Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (28 page)

‘Who are these men?’ I asked quietly, as she laid my cloak across her arm and I handed her my riding gloves and crop.

‘I understand it is Drs. Stephen Gardiner and Edward Foxe come directly from court under orders from the King.’ Bess whispered excitedly underneath her breath.

‘What do they want here, Bess?’ I asked, somewhat confused by the possible nature of their business with us. As I spoke, I scoured both my memory of history, as well as my own recent dealings with the gentlemen of court, to see if I could remember any clues. It was Stephen Gardiner with whom I was most familiar at the time. In his role as Secretary to Wolsey, I watched him in dialogue many times with his master, and was also present on one or two occasions when Henry had reason to parley with him. Master Stevens, as he was commonly known at court, had impressed the King with his knowledge of both canon and civil law.

It was no secret that he was a devout Catholic and yet, much to my surprise, he seemed supportive of the King’s move to annul his marriage to Katherine; and was even irritated at times by the Queen’s increasing defiance of her Lord and Master. This had, of course, endeared Master Stevens into the King’s good graces and I wondered if it was in this capacity that he was now visiting Hever. However, my historical knowledge of Stephen was frustratingly patchy to say the least. I couldn’t remember where his loyalties lay, or his ultimate fate. However, I did know this much; he was an ambitious, wily and shrewd character who kept his own counsel. But, his Achilles heel was his irascibility, which, combined with his formidable intellect, made him a notoriously difficult man to deal with, and many at court kept their distance when they were able. Yet, Henry had recognised his intellectual brilliance and I noticed, even in a few short months, the King’s inclination to rely increasingly on Master Stevens’s council.

Edward Foxe, on the other hand, was the King’s almoner. I had only ever met this gentleman in passing, and I knew even less about him. I confess that I was most eager to find out more, so when I had undressed from my outer garments and straightened my velvet skirts, I made my way into the Great Hall. When I entered, it was lit by a large, roaring fire in front of which stood my mother talking with the two men, whose voices I had heard on entering the castle. Elizabeth Boleyn was facing the entrance to the Great Hall and when she noticed my arrival, immediately broke off her conversation to introduce me to our guests.

‘Ah, Anne! Good. You have arrived back from riding out. Dr Stephen Gardiner and Dr Edward Foxe have come directly from the King to see you with a message from His Grace.’ The man who I knew to be Stephen Gardiner was the first to step forward and I noticed that he carried a letter in his hand, which I surmised was a missive from the King. Inclining his head in a gracious bow, he introduced himself,

‘Mistress Anne, Dr Foxe and I have been most anxious to see you.’ He indicated towards his fellow travelling companion, as he too bowed courteously in my direction. I reciprocated by dipping a brief curtsey, before Master Stevens continued, ‘We are here as your humble servants, commanded by the King to deliver unto you this message written by His Majesty’s own hand.’ Gardiner handed me the crisp parchment, sealed as ever with red wax and embossed with the Royal coat of arms. As I broke open the seal, Master Stevens spoke, ‘His Grace commands me to convey his deepest desiring for your good health, Madame.’

‘I thank you most kindly for your great pains on my behalf.’ I smiled warmly at both gentlemen. ‘I pray grant me leave for a moment to read the King’s message, so I might better understand how I may serve you.’

‘Of course, Madame.’ As Master Stevens spoke, he gestured with his hand that I should continue reading, taking a step backwards as if to give me greater privacy to savour the words within. Unravelling the parchment, I eagerly read its contents:

To mine own sweetheart
,

This letter shall be only to advertise to you that this bearer and his fellow be despatched with as many things to compass our matter, and to bring it to pass as our wits could imagine or devise; which brought to pass, as I trust, by their diligence, it shall be shortly, you and I shall have our desired end, which should be more to my heart’s ease, and more quietness to my mind, than any other thing in the world; as, with God’s grace, shortly I trust shall be proved, but not so soon as I would it were; yet I will ensure you that there shall be no time lost that may be won, and further cannot be done; for ultra posse non est esse. Keep him not too long with you, but desire him, for your sake, to make the more speed; for the sooner we shall have word from him, the sooner shall our matter come to pass. And thus upon trust of your short repair to London, I make an end of my letter, my own sweet heart
.

Written by the hand of he who desireth as much to be yours as you do to have him
.

H. R
.

I appraised Henry’s words, understanding immediately that the two doctors had been sent by Henry on Embassy, probably to the Pope, in his quest to seek an annulment of his marriage to Katherine. They had clearly been instructed to stop off at Hever and report on their mission to Anne on their way through to the Port of Dover. Yet, at the time, I did not understand from the letter the exact nature of their charge. Of course, I knew even then that they would be unsuccessful, but I was deeply inquisitive to find out more about their mission and, I must confess, about the two gentlemen that stood before me, and whether or not they could be trusted.

I had a voracious appetite to learn more about each character that appeared on the stage of Anne’s life. Many of the central characters I knew from my reading of history, their words and deeds dominating historical texts. But I was learning that those individuals who played supporting roles could be equally as colourful, or as deadly, in the manoeuvrings of the court, particularly if they were ignored or underestimated. Lethal enemies and unexpected friends would be found lurking in every corner.

‘Perhaps it would be more comfortable if we were to retire to the parlour.’ My mother’s voice interjected, as she led the way into the castle’s main sitting room. There my mother and I seated ourselves on stools opposite the two courtly gentlemen, whose appearances I then had the opportunity to observe.

Stephen Gardiner was probably about thirty years of age; although only a few years older than Anne, he always projected a rather austere and fatherly presence. I surmised that this was on account of his intellectual brilliance and famed mastery of the law, which made him appear rather grave and wise beyond his years. I knew that he had a reputation at court of being arrogant, and his physical appearance only emphasised this demeanour. He was above average height, with a swarthy complexion, a hooked nose, huge, deep-set, black eyes and a permanent frown. Complementing Master Stevens colouring was his thick mass of straight, black hair, dark eyebrows and since we were at almost three o’clock in the afternoon, that which I recognised as the beginnings of a bristly five o’clock shadow. Overall, he was a thick-set man of coarse features; when he handed me the King’s letter, I could not fail to notice his huge hands, which were then clasped loosely in his lap. Perhaps it was his reputation which preceded him, or my knowledge of his devotion to the Roman Catholic faith, but I would always find it difficult to warm to Stephen Gardiner.

However, Dr Edward Foxe was an entirely different character. I estimated that he was roughly the same age as his travelling companion, and although he said relatively little, I was struck by this gentleman’s warmth and humility. Much slighter of frame and with a fair complexion, he radiated a quiet compassion and kindness. I felt that when I looked at Dr Foxe, his eyes seemed to stare back deep into my soul, as if I were meeting an old friend; I sensed that I could trust him and I hoped that during their brief stay, I would have the chance to spend some time alone with this man. With our visitors looking at me expectantly, I turned my attention back to the matter in hand. Addressing my question to Master Stevens, I asked,

‘Pray tell me Master Stevens, what is the exact nature of your Embassy? In his letter, the King makes it clear that you are charged with the task of bringing to bear a solution to the question of His Grace’s annulment. Are you to meet with the Pope himself?’

‘Indeed Madame. That is exactly so.’ Master Stevens replied. ‘As I’m sure you well know, the Pope now resides in exile, in the town of Orvieto, since the unholy sacking of Rome by the Emperor’s forces earlier this year.’

Dr Foxe then took up the thread of the conversation adding,

‘The King’s Majesty has commanded us to do all that is within our power to obtain a decretal commission from the Pope.’ I must have looked confused because thankfully Dr Foxe explained himself further. ‘A decretal commission, good lady, will lay down the principles of law which will allow His Grace, Cardinal Wolsey, to resolve the matter directly with the Pope’s representative here in England, without appeal to Rome.’

‘I see.’ I said before pausing in brief silence, attempting to make full sense of the implications of their words. Clearly, if these two gentlemen were to be successful in their task, this would simplify proceedings enormously; as who would dare dispute the facts as they were presented by the King himself in his own dominions? Cocking my head quizzically to one side, I then enquired, ‘But tell me, gentlemen, do you foresee that your commission will be successful? Do you think that the Pope will grant this,’ I drew a circle in the air, gesturing as I tried to remember the correct legal terminology, ‘. . . decretal commission?’ Dr Foxe spoke first.

‘Madame, fear not. I will not speak on my own behalf, but I can tell you this; Master Stevens has one of the keenest minds in the kingdom and there are few that understand the letter of the law as he does.’ With a broad and warm smile, I extended my open arms to both gentlemen and said,

‘Then with my whole heart I wish you Godspeed. I know that success in your endeavour will bring both his Majesty and me the most welcome tidings and comfort of mind that it is possible to imagine.’ I paused, and then added, ‘His Grace has commanded that we keep you not overly long here at Hever. However, night will soon be drawing in, and my mother and I would be most honoured if you would sup with us this evening and be our guests here tonight.’

‘Ladies, it would be a pleasure and a great honour,’ Master Stevens replied with his usual grave solemnity. With that, my mother and I rose from our seats, followed by the two gentlemen, and with her usual efficiency, Elizabeth Boleyn then set about organising our household staff to show our guests to their rooms, where they would be able to rest and refresh themselves before dinner.

However, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I felt myself overjoyed with Henry’s deep commitment towards me as it was clear that he was mobilising every resource at his command to bring about the end of his marriage to Katherine, so that he could take Anne as his wife. Yet I knew better than anyone how long and tortuous this journey would be; how with every twist and turn, the stakes would be driven ever higher. With Henry’s burgeoning passion and desire for Anne, I could not help but wonder whether, in his fantasies, he was creating a version of me—of Anne—that I could never hope to live up to, and if I did not live up to that fantasy—if I was unable to fulfill my side of the accord—then the consequences would be tragic. I wrestled with these thoughts over and over in my mind, vacillating between excitement and anticipation, fear and dread.

So, whilst our visitors retired to their rooms, I made my way up to the Long Gallery to reflect on our conversation. Second only to the library, this was my other favourite room at Hever; light and airy, yet obligingly warm and welcoming. Whenever my father was away at court, it became my place of quiet solitude; a place where I might tuck myself away in one of its several recesses, wiling away the hours with a book, or simply staring out of its many elegant windows across the distant parkland, whilst lost in deep and reflective thought.

This is how I found myself on that February afternoon, as the sun began its rather rapid descent towards nightfall. Blustery winds chased large, feathery clouds across an azure sky, which were painted with delicate hues of pink and grey. I sat in the same window seat that I had collapsed in on the day that I lost consciousness and crossed over into Anne’s world. I had sat there on many occasions since, during my stays at Hever. It is almost as if I was forever challenging the unfathomable powers of the universe to snatch me back to the 21st century. Yet the portal through which I had passed remained steadfastly closed, and in all truthfulness, I was not entirely disappointed; a fact which often made me feel incredibly guilty.

I leaned my forehead against the cool, smooth glass and felt the vibration of the lead-framed windows, which were being buffeted by the strong gusts of wind outside. All around me, the bricks and mortar of the castle seemed to be moving in deep, guttural groans with the force of the ever more tempestuous gales that were racing through our little valley. I did not envy our visitors their crossing of the Channel if the winds were to remain so fierce and unrelenting. I looked down into my lap to find lying open the leather-bound version of Master Tyndale’s English translation of the Bible; the one that my mother had passed on to me before Christmas.