The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [121]
“Yes. You look ... foolish. At this moment, perhaps. But this time next year you will have a son, and what is a year more, after all the years you have already waited?”
“Already wasted, you mean!” I knew what he meant, all right. Anyway, all this was mere noise, against the great question: Why had God allowed this to happen? Why, why?
“Not wasted. Nothing that goes in preparation is ever wasted. You needed the time to prepare England for your Church. Things have proceeded there at great speed. Ten years ago you had scarcely returned from the Field of Cloth of Gold. Think back on what the world was then. Today it is entirely different. Redrawn by your hand, and by your will.”
“And God’s.”
“And God’s.” He gave due concession to the Deity, then scrambled along to his true target. “However, these gains must be consolidated in law.”
“They are,” I grunted. “Parliament has seen to that.”
“I mean explicit , and comfortable house,” I told Anne, feeling as if I were addressing a statue. “It is here in Hertfordshire, only a day’s ride away.”
She smiled at me, as if doing me a great favour.
“We want her to thrive, do we not? The court is not healthy for her. She might take sick and die. By Christmas, when everyone gathers and exhales foul contagions, she must be safely away.”
Anne finally spoke. “Christmas. That is only a few weeks away. I must bestir myself. I must!”
“It is but a holiday. Whatever time you need to be well, please take.”
“Christmas is more important. I must be up, and gowned, by Christmas!”
“That you shall, my love. I pray for it daily.”
“Elizabeth’s household?” she suddenly said. “It will have a full staff of attendants?” She looked more interested than I had seen her in weeks.
“Aye. I am just in the process of appointing them. Perhaps you would like to choose them yourself?” That would be a good sign.
“There is only one I would appoint. The Lady Mary to serve her! To carry her robes and clean up her messes!”
I was taken aback at the suddenness, and the forcefulness, of her request. Could it be granted? Should it be granted? What would such a thing do to Mary’s spirit?
“So! You hesitate! On one hand you assure me that I am your true Queen and Elizabeth the only true Princess, yet you balk at this simple request—a natural request, if what you claim is true! What better way to show the people that Mary yields her claim as Princess?”
“Crum and I have devised an Oath to be administered to the people—”
“All very well,” she said airily. “But this can serve as Mary’s oath.” She sounded eminently logical, until she added viciously, “It will break Katherine’s heart.”
“If Mary comes to serve Elizabeth, it must not be aimed at Katherine,” I replied. “Such a thing—”
“Oh, defend her again! I know you long to take Katherine back, that in your heart you either still love her or fear her—” Anne’s voice was rising in the familiar tirade, the obsession.
I cut her off. “I will consider appointing Mary. The plan has merits.”
She lay back on her daybed, draped in deep soft furs against the coming cold. It was where she spent most of her time now, positioned as it was near the great fireplace, and with a view out toward the Thames. I looked at her nestled down there, the rich sables around her face no richer, darker, or thicker than her own hair, and suddenly I was inflamed with desire for her. It came over me with such dazzling swiftness that I marvelled at it even then. What powers did she possess? Trembling, I took my leave. Behind me in her chamber I heard Mark Smeaton’s discreet music start up.
How long had it been since we had lain together as man and wife? How much longer would the physicians keep me away? Seeking to drive the demon of desire from me, I forced myself to consider the idea of sending for Mary to serve Elizabeth.
I had not seen Mary for one and a half years, since she had inlently refused even to listen to my side of the story, but had wholeheartedly been Katherine’s partisan in the matter. To be sure, it was natural,