Read Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn Online
Authors: Sarah A. Morris
Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn
Le Temps Viendra:
A Novel of Anne Boleyn
Sarah A. Morris
Spartan Publishing
Published August 15 2012
Copyright: Sarah Morris
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser without the permission of the publisher
ISBN: 978-0-9873841-1-9
Spartan Publishing
www.spartan-publishing.com
This book is dedicated to two outstanding women: Natalie Dormer whose definitive portrayal of Anne Boleyn in the Showtime Series, ‘The Tudors’ was as complex, compelling and beguiling as the lady herself. In so many ways, this stirred my creative spirit and set the fertile ground for bringing forth this novel. Also, of course, to the woman who was, and will ever be, an irrepressible force of nature. She captured the heart of a King and changed a nation’s history. In honour of your courage, strength and your eternal innocence, I dedicate this book to you; Anne Boleyn, Queen of England.
Acknowledgements
Many people have inputted into the writing of this book. In no particular order, I am indebted to the following:
To Emma Raphael (
http://www.raphaelhistoricfalconry.com/home.php
) of Raphael Historic Falconry, who ensured technical accuracy in those scenes in which Anne is out hawking with the King; Bess Chilver, Historical Costumer, who kept me straight on all the details relating to forms of address and the often complex nature of Tudor costume at the Henrician Court; Jan, the guide at Hever Castle, who helped me recreate in my mind’s eye, the home Anne would have known in the early 16
th
century; to Jacqueline Clemson, a Blue Badge Guide, who took me on a private tour of Hampton Court Palace and brought alive its hidden gems.
To my hugely supportive Facebook family, including; Natalie Grueninger (
www.onthetudortrail.com
), Sarah Bryson (
www.queentohistory/blogspot
), Emma Fuery and Darren Wilkins (
www.thetudorroses.co.uk
), who all acted as passionate and knowledgeable lovers of all things Anne Boleyn, and who kindly gave their feedback on the development of the novel along the way.
To all my enthusiastic Facebook and Twitter fans, who shared every exhilarating, and sometimes painful, steps in bringing Anne’s story to life and, of course, for their never-ending bounty of support and commitment for the final product; and finally, to Natalie Dormer who helped me wrestle with the question of ‘When did Henry fall out of love with Anne Boleyn?’ by sharing her very unique perspective of having walked in Anne’s shoes for over two years, whilst filming the Showtime series, ‘The Tudors.’
‘If any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best.’
Queen Anne Boleyn
1501-1536
‘Innocent’
Chapter 1 Hever Castle, June 21, 2007
Chapter 1 Hever Castle, May 31, 1527
Chapter 2 The Rose Garden, May 31, 1527
Chapter 3 The Hunt, May 31, 1527
Chapter 4 Hever Castle, June 1, 1527
Chapter 5 Allington Castle, June 2, 1527
Chapter 6 Hever Castle, July 21, 1527
Chapter 7 Journey to Beaulieu, July 22, 1527
Chapter 8 The Palace of Beaulieu, July 28, 1527
Chapter 9 The Palace of Beaulieu, August 18, 1527
Chapter 10 The Palace of Richmond, September 30, 1527
Chapter 11 The Palace of Placentia at Greenwich, November 10, 1527
Chapter 12 Hever Castle, November 17, 1527
Chapter 13 Hever Castle, December 24, 1527
Chapter 14 Hever Castle, February 3, 1528
Chapter 15 Windsor Castle, February 25-26, 1528
Chapter 16 Windsor Castle, March 3, 1528
Chapter 17 Windsor Castle, March 28, 1528
Chapter 18 Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, May 1, 1528
Chapter 19 Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, May 4, 1528
Chapter 20 Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, May 6, 1528
Chapter 21 Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, June 15, 1528
Chapter 22 Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, June 16, 1528
Chapter 1 Hever Castle, June 21, 2007
Chapter 2 Greenwich, London, July 20, 2007
Chapter 3 London and Runnymede, July 23, 2007
Chapter 4 Hever Castle, August 10, 2007
Chapter 5 Greenwich and The British Library, London, April 21, 2009
Prologue
The Tower of London
8.30am, May 19, 1536
Today I die. Do not grieve for me, for I no longer fear death; he who hath stalked me for so long now. It is not, as I said to Master Kingston, that I desire death, but the grim inevitability of my fate has caused me to become reconciled with it. I have made my peace with God and my spirit yearns to be free of this body and of this cruel and unjust world. Within the hour, I will gladly walk to the scaffold and if I am lucky, I will not feel the cold steel of the Sword of Calais cleave my head from this sinful body. Yet I have not sinned as they say I have—at least not in this lifetime. I have been convicted of treason, adultery and incest. This suits their purpose. Cromwell to save his own skin by annihilating not only me, but my brother, and those who lived and loved for the name and honour of Anne Boleyn; the King so that he may indulge his changing passions and take Mistress Seymour for his new wife. Yet to my God, I confess different sins.
In this lifetime I have been cruel and spiteful to the previous queen, Katherine, and the Lady Mary, the King’s eldest daughter. In my wild and unbridled jealousy, I lashed out making their life a misery, encouraging Lady Shelton to degrade and humiliate Mary for her defiance of me and my marriage to Henry. I did not honour her high birth or her loyalty to her mother. How could I have blamed her, when I could no more dishonour my own mother if our situations had been reversed? They deserved my compassion and for this cruelty, I truly repent. Yet there is more than even they know.
As one of my ladies, pale from the stress of preparing her mistress to die, holds up a mirror for me to see my reflection, I adjust the necklace that was once a gift from the King; a cipher with my initial, ‘A’ set with diamonds that adorns my slender neck. I pause for a brief moment and catch my eye, and know that I carry a secret that no one in this world knows. This is indeed a strange story beyond all imagining. You see I no longer truly know who I am. Time, and my true identity, has become distorted. I have been caught up in living a dual reality that has spanned time and lifetimes. In the mirror, a convicted traitor, I see myself as Anne Boleyn, Queen of England. Yet in consciousness, I know that I have also been living another life, in another time. I do not know how this has been happening or why me. Is it possible that souls in their immortality can exist in multiple realities at once? I do know this though—I have been living a life 500 years in the future, and in that life I am just plain Anne.
Yet even this modern Anne has sinned wretchedly. I have watched both lives become inextricably entwined, each reality reflecting and shaping the other. I have tried, oh dear Lord, I have tried to stop it all, to change the outcome; but it has been a fruitless quarry, and I have witnessed both my lives hurtle headlong toward disaster. I have tasted the cup of poison that is fate and now I surrender to her will. Surely now with my death I will atone for my sins. God forgive me; Jesus Christ have mercy upon my soul. Take me now; I am ready to be free.
Part One
Chapter One
Hever Castle
June 21, 2007
Looking back, I can remember as plain as if it were yesterday how it all began. It was an otherwise unremarkable summer. The only event written on my calendar was a weekend away, indulging in my lifelong passion for Tudor history and Anne Boleyn. If truth be known, I felt a little embarrassed. Few people knew of my long standing love affair with Anne Boleyn. As a child, I became fascinated with the world of the Tudor court, and Anne soon emerged centre stage as a captivating, intelligent and courageous young woman. Right there and then I had fallen for her. She was utterly compelling to me, a force of nature that had not diminished over the centuries.
As the years had passed, I read and re-read her story, and as I did so, I grew more deeply involved in her character, in her passion, her wit, her fierce determination and ultimately, her betrayal. I visited the places associated with her life as I grew into adulthood. Sometimes, it almost felt as if I could reach out and touch her; as if she were trying to speak to me—to show me her life—the exhilaration and the suffering.
By my mid-thirties, I was lucky to live in Greenwich, England, not a stone’s throw from the 18th century Royal Naval College which was built on the site of Henry’s original Tudor palace, the most favoured of all his ‘Great Houses.’ I passed it daily on my way into the City to work; I would often find myself daydreaming longingly, trying to imagine the magnificence of the original building, soaring up from the banks of the Thames; little did I know then that there would come a day when, beyond all reason and comprehension, I would see the palace with my own eyes and even come to think of it as home.
Yet all this was to come. At the beginning of that fateful summer, I still felt very much like any ordinary woman, with no more or less of a mix of life’s joys, trials and tribulations than the next person. I thanked God that I was strong and resilient though; for the past few years had been difficult ones. I married in my early twenties, rushing headlong into a commitment that in retrospect I had given little serious thought to. Over the years, I forgave myself for my youthful exuberance, and I understand now that I had probably been trying to escape a persistent sense of a lack of belonging that had stalked me since my childhood.
Although my relationship started with such promise, it disintegrated after only eight years. I discovered that I had married a man who was an alcoholic. I tried to rescue him—and us—countless times. However, the potency of the drink reached way beyond my capacity to help him. It took many broken promises before I finally conceded that I could not save my husband from his own demons; he had to want salvation for himself. After hiding from the truth for several years, it eventually became clear that he did not want it badly enough. Oh yes, it had been a humbling experience to realise that a bottle of alcohol seemed to be a more appealing companion than I could ever be. Eventually, I walked out of the marriage, ultimately taking very little with me.
Even though it was I who finally ended the relationship, in the months that followed, the suffering I experienced was acute; my life seemed to disintegrate around me. All the security and familiarity that I imagined I had built up to keep me safe seemed to melt away. Through the subsequent divorce, my then husband played the role of victim to Oscar-worthy acclaim. The whole tempestuous process dragged on for over two years, as we lurched from one divorce crisis to another. Finally, when there were no more diversions or obstacles that he could dream up to keep me locked in an endless cycle of attention seeking, we signed our divorce papers.
It was perhaps one of the most liberating moments of my life. How strange, I often mused, that in order to feel so free, one had to know such bondage first. It took me another year to fully find my feet again and work through the guilt which I still felt in ‘abandoning’ him and the so many ‘what ifs’ that haunted my waking hours. Finally, I accepted where my responsibility lay and saw the wisdom in letting go. I sent him many blessings in my heart and began to rebuild my life.
Over the years, I often wondered why I found Anne so compelling. I suspected that I related to many of the complex aspects of her character. I was well aware, for example, that from the age of seventeen, I was most often described by my paramours as ‘not stunningly beautiful but wildly sexy.’ I enjoyed the comparison, it reminded me of Anne, and how her contemporaries had struggled to fathom just how she had managed to capture the attention of the King of England. Physically, though, I was entirely dissimilar to my heroine. I had blonde hair and blue eyes; although like Anne, I was slim and probably of similar height, given the descriptions that I had read of her. In short, I suppose I had always related to her approach to life. We had a lot in common.