At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (17 page)

“No. I am returning to my horse,” said Madge.

“Will you not declare your love for me? Will you not give me my heart’s ease by letting me know that I mean something to you—that what I feel is in some small way given back to me?” he said, his breath still short and hurried.

“I do not know what love is—so I cannot say that I love you. Besides, I am betrothed. Until the queen bears a son, I belong to Norris. Then she will make me a better match,” said Madge.

“A better match, eh? So, I am good enough for you to kiss but not fine enough for you to marry. I am, after all, only the bastard son of Lord Suffolk,” he said as he released her. “You should remount your horse, Lady Margaret. I am certain I can find Sir Norris to ride beside you.”

“Wait! Arthur, I didn’t mean … wait!” She hurried after him but when she located her horse, his mount was no longer beside it. She saw Sir Norris making his way to her.

“Ah, my Lady Margaret. Master Brandon told me you longed for me. I would have joined you earlier but Her Majesty insisted I ride with Countess Rochford. I have never met a more disagreeable woman! I heard her complaints until I thought I should go mad or wring her scrawny neck!” said Norris. “Thankfully, I now have entered heaven.”

“My lord, you are too kind. How like you this Progress?” Madge said.

“I like it not, mistress. A foolish thing to make such a journey in winter. I know the queen wishes to see her daughter, but surely there must have been another way,” he said.

“Her Majesty is with child, sir. The king conforms his wishes to her own. Such is seemly when love is involved. I would hope my own husband would do the same for me,” said Madge.

“I shall tell you what your husband will do for you, lady. He shall get babes upon you, one each year, until our house is full of sons and daughters. He shall not play the fool for a mere woman, as does our king. I shall rule my own house, mistress. Any other notions should be shaken out of your pretty head,” Norris said.

“If such is the case, though your house be full of children, you shall not know my love,” said Madge, her voice as cold as the wind that blew around them. She turned her face away from him and took secret delight in Arthur’s kisses.

*   *   *

At dusk, Madge could see the outline of Eltham Palace against the evening sky. Though not as large as Richmond Palace or Hampton Court, the castle was commodious enough to house those on Progress, boasting carefully tended grounds now covered with a light blanket of snow. She watched as birds flew over the towers and onto the gardens to pick seeds and suet left there for them by the kitchen scullions.

When they arrived in the courtyard, the queen’s litter was placed on the ground and the queen emerged, her hair tucked beneath her snood. She clapped her hands together twice and Nicholas Carew went to her immediately. She whispered to him and he headed toward Madge.

“Lady Shelton, Her Majesty would have you join her,” said Sir Nicholas with a short bow.

“Yes, Your Grace,” replied Madge with a brief curtsy. She knew this member of the privy chamber was no friend of the queen’s, thus no friend of hers, either. Carew continued to support the dowager princess Catherine and her daughter, Mary, though he had signed the Act of Succession along with most of the king’s men.

Madge took her leave of Norris and hurried to the queen, her skirts growing damp and cold with snow as they skimmed across the yard.

“Will you walk with me to the Great Hall? I have much to ask of you,” said the queen. The king joined them.

“Of course, Your Grace,” said Madge.

“Lady Margaret, well met,” said the king, smiling, his red beard flecked with snow and his blue eyes taking her measure.

“Your Majesty,” she whispered.

“Come, come, lady. Stand and let us walk together. My dearest queen hath a favor to beg of you,” he said.

“I am always happy to serve Your Majesties,” said Madge.

The king wrapped his arm around his wife and led her into the entranceway. Servants took their dampened cloaks to set them by the roaring fires and brought them mugs of wine. The king, the queen, and Lady Margaret found a private corner and the king indicated for Madge to be seated on a cushion at the queen’s feet.

“We shall tarry a while here—the rest of you move on to your supper. The ride has been cold and long—to the tables and stuff yourselves!” shouted the king to other members of the progress. Then His Majesty turned to Madge. He continued to take stock of her until she felt her face grow quite warm.

“The Boleyn blood bakes pretty women, eh Anne? Though she cannot hold a torch to your beauty, she is a lovely girl,” said the king.

“Aye, Harry, that she is! And one we can trust for she says naught and hears everything,” said the queen. She wrapped herself in a coverlet of velvet and silk one of the servants had brought. “Lady Margaret, I have something I would like for you to do—if you succeed, you will be mightily rewarded. If you fail, well, you will not be the first—brave men have tried and failed.”

“How can I please Your Grace?” said Madge, keeping her eyes cast to the floor.

“As you know, the lady Mary is here. I would like for you to tell her if she will but accept me as her queen, she can be reunited with her father’s love. Entreat her tenderly, for I would treat her as mine own, if only she would obey the king’s command,” said the queen.

“And tell her I’ll see her head separated from her shoulders if she continues to defy me,” said the king, his face puffed up with anger. “I will tame her obstinate Spanish blood!”

“Harry, dear, have you not heard it said more flies are caught with honey than vinegar? Be gentle with her, Margaret. She has suffered much and is only a little older than you. Come to me after you have obtained her reply, even though the hour be late,” said the queen. “Dear Margaret, I regret your mother and father were unable to accompany the princess Elizabeth to Eltham. They remained at Hatfield—I know how you would like to see them,” said the queen as she patted Madge’s hand.

*   *   *

“Lady Mary will see you now,” said Lady Bryan, curtsying slightly to Madge as she entered the rooms of the young woman who had been a princess for most of her life. Madge made a deep curtsy to the small woman seated on the thronelike chair. She thought her legs would go numb before the lady Mary bid her rise.

“Why have you come?” said the lady Mary in a voice that sounded more like a man’s than any girl Madge had heard. Madge stole a quick look at her face and saw blue eyes and thin lips pressed together as if she had eaten something sour.

“My lady, I…” Madge began.

“I am the princess Mary and you will address me as such or I will send you away immediately,” said Mary.

Madge did not know what to do.

“Your Grace, I apologize for misspeaking. If you would but hear my poor plea, you will, perhaps, have your heart’s ease,” said Madge.

“Go on. But first, tell me your name,” said Mary.

“I am Lady Margaret Shelton,” said Madge.

“A cousin to the concubine, am I correct?” said Mary.

Madge felt her humor begin to change, anger simmering in her belly.

“I am cousin, yes.” Madge tried to keep her voice warm and inviting, sweet like the honey of which the queen had spoken.

“What is your purpose with me?” said Mary.

“The queen wishes for Your Grace to accept her position as your loving stepmother by signing the Act of Succession and regaining your father’s love. She says that if you will but do this, you will find her a kind and loving mother and your father will allow you to come again to court. You will be afforded all honor due to the daughter of the dowager princess Catherine and your life will be rich with food and music and dance. Happiness is yours, if you would but accept the queen,” said Madge, as gently as she knew how.

Silence.

More silence.

Madge became troubled as the quiet grew between her and Lady Mary. She began to wonder if Mary had heard her at all.

Finally, Mary stood. She was short, not nearly up to Madge’s chin. Madge could see her neck was pulsing and quite red.

“I know of no queen except my mother, who is far away from here, so she could not possibly have sent you. As for reconciliation with my father, the king, if his mistress would intervene on my behalf, I would be most grateful. You may leave our presence now,” said Lady Mary and turned her back on Madge.

Nineteen

“She said what?! That horrid girl! That cursed bastard! Oh Harry, what shall we do with her?” said the queen after Madge had made her report.

“By heaven, she will do as I command! She will do it or she will pay the price as others have done! I will not have her and her mother raise an army against me! They must accept you, dearest, and they must accept our boy! Zounds! I will break her!” shouted the king. Madge watched as the king hit his fist against the serving table, shaking everything that had been set upon it. Then, she observed how the king, as if suddenly reminded of his wife’s tender condition, gained control over his wrath and became gentle. He turned when he heard sobs from the queen.

“Tut, tut, what is this? Sweetheart, do not shed such tears. We will bring Mary round, takes but time. Now, now, dearest. Do not take on so. Remember our boy—for his sake, desist from your cries,” said the king with more tenderness in his voice than Madge had heard recently.

“I know, I know. She must obey her king. But I am cut to the bone by her coldness, her hatred of me. And I have not yet seen Elizabeth. Why haven’t they brought her to me? Do they not know how my arms long to hold her? And those wretched women who lined the road in that last little village—shouting those awful words about me! It is too much, Harry—just too much!” sobbed the queen.

Madge wanted to go to Her Majesty and rub her shoulders, but she dared not. Instead, she turned her face away from such an intimate scene.

“There, there, my love. You are overwrought. The journey has been long and you are tired. There were only a handful of women along the road and I shall find them out and send someone to speak with them. They don’t know you, dearest. If they did, you would win them easily. No one really knows you as I do and you will always have my heart,” said the king.

“Will I, Harry? Will I?” said the queen.

“Yes, my love—always,” said the king as he leaned over to her and kissed her for a long time.

“Oh Harry, can you not come to my bed tonight? I have need of your strong arms around me,” whispered the queen.

“Oh madame, how you tempt me! But no, I would not meddle with you now. I might disturb our little prince and neither of us would want that. No, my sweet—the boot must needs be on the other foot awhile—
I
must now keep
you
at arm’s length—until our son is born. But then, woman! You can look forward to my love, which I shall keep as a precious jewel for you alone,” said the king, rising to his feet.

“Lady Margaret, go find that confounded Lady Bryan and tell her to bring the princess to us! Immediately!” shouted His Majesty.

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Madge.

“Now, madame, what say you to some music to calm your nerves? I’ll have them bring in Master Smeaton and I shall sing to you myself! Does this please my dearest?” said the king.

“Yes, my love!” Anything that pleases you doth make me the ‘moost happi,’” said the queen.

Madge hurried out of the chamber to find Lady Bryan. The first person she found, however, was Wyatt.

“How now, mistress? Why such hurry?” said Wyatt, bowing.

“I am sent to find Lady Bryan so she might fetch the princess for the queen,” said Madge, continuing her brisk walk.

“Whoa! Whoa! Mistress! You will never find her that way. The princess is housed down this hall—I shall show you,” said Wyatt.

“Always my friend, Thomas! I am glad you are with us on this Progress—it shall be more pleasant!” said Madge, her skirts rustling as she rushed to follow Wyatt.

“The queen bade me come—I would have been as happy in London, roasting by the fire in the king’s privy chamber. Tell me, Madge—have you been writing any poetry of late?” said Wyatt.

“Not more than a few accursed lines—I am kept too busy by the queen. When she is with child, she has great need of me. She seems to prefer my company to that of her other ladies,” said Madge.

“I understand her preference. Your loyalty is true and there are few here the good queen can trust. She has many enemies. It is easier to fault her than to cast a shadow on the king,” said Wyatt.

“And safer, too,” said Madge with a smile.

“Madame, here is the princess Elizabeth’s chamber. I will see you anon,” said Wyatt.

“Oh Thomas, won’t you come to the king’s bedchamber? Master Smeaton will be singing as will the king himself. I will inquire of the queen if you may join us,” said Madge.

“Milady, I would be most honored,” said Wyatt. “I shall wait outside until you motion me to enter.”

Together, they took turns carrying the princess Elizabeth to the queen. Madge noted the bright reddish-gold hair and thought that, though the king could claim her by her locks, her face mirrored that of the queen’s.

*   *   *

By the time Madge brought Elizabeth to the king and queen, a small group had gathered in the privy chamber—Master Smeaton, Sir Brereton, Lady Jane Seymour, Sir Francis Weston, Countess Rochford, Lady Margaret Douglas, Sir Norris, and other favorites of the king. Madge immediately asked if Sir Thomas might join them.

“Do bring in our favorite poet, Lady Margaret. He shall entertain us with his verses and Master Smeaton shall accompany him on the virginals,” said His Majesty, his blue eyes filled with happiness.

“Yes, invite him in—I would so like to hear something about true love,” said the queen, gazing into the king’s eyes for a long moment, then turning to the babe that lay between them.

Elizabeth had awakened in a good humor and was smiling and giggling with her parents as they lay upon a large bed. The queen looked serene and happy, nuzzling her daughter, giving her many kisses and caresses. The king, too, took pleasure in the babe, holding her up for all to see. Madge took her place among the courtiers and was surprised to see a solitary man standing back from the others, almost hidden in the corner.