Between Two Kings (11 page)

Count Jean de Montreuil was a tall man, with clever dark brown eyes. Jean had grizzled hair that had been a deep brunette color in his youth and adulthood. He looked between sixty-five and seventy years old. He could have been Anne’s natural grandfather. He was an old lonely man whose only son Guillaume Jean Frédéric de Ponthieu, together with his wife Jeanne, had died of the plague fifteen years ago. After his son’s untimely death, Jean had only his granddaughter Anne Gabrielle Marguerite de Ponthieu. The little girl was placed into one of the convents in the South of France to receive the best education there; she didn’t live with her grandfather who served as the French ambassador to the Republic of Venice. Once young Anne turned twenty, she left the convent and traveled to her grandfather to Venice. However, she spent only several months there and then married a Hungarian commoner, leaving for Hungary. She lived in Hungary for several years when the smallpox claimed her life. Jean was now alone in the world.

Anne liked Monsieur Jean, who was supposed to be her French “grandfather”. The more time passed, the more she liked him. They spent much time talking about art, literature, music, and politics; politics was the most favorite topic for Jean, a French ex-diplomat. With their clever and sophisticated conversations, they lived in a highly intellectual atmosphere. Anne thought that the old man respected her for her intellect and the great Renaissance education she had received at the French court. Monsieur Jean was proud that France, his country, had made Anne such a well-cultured lady. Anne also considered Monsieur Jean an epitome of the best French aristocracy as he was gentle and kind, caring and attentive, gallant and highbred, and, of course, extremely well-educated and immensely broad-minded. Jean was a true Renaissance man who was influenced very much by Renaissance humanism.

As soon as Anne arrived in Venice, Count Jean de Montreuil hired several seamstresses to produce new clothes for her. All the gowns were made in the latest French fashion. Soon Anne had a multitude of fashionable, gorgeous, and extravagant gowns, which perfectly fitted her, stressing her unconventional beauty. Jean also bought numerous beautiful headpieces and jewelry sets for Anne, all of them done in the French fashion. While Anne was at the Tower, she had worn only plain, dark-colored gowns and almost no jewelry, excluding simple pearls and the gorgeous “B” necklace that was Anne’s favorite piece of jewelry. Now, when she was again allowed to have extravagant and rich clothing, she was delighted to return to her old habits in fashion.

Anne felt slightly numb because she hadn’t expected Jean’s generosity and attentiveness. After all, she was just a woman living under a false identity, without the past and, possibly, even without a future, if she was discovered. She always heartily thanked her “grandfather”, often saying that she didn’t need so many gifts. The old count always objected, stating that Anne had to accept gowns, jewelry, and other accessories because she couldn’t be dressed as a peasant girl if they wanted to continue with the legend that she was his granddaughter. Very soon, Anne realized that Jean was trying to please her with all his heart, without any fraudulent intentions.

Although Anne wasn’t a queen anymore, she felt like a princess in a fairytale as a great deal of care and affection enveloped her at Monsieur Jean’s house. She couldn’t say for sure that she missed her position as a queen because she didn’t want to have another analogous near-death experience. There were too many dangers and negative aspects of holding great power. Yet, Anne missed the times when she, as the Queen of England, was a hostess of grand festivities, banquets, and jousts. She had always been the center of attention, since her early youth, even when she wasn’t the queen. She missed her former life to some extent.

Anne needed to be sure that she knew the lineage and the history of the County of Ponthieu by heart. She learnt the names of various counts and countesses and the major events associated with the lineage and its blood connections. She studied their biographies and discussed them with the old count.

It was a stroke of luck that Jean had no surviving relatives, except his deceased granddaughter Anne who had never been seen by many French and Venetian nobles. Before Anne came to Venice, Jean had dismissed half of the servants and hired new staff, letting only the most trusted people serve his household. However, many risks still existed: there were many French nobles who knew the grown-up Anne Boleyn. Anne appeased herself with the thought that they wouldn’t go to France in the near future. Besides, there were people who accompanied Anne from England to Calais, then across France to the Venetian Republic. There also were people who could have known and recognized the real Anne de Ponthieu.

Anne’s life was unpredictable and uncertain. She was technically dead, but in reality she was alive. She could lead only a shadowy life, dreaming of her revenge on King Henry and doubting that it was ever possible. It wasn’t very easy for her to accept her new role and personality, to live under a false name and have a false biography. However, she was ready to live in obscurity for the rest of her life, if only she could get news about her children in England.

Anne and her new “grandfather” never spoke about her past in England yet, Anne knew Jean always watched her. His observational skills were excellent, and Anne realized that very quickly.

During those days, Anne cared for very few things. She was emotionally dead. Her emotional estrangement from the world was very strong. Polite indifference and bland nonchalance were naturally embedded into her everyday behavior, in her manner of leading a conversation and in her expression. Her blue eyes no longer sparkled in merriment, like they had before the tragic events in England. Instead, they were cold, blank and impenetrable. She became much calmer and less temperamental than she had ever been before.

When Anne and Jean spent time together, enthusiastically talking about arts and politics, her aloofness would partially fade away as she became involved in the interesting, entertaining discussion. Yet, her eyes didn’t sparkle or, if they did, that sparkle was muted. She smiled very rarely, and if she did, it was usually an enigmatic, cold smile. Anne’s smile didn’t denude her general melancholy and her emotional distress. It looked as though she had learnt to wear a mask of iron, a mask of polite indifference and courtesy.

“Anne, what were you doing today?” Monsieur Jean asked Anne during dinner one night.

Anne stared at him. “I read
the Decameròn
by Giovanni Boccaccio,” she replied.

Jean laughed. “Oh, it is an amazing book. I have always liked the novelty of Boccaccio’s style. He is one of the first poets who became a true champion of portraying people’s characters and a perfect observer of passions.”

Anne nodded. “I have always liked the book, too. It is not the first time I have read it.” A faint smile stirred her lips. “Well, you know how fond I am of Renaissance literature.”

“Were you reading in Italian?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I thought that I had forgotten the language, but it appears that I haven’t.”

Jean sipped his wine. “I am sure you haven’t forgotten it.”

Anne smiled at him. “Monsieur Jean, do you have any news from England?”

“Grandfather,” Jean amended.

“Grandfather,” she echoed. It was rather natural for them to address to each other in a less formal manner.

Jean cast an intensive glance at Anne. “I have received a letter from one of my old friends.”

Although Jean didn’t mention the name, Anne realized that he meant her father Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire and the Earl of Ormonde.

“How is your friend doing?”

Jean smiled broadly. “He lives in his family’s castle, but he hates living in the countryside. He would love to receive an admission to the court of His Majesty King Henry VIII, but he is patiently waiting for his hour.”

Anne looked calm, but for an instant her twisted lips slightly betraying her rising anger, and then her face turned blank. She was afraid that her father would try to use her son Arthur for his own ambitions when the time finally came. She couldn’t forget that Mary, George, and she herself had been only pawns in his hands to secure him new titles and welfare. Anne didn’t want her son to be a part of that hypocrisy. Her blue eyes were as cold as ice. “Your friend should wait very patiently. His hour will come,” she said. “Any more news?”

“My old English friend informed me that his grandson Arthur who resides at his eldest daughter’s household is still there. He mentioned that the boy is healthy and that his daughter loves him dearly.”

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Her dear little son was healthy! It was the most important thing for her. “It is God’s blessing when children are healthy,” she commented with a smile.

Jean took another sip of wine. “Assuredly.” He put the goblet at the table. “I also received a letter from the French ambassador to England, Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion.”

Anne gave him a questioning look. “And what did Monsieur de Chabot write? Any more interesting news?”

“Do you want to ask how King Henry is doing?”

She drew a deep breath. “Yes, Grandfather.” Her voice slightly trembled.

From the corner of his eye, Jean caught her mood swing. He sighed heavily. “His Majesty King Henry VIII married Lady Jane Seymour ten days after the death of his second wife, Anne Boleyn. The wedding was very grand, and the celebrations took a whole week.” He paused momentarily, his eyes never leaving Anne’s face. “A few days afterwards, King Henry summoned a new parliament. In front of all the people there, he made a long speech, stressing that notwithstanding the misfortunes attending his two former marriages, he had been induced, for their good, to venture on a third.”

“How did the parliament react to that speech?” Amazement was struggling with anger in her heart, her eyes turning colder. She hadn’t expected Henry to be so bold and to marry so soon. She laughed at herself for thinking would have waited longer and mourned for her death.

Jean smirked. “One of the speakers, the notorious Richard Rich, compared King Henry on justice and prudence to Solomon, in strength and fortitude to Samson, and for beauty and comeliness to Absolom.” This time Anne laughed. She couldn’t help herself – she laughed with a cynical, satirical laugh. It was really funny. Yet, it was sad because the obsequious parliament was willing to go any lengths to encourage the king’s vices and gratify his most lawless passions. As she stopped laughing, her lips were still curved in a smile. “What complacency and servility!”

“And what else did you expect?”

“Nothing,” she replied humbly. As the servant poured a new goblet of wine, she elegantly took it in her right hand and made a small sip. “How do the children of King Henry view his marriage to Lady Jane Seymour?”

“The ambassador mentioned that Lady Jane was the mediatrix of the reconciliation between Henry and Lady Mary. Lady Mary returned to the court and was greeted there by her father.”

Anne had anticipated that Jane would try to bring Lady Mary back to the court. It was easy to predict that. Her primary concern was what her dear Elizabeth thought and how she felt. “And what about the king’s youngest daughter, Lady Elizabeth?” She wanted to say Princess Elizabeth, but stopped herself.

“The ambassador informed me that King Henry called Lady Elizabeth Henry Norris’ bastard. He doesn’t acknowledge her as his daughter, despite the fact that the girl’s last name is still Tudor. King Henry also limited the expenses of the child’s household. Lady Elizabeth’s governess doesn’t have any funds to buy new clothes when the girl has outgrown all her old clothes.” Jean trailed off and gave a compassionate look to Anne. His brown eyes turned sorrowful. “Queen Jane was the one who sent some money to the child. Furthermore, several family relatives financially supported the child. King Henry himself refused to give more money and ordered the girl’s governess not to ask again.”

Anna clenched her jaw. Her heart started pumping harder and harder throughout her veins. She was nervous, and her breathing accelerated. Rage slashed through her heart. She hated Henry with all her heart at that moment. She hated him more than she had ever loved him. How could that cruel man treat his own daughter so harshly? Goddamn him, she cursed. It was an act of atrocity what Henry did to her and to their children. She thought that she knew well enough that Henry was a cruel man in his anger. However, he turned out to be much worse than Anne had ever anticipated. Henry was an incorrigible, steel-hearted man.

A silence followed, deathlike and ominous. Soon it became unbearable.

Jean sighed. “Anne, don’t let hatred poison your life. There is nothing else you can do for Elizabeth right now, but you still have several allies in England.”

Anne forced herself to regain her composure. “I know that I can do nothing,” she acknowledged bitterly. She lowered her head and looked down at her platter.

Jean nodded. “Anne, I suppose that Lady Mary and Queen Jane will take care of Elizabeth. Family relatives and friends will also help the girl.”

They didn’t discuss anything directly. Of course the family relatives and friends were Thomas Boleyn and Henry Percy.

Anne raised her eyes to face Jean. “I hope that they will help the girl.”

“They will, Anne,” Jean said with a genuine smile. “I also heard from my old friend that one of the premier English Earls, Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, suddenly became very interested in the English Reformation. My friend reported that Henry Percy befriended the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

Anne smiled. It was good news. Anne remembered that Henry Percy had said that he would try to help her by opening the king’s eyes that she was innocent. Maybe Henry Percy had decided to talk to Cranmer in order to ask him about Anne’s last confession. She knew that Percy would take a cautious approach if he truly wanted to help her. Anne glanced at Jean, and her eyes registered his broad smile. Her eyes sparkled with some hope. “It is interesting news,” she said.

“Exactly.” Jean sipped wine. Then he sighed heavily as he predicted her reaction to what he had to announce. “The ambassador also wrote that Queen Jane is with child.”