AN: Hello and thanks for the reviews! I especially enjoyed the long one and want to answer two questions - first, I know about the story of Melusine, but I will not include it in this story because it doesn't fit Elizabeth's rational mind (forged by Macchiavelli) to have supernatural powers. This story is about the grim reality, so a fantastic element wouldn't fit. Still I like your suggestions! Second, I am not strongly rooting for one of Henry's queens, but her dramatic fate and unique wits always made me like Anne Boleyn. That, of course, doesn't mean that Elizabeth Tudor thinks the same way... but hey, you're going to read about that in a second, so what am I telling you? Just listen to what Elizabeth herself has to say about Anne!
SEVEN – Anne and me
I am certain you are curious to hear my opinion about Anne Boleyn, who was one of the most infamous queens of England and the woman my beloved brother was willing to do so much for. By now, it should be plain to you that I, unlike most, was no great admirer of Catherine of Aragon, but was I a friend of Anne's, then? No. Even though our lives became entangled as soon as we met, Anne and I have never been friends. We were allies at times and enemies at others, but never friends. Although I acknowledge her wits and courage, there were too many things separating us.
First, there was an age gap of almost 9 years between us. When I first met Anne in 1528, she was in her twenties, flirty and feisty, while I was nearing my fortieth birthday and had just suffered almost a year of imprisonment. Yes, it had been a comfortable imprisonment after Carlos began courting me, I admit it, but it had been vastly different from Anne's life. Harry showered her with gifts, especially after his marriage had officially been annulled and her pregnancy had begun to show. Perhaps I was also jealous at the time just like Catherine had been envious about my rounded belly – although I was happy having four living children, it hurt to realise that my child-bearing years were coming to an end. To be frank: When I first met Anne, she made me feel utterly old.
She was a very proud woman, Anne Boleyn, everyone can tell you that. But unlike others, I have to admit that Anne did have reasons to be proud. She had received an impressive education and knew how to handle men, both of which set her apart from most women at court. And she did what Catherine couldn't: She gave my brother his longed-for son. I don't remember how I felt about Edward's birth. Was I happy for Harry? Was I satisfied that my intervention against his marriage to Catherine had proved fruitful? Was I envious at the praise Anne now received? Or was I simply indifferent? I don't remember, but I assume it was the latter. At the time, there were many things on my mind, but not Anne's son.
I had come to England to attend the wedding and the birth, but had to leave all my children behind. The situation in Italy, however, was far from stable, and so I lived in constant fear for their lives', Alessandro's especially. He was his father's only son, one of few Medici men left, and still only a boy of ten. And I pitied him. As I witnessed Harry doting on his son and wife, I wished Alessandro had experienced the same. His father had been proud at his birth, granted, but he had died only two years later. What Edward would enjoy, Alessandro had never had. And I never had a husband like Harry.
Being in England made me sad. I missed my children more and envied Harry's blissful marital life with every passing day. Strangely, it was my sister-in-law who seemed to take notice. I do not think she appeased me out of kindness – that would not suit her character. No, I think she offered me comfort because she knew how much power I wielded about Harry's heart. Perhaps she even knew she had better not make me her enemy. I lacked her furious temper, but I could be cold as ice if someone was deserving of revenge. It wasn't a secret and Anne was clever. She offered to spend time with me after her churching.
That was when I realised that times had changed. Once, I had been the young and smart lady and Catherine of Aragon had been the envious old woman. Now, I had adopted that role. As this dawned upon me, a shock ran through my veins. If there was something I did never want to be it was a lamenting idealist like Catherine! So I refused Anne's offer. She, of course, was rebuffed and retreated from me. Looking back, perhaps that was what created a real rift between us, but neither of us saw the need to close that gap at the time. We were both sure that Harry cared for us. We were not like Catherine.
Yes, Anne was not like Catherine, which was plain to see for everyone. But despite the rightfulness of her marriage, many people in England still refused to accept her as queen, especially in the North. They secretly accused her of heresy and witchcraft. Anne, in turn, had a talent for making enemies. One year after her wedding, Anne had already achieved to have a formidable front of opponents form against her. And I sat by and watched.
To be honest, I had not anticipated what would happen to her. At the time, I knew her enemies could prove troublesome when the time came, and I quietly disregarded her for disobeying Niccolò's rules like keeping a low profile. But at least it seemed to me that she had understood the most important rule of all: If you want to be a powerful woman, control a powerful man. Anne controlled Harry perfectly. She had lulled him completely with her dark looks, quick tongue, and of course the birth of Edward. And one year later, she was heavily pregnant again and gave birth to a daughter. Even though it was 'just' a girl, Harry was utterly besotted with her. Anne was at the height of her power and she knew it.
She was powerful enough to show me that she, not I, ruled over Harry now. She did that by naming her daughter for me – Elizabeth. It seemed like a kind gesture, but do not be fooled. It was Anne's way of telling me that I was no longer needed, that I was a burden to her court. There was a new Princess Elizabeth Tudor for England now. Elisabetta de' Medici could return to Italy.
I did her the favour, packed my belongings, and set sail for Europe again, not only because I felt superfluous in England. Giulio had written to me with the most urgent words telling me about my daughter Vittoria's misbehaviour. He hoped that I could bring her to her senses and I could and would not disobey his wishes. Anne smiled at me generously when I asked my leave from Harry's court. At the time, she probably thought I was really doing her a favour by leaving, since she was now without competition for Harry's affections. At least, that's what I thought. We would both be proven wrong.
After my troubles with Vittoria and a short but intense time in France (both of which I will tell you about later), I returned to England in 1533. Why, you might wonder. Why did I return to a country which held nothing for me?
I came back because it occurred to me that whenever I left, things turned worse for the Tudor family. Harry's marriage had produced two living children, Edward and Elizabeth, but also two miscarriages. Anne seemed to have lost her luck. My friends at court reported that they were fighting more frequently, shouting and yelling and slamming doors. This was nothing special for Harry, of course, but very special in a royal consort. Queens were supposed to be sweet and demure, not yelling and demanding. I understood why Anne would react this way, but I also knew it would get her into more trouble than she expected.
I came back to save Anne and her marriage to Harry. But when I returned, my head filled to the brim with other problems that you will soon hear about, I found that I had come too late. The shining love in Harry's eyes had faded. He was growing annoyed of Anne as he had of Catherine and it troubled me to see it. I knew what he could have done to Catherine's daughter, my sweet niece Mary, and I feared what the marital trouble could do to Edward and Elizabeth.
Do not be mistaken: I love my brother. I always have. But I never closed my eyes from what he was capable of. Edward and Elizabeth, unlike Mary, had no powerful royal family on their mother's side, and could easily suffer from Harry's wrath. If he wanted to rid himself of Anne – which I was sure he would do if her latest pregnancy didn't turn out well – he could not declare their marriage invalid as he did with Catherine. Well, he could, but it would cost him his son and heir. So if he wanted Anne out of his life, he would have to resort to other means. Drastic means. I shivered knowing what could happen.
Subconsciously, Anne too seemed to know what awaited her. She was no longer the feisty lady I had once met; she was pale and thin and somehow bloodless. The fights and the fear of losing Harry's love had taken their toll on her. Suddenly, she was no longer any confident. I, on the other hand, suddenly felt remorse over my distant behaviour towards her, and felt compelled to help. But what could I do? To save Catherine, I had had to charm one of the most powerful men in the world. And saving Anne could prove even more difficult. What could I do?
While I was still pondering the matter, God chose to accelerate things and force me into action. In late 1533, Anne gave birth to a stillborn son, almost dying in the process. I was with Harry while we waited and saw the anger and disappointment in his eyes. I knew Anne had been given a last chance – and failed. Then things came tumbling down on me. First, my spies informed me that the King was secretly seeing one of his wife's ladies, who was "the soft gentle breeze to Anne's raging storm", as my spy put it. Then Harry began to make excuses to send his children further away from court – probably to keep them from Anne. And then, after a few drinks, Charles Brandon confessed to me that Harry was investigating whether Anne had betrayed him with other men.
You need not be a student of Niccoló's to understand what accusations of unfaithfulness meant in a queen. Whoever planted these doubts in Harry's head wanted Anne dead, simple and plain. She had made many enemies who saw their chance to destroy her now, even at the cost of robbing two little children of their mother. I could not stand for that.
"How can you believe any of these slanders?" I blurted out once the groom had admitted me to Harry's chamber.
My brother looked at me puzzled. "What do you speak about and why do you speak in such a manner?"
"The accusations against your wife – how can you even investigate them? They are absurd!"
"Who told you about that?" Harry frowned. "Elizabeth… this is very serious. You must understand that I cannot let it pass unnoticed."
"But you love her. You've written me letter after letter praising her beauty and wits and professing your love for her. And suddenly someone slanders her name and you're willing to send her to the block?"
Harry's face distorted with pain. He turned away, visibly touched, but when he turned around, anger and despair had mixed into his eyes. "Rumour has it that she has been cuckolding me with more than a hundred men! Can you believe it? A hundred fucking men…"
"That is not true. Harry, that is not true! I need not even give you arguments for why this is not true. Whoever told you about it is mistaken," I told him harshly, but then his painful face touched my heart and forced me to embrace him. "Please do not believe it. Think of what it would do to your children. Don't believe it."
"It hurts so much, Elizabeth. I have loved her so. How could she ever do this to me?"
I hushed and comforted him tightly, secretly hoping no one would see us in such a firm embrace. His tears and sadness were a sign that not all hope was lost, that he still felt something for Anne, but I could also sense that he was not willing to continue the marriage. Even if he trusted my words and dropped the charges, Anne's days were numbered. I had to act quickly.
"Madam, allow me to put a matter before you," I began a conversation that felt like a very odd déjà-vu. I would tell Anne almost exactly what I had told Catherine, only this time I thought I was wiser and in a better position to be convincing.
Anne nodded. Her once so shining eyes were now hollows of darkness. "Of course, Your Highness."
"Thank you. Please allow me to be plain… I shall now speak to you in a manner that reminds me of what I told Catherine of Aragon about ten years ago. Only I hope that you are smarter than your predecessor and can see the sense and kindness in my words."
"Speak your mind, if you must," Anne returned.
"Your marriage to the King is crumbling away. He no longer loves you as he once did, just as it was with Catherine. Perhaps he is not capable of loving anyone for long… who knows. But I know that you must find a way out of your marriage or else he will, the result of which would not be favourable for you or your children."
I vividly remembered Catherine's stern response, telling me that Harry loved her and her daughter no matter what, so I was surprised that after a while, Anne replied: "I know."
"I was confident that you would be sensible. So, for the love of God, you must out of this marriage. If I may be so bold, I would suggest that you offer the King a divorce citing your inability to give him more children. I would see to it that the Pope gave his blessing for the affair and that all would be legal. Harry would surely give you lands and titles, perhaps even more than he gave Catherine, and your children would remain legitimate heirs to the crown."
"But I would be Queen no longer," Anne added bitterly. "I would be abandoned. I would have lost. Just like her."
Her words were dripping with hurt pride, a feeling that I could understand all too well. We Tudors were a proud lot, so in a way, Anne had fitted in nicely. I understood how much I was asking of her, but I also saw what the alternative would be. Maybe, I figured, Anne had to see it, too.
"There are rumours at court, Madam, rumours that you have been unfaithful to the King."
"No!" Anne yelped in shock. "Never."
"You need not tell me, I know you would never be so careless, even if you no longer loved my brother. But others spread these rumours to bring you down and Harry almost believed them. Trust me, it took me some effort to convince him otherwise, but plots like these will be hatching like ducklings. It won't be long before one of them succeeds and I am sure I need not point out the consequences to you."
Biting her cracked lip, Anne nodded. She was certainly more pragmatic than Catherine. And better at slander and dissention, obviously, for after a moment she asked: "Why would you do that for me?"
"I am not," I replied, but after realising my voice had sounded very harsh, I continued: "I am doing it for my niece and nephew. Some vile creatures would stop at nothing to bring you down, even if that meant Edward and Elizabeth would lose their mother. They have my blood and my love, and as a mother I cannot bear the thought of it."
"Yes, my children…"
"Think of them when you consider my words, Majesty," I urged her. "Think of what could happen to them. Ask yourself what you love most in this world and what you must do to protect it. Nothing else matters at the end of the day."
I left her alone then, returning to my chambers and going on my knees to pray. And I prayed, prayed as fervently as I have rarely ever prayed, begging God to make Anne see sense and save herself. If she went down, she would take her children with her, and not only that: England would lose one of the few interesting women it had to offer. I might not have been Anne's friend, but I acknowledged her talents. And I admired her strength, for she truly swallowed her pride to save her life and her children's happiness and followed my suggestion.
In 1534, the Pope agreed to Harry's divorce from Anne. She was created Marquess of Pembroke in her own right and received many riches, but lost the world of court that she had been so devoted to. Yet, ultimately, she kept her life and her children, and I think that she later realised she had made the right choice. Looking back, she got away quite nicely compared to others who had fallen for Harry. For her, the choice was good. For England, it was bad, even though most people at the time considered her departure a welcome change. As always, I thought I knew better. I thought that Harry's new wife was not the angel-like creature everyone liked to portray her as. Jane… but that is a matter for another time because first, I shall have to tell you about my daughter's plight back in Italy, and the most dangerous love affair I have ever had.
