Mayflowers for November: The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn (11 page)

‘You would be greatly in my debt, Lady Bryan,’ Lady Shelton purred,’ if you would speak with Lady Mary.’

‘Of what matter?’ Lady Bryan asked. ‘Lady Mary is your affair.’

‘She refuses to go the Queen if she is summonsed. A word from yourself, Lady Bryan, might ...’

‘She loved me once,’ Lady Bryan interrupted. ‘I will not cast those memories away by inviting her anger while she is distressed.’

That first day of her visit I did not see the Queen at all. I did not see the pearls upon her hood, nor the jewels about her neck, nor her split velvet sleeves of purple where the black-worked gossamer linen billowed through. I did not hear how sweetly she spoke to Lady Mary’s maid, promising to intervene with the King, if only my Lady Mary would come and honour her as Queen and Elizabeth as Princess. Nor did I hear her angry words when Lady Mary sent her reply that if Madam Anne Boleyn, Marchioness of Pembroke, would speak to the King on her behalf, she would be much obliged. One of Lady Shelton’s maids told me all of this in the maid’s dormitory that night.

‘The Queen charged Lady Shelton to be more severe with Lady Mary,’ the girl said,’and to slap Lady Mary’s face and give her a good banging when she is being obstinate, just as she would a servant. And my Lady Shelton is so put out because the Queen picked at the fare my lady had provided, at great expense, and gave her no compliment upon her table, only complained that a greater choice of white meats would have been easier upon her delicate digestion.

‘And Lady Shelton spoke not at all at dinner with her daughter, Mistress Madge, who has accompanied the Queen as maid-of-honour,’ the girl continued, ‘although she speaks her praises every day in her absence. It is common talk that they have had a falling out although you would not know it from Mistress Madge’s behaviour, for she is all smiles and skips about the house and garden in her maid-of-honour’s clothes, tossing her head and making her pretty veil shimmer.’

*

‘There’s only one reason a mother has a falling out with a daughter of Mistress Madge’s age,’ the wet-nurse hinted and tightened her lips. I said nothing. Nurse had had occasion to rebuke me several times for asking questions about matters that were no concern of mine. She is waiting for me to ask ‘why?’ and then I will get a scolding for prying into my lady’s business, I thought.

‘I hope Queen Anne will visit the nursery today,’ I said.

‘It is usual for Lady Bryan to fetch the child and take her to the Queen.’

‘Surely, Queen Anne will wish to speak with you about Princess Elizabeth’s feeding and daily care.’

‘Umph,’ was all the response I got from Nurse.

‘I wish I could see the Queen,’ I said. ‘I want to see her clothes and her French hood.’

‘The Queen’s time is very much taken up with advising my Lady Shelton concerning her discipline of the Lady Mary. Should the Queen visit the Princess Elizabeth here today, you will sit quietly upon your stool and stare at your slippers unless you are called for.’

‘Yes, Nurse.’

‘Before the morrow, Queen Anne will be gone and this household will thankfully be as it was, with no bickering and ill tempers; amongst my lady’s family at least. I can’t speak for the Lady Mary. As I’ve told you, there’s only one reason why my lady has quarrelled with her daughter.’

‘Oh, is that so,’ I dared to reply.

‘There’s a gentleman behind this quarrel, paying court to Mistress Madge and her mother don’t approve.’

‘What gentleman?’ I asked. ‘There are no young gentlemen here to court Mistress Shelton.’

‘There are plenty of gentleman at court, young and not so young, ready to dally with the Queen’s pretty cousin, and plenty of pretty maids-of-honour willing to dally with the King.’

‘Oh, but the King is newly wed.’

‘Don’t look so shocked, girl. The King always had mistresses when Katherine was Queen, especially during her pregnancies. Why should the King behave differently because the Queen has a different name. When Anne Boleyn became Queen she left a space in King Henry’s bed where his mistress sleeps.’

‘Whatever are you about, Nurse, tittle-tattling about the King’s privy affairs? The Queen is coming,’ Lady Bryan scolded in a harsh whisper as she hurried through the great outer chamber and into the princess’s little sleeping chamber in a rustle of black silk, and almost pushed the wet-nurse into the nursing chair. Only Mistress Blanche seemed unruffled, sitting calmly beside the cradle and smiling at Princess Elizabeth while she rocked.

‘After you have curtseyed to the Queen, sit quietly somewhere so you will not be noticed,’ Lady Bryan told me.

The Queen was accompanied by Lady Shelton and a young lady who I presumed to be Mistress Madge, her daughter. My Lady wore the same green gown and hood she had worn for the King’s visit. The emeralds sparkled but she didn’t. Perhaps she is one of those women who only shine in the company of flattering men, like the King and Sir John, I thought, for my Lord was always giving her compliments and holding her around the waist when they were about the house and garden and the King had behaved in just the same way when he had come to visit, as if he were her husband too. The narrowed eyes and taught lines across her forehead gave my lady ten years upon her age although usually, she had the appearance of being too young to have so large a grown up family. Her daughter, fair and pretty, begged to be allowed to hold the little princess who had awakened and was staring at her visitors with her tiny red face all puckered up, as if she was about to wail.

‘Be not so forward, Madge,’ Lady Shelton scolded. ‘Your cousin, the Queen, wishes to spend some precious time with her daughter.’

The wet-nurse lifted Elizabeth from her crib, for there had been no time to lay her upon her big bed of state. Lady Bryan took the child and handed her to the Queen with a cautious smile. Elizabeth had howled yesterday when the Queen held her. Two months is time enough for a young babe to forget its mother. Today, Elizabeth stared into her mother’s eyes and lay contented in her arms.

‘She remembers her mother,’ Lady Shelton said with obvious relief.

‘Do you imply that she should not, Aunt,’ the Queen snapped.

‘Of course not, Anne,’ Lady Shelton answered in a small voice.

‘Out, out, all of you.’ Queen Anne spoke quietly yet firmly. ‘Leave me alone with my daughter. But let the little nursemaid stay awhile. She will fetch you, Nurse, should Princess Elizabeth have need of you.’

The Queen sat in the nursing chair rocking her daughter and told Princess Elizabeth of all the delights of childhood she planned for her: music, dancing, a little palfrey to ride, mayflowers to gather in spring. She would have tutors to teach her to speak many languages, for she would be clever like her mother and her grandfather, Lord Wiltshire.

‘You are your father’s only true heir,’ she told her. ‘The others are bastards. But you, Elizabeth, are a true, legitimate Tudor.’

Baby Elizabeth gazed open-mouthed into her mother’s face as if bewitched while her mother sang a gentle lullaby in those French words I couldn’t understand.

Then she turned to me.

‘Here is the babe you foresaw, Avis. Would you like to hold her?’

She told me to sit in the nursing chair and placed Elizabeth in my arms. “‘Pale auburn hair,’ you said, “the image of His Grace, the King.” You were not afraid to tell me of a daughter.’

There she was, Queen Anne, standing before me whilst I sat cradling her child. This was not how it should be. If Lady Shelton should walk in now, whatever would she think? Or Nurse? Or Lady Bryan?

Queen Anne placed her hands protectively just below her waist over her womb. ‘Is there something you wish to tell me today?’ she asked.

I knew she was pregnant. I could see the secret in her eyes. I told her so.

‘It has to be a boy this time, Avis. Tell me you see a boy.’

Yes. I saw a boy. I saw his wrinkled, purple, new-born skin. I saw a perfect male child, small and still, so very still. I hoped she did not see the sorrow in my eyes.

This time I lied.

I told her it was too soon to know.

*

Even before Queen Anne’s black velvet train was out of sight, Lady Bryan spoke sharply to me. ‘Lady Shelton would speak urgently with you. Go, make haste.’

A page accompanied me, for I could not find my way alone to my lady’s apartments. She had never had cause to send for me to her chambers. Upon what matter I was summonsed I had no idea except for the preference Queen Anne had shown to me.

‘That this should happen in my house,’ Lady Shelton wailed while I dropped into a curtsey. Dismissing the page she bid me rise and kept me standing while she circled around me like a mastiff in a bear pit.

‘In my house,’ she chanted, ‘in my house. This is a burden too much. I have borne my lord many children and God knows I’ve done my duty and brought my children up to honour the King. To have treason discovered in my house.’

Lady Shelton stood before me glaring angrily.

‘My lady, I only stayed in the nursery while the Queen sang to her daughter,’ I said, terrified. ‘I promise you, I know nought of any treason.’

‘I should be sitting in my chambers with my embroidery or walking quietly in my gardens in Norfolk, enjoying peace after bringing up my family. Instead, I have to take charge of the King’s rebellious daughter who has brought treason into my house assisted by you, a nursery maid, who has wormed her way into Princess Elizabeth’s apartments. You may well look startled, wench, and jump out of your skin. I have questions to ask and you had better know the answers.’

At this point Mistress Madge skipped into the chamber unruffled by her mother’s fury and taking her firmly by the shoulders steered her towards a chair.

‘Pray, Lady Mother, do sit down and give the wench a stool herself,’ she entreated in a soft, calming tone. ‘You will not persuade her to speak freely while she is weeping and trembling and you are so fraught. You will cause her to faint with fright.’

‘This is all your fault, wench,’ Lady Shelton hissed to me. ‘The intruder’s excuse for visiting our household was to bring you a gift. Look, Madge,’ she turned to her daughter. ‘The pomander hangs from her girdle. She cannot deny it.’

‘Give me the pomander.’ Mistress Madge pulled the ribbons at my waist.’ Now then, I have forgotten your name.’

I had to tell her thrice before she heard correctly because I was sobbing so much. Lady Shelton asked me about my parents and my work at Greenwich Palace.

‘Weeding and making puddings is no training for a nursery maid,’ she scoffed. ‘I cannot, upon my life, imagine how you came to be employed in the royal nursery.’

‘Nurse has no complaints about her, and my cousin, Anne, the Queen, appears to like her,’ Mistress Madge interrupted. ‘Pray, Lady Mother, give her chance to explain how she came by this pomander.’

‘Someone asked the laundress to give it to me.’ I said simply.’It’s just an orange filled with herbs.’

‘This much we know,’ Lady Shelton snapped. ‘This admirer of yours, who is he?’

She would not believe me when I pleaded that I knew not who had brought it.

‘It is a love token, Avis,’ Mistress Madge replied giggling so that little pits appeared upon her cheeks. She waved the pomander before my nose. ‘Rosemary is for love and remembrance.’

Lady Shelton rose from her chair and prodded my chest.

‘The laundress has described the boy who brought it: about sixteen years or so, brown hair, eyes of no particular colour. She noticed his arms were strong and muscular for a lad with such a slight frame, and his hands were calloused. Who is this boy who is courting you, Avis? He is a traitor to the King and must be found.’

I told her that I had thought the pomander was a Valentine’s gift from the carpenter’s apprentice who used to talk to me when I was in the outer courtyard at Greenwich. ‘He is tall, broad and fair,’ I explained, ‘with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair. I don’t know his baptismal name. The other apprentices named him Harry because of his resemblance to the King when he was a boy.’

‘This is not the same boy the laundress describes,’ Lady Shelton said sourly.

‘Surely a pretty girl like you would attract notice in a courtyard full of strapping young men,’ Mistress Madge coaxed. ‘You have another sweetheart, I think,’

‘Only the rat boy, and he disappeared.’

Mistress Madge laughed. ‘Oh Avis, what an innocent you are. I think we can find you a better sweetheart than the rat boy.’

Lady Shelton frowned at her daughter and turned to me. ‘Have you opened the pomander?’

I shook my head.

‘Well, do so now. There may a missive inside directing us to the sender.’

I untied the ribbons and cut the twine with Lady Shelton’s embroidery scissors. The two orange halves fell apart.

‘Oh,’ I gasped, horrified by what I had only moments ago blabbed to Mistress Madge; for inside there was no message of love but I knew who had sent my gift. A golden coin fell into my lap and I stared at the image of St Michael slaying the dragon with his spear. I flipped the coin and saw a ship upon the sea.

‘I think we can safely deduce that a rat boy did not send this gift,’ Lady Shelton commented dryly, while I tried to disguise my sigh of relief at her reasoning. ‘Nor the carpenter’s lad. Neither would have the means to acquire an angel noble.’