The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [101]
After the castle was far in the background, I breathed easier. By this time the sun was coming up and shone with all the promise of a high summer day. Anne rode beside me, as I had been aching for her to do on my summer progresses for the past four years. The others rode discreetly behind.
As we passed under the green boughs, heavy now with their full growth of leaves, I looked over at her, marvelling at how well grey became her. There was not one colour that did not suit her—an unusual thing in a woman.
As our horses came close together on one narrow path, I leaned over toward her.
“We are not going back,” I said.
She looked puzzled, then ill at ease. I could tell she was thinking of her possessions, clothes, jewellery, books, all still in her apartments at Windsor.
“We can send for your things later. Certainly I have left more behind than you!” Then my voice changed. “Yes, I have left more behind than you have. I have left Katherine behind. Forever.”
She stared at me in disbelief. Recklessly, I went on. “I shall never see her again! I hate her! She has done everything within her power to bring about my ruin. And yet she still poses as my solicitous wife. Nay, I shall never see her again!”
Anne smiled. “And where are we bound tonight, my love?”
“Deerfield. To the royal hunting lodge there.”
Deerfield was a rather tumble-down, ramshackle building that had been a great favourite of my grandfather Edward’s. I liked it because it was so different from the formal palaces. There were only ten rooms, all of them roughly planked, with low-beamed ceilings. The floors slanted, as the old supporting beams underneath had begun to sag. Downstairs a large room with a stone fireplace functioned as a dining hall, as a warming area, and as a place simply to gather and talk.
It gave me the illusion whenever I was there that I was just an ordinary man, a man who went hunting, walked through the woods, ate a simple supper of venison, and sat before the fire with a cup of wine and his beloved beside him. Tonight I was that man, and more.
Anne was beautiful, with the fire playing upon her face. I sat beside her and merely watched her in amazement that such a creature could exist. I thought of the snug bedroom upstairs and the wide, if hard, bed within it. Could not she give herself to me now? I had cast Katherine aside.
We were alone. I reached out for her and kissed her—at first sweetly, then more urgently. Soon I was so aroused I could hardly restrain myself. I fumbled at the strings of her bodice and was surprised when she passively let me undo them and caress her breasts, then kiss them. The fire made strange shadows on her face and body, but that only enhanced the experience. At length I stumbled to my feet and pulled her up. Without a word, we ascended the ed it. As I took Anne’s hand to bring her inside, I felt a resistance. She stood planted firmly outside the threshold.
“No—I must not,” she said.
I felt near explosion. “God’s blood! Come inside!”
“No. And if I do, I am lost.” She gently pulled me back out toward her, looking at me imploringly all the while. “I want you so,” she said. “But I cannot. Our child must be lawfully born. Else all this is for nothing, and I am indeed what the people call me—the King’s Great Whore.”
Before I could say anything further, she slipped away from my grasp and ran down the corridor to her own quarters.
I spent another sleepless night.
The days, nonetheless, were pleasant ones. Hunting from sunup to sundown, with a fine huntsman’s supper each night, lute-playing and games by the fire, and camaraderie.
Then came the expected letter from Katherine. It was another of her sickening “all is sweet” ploys. She was sorry she had not been awakened in time to say good-bye to me. She would be happy to know that I was well.
Never better since I was out of her sight! Hateful bitch! I sat down and immediately dashed off a reply—telling her that she cared