At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (25 page)

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Norris as he bowed low.

“And Norris, apologize for your unmanly behavior to the Lady Margaret,” said the king in a steely tone.

Norris rose and turned to Madge, who was busy rearranging her skirts.

“Mistress Shelton, I am truly sorry for my boorish behavior. I will not act the rake with you again,” said Norris. With that, the king waved him away. Then, His Majesty knelt down to comfort Madge.

“Pretty Madge, I fear Sir Norris was in his cups. He is a knave but I have loved him long. I am very sorry he has allowed his lower nature to rule him. May I help you up?” said the king very gently.

“Thank you, sire. Thank you for saving me,” said Madge as she rose.

The king put his great arm around her shoulders. Though she tried to contain her tears, she could not. She leaned against the strong chest of the king and cried. He held her to him and stroked her hair with his meaty hand.

“’Twill be all right, Lady Margaret. I will not let any varlet harm you. ’Twill be all right. Come now. Let us return to Wulfhall,” said the king.

Twenty-five

Madge’s tussle with Norris in Savernake Forest had frightened her completely, but she told no one about it. She also begged the king to keep her secret as she would be humiliated if the news ran round the court. His Majesty gave his sacred promise and allowed her to ride behind him and the queen as they traveled back to London. Many times during the journey, the king gave her kind looks and often sent her tasty morsels from his own plate. The queen said nothing but seemed happy that the king was taking notice of one of her cousins.

As for Arthur, Madge dared not tell him about Norris—she feared he would run him through and be tossed into the Tower as a result. So, she bore her fear and her anxiety and her deep hatred of Norris in silence. And, though she was filled with fear at seeing Norris again when the Progress returned to London, she did not share her woes with anyone. Secretly, she hoped the king would relent and allow her to break her troth, after having seen what a churl Norris was.

Though the Progress had gone well after the queen had joined the king at Wulfhall, Madge took note of how often the king visited the queen’s apartments to sup with her after they had come home to London. For on those days His Majesty supped with Anne, he usually bedded her as well. Madge could only count one time when the king attended his wife since their return to court.

In the queen’s outer apartments, Madge kept watch over Lady Jane but could find no fault in her behavior, which remained haughty and circumspect. Madge began to believe that perhaps Arthur had been wrong—perhaps the lady who had briefly captured His Majesty’s attentions was someone other than Jane Seymour.

By the Feast of All Saints, Madge had started to worry in earnest that the king had not come again to the queen’s apartments. Anne spent her days sewing, debating theology with Bishop Parker, going to the Mass, and gambling at cards and dice. She brought in musicians when she wanted to dance and dance she did—with her ladies and several gentlemen who visited the queen’s apartments regularly: her brother, George; Brereton; Weston; Wyatt; Richard Pace; and, occasionally, Arthur. Norris often proved busy on the king’s business when the queen invited him to join them. Madge hoped it was his shame that kept him away.

“Lady Margaret, I would speak with you,” said Arthur, coming up behind her in the queen’s outer rooms where the ladies had gathered for games of cards and tables.

“Certainly, sir,” said Madge.

He led her to a small alcove where they could speak in some privacy. He kept his voice low.

“You should warn the queen there is another lady—one of her maids—a Mistress Eleanor of Northumberland. She is new to court and already the king has spied her and wishes to make her his own,” said Arthur.

“She is a beauty—I have played Noddy with her many times and have lost not a little. She plays her hand well,” said Madge.

“Aye, a treat for the eye she is! I have already come upon her sitting on the king’s lap, giving him kisses, and running her tongue around his ear—His Majesty seemed quite taken with the lady,” said Arthur.

“Is she so very pretty? And so much so that she has caught
your
eye as well as the king’s?!” said Madge.

“Never so pretty as my Pretty Madge—there could not be as fine a woman as the lady Margaret Shelton!” he said.

“Humph. Now you try to soothe me. Are all men like the king? Does the sacrament of marriage mean nothing?” said Madge.

“I do not know all men. I can only say for one—myself. And, for myself, I will tell you that when I take a wife, I shall cleave only unto her—that is, if the lady is your own dear self,” said Arthur.

“You say those words now, before we are wed. I’ll reckon the king said much the same to the queen ere they married. And now look! He breaks her heart most cruelly!” said Madge.

“He hides his lusts from the queen and always shows her the greatest respect. But he is a man used to getting all he desires—he is the king! For him, to bed a wench is nothing more than drinking a fine wine or eating a tasty sweetmeat. But his wife, she is the one who can give him a son and for that, she remains his one constant love,” said Arthur.

“’Tis silly to think of love, then. For queens especially,” said Madge.

“Queens are lonely women, I’ll warrant. And sad,” said Arthur.

*   *   *

Madge did not know whether to tell Her Majesty of the king’s new interest or to keep mum. Anne had seemed quite happy on Progress, laughing and making merry with the king so that things seemed almost back to normal. Madge did not want to disturb the veneer of peace and calm that enveloped the queen now that she had regained her allure and had vanquished the threat coming from Jane Seymour.

Though Madge kept Arthur’s news to herself, the queen had other gossips who were eager to tell her of the king’s new lady love. Soon, Madge noticed how worn and tired the queen began to look. When she combed Her Majesty’s hair, she noticed several strands of gray, which the queen commanded she pluck out. One such evening, quite unexpectedly, the guards trumpeted the entrance of His Majesty. Madge dropped her hairbrush and curtsied. The king entered the queen’s bedchamber with a smile and a hearty greeting.

“Wife! I have been too long away from you, sweetheart! Come, give us a kiss!” bellowed the king.

Madge watched as Anne rose slowly, her hair hanging around her face and down her back, the soft shift of her nightdress clinging to her delicate frame, the neck loose, showing her throat and shoulders. In the torchlight, the queen still retained her beauty. She curtsied low to the king, then rose and kissed him fully for all to see.

“Your Grace does me much honor,” Anne said. “Will you command your men to leave us, dearest?”

“Be gone! All of you!” shouted the king, his face flush with pleasure.

Madge started to leave as well, but Anne took hold of her arm.

“Lady Margaret, I wish to speak privately with His Grace but I may have need of you in a moment. Would you please step inside the garderrobe and stop up your ears?” said the queen, pointing to the small room that housed Her Majesty’s sanitary facility.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Madge quietly.

She entered the stall that was home to the chamber pot and the cistern for washing away the royal wastes. Though every effort was made to keep such places within the castle clean and sweet-smelling, after a few days, all such areas grew a stench. Madge pulled down the wooden cover so she could sit. She looked around the tiny cubicle and had to smother a laugh—how had she come to this? Hiding in the queen’s garderrobe, trying not to gag on the smell. Arthur would find this scene rich indeed. However, she lost the humor of the moment as she heard nothing but silence in the queen’s bedchamber. She obediently put her fingers in her ears, just in case Their Majesties began to speak. Though the queen had remained calm upon His Majesty’s entrance, Madge sensed a storm was coming. She had seen the clouds in Her Majesty’s eyes.

“How dare you come to me, Henry? After you have been kissing and fawning over one of mine own ladies?” said the queen.

Madge could hear quite clearly, even though she held her ears.

“Madame, I do not get your meaning,” said the king in a calm voice.

“‘Madame, I do not get your meaning!’”
mocked the queen. “Well, dear husband, let me make it plain enough so that even Your Highness can understand it! I will not have you courting my ladies! ’Tis unseemly and I simply will not abide it. I have sent the lady Eleanor from court! You’ll have to satisfy your filthy lusts with me or with a kitchen scullion!”

For a moment, there was silence. Then the mighty lion roared: “How
dare
you send anyone from
my
court without
my
word! Madame, you have gone beyond the most foolish monk in the kingdom!”

Madge could hear movement and crashing of gold plate against the walls and floors.

“I have borne you children and I have loved you, Henry! I cannot look away as Catherine has done—the love I bear for you is too great!” screamed the queen.

“Madame, you have good reason to be content with all I have done for you—for if it were to begin again, I would not! Do not forget from whence you came!” growled the king.

Again, there was silence and then Madge heard the king shout for his guards. Within a moment, he was heralded out of the queen’s bedchamber. Madge did not move. She waited several minutes until the queen opened the door, her face streaked with tears.

“Oh Margaret, I have made a mess of it once again. Why does my temper come so easily? Why can I not hold my tongue?” said the queen.

“Dear cousin, I can see how much love you bear the king. If I were in your place, I, too, would be grievously vexed! When I think of Arthur in another woman’s arms, well, my mind grows muddled and all I can think about is scratching him and wounding him. Not to mention what I think of doing to the wench! ’Tis a natural wish to do violence to those who harm us,” said Madge.

“But I cannot do such things—as a Christian wife, I should be obedient and worshipful of my husband,” said the queen. She flung herself across her bed and sobbed. “I am not made in such a way—I have held the king’s love since he first saw me dancing in a masque—all those years ago. I was but a maid. I played Perseverance and Harry was Ardent Desire. How he loved me then! How he loved me!” cried the queen.

*   *   *

In the days following their argument, the king and queen appeared together in court. Few would have noticed the coolness between them: the king smiled at Anne and she, in turn, spoke softly to him. With the lady Eleanor gone, there was no one to steal the king’s glances.

The Advent season came and with it, the cold snows of winter. On the first day of the snows, the king and queen frolicked, throwing snowballs and building snowmen. Some of the palace craftsmen started a contest for the best-carved snow creature and Master Holbein won a silver cup for fashioning the king’s lion and the queen’s leopard. One night, while Madge was attending her, Anne began to speak in quiet tones.

“Lady Margaret, I have been thinking,” said the queen.

“Of what, Majesty?” said Madge.

“I have been thinking of the king and Elizabeth and my little dead prince. The soothsayers have predicted that soon a queen shall burn. I have no doubt it is I about which they prophesy. I tell you this, cousin. And I spoke these words once to the king himself. Though I were to burn a thousand deaths, it would not move my love for the king one jot. How strange to think it true! After all the years of waiting for the crown, what I most long for now is my husband’s love. At the beginning, I cared nothing for His Majesty, though he were comely and well-proportioned. Lord Wiltshire, my father, begged me to become the king’s whore, like my sister before me. But I would not!” said the queen, staring into the fire. Madge sat on her trundle bed and looked up at the queen.

“Madame, I believe you still have His Majesty’s love. But the harsh words you sometimes speak cool him. He forgets how much he loves you. If you could but sweeten your voice to the king and to his courtiers—and yes, even old Uncle Norfolk—the king would warm to you again and again. You are still young and beautiful—you have borne him a perfect daughter and can still conceive a prince. You must forget your own feelings, Your Grace. Tame your tongue and play the game you know so well. You shall win, I will gamble my bag of sovereigns on it,” said Madge.

“Perhaps you are in the right, Lady Margaret. I will promise to be to him ever loving and kind—I wrote a verse once, saying something like that to Harry. He found it charming and amusing, as he used to find me,” said the queen. “But enough pining over what has been—let us plan what shall be! I shall invite the king to my bedchamber on Christmas Night. I will try all the tricks of love I learned in France and I will make him mine again!” said the queen.

For over an hour, Madge and the queen planned the night, what foods to bring into the bedchamber, which wines. Madge promised to spend the whole afternoon helping the queen prepare herself—bathing her, combing her hair until it glowed, spraying her with lavender and cinnamon, making certain the bedclothes were aired and brushed and the rushes fresh and sweet-smelling. Together, they wove a dream of love so that the queen slept peacefully and Madge felt the warmth of hope bloom in her heart.

*   *   *

Every night thereafter, through the Advent fast until Christmas Day, the queen made merry with the king. She laughed and pulled the king to his feet, clapping when he leapt and pranced through the galliard. She designed masques and selected music, inspired good talk with learned theologians and philosophers, read poetry by Wyatt and the other verse-makers, including Madge. The king seemed in high spirits, though he did not come to the queen’s bedchamber. Finally, Christmas Night arrived and Madge had everything prepared.

The king did not arrive as early as Madge and the queen had hoped. But when he entered the bedchamber, his guards clearing the way before him and announcing his presence, His Majesty was full of good cheer. He sent the guards away and began to drink the fine wine Madge had set in an ewer. Then, as if he had suddenly noticed her, he motioned for Madge to leave the chamber also.