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Summer 1527

It was with great honour and delight that Prince Henry accepted the invitation from his brother to dine with the King and the Queen in their private apartments. But being the ever doting husband, he was insistent that his invitation was extend to include his wife and Arthur was only too happy to accommodate to his needs. Katherine, on the other hand, was less than thrilled with the prospect of having to endure a whole evening with that poisonous witch whom she was forced to call her sister-in-law.

The time for supper had come upon them and both Arthur and Katherine waited patiently for their guests to arrive. Henry always did like to be fashionably late, Arthur thought, and God only knew what Anne's preening habits consisted of when she was preparing herself for such an event.

A good forty minutes later than what was agreed, Henry and Anne walked in, her hand floating gently over his as though she were too noble to let another person touch her. Henry gave a quick bow at the head to his brother, whilst Anne fell into a deep and graceful curtsey at his feet. Katherine could not help but roll her eyes at this overdramatic gesture and it was not the first time in her life that she began to regard the girl as a brown noser. But Arthur, ever the chivalric knight, quickly raised her to her feet and reminded her, for what felt like the fiftieth time, that such things were not required from her in private. She was his dear friend and as good as his sister. Anne merely nodded her head at him and thanked him for such courtesy.

But because of this low level of formalities between the King and his sister-in-law, Anne had decided to use this courtesy to her own advantage. Whilst custom would have required her to have also curtseyed to the Queen, Anne decided that she would not oblige the woman with such respect. It was no secret that the Queen disliked Anne Boleyn, or indeed any Boleyn or Howard at court. It had not gone unnoticed that the Queen only spoke to Anne when it was absolutely necessary. And when Katherine did oblige her with conversation, she spoke to her in a cold, forced manner that failed to disguise the utter contempt she harboured for the girl. She had also reserved her frostiest of looks especially for her.

But none of this bother Anne in the slighted. She had put up with worst and was brought up to be thick skinned and stone hearted. Her father had told her many times that people would hate her by association, for both sides of her family were rich and powerful and this would subsequently earn her their disdain. Her mother had warned her that women would envy her because she was bold and beautiful, and so they would hate her because it would be she who would have men flock around her, and not them. And her brother told her that many men would feel threatened by her because she had all the charm of a lady but the mind and ambitions of a man. A deadly combination.

But as long as Henry still loved her, that was all that she needed in the world. And she could certainly play the Queen at her own game.

She whisked past Katherine without so much as a glance at her, and lowered herself gracefully into the chair at the right hand side of the King. This chair was usually reserved for Henry but Henry did not seem to mind and merely plonked himself into the chair opposite her. Arthur took his rightful seat at the head of the table, and Anne immediately set about conversing with him as though they were old childhood friends.

"I must compliment you on your dress, sister. It becomes you very well" Arthur announced and Anne feigned a coy smile as she looked down bashfully at her gown and replied.

"What? This old thing?"

This gown was red, much like the others, for it seemed the young Duchess had a penchant for the colour.

Scarlett, crimson, burgundy, vermillion, maroon.

She loved them all and the colours seemed to emphasise her passionate and fiery personality. The neckline of the gown was outrageously low cut and the corset was so tight it appeared to be in danger of bursting open at any moment. She had purposely had it laced up so tight so that it would accentuate her chest, for as Henry often teased her, she had very small duckies indeed. The suggestiveness of the gown did not surprise Katherine in the slightest, for she knew that Anne was a lover of French fashion and the French were so very immodest. The bodice was adorn in gold embroidery and bejewelled with a dozen little rubies, no bigger than the size of a pea. The rubies caught and reflected the light in the room making them appear like hot embers, and this, along with the swirling pattern of the embroidery upon the bodice, made Anne's dress appear as though she were on fire.

Katherine thought to herself that she looked no better than a painted whore, but it seemed to be having the desired effect upon the men in the room who could not keep their eyes off the young slut. And Katherine also observed how Anne continued to wear her hair loose and uncovered, despite now being married. Perhaps she would teach her a lesson and send her a gable hood as a gift. She knew that she would not be able to reject the present and would be required to wear it at least once as a sign of good will. She couldn't help but emit a little chuckleas she imagined the girl trudging about the palace in a gabled hood with a sour look upon her face.

Arthur had raised an eyebrow at response to his wife's little titter as the servants proceeded to serve dinner, bringing in plate after silver plate of delicious meats and vegetables. Katherine merely brushed the amusing image into the back of her mind and returned his gaze with a loving smile as picked up a silver fork from off the table. She was famished and couldn't wait to eat.

An hour later, and supper was done with. The quartet were now lounging about in their chairs, stuffed to high heaven upon rich and delicious food that had gone down a treat. They were deep in conversation now, at least Anne was. She was boasting about her time in France, how she was an expert on French culture and further flattering the King by naming the many ways in which the English court was superior than the French one. Katherine, in the mean time, sat silently as she listened keenly to all that was being said around her.

She was waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

And the opportunity rose when Anne began to brag about translating biblical passages from Latin into English for a past time.

She had her now!

"Not that I have much spare time any more. The life of a Duchess is quite busy, don't you know" Anne stated in a rather important manner, much to the amusement of Henry and Arthur.

"So Lady Anne, I hear you are of Lutheran sympathies?" Katherine inquired, finally opening her mouth for the first time since dinner.

"I would not say Lutheran, Madam. But I do agree that the church has lost it's way and turned into a financial establishment rather than a spiritual haven" was Anne's deliberated reply. She had to be careful of what she said for she knew well enough that all walls have ears and her enemies would gladly enjoy taking her words out of context.

"Financial establishment? Whatever do you mean?" Katherine could not help but chuckle at this expression. The girl was obviously clueless on matters of an ecclesiastical nature. She might have read many books on theology and philosophy, but it appeared she did not understand their meaning. Katherine couldn't wait to be able to show her up for the ignoramus that she really was.

"You mean to say, your Majesty, that you do not believe there is corruption in our churches?" Anne challenged in her usual condescending manner, deciding to rise to the challenge that Katherine was setting up for her. She was an eloquent speaker and a master debater, just as her father had raised her to be. She could argue just as well as any lawyer and she fancied her chances at outsmarting a Queen. She continued,

"Where priests sell indulgences to the highest bidder and get fat from the profits? Where nuns and monks openly break their vows of chastity and flaunt their bastards in front of their parishoners?" she was about to list a dozen more discrepancies that were running rife in the church and diseasing the word of God, but Katherine cut her off rather sharply.

"For every bad clergyman there are a ten good ones" she contended in a rather blunt tone. Anne couldn't help but smirk at the Queen. She knew she was hitting a nerve.

"I do not doubt that there are good, honest people in the church whose sole reason for joining the cloth was because of pure love for our Lord, God. But unfortunately, as is usually the case, the truly pure at heart are often the ones who are not well educated. And then it becomes an endless cycle of the ignorant teaching the ignorant. If the bible were in English, the common people could read the bible themselves and have a better understanding of what the priests preach. Why must mass be read in Latin when only a privileged few can understand such an ancient language?"

"That smacks of heresy, my lady" Katherine coldly warned her as she reached out for her shimmering goblet of gold and brought it up to her lips. She hoped that the cool, refreshing liquid of the wine might help to cool her own temper, which was fast getting the better of her because of this impertinent girl.

"I will have no talk of heresy here" the almost fading presence of Arthur chimed in, aiming his words at both ladies although he was looking at his wife as he spoke. He shot her a dangerous look, a look that Katherine deeply resented. Her pride now wounded, she somewhat retreated into herself and busied herself by taking several sips from her goblet.

Arthur then turned his attention towards Henry and Anne, and his hard features softened considerably at the sight of them.

"I believe you are right, Lady Anne. It is up to us to enlighten the masses and ensure that the churches are being governed in a befitting manner. You have given me a lot to think about, and I thank you for your honesty and passion" he smiled warmly at her.

"It is I who is thankful, Majesty" she gushed with false gratitude as she shot her rival a victorious smirk.

You do not argue with a Boleyn and win. It is impossible.

"Who does she think she is?" Anne fumed as she paced back and forth in their bedchamber whilst Henry was unclasping the buttons of his doublet.

"The Queen of England?" he questioned in a humourous manner in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere but Anne was in no mood for jokes and spun around on her heel, casting him a poisonous look. Her usually sparkling sapphire eyes, that she used so freely to enchant and seduce, had lost all of their appeal now and Henry could feel the chill from her icy stare.

Luckily for him she was too worked up about Katherine to pay attention to his own faults and soon she was pacing about the apartment again, mumbling and grumbling under her breath.

"And she dares to call me a heretic? She who lived in a Moorish palace and consorted with Moorish servants. I bet she dallied with a few heathens in her time" Anne couldn't help but chuckle viciously as she imagined Katherine in the arms of a blackened Moor in the gardens of the Alhambra. And the more she thought about it, the more she was determined that if Katherine should launch another scathing attack against her again in future, she would retaliate with a smear campaign and ruin her perfectly precious reputation that she held so dear to her heart.

But Henry was fast believing that the matter between the Queen and his wife was getting out of hand and decided he had to nip it in the bud before things began to spiral out of control.

"Enough! I will not have you speak in such a way about the Queen" he shouted with all the authority of a King.

The volume and tone of Henry's voice caused Anne to startle slightly. She knew that Henry was capable of an explosive temper but he had never dared raise his voice to her before. What was the matter with him anyway, she thought. Why was he so bothered about Katherine? His wife's name was Anne, not Katherine! Why should he care so much about her? And as soon as she had recovered from the shock of his harsh tone, she turned on him and gave him a piece of her mind.

"I am your wife! You are meant to stand by me, not sit idly by and let others abuse me as she did" she yelled just as fiercely as he had done towards her. She had lost all composure now and spittle was flying through the air as she gave her husband a verbal lashing that he would not forget any time soon. Her eyes were glowering. They were almost demonic.

Henry often thought to himself that there was a little bit of Devil within Anne.

"I am on no one's side" he tried to reassure her, but Anne was having none of it.

"And do not think I am ignorant as to why" she spat, "Every person in the kingdom knew you were enamoured with Katherine as a youth. There were poems and limericks about you pining after her like a dog in heat. And you love her still, don't you!" Her eyes began to glisten dangerously as they welded up with newborn tears. Her bottom lip was trembling, but whether it was out of sorrow or anger, Henry could not tell, and he didn't want to provoke his temperamental wife all the more.

"I am not having this conversation" he stated cooly, although it took all his will power to keep himself so calm. More than once he was tempted to throw his wash basin at her or overturn the table in a fit of rage, but he managed to restrain himself thanks to some carefully remembered words from his brother's councillors, More and Wolsey. "I will come back in the morning and speak to you when you are less hysterical" and with that he made his way towards the exit.

"Where are you going? Answer me! You cannot do this to me. I am your wife, you are meant to love me, to honour me. Or do you take your vows as lightly as your women?" she accused, hoping to re-engage him in an argument in an effort to make him stay.

But Henry only heard the first part of her comment, for he had left their bedchamber midway through her rant and had closed the door behind him. Anne threw herself on to the bed and buried her head into one of the plump, goose feather pillows. She couldn't believe he had walked out on her. She couldn't believe he had used such harsh words against her. And his tone was nothing short of barbaric.

Hysterical?

She?

He was deluded. And manipulative on top of that as well. She noted how he had never denied that he had been in love with Katherine as a young man. What if he was still in love with her now? Hot tears began to trickle down her cheek freely as she imagined her husband and the Queen embracing like lovers. It made her blood boil. She had hated Katherine before, but now she truly despised her.

Well, she thought, I will soon see Katherine pushed off her perch. See if I don't!

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the King's bedchamber was not much different from that of the Duke's. Katherine was sat up in her bed, waiting patiently for the right moment to confront her husband. She had already changed into her nightgown and had said her prayers twice over before Arthur had decided to grace her with his presence. And during this time, she had been quietly simmering away as she contemplated about how cruelly she had been treated at dinner. Not only had Arthur humiliated her, but it had been in front of her most despised enemy too.

Arthur undressed silently with his back towards his wife in an effort to avoid her judgemental gaze. He knew he had been overly harsh to her in his efforts to maintain the peace between two bickering women, and he was sorry that he had seemingly picked sides. But he was a proud man, and he was too stubborn to apologise for his lax in judgement and sensitivity. Yet even with his back turned towards her, he could still sense her eyes boring into the back of his head, penetrating his very soul.

"I cannot believe you let her speak so freely upon such sacred matters" Katherine finally announced, having seemingly grown impatient at how slowly her husband was taking in preparing himself for bed. Her tone was not harsh or angry, but betrayed how hurt and resentful she was feeling.

"Oh Katherine, be at ease" he sighed, having been waiting for this argument for the past couple of hours. That was why he had taken so long in retiring to bed. He had hoped that she would be asleep by the time he came into the room, but no such luck it would seem. "She is young. At that age you think you know how to solve all the world's problems. It is rather refreshing to hear such optimistic hope over cynicism and bitterness" Arthur had tried to explain, but it appeared to have fallen upon deaf ears.

"Do you love her?" she had dared to ask, although now her gaze had fallen on to her lap, as though she were scared to hear his answer.

"What?"

His reaction was one half of disbelief at such an accusation, and yet also one of humour, for he could not help but laugh a little at his wife's paranoia. What silly creatures these women are, Arthur thought to himself as he walked towards the bed in an effort to placate the woman.

"I would not be vexed if you are in with love her, only please tell me if you are for I would like to no where I stand" she insisted, rather too understanding for Arthur's comfort. And now it was Arthur's time to be outraged.

"How could you ever think I would fall in love with my brother's wife?" he inquired, in a hurt manner. But had this accusation hit home?

In all of their twenty-five years of marriage, he had only been unfaithful to her once. When she was pregnant with their middle child, Marian, he had found that he had needs that could not be fulfilled by his now heavily pregnant wife and so sought comfort in the arms of another. Her name was Anna, and she was the sister of the Duke of Buckingham. She was a beautiful lady with a face as delicate as that of a kitten's, and her flirtatious and playful nature made a welcomed change from his stiff and perfectly pious wife. But as soon as little Marian was born, Arthur found it harder and harder to justify his affair with Anna and so he gave her up for the good of his wife, banishing her to the countryside. But sometimes he had wondered, what would life have been like if he had kept Anna as a mistress. What would life have been like if it had a little fun in it every now and then, and he did not have to be suffocated by his wife's piety and soberness.

Some times, especially during Christmas and Lent when Katherine was most insufferable in her piety, he had been sorely tempted to take a mistress and seek a bit of comfort elsewhere. But every time he cast his eye around the court he was only disappointed in what he saw. Young ladies who were no better than whores. The likes of Bessie Blount, Madge Sheldon and even the Duchess of York's own sister, Mary Boleyn. He didn't want a whore who would spread her legs at the sight of a sparkling jewel. He wanted a lady to woo and win like a knight of old. He didn't want another man's leftovers. He wanted to seduce a woman who had eyes for no other but him. And she couldn't just be another pretty face. She had to be intelligent and witty and virtuous. Someone who he could converse with intelligently and yet make him feel like the young man he was deep in his heart.

In truth, he wanted someone like Anne, but the more he thought about it, the more he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Yes, someone like Anne. Just not Anne herself, he kept reminding himself.

And then he pondered his feelings about Katherine. He still loved her, and supposed he always would do for they had been married for over half of their lives. But these days it only seemed he loved her out of duty. He was no longer actually in love with her. The passion in their marriage had fizzled out long ago and he began to regard her as he did with his daughters. Surely that was not a sign of a healthy marriage.

But he pretended differently to her face. He continued to placate her with honeyed words and affectionate gestures. A "sweetheart" here, a "darling" there. He pledged his undying devotion towards her and her alone. He swore he could never look at another woman in such a way (which was true enough because there were no tempting women at court these days) and how his heart was her's alone. He was so convincing in his performance that she was soon placated and had curled up in the crook of his arm as she settled herself down to sleep.

But Arthur remained wide awake, troubling himself over the thought that he no longer loved his wife the way he ought to.