At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (21 page)

“Aye, ’tis probably a good thing—the queen needs to build her strength for the birthing of the babe. But tell me, Pretty Madge, would you like to join me at cards?” said the king, smiling.

Madge felt her face flush. She was surrounded by the king’s men.

“I have no such skills, Your Majesty. Playing with me would be no challenge,” said Madge.

“’Tis never a challenge when I play with any but my queen—she is the only one who will not let me win! But run along, Pretty Madge. I can see you like not this company of men—were I a lovely young maiden, I, too, would feel as if I had walked into a den of lions,” said the king, who laughed heartily to see Madge back out of the chambers, her face red and her eyes filling with tears. The other men joined the king in his merriment and Madge heard the king say to Norris, “You’ll have your hands full making that one care for the likes of you, Norris. She’s skittery as a kitten.”

“I have ways to tame a puss, sire. Many ways,” said Norris, again to much laughter.

Madge hurried to Cate’s room. She knocked and before she could calm her breath, Cate opened the door.

“What is it? What is wrong?” said Cate.

“Why think you something is the matter?” said Madge, still struggling to settle her heartbeat.

“You are white and red at the same time. You breathe as though you have run the length of the castle and you look as if you might burst into tears at a moment’s notice,” said Cate.

“The king and his horrid, horrid men! I had to deliver him a message and was not well treated. My own intended husband mocked me—I cannot abide him! I cannot marry him!” said Madge.

“There, there, Maddie. Soon the queen will bear her son and you can be released from Norris once and for all. You and Arthur can marry, just as you have planned,” said Cate.

“Have you seen him?”

“Aye. This morning he was in the garden and he told me he was going to the horse stables to help break a new steed for Suffolk,” said Cate.

“Think you he is still at the stables?” said Madge.

“Let us walk together and discover him,” said Cate.

*   *   *

Cate and Madge made a circuitous route to the stables, lest they be seen by Norris or his spies. When they arrived, Madge heard Arthur singing inside the enormous stalls. She walked in while Cate kept guard at the door.

For a moment, she watched him brush down a huge stallion, pure black with a noble brow and sixteen hands high if not more. Arthur was working along the flanks, singing jovially. She loved how he looked at that moment. His brown hair was mussed and he had removed his jerkin so that his shirt hung loose about him. She watched as he took long, steady strokes across the horse’s body, his own form as firm and fit as that of the stallion. She could have watched him forever, but she had little time.

“Arthur … my love,” she whispered.

He turned around at once, dropped the brush, and hurried to her.

“My pretty, pretty Madge! What are you doing here?” he said, sweeping her up and kissing her hungrily.

“The queen sent me on an errand and she is resting. I have a moment and wanted to find you. Methinks it has been long since I have seen you,” said Madge, kissing him all over his face and neck.

“Soon, we can hope to have every hour of every day, dearest,” he said. He drew her to him, kissing her deeply. “I do not know how much longer I can wait.”

“Wait we must, sweetheart,” said Madge.

Instead of pulling away from her, Arthur took her by the waist to a clean pile of hay, fell to his knees and patted a place for her to sit beside him. She did so and soon, they were kissing once again. He laid her back against the hay and she could smell the sweetness of it. She brought her arms around his neck and kissed him once again. She felt as if she could kiss him forever. His hands moved over her body, lingering in various places. For once, she did not resist him but allowed him free rein. They continued thus until she felt ready to step out of her clothes and become his once and for all.

“My dearest, we must stop while I am still able to gain control over my senses,” said Arthur. “We dare not be as man and wife until our plan is complete and we have the queen’s blessing. We dare not…” he said as he stood and pulled her up beside him.

“You look like a scarecrow! Covered in straw!” said Madge, brushing him off and laughing.

“You look no better, milady!” he said, while he did the same for her.

“I will come to Cate’s door on the morrow about this same time. Mayhap her Majesty will require another nap,” said Arthur.

“If Her Grace releases me, I will be there—if not, keep this to remind you of me,” said Madge as she kissed him fully and took his hand to press against her bosom. She heard him sigh and broke away from him once more.

“Until we meet—you are ever my dearest,” said Arthur.

“And you mine,” said Madge.

*   *   *

As the weeks passed, the queen did, indeed, take to her bed each day. Madge noticed how drawn and pale Her Majesty looked and how she lacked desire to do the smallest deed. The king visited her every evening, brought her special treats and gifts that often made her smile. But Madge saw the worry cross His Majesty’s brow at times when he thought the queen was not looking.

She and Arthur met at Cate’s most afternoons, talking and making plans for their secret wedding. They both insisted Cate remain with them as they feared their passion might overrule them. No one could afford such a mistake. And though Cate kept them chaste and pure, neither of them believed such a state of grace could last. Arthur and Madge longed to tell the queen of their plans; they longed for one another as the days grew warmer.

In late June, the queen seemed weaker than usual. She called Madge to her and whispered, “Margaret, I fear the babe is coming sooner than we expected—too soon. Tell no one but do not leave me this day. Close my bedchambers to all but yourself and Dame Brooke, should we have need of her. I am unwell … unwell.”

Madge did as she was commanded and sent the other ladies from the queen’s apartments. She sent for Dame Brooke, who arrived speedily with her satchel of implements. She brought warm broth to the queen, but Her Majesty ate no more than a few spoonfuls. Madge rang for willow bark tea but the queen refused it. By nightfall, Madge was terrified as the queen began to bleed. Her Majesty said not a word, just lay on her bed, her lips moving in silent prayer.

“’Tis not a good sign, this blood,” said Dame Brooke as she examined the queen in her intimate places.

“Should I send for Dr. Linacre? I am no midwife—I know not what to do,” said Madge.

“Aye, mayhap that be good. For I fear things will not go as they should. I’ll need all the help I can get,” said Dame Brooke in a low voice.

“Yes, yes, send for him and for the lady Mary, my sister. I would have her with me,” said the queen.

“Mary is in the north country, Your Grace, remember? I shall send for Dr. Linacre,” said Madge.

“Yes, yes. Hurry, dear Margaret—I fear the babe is seeping away even as I lie here,” said the queen.

Madge ran from the bedchambers and grabbed the first maid she saw in the outer rooms.

“Fetch Dr. Linacre—now!” she said, hurrying back to the queen’s side once she was sure the girl was well on her way.

“Your Grace, I fear the babe must needs come out. I’m going to rub this sweet almond oil on your belly and on your womanly parts—do not be ashamed—I have seen a thousand such parts,” said Dame Brooke as she poured warmed oil on the queen’s belly and rubbed it into her private areas. “This will ease the babe’s coming.”

Madge watched as more blood gushed onto the bedsheets. She glanced up at the queen.

“I fear for Her Majesty,” whispered Madge.

“With good reason.… Ah, here comes the babe floating out in a river of blood,” said Dame Brooke.

Madge watched as the babe washed out easily, covered in his mother’s blood. He was still, too still. Dame Brooke cleared out his mouth and pinched his nose several times. She swatted his bottom and when that did not work, she massaged his chest, warming his little body with her own heat. But nothing brought life into the limp body.

“’Tis no use. He has gone back to heaven,” said Dame Brooke as she made the sign of the cross on his tiny chest with the still-warm almond oil. She then sprinkled him with a pinch of salt and baptized him in the Catholic way; Madge supposed it the only way she knew.

The queen lay motionless on her bed and Madge could not see her breathing.

“Is the queen to die as well?” she said.

“Not if I can help it. Here, get rid of this,” said Dame Brooke as she handed Madge the afterbirth. “No need to bury it this time. Now, wrap the babe in the usual cloths and place him beside his mother. Then, bring me that catgut along with those smaller pieces of linen, the packing cloths. And bring the knife,” said Dame Brooke.

Madge did as she was told and watched as Dame Brooke took a needle and threaded the catgut. She then stitched the torn places on Her Majesty’s person and packed the area with clean cloths to staunch the bleeding. The queen did not flinch or move a muscle during the procedure. She looked at the little bundle beside the queen—the babe was as cold and blue as ice.

“Will the queen live?” Madge asked once again.

“Methinks she will. But she has lost a great deal of her life’s blood and she will be weak for some time. I don’t know if she will be able to bear more children. But speak not of that to a living soul—our work here is sacred and our secrets are sacred as well,” said Dame Brooke. “If she stirs, give her this sleeping draught. She will need rest for at least a fortnight. Do not let her fret overmuch about the bairn—such sadness will delay her recovery.”

At that moment, Dr. Linacre and Mistress Holland entered the chamber.

“How does the queen?” said Dr. Linacre.

“She fares well enough. But the boy is lost—born dead. I did all I could,” said Dame Brooke.

“I am sorry for it—I should have arrived sooner—perhaps I could have helped in some way,” said Dr. Linacre.

“Nothing more could have been done, sir. I have delivered thousands of babes and this one was gone before he had a chance to live. I have done the necessaries to preserve his wee soul,” said Dame Brooke.

“Does the king know?” said Madge.

“He is on his way here now—ah, I hear the Yeomen of the Guard marching to us,” said Dr. Linacre.

A moment later, the king burst into the bedchamber, his face flushed and filled with fury and grief. He looked at his queen, white with pale lips and a now-flattened belly. Beside her, wrapped in the softest lamb’s wool, lay a small bundle. Henry knelt beside the babe, uncovered the child, and saw it was a boy, a perfectly formed baby prince, his blueish skin waxy and his head covered in soft, reddish down. The king picked up the child and clutched him to his large chest. Henry sobbed.

No one in the bedchamber moved. Dr. Linacre stood as if struck by a magician; Dame Brooke kept still as she hugged the far wall; Madge froze at Anne’s side, afraid to look at the king, afraid to make a sound, afraid to breathe.

Carefully, with great tenderness, Henry placed the bundle beside the queen. He touched her face with his meaty hands, cupping her cheek as one might touch a butterfly wing. Then, he rose, gained mastery over himself, and spoke.

“No one is to know of this. We will not speak of it again. On pain of death, there is to be no talk of what has happened here this day,” said the king. He then turned on his heel and stalked out of the queen’s bedchambers. No one moved for several moments. Then, as Madge was rising to her feet, she heard an enormous howl, a sound so loud and so filled with pain she thought at first it was a bear let loose among the dogs. Then, she realized it was the king himself.

*   *   *

The queen slept all night and Madge stayed by her side, barely sleeping herself. She did not want Her Majesty to awaken alone, or be by herself when she examined the babe still by her side. Madge did not know what to expect after such an event, but she knew her queen and she knew the days ahead would be difficult.

“Margaret … Margaret … are you here?” said the queen.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I have been with you all night,” said Madge.

“I cannot remember … is the prince yet born? My head feels as if it has been stuffed with cotton. I know I feared the prince would come too soon but I cannot remember…” said the queen as she struggled to sit up.

“Your Grace, you delivered a son but he came too early. He is … he is…” Madge could not finish.

“He is dead,” said the queen, her voice dull.

She then turned to the bundle at her side and picked it up. Slowly, with utmost care, she unwrapped the blankets and gazed at the little one within.

“Perfect … he is perfect … see his little fingers, long and slender like my own. And his hair, the color of his father’s. So tiny he is. So frail and helpless … I cannot bear it! I cannot bear that he never even drew a breath on this earth. Why send him? Why send him to me when he cannot draw one breath?! Oh,
mon dieu
!” said the queen as she continued to hold the baby to her breast, cradling the head in one hand, patting the small back with the other.

Madge said nothing while the queen held her baby through the morning and afternoon. No one disturbed them and the queen spoke not a word to Madge. She cooed and sang to the boy, rubbed his chest and kissed his entire body. Finally, she swaddled him again in the blanket and lay back against her pillows.

“Does the king know?” she said.

“Yes, Majesty. He came immediately. He has seen the babe and yourself,” said Madge.

“How did he take the sad news?” said the queen. “He shall put me away! He shall be rid of me for I have once again failed him! I fear for us, Margaret. I fear for all of us! What will become of me? What will he do?”

The queen’s voice has become quite strained and she thrashed about in the bed. Madge knew she was quickly losing control of herself and Madge needed to say just the right words to comfort her.

“He shed many tears, Majesty. He touched your face very gently, a touch full of love,” said Madge.