At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (20 page)

“Will you not help us, dear Cate?” Madge said.

For a long moment, Cate looked into Madge’s eyes, no doubt seeing the babe and then the young girl, the many moments of friendship that had passed between her and her charge.

“Aye. God help me, I’ll do what I can,” said Cate.

“I knew you would not fail me,” said Madge as she rose and hugged Cate to her.

Arthur bowed to Cate and kissed her on the cheek. She gave him a slight smile.

“Now begone with you—out, out, you have sullied my room long enough,” she said as she shooed Arthur out the door.

*   *   *

As the spring equinox approached, all the gardens began to green, the trees to bud soft silky leaves, and the earliest flowers to nudge out of the cold earth toward the warmth of the still-pale sun. Daffodils and hyacinths, crocuses and forget-me-nots, all slowly peeked out, coaxed by the warmth, at first hesitant and then, finally, fully open. The queen’s belly was full and both she and the king were merry, walking in the gardens, laughing as they supped. Madge joined them often, along with Norris and a few favorites. When she was not with the queen, she often sought Wyatt for his quick wit and his friendly advice on various matters. When they could, she and Arthur met in Cate’s rooms, kissing and fondling one another, each enjoying the temptations of the flesh.

One day, the queen asked for Madge to walk with her in the gardens. Her manner was serious, or so it seemed to Madge.

“Lady Margaret, this winter hath lasted long and now that warmer weather has arrived, I think it be time to make merry with His Majesty. What think you of a special supper to be served in my apartments for the king’s new men and a few select ladies of the court?” said the queen.

“Whatever Your Majesty desires suits me. I am at your service,” said Madge as they strolled arm in arm.

“Good. Then I would like for you to make up a list of entertaining friends—Thomas Wyatt and the other ladies who scribble in that booklet of poetry I see being bandied about—” said the queen.

“I did not know Your Majesty knew of my feeble attempts to write verse. Thomas has encouraged me, along with Lady Margaret Douglas as well as Lady Mary Howard, in our rhymes,” said Madge.

“I have seen it, mistress, and there is much more there than poetry. Of courtly love and base carnal desires, I have read. But no matter, such is life—I’ll warrant Lord Surrey and Thomas Clere hope to gain more than good verse!” said the queen with a laugh.

“Your Majesty, I assure you I have no such desires! I simply like to see what I can make, whether it be a jest or a love poem of some meaning—it is a good pastime when the winter winds blow cold,” said Madge.

“Does Norris write you love poesies, too?” said the queen.

“Sir Henry could not do such, as he hath no gift for goodly words. His mouth is full of foulness and filth. I will be relieved to be rid of him when Your Majesty brings forth the bonny prince!” said Madge.

“And so it shall be. But remember, Lady Margaret, we have long to go,” said the queen as she stooped to pluck a daffodil. “I shall ask Master Smeaton to gather goodly musicians, you bring the wordsmiths to read their best compositions, and we shall welcome the spring,” said the queen.

“Must I invite Sir Norris?” said Madge.

“Of course. He has the king’s love,” said the queen as she added another bloom to the few she held in her hand.

“Yes, Majesty,” said Madge.

“I know how His Majesty lacks good company when I am indisposed, waiting impatiently for the birth of the babe. This time, he has kept me by his side at all times and has showered me with love and affection. No taking another lady, not even in innocent courtly love. I would that he find some merriment while we wait,” said the queen.

“Then I shall endeavor to make the evening one he shall not forget,” said Madge.

*   *   *

The queen set the king’s surprise for two days hence and Madge spent many hours helping Wyatt and the other writers decide which poems to read for Their Majesties. She and Lady Douglas, along with Lady Jane Seymour and Countess Rochford, prepared a dance to celebrate the queen’s large belly. The queen ordered special delicacies, favorites of the king’s including orange marmalade and roast goose, dried cherry tarts and sweet cream. The best ale was brought in barrels to the queen’s apartments and Madge hung green boughs across the arras, gathered flowers into vases, and had fresh rushes scattered on the floors. She had no time to see Arthur, though he had sent a note.

Servants lit the wall sconces and the tapers. Slowly, the ladies filed in, their gowns and jewels sparkling. Though Lent was only halfway through, on this night, the feeling was festive rather than funereal.

When the queen entered the outer apartments, she looked radiant. She wore a dress of crimson lined with ermine and her long hair hung to her waist. Her face glowed with happiness. As the king’s men arrived, she, more than any other woman in the room, captivated them with her beauty and charm.

Finally, the king himself arrived without fanfare, as he had expected a private dinner with his wife. When he saw all his favorites before him, bowing in their best fashion, he smiled and bellowed out, “What is this?” Then he moved to the queen and bowed low.

“Wife, have you forgotten the season?” he said, though smiling at her.

“No, my lord. But I know how long the winter has drawn itself out and how dreary such gray days make you feel, Harry. I know how hard Your Grace has worked during these difficult times. I know Cromwell brings you bad news after bad news,” said the queen, smiling up at him.

“These are tedious times, it is true. Master Cromwell also brings me wealth, lady. Do not forget that,” said His Majesty, a caution in his voice.

“Let us not speak of Master Cromwell this eve. Instead, come sit with me, my love. Our friends are here—there is fine food. Let us enjoy our fellowship together,” said the queen.

“Well said, lady,” said the king as he sat beside her at the table. The queen clapped her hands and servants began to bustle over the king, bringing him ale and food, then serving the rest of the gathering. The king fed the queen from his own plate, spooning good things into her mouth, sometimes placing bites there with his large fingers. She often licked the grease from his hand and Madge could see his breath quicken.

After all had eaten their fill, Madge and the ladies began their dance, while the musicians played. Madge was nervous, not having danced in front of others in quite this way, but she was graceful and she knew it. Soon, she lost her fear and moved with the other ladies until the dance was over. They bowed to Their Majesties and found their seats, Madge on a large pillow at the queen’s feet.

“Your little cousin has the Boleyn grace, Anne. She is becoming quite the beauty,” said His Majesty, staring at Madge.

“Yes. Court life agrees with her, methinks,” said the queen.

“Step up here where I can see you, Lady Margaret,” said the king. Madge rose as gracefully as she could and curtsied to the king until she felt him pull her hand to rise.

“No wonder they call you Pretty Madge. Where’s Norris? Come here man!” roared the king.

Norris bowed and smiled.

“This is your intended, eh? Tell me, sir, why do you sit over there with that plain young Seymour woman when you could dine with this beauty?” said the king.

“Though we are betrothed, Your Grace, milady told me she would be much too busy this eve to be bothered with the likes of me,” said Norris.

“Never let it be said that I kept lovers apart. Master Smeaton, music! A dance for the lovebirds!” blustered the king, smiling.

Madge had no choice but to dance with Norris, feel his hot breath on her neck, his sweaty hands around her waist. She tried to avoid his glance but every time they stepped toward one another, he was staring at her as if he would ravish her at that very moment. Finally, the music stopped and the king clapped his hands. The rest of the company followed suit and before she knew what was happening, Norris leaned her back and kissed her in front of all, his hands roaming over her person with obvious ownership. She tried to straighten up and push him away, but she could not move. He reached for her breast and pinched her nipple. Everyone saw.

“Many’s the babe to come from those loins, eh Norris?” said the king. Norris stood her up and smiled at the king.

“My lord, I can barely wait to begin. But she won’t have me yet. She keeps me waiting until I must burst!” said Norris.

“I know what it is to wait, man. But I tell you, the wait is worth it for one such as she. As it has been for my lovely queen,” said the king.

Madge was able to wriggle away from Norris as Wyatt stepped forth to present poems for the king’s delight. At some, His Majesty laughed and at others, tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Madge was relieved to be seated once again at the queen’s feet. Her Majesty smiled at Madge and patted her arm in sympathy. Madge felt at that moment that Arthur was right—the queen would always be on the side of true love, especially when she considered how horrible it would be for Madge to marry Norris.

After much entertainment, the queen grew tired and His Majesty ordered everyone from the rooms, except for Madge. The three of them retired to the queen’s bedchambers where the king and queen sat up, talking quietly. Madge lay down on her cot, giving them privacy.

“Harry,” said the queen gently, “what of the monasteries? I am concerned that Cromwell is not using the property for good. I had hoped to secure money for our universities and help for the poor after the monasteries were dissolved. Reform rather than destroy.”

“Meddle not in such affairs, Anne. You attend to your business—bring us a son! I shall manage Master Cromwell—I like my coffers to be full and he is making them so. All he does, he does on my command,” said the king.

“As you wish, my love,” said the queen. “I only want for you to be the greatest of all kings. It has pleased God to set you on the throne and to set me here beside you. I want to be your helpmeet and dearest friend.”

“Give me my prince and you do me all the good in the world, lady. And now, to bed, shall we, my love?” said the king.

With that, he rose to leave. Madge also rose.

“No need, Lady Margaret. You must needs rest, too. Take good care of my queen,” he said.

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Madge.

“Come dear, help me into my nightdress. I am quite exhausted by this night’s festivities,” said the queen.

“As am I, Your Grace. Though I believe the king enjoyed it immensely,” said Madge.

“Yes. I had hoped to persuade my dear Harry to curb Cromwell’s excesses but to no avail. I am, after all, a mere woman!” said the queen.

“Frail and weak,” said Madge with a smile.

“Yes, frail and weak though I be, I can still manage this royal lion. At least, some of the time—never forget your power, Margaret. Even though Norris acted a lout tonight, the king does not like such a display. Though he laughed, I know him. He is courtly and wishes to treat women well, with dignity. ’Tis his royal upbringing. He likes neither the crude nor the obvious,” said the queen.

“I like it not, either. If I must marry Norris, I wouldst as soon die,” said Madge.

“Do not fear—I will stop it somehow. Now, to bed, Pretty Madge,” said the queen.

Twenty-two

By the end of May, though the king had intended to meet King Francis I at Calais, he had reason to cancel the trip. He told the French ambassador he could not attend because of the queen’s delicate condition. But that was only part of the reason. His ambassadors to France, Lord Wiltshire and Viscount Rochford, the queen’s father and brother, were not making good headway in arranging a marriage for the princess Elizabeth to one of Francis’s three sons. The latest news was that Francis had doubts about Elizabeth’s legitimacy, in spite of Henry’s various laws proclaiming it. As a result, Henry was not as anxious as he had been to meet Francis. Madge overheard him tell the queen that Francis could be left to stew in his own juices for a while.

“Let him wonder about our friendship—I am king of England and he should beware!” roared Henry.

Though it was too early for the queen to retire to Greenwich for the birthing of her child, Her Majesty required Madge’s presence daily. The queen needed foot rubs and back rubs; Her Majesty desired a cherry tart; Her Grace wished for fresh flowers to fill her rooms. Whatever the queen’s fancy, Madge was the one person she counted on and Madge was determined never to fail her dearest cousin and friend.

“Lady Margaret, I am tired this afternoon and would nap a while. Will you go to His Majesty and tell him thus—I am sorry I will not be able to play cards with him as he requested,” said the queen, laying back against her many pillows.

“Yes, Your Grace. Would you like some ale, perhaps some dainties before I leave you?” said Madge, aware of Her Majesty’s cravings for sweet foods.

“No, dear. Rest is all I need. Do give Harry my dearest love,” said the queen.

Madge was happy for an opportunity to escape the queen’s bedchamber. She stopped in the outer rooms of the queen’s apartments and smoothed her hair, checked her dress, and lined her mouth with olive oil, a jar of which was kept in the ladies’ rooms. Madge hoped to see Arthur.

As she made her way to the king’s privy chamber, she heard boisterous voices, much laughing and shouting. She gave her name and the nature of her errand to the guard at the door and waited until he returned to give her leave to enter. When she walked into the privy chamber, she was surprised to see Norris, Brereton, Wyatt, Francis Weston, and several other men gathered around the king. They made way for her as she passed through, Norris bowing low and smiling at her, trying to catch her eye. She walked past them all and curtsied before the king.

“Pretty Madge, you have a message for us from the queen?” said His Majesty.

Without rising, Madge answered, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Come, come. Stand and tell us what word from our most beloved wife,” said the king.

“Her Majesty regrets that she is unable to keep her engagement with Your Grace for playing Primero this afternoon. She is tired and has taken to her bed,” said Madge, with her head bowed.