", said Anne indulgently. Nothing gave her greater pleasure than spending time with her children. She had visited the Prince at Eltham Palace without the court throughout the entire year. She loved to kiss his nose and tickle his feet. She loved the way he would doze in her arms when she sang to him. In a few days, she would have yet another child to love.
Two days later, on December 31st of 1537, Anne's pains began. Once again, she was caught off guard by the sharp severity of the aches in her lower regions. She felt like she would snap in two. Princess Elizabeth had been whisked from the room the moment Anne had cried out the first time. Elizabeth had frozen in fear and looked up at her aunt Mary. "There now, Princess", said Mary soothingly. "Everything is alright. This is what it is to give birth. Her Majesty your mother will be fine". Elizabeth had looked skeptical. Mary gave a small, carefree giggle. "Certainly, your mother had greater pains when she was in labor with Your Highness". "Did she?", asked Elizabeth, startled. "Oh yes", said Mary. "Her cries were far louder than these".
"Then I am sorry to have caused Her Majesty so much pain. I did not realize that having a baby was like this". Mary dared not mention that many women died in childbed. "It is. Your mother will be fine. Now, why don't you go to Mistress Champernowne? Would you like her to take you to the King so you can tell him?". Elizabeth was intrigued. "What shall I tell him?". "You can tell him that Her Majesty has gone into labor. Can you do that?". Elizabeth nodded. "Are you sure?", Mary asked. "It is a very grown up responsibility". Elizabeth put her chin up and stood tall. "Of course, Lady Aunt. I will tell His Majesty that the Queen has gone into labor". Mary nodded. "The King will be very happy to hear the news. He may even give you a gift". Elizabeth was delighted. "I shall have Mistress Champernowne bring me at once then". "That would be best. His Majesty would like to be the first to know, other than the ladies attending the Queen". Elizabeth dropped a small, graceful curtsey and exited the room. Mary smiled at her precocious little niece, and then turned back to the chaos of the birthing chamber.
The whole process was nowhere near as long as Anne's previous labors. After just three hours, the midwives were telling Anne to push. Several minutes later there was a loud cry, and the familiar slump into dazed consciousness. The head midwife twitched up the white linen sheets the baby had been caught up in. "It is a boy, Your Grace!", she exclaimed. "Another lusty son!". "God be praised!", exclaimed Anne's mother excitedly. "This is wonderful, my dear! The King will be so pleased!". Anne felt the smile spread over her lips. Another boy. She was now invincible, just as George had said. Without missing a beat, Elizabeth Boleyn produced a silver backed brush and began to dress her daughter's hair. It would not do to have the King see her in a state of disarray. Anne beckoned to her sister-in-law. "Jane, go and find George. You can tell the King together". Jane looked disappointed that she could not go alone, but she knew it was for the best. It was George who needed to be before the King, for it was George who could be given a new title. "At once, Your Grace". Jane curtsied and flitted from the room. "I'll go and bring the birthing ale, Your Majesty", said Margaret Douglas, newly returned to court after her disgrace the year before. Anne nodded, sighed, and lay back in her bed as the midwives set about cleaning the new baby Prince. "Tired, Your Grace?", asked Catherine Brandon cheerily. "Exhausted beyond comprehension", Anne replied. Catherine laughed. "At least it was a short labor this time. And another boy! What a blessing you are to England, Your Majesty!".
Several minutes later, the King came bursting into Anne's confinement chamber, saying much the same as the Duchess of Suffolk had. "Oh my love! You are such a blessing unto me and unto England!". Anne inclined her head and smiled. She was quite fatigued. "I am always happy to serve my King and my country", she intoned sweetly. "Especially in labors of love". "You will be so pleased, Anne", said the King, sounding like an excited boy. "The portrait we sat for last year has been completed. And I will have it hang in the gallery in this palace". This did please her. The portrait was going to include the images of Henry's parents, King Henry VII and Queen Elizabeth Plantagenet. That painting would solidify Anne's place as Queen of England to the world. If the foreign monarchs didn't know before, they would surely know when their ambassadors viewed the portrait in the gallery and sent their reports back. "I am also going to put a regency plan to Parliament", Henry continued. Anne was shocked. "Sire?". He waved his hands dismissively, knowing her concerns. "Now Nan, do not fret. I am not unwell". He paused, thinking of the terrible wound on his leg that never healed and how it was slowly poisoning him unto death. "I am as well as I can be". Anne nodded at his discreet correction.
"It is merely a matter of state", Henry went on. "I assure you I do not intend to leave this world for many years". "I am relieved that Your Majesty does not believe your work on earth is done, simply because we now have two Princes". Henry barked a hearty laugh. "Barely delivered of a child and still retains wit as quick as a whip", he chuckled. "But quite right sweetheart. I am not absolved of the duties of kingship, and I hope not to leave this world until after my sons are of age, as my father left me". Anne smiled at him as he took her hands. "However, I think you will be pleased to hear that I have named you as Regent in our son's minority if God should call me before such a time". Anne was overwhelmed. "Your Grace, this is a great honor for me. I am pleased that you put your faith in me. I would carry out my responsibilities as well as I was able, but I hope that I will not have to, and that God spares you to us all". "I know you would sweetheart", said Henry. "Now! I would like to see my son!". Anne had let the wet nurse suckle the baby for once. She had been too tired to argue with her mother about the impropriety of a Lady and Queen suckling her own child this time.
The wet nurse brought the sniffling little bundle over. Henry peered down at the baby as she handed him over. "Why Nan! The boy is the spitting image of you!". Anne beamed. "I thought so myself when I saw him. Shall we call him Henry, my Lord?". Henry waved his hand. "How can we, when he is all of you and none of me!", he joked. "Why don't we call him…Richard? He looks like a Richard, I think. Dark and debonair. He will be a little heartbreaker like his Uncle George!". Jane, who had been sitting at a discrete distance stiffened at the mention of her husband's well-known infidelities. "Richard then", Anne agreed. Henry cradled the little bundle closer to him. "Prince Richard, Duke of York". Upon hearing that name, Anne froze. Prince Richard, Duke of York sounded so familiar.
Within moments Anne was filled with a sudden dread. The last Prince Richard, Duke of York had been the younger brother of Henry's mother, Queen Elizabeth. He had gone into the Tower on the order of his usurping uncle, Richard III, Duke of Gloucester, and he had not come back out again. Then to her even greater horror, she realized her older son was also another Prince Edward, just like Queen Elizabeth's other brother. He had been born to be King, but he too had been ordered to the Tower by Richard III. These two boys were the Princes lost in the Tower, who disappeared without a trace, whose bodies were never found. And now, she and Henry had named their two sons after them. Anne did not believe in such superstitions, but it did seem ominous. She could not shake the cold tingling in her spine now. Was it to tempt fate? She tried her best to smile up at the King. "Prince Richard, Duke of York". Then she frowned. In the background she could just glimpse her sister-in-law Jane looking at her disconcertingly.