At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (35 page)

“Your Majesty … dearest cousin … I am filled with concern that the king has not supped with you these past three nights. There are tales once again about him and Mistress Seymour,” said Madge.

“I have heard these stories and think they are true enough. The king seeks to go where he will and he has chosen one who will not argue with him as I have done. Nor will she do any of the things I have done to please him,” said the queen with a strange look. “He will tire of her quickly, I’ll warrant. You are much more beautiful than she and you have a mind and charm. She is as dull as dishwater. Yet, the king tired of you quickly enough.”

Madge did not speak her anger at the queen’s words.

“Jane has no beauty, that is certain. Yet, those who tell the tales say it is her virtue the king admires and her quiet serenity,” said Madge.

“Virtue? Ha, he has played that game before! He will come back to me—I know it. I shall win him as I did before—my apartments will be filled with gaiety and laughter and music. He will want to be here, mark me,” said the queen.

“Of this I have no doubt … but dearest Anne,” said Madge in a whisper, “mayhap you should guard your temper with him just a little. Be sweet to him and win him with your kindness.”

The queen removed her feet from the basin and Madge dried them on a nearby cloth. Then Madge cupped her hands and poured in the scented oil. She began to rub the queen’s feet.

“Sweetness is not the only way to the king’s heart. I know a secret way,” said the queen in a whisper. She looked at Madge and spoke again, “Will you swear on your prayer book never to breathe a word of what I am about to tell you?”

“Yes, Majesty—I do swear never to tell, if they draw and quarter me,” said Madge.

“Even so, perhaps I should not spill this news—I scarce know what to think of it myself,” said the queen, her eyes staring into the firelight.

“Please, dearest cousin, do not tell me anything untoward,” said Madge.

“No—I
shall
share it with you, for I know not what to make of it,” said the queen. Her Majesty took a deep breath and continued. “Do you remember when last the king came to my bed while we were on Progress? We were at Sudeley Castle and had the entire second floor to ourselves,” said the queen.

“Aye, I recall it well—you sent me down to the kitchens several times in the early evening to fetch food and drink. I remember traversing those steep stairs!” said Madge.

“After I sent you to sleep with the rest of the ladies, the king and I began to kiss and fondle each other as in days of old. He was breathing hard, panting really, and was eager to begin the act. I, too, was ready for him. We crawled into our bed and he then had his usual trouble—the same trouble he had with you,” said the queen, her cheeks red.

Madge continued rubbing the queen’s feet and her delicate ankles. She did not wish to hear any more about the private acts of Their Majesties.

“But I was not willing to give up this chance for my son, so I employed one final trick I learned in France,” said the queen.

“How could there be any more devices for love than those Your Grace has already shared with me?” said Madge.

“I had heard this long ago while I was at the French court, but I never dreamed I would use such means to get a babe,” said the queen. “As you know, Francis the First is a lecherous, pox-ridden man but he has a terrible secret vice. I learned of this from Madame Beauforte, one of Queen Claude’s ladies.”

“I knew you served the virtuous queen Claude, Majesty. What did you learn from her woman?” said Madge, whose curiosity was now alive.

“Madame Beauforte knew Francis’s mistress, Mme. Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly. She has kept the king’s interest for almost twenty years. He made her the wealthiest, most powerful woman at the French court,” said the queen, turning over to lie on her side while Madge continued to rub her feet. “It is said that men would sell their souls to have a night with her, such are her skills at lovemaking.” The queen smiled at Madge.

“I suppose having that kind of talent is something one is born with—like the gift of music or beauty,” said Madge, feeling suddenly inadequate.

“Do you not wish to know what her secret is, cousin?” said the queen.

“Only if Your Majesty wishes to tell me,” said Madge, half-afraid.

“I do wish to tell you. There may come a time for you to use this hidden knowledge,” said the queen.

“Majesty, I can only hope my charms will be enough for my husband,” said Madge. The queen gave her an evil look and Madge realized that for some men, no matter how well-endowed their wives with wit and beauty, they would always need perversity in the act of love.

The queen yawned and then continued her story, “Mme. d’Heilly has a silken cord with nine silken tails at one end. When she meets with the king in one of his houses arranged for such a purpose, she takes the reins of power from him. Now, it is
she
who must be obeyed on pain of, well, a lashing with the silken whip. She commands the king and he obeys her every wish. It is said he parades on all fours like a horse, with nary a stitch of clothing upon his back. Around and around the room she drives him. If he does not gallop fast enough to please her, she flails him. She is rumored to have forced him to please himself in front of her, and to eat gruel from a dish set upon the floor. Some say she even places a strand of pearls in his nether regions and slowly pulls them out, to his great delight. Such treatment builds a wild frenzy in him until he can bear it no longer. Finally, she allows him to satisfy himself with her, often telling him to take her the way a stallion takes a mare,” said the queen.

“I have never heard such…” said Madge with her mouth slightly open. She thought of the miniature she had seen of Francis I and could not smother a laugh.

“Nor had I—and it seems such a humorous picture I can scarce believe it. But the wench swore on the Holy Bible ’twas the truth,” said the queen.

“If such methods would work on the body of an anointed king, I cannot imagine how a mere yeoman might react,” said Madge. “I would never have the courage to begin such a game.”

“I would never have thought it myself. But I know I must bear a son to the king if I am to survive. So … I did try the same with my Harry,” said the queen in a hushed tone.

Madge could not believe what she heard. Yet, she would hear more.

“What happened, cousin? How did the king like such sport?” said Madge.

“I will tell you, Margaret, our king was so amazed at my handling of him, he knew not what to do at first. But soon, he took to the game and I built a passion in him I had not seen before, nay, not even on the night in Calais when he took me for the first time. He was filled with rage and the devil knows what else. I brought out the young man in him that night. When the time came, he took me the same way Francis took his concubine—like an animal,” said the queen.

“And did he fall in love with you again? Was he pleased?” said Madge.

The queen turned her eyes to the floor and spoke very softly.

“Nay, I think not. Afterward, we lay together and he was still panting. His face was flushed and he arose to gather his clothes. He said to me, “Madame, I know not where you have learned such sport but ’tis not fitting for a king—you will breathe of this to no one!” He then left, ashamed methinks. For my Harry is clean in all his habits and full of dignity. My game disturbed him deeply, I fear,” said the queen.

“Do you think it is the memory of that debased night that keeps His Majesty from you?” said Madge.

“Perhaps. To recall all I made him do would bring shame to any man worth his blood. But Margaret, you should have seen him prancing on the floor, his belly hanging lower than his manhood—I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing,” said the queen.

“Thank God you did not laugh,” said Madge. She was amazed at what the queen had disclosed.

“No, even I know better than that. I had hoped such play would lead Henry back to me, begging for more, as Francis is said to do,” said the queen.

“From what I know of His Majesty, such a stunt would work only once—you are lucky to have escaped with your head!” said Madge.

“You have taken his measure quite right. I sought to bind him to me, but it seems I have driven him further away. Now, I fear only the birth of a prince can save me—I see how he looks at me sometimes, when he does not suspect I am watching—it is a look of such coldness I can scarce bear it,” said the queen.

Madge was suddenly sorry for His Majesty and for the queen as well. How strange a thing it was to be married to a king.

Madge fell silent and so did Her Majesty. Soon, Madge heard the soft familiar snores from the queen. At least the queen had gotten what she wanted—a babe growing in her belly. The king would have his son and the queen would be safe. And England would be free from another civil war. Maybe such rewards were worth a bit of debauchery.

*   *   *

As the weather grew more chill and the first snows began to fall, Madge longed for Arthur’s return to court. She had received two letters from him, each one encouraging her to wait for him, bespeaking his love in plain terms. She had sent one letter in response but was carefully circumspect in her own admission of her feelings in writing. She had learned the ways of the court too well to commit anything of import to the page.

Each day, the king and queen attended matins, the Mass, and compline together. To the court, His Majesty showed the queen every consideration. But Madge could see the strange look that came to his eyes when the queen turned away from him to speak with a courtier. She also noticed the king no longer kissed his wife, except on the hand in greeting. Though he was always the gentleman with the queen, he had not yet come to sup again. Madge could almost feel the tension in the air at court and worried how such strains would affect the queen’s unborn child. Each night, she prayed for the safety of both.

*   *   *

The winter winds blew fully as the Advent season approached and Greenwich buzzed with preparations for the twelve days of Christmas. Madge enjoyed the activity and the building excitement. She thought of the Blessed Virgin and how she, like the queen, awaited the birth of her son. With the changes in the service, Madge was able to hear preaching that forced her to think about herself and God in ways she had not considered previously. As she observed the intrigues at court, she saw she was in a hotbed of corruption. No one could be trusted, it seemed. Those who treated you most kindly one moment could cut you the next. One day, the Lord Privy Seal; the next day, one’s head on a stake at London Bridge. As the queen continued to fall out of favor with the king, the court reflected his attitude. The king had almost strangled his fool, Will Somers, when he jested that the queen was a “bawd” and the Princess “a bastard,” and banished him from court. Yet, few courtiers were as solicitous of the queen’s comfort as they had been three years ago. They were, however, full of courtesy, for who knew when the king might return once again to his wife’s arms.

Madge thought of these things and realized nothing at Court was secure; everything—the gold, the jewels, the merrymaking—was in flux, here one moment and gone the next.

*   *   *

“Lady Margaret, I have a message for you,” said Nan Cobham, holding a folded piece of parchment in her hand.

“Thank you, Nan. Happy Christmas!” said Madge, handing the girl a small coin.

She carefully broke the wax seal and read the contents.

Dearest Pretty Madge,

I am to come to court by Christmas Day. I will meet you at Cate’s.

Love,

Arthur

Madge folded the note and tucked it into her bodice. Her whole body trembled with excitement. Only two days until she could hold Arthur once more! Two days!

The queen was napping and had left instructions for no one to enter her bedchamber so Madge waited in one of the outer rooms. She picked up her sewing to divert her mind while she waited for the queen to arise. Several of the other ladies were similarly occupied, though Jane Seymour was not there. Madge wondered if she were with the king. Madge heard a commotion in the hallway and a handful of gentlemen entered the queen’s apartments. Immediately, Madge saw Sir Norris and looked down at her sewing.

“My Pretty Madge, how now?” he said as he bowed to her.

“Good day, Sir Norris,” said Madge.

“You will be happy to know I spoke to the king this very morning about our nuptials. He has given his royal permission for us to marry when the robin builds its nest,” said Norris.

“I am surprised you would mention such a frivolity to His Majesty. Surely, the king has more important issues to concern him,” said Madge.

“Your joy at the thought of our wedding is overwhelming, Pretty Madge. I think you love me not,” said Norris.

“You have done little to earn love from me, sir. Methinks we should forgo this match and find love in another,” said Madge.

“Mistress, I would have you—I care not a whit for love. You are young and fit, the prettiest girl at court. And I
will
have you,” he said.

“If that be so, then tell me, sir, since you have the king’s ear, how fares the queen in his affections?” whispered Madge.

“I can barely hear you, mistress. May I sit down so we can speak of this matter plainly?” he said.

Madge patted her hand on the bench beside her and Norris plopped down. He sat very close so that they rubbed thigh to thigh.

“As you may know, mistress, I am a great friend to Her Majesty. I would see her content on the throne for many a year to come. But the king has no stomach for her these days, though I know not why. He pulls a face when he must be near her and spends much of his time with the lady Jane. I know not what his intentions are, but if you have any sway with the queen, tell her to be humble and obedient to His Majesty. Beat Mistress Seymour at her own game,” said Norris.

“I will tell her. And Sir Norris, thank you,” said Madge.

“Anything to please my lady,” said Norris, without his usual irony.

*   *   *

“When do you think he will arrive, Cate? It seems we have been waiting for hours,” said Madge as she paced the short length of Cate’s room.