The Heretic Wind: The Life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England by Judith Arnopp (best ereader for students TXT) 📕

“So, Daughter,”he says at last, “you welcome this match with Philip of Bavaria?”

“If it pleasesyou, Sire,” I reply, keeping my eyes lowered, my chin dipped toward my chest asI have been taught.

“Rumour has ityou frolicked together in the privy garden.”

I look up,startled, and shake my head determinedly.

“Frolicked?No, Father. That is not so. We walked and talked, and he left a chaste kissupon my cheek when we parted, that is all.”

There wasnothing chaste about his kiss.

“Hmm.”

Father pondersthe matter, drumming his jewelled fingers on the arm of his chair. “I know howthe gossips like to elaborate royal matters. I will believe you but you woulddo well not to hold hopes in that quarter. I’ve changed my mind and do not meanto approve the match. You can do better than Bavaria; I allowed him to paycourt to you in order to strengthen our hand against the emperor.”

My mouth fallsopen. I stare at the king but he is gazing into space, his thoughts already onother matters. He is unaware of my shattered hope that I might be free of him,free of England, free of spinsterhood. I try to sink lower into the floorbefore edging backwards from the room to the discomfort of my empty chambers.

There is acurious pain in my breast. I drop into a chair and stare down at my short stubbyfingers. I will never marry, I realise that now. I will live and die a virgin,always envying the women around me who have husbands … and children. I wouldhave dearly loved to bear Philip many, many children. I am fated, it seems, tobe the unhappiest woman in Christendom.

Greenwich – January 1540

Elizabeth, dressed for Father’swedding to Anne of Cleves, has dropped something sticky on her skirt. I summonone of the women to attend it. She kneels at the child’s feet.

“Keep still,my lady, please. Let me see if I can sponge it off.”

Elizabeth poutsand frowns. If I was not watching, I am sure she would poke out her tongue. Sheabhors to be still and is full of mischief. She is always being scolded forskipping about the chamber, hiding behind curtains to leap out at the maids andmake them shriek. I sigh and send her a warning look.

“Just do yourbest; we must not be late for the ceremony, stained skirts or not. Really,Elizabeth, what were you thinking to eat sweetmeats when we are almost ready toleave? What will your new stepmother think?”

Elizabethceases to dance to some music only she can hear and looks at me, her facesuddenly intense.

“Her name isAnne, isn’t it? Do you think Father will cut off her head too?”

My heart skipsa beat and then thumps fast and loud, making my head light. What is shethinking of to speak of such a thing as if it were an everyday event? I fumblefor a suitable answer.

“Of coursenot,” I reply, far more sharply than I intended. “Anne of Cleves hasdone nothing wrong.”

She narrowsone eye and tilts her head to one side.

“I overheardmy nurse say that Father is displeased with her already, so perhaps she has donesomething wrong that we don’t know about yet.”

“You are asilly child,” I announce brightly, making a nonsense of her words but, as Istraighten my hood, I frown at my reflection in the looking glass. There issomething in what she says. The whole court knows of Father’s reluctance to gothrough with the marriage. He desperately seeks an escape from it but isconstrained by the treaty and dare not risk falling out with the German princesas well as the emperor.

“Come along,Elizabeth, that will have to do. If the king or – or the queen speaks to you,ensure you keep the stained parts out of their sight.”

She takes myhand. “They won’t even look at me, at least Father won’t. I make himuncomfortable.”

As we progressalong the corridors and make our way to the chapel royal, I ponder her words.Do we, the daughters of his wronged wives, make the king uncomfortable?I doubt it. If our presence offended him he would just send us away and deny usthe right to come to court. I know that better than anyone.

To my surprise,Anne of Cleves looks nothing like his previous wives. She is tall and quite plainbut kindly looking, perfectly suited to the role of motherhood, if not perhaps aswife to a man like the king. In the past, he has always been drawn to womenwith striking looks; only Jane was different, but she made up for her lack ofbeauty with the kindness of her heart. I have not yet discovered whether Anneis kind or otherwise but she looks friendly. Understanding little of our speechor customs, she beams on everyone, keen to be accepted, to make a goodimpression.

Even frombehind, it is clear that Father is furious. His shoulders are set inuncompromising lines, his head held stiffly, the feather on his hat trembling ashe battles to suppress his rage. The rumours are true. The king is not happy.

Beside him,Anne smiles uncomprehendingly on the company. I watch her. How strange we mustseem to her. How disconcerting it must be to find oneself in the midst ofstrangers, unable to speak their language or understand their customs. How mustit feel to be wed to a man like Father? I try to imagine how he must seem toAnne, view him from her eyes.

He is nolonger the golden prince of his youth. He is quite jaded. His face is lined,his hair greying, and his belly is becoming gross. During the marriagenegotiation he had portraits painted to send to Anne. I saw them. They were nottrue to life at all. She will have left her homeland imagining she was to marrythe man in Holbein’s paintings; a glorious, godlike figure – how disappointing thereality must be. Poor Anne, forced to bed the angry, ageing Henry. Perhaps itis fortunate, after all, that I am to remain a maid.

Hampton Court – 1540

Now that Queen Anne is inresidence, I return to court, taking apartments close to Edward’s so I canspend as much time with him as my duties allow. My brother has