The Other Boleyn Girl. Philippa Gregory
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of art. In the afternoon there would be a diversion: a play or a talk, some dancing or a masque. We all had parts to play, we all had costumes to wear, we all had to be as merry as we could be, for the king was always laughing this winter and the queen never stopped smiling.
The inconclusive campaign against France had ended with the cold weather, but everyone knew that come the spring there would be another series of battles and England and Spain would jointly venture against their enemy. The King of England and the queen from Spain were united in every sense of the word that Christmas season, and once a week without fail they dined privately together and he slept in her bed that night.
But every other night, also without fail, George would come to the room I shared with Anne and tap on the door and say: ‘He wants you,’ and I would go to my love, to my king, at the run.
I never stayed for the whole night. There were foreign ambassadors from all over Europe bidden to Greenwich for Christmas and Henry would not show such a snub to the queen before them. The Spanish ambassador in particular was a stickler for etiquette and he was a close friend to the queen. Knowing the part I played at court, he did not like me; and I would not have enjoyed bumping into him coming out of the king’s private rooms all flushed and dishevelled. Better by far that I should slip from the king’s warm bed and hurry back to my chamber with George yawning at my side, hours before the ambassador arrived to hear Mass.
Anne was always up and waiting for me, with ale ready mulled and the fire banked in to warm our chamber. I would jump into bed and she would throw a woollen wrap around my shoulders and sit beside me and comb out the tangles from my hair while George put another log on the fire and sipped at his own cup.
‘It’s weary work, this,’ he said. ‘I fall asleep most afternoons. I cannot keep my eyes open.’
‘Anne puts me to bed after my dinner as if I were a child,’ I said resentfully.
‘What d’you want?’ Anne asked. ‘To be as haggard as the queen?’
‘She’s not looking too bonny,’ George agreed. ‘Is she ill?’
‘Just old age, I think,’ Anne said uncaringly. ‘And the effort of appearing happy all the time. She must be exhausted. Henry takes a lot of pleasing, doesn’t he?’
‘No,’ I said smugly, and the three of us laughed.
‘Has he said if he is giving you a special gift for Christmas?’ Anne asked. ‘Or George? Or any of us?’
I shook my head. ‘He hasn’t said.’
‘Uncle Howard sent a gold chalice wrought with our arms for you to give to him,’ Anne said. ‘It’s safe in the cupboard. It’s worth a fortune. I only hope we see some return on it.’
I nodded drowsily. ‘He has promised me a surprise.’ At once the two of them were alert. ‘He wants to take me to the shipyard tomorrow.’
Anne made a grimace of disdain. ‘I thought you meant a gift. Are we all to go? The whole court?’
‘Just a small party.’ I closed my eyes and started to drift off into sleep. I heard Anne get up from the bed and move about the room, unpacking my clothes from the chest and laying them out for the morning.
‘You must wear your red,’ she said. ‘And you can borrow my red cape trimmed with swansdown. It’ll be cold on the river.’
‘Thank you, Anne.’
‘Oh, don’t think I’m doing it for you. I am doing this for the advancement of the family. None of this is for you, as yourself.’
I hunched my shoulders against the coldness of her tone but I was too tired to retort. Dimly, I heard George put down his cup and rise from his chair. I heard his soft kiss on Anne’s forehead.
‘Weary work but everything to play for,’ he said quietly. ‘Goodnight, Annamaria – I leave you to your duties and go to mine.’
I heard her seductive chuckle. ‘The whores of Greenwich are a noble calling, my brother. I shall see you tomorrow.’
Anne’s cape looked wonderful over my red riding habit and she lent me her smart little French riding hat as well. Henry, Anne, I, George, my husband William, and half a dozen others rode alongside the river to the shipyard where they were building the king’s new ship. It was a bright wintry day, the sun sparkled on the water, the fields either side of the river were noisy with the sound of water birds, the geese from Russia overwintering at our milder watermeadows. Against their continual gabble, the quacking of ducks and the call of snipe and curlew were very loud. We cantered beside the river in a little group, my horse shouldering against the king’s big hunter, Anne and George on either side of us. Henry pulled up to a trot and then a walk as we came near to the dock.
The foreman came out as he saw our party approaching and pulled off his hat and bowed low to the king.
‘I thought to ride out and see how you do,’ the king said, smiling down on him.
‘We are honoured, Your Majesty.’
‘And how goes the work?’ The king swung himself down from the saddle and tossed the reins of his horse to a waiting groom. He turned and lifted me down and tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and led me to the dry dock.
‘So what d’you think of her?’ Henry asked me, squinting up at the smooth oak side of the half-built ship as she rested on the great wooden rollers. ‘Don’t you think she is going to be most lovely?’
‘Lovely and dangerous,’ I said, looking at the gun doors. ‘Surely the French have nothing as good as this.’
‘Nothing,’ Henry said proudly. ‘If I’d had three beauties like this one at sea last year I would have destroyed the French navy as they skulked in port, and I should have been King of England and France in deed as well as word today.’
I hesitated. ‘The French army is said to be very strong,’ I ventured. ‘And Francis very resolute.’
‘He’s a peacock,’ Henry said crossly. ‘All show. And Charles of Spain will take him in the south as I come at him from Calais. The two of us will divide France between us.’ Henry turned to the shipwright. ‘When will she be ready?’
‘In spring,’ the man answered.
‘Is the draughtsman here today?’
The man bowed. ‘He is.’
‘I have a fancy to have a sketch made of you, Mistress Carey. Will you sit for a moment and let the man take your likeness?’
I flushed with pleasure. ‘Of course, if you wish it.’
Henry nodded to the shipwright who shouted from the platform to the quay below us and a man came running. Henry helped me down the ladder and I sat on a pile of newly sawn planks while a young man in rough homespun cloth sketched a quick likeness of my face.
‘What will you do with the picture?’ I asked curiously, trying to keep still and hold a smile on my lips.
‘Wait and see.’
The artist put his paper to one side. ‘I have enough.’
Henry put out his hand to me and raised me to my feet. ‘Then, sweeting, let’s ride home to our dinner. I’ll take you home around the watermeadows, there’s a good gallop to the castle.’
The grooms were walking the horses around so that they did not catch cold. Henry threw me up into my saddle and then mounted his own horse. He glanced over his shoulder to see that everyone was ready. Lord Percy was tightening Anne’s girth. She looked down and gave him her slow provocative smile. Then we all turned and rode back to Greenwich as the sun set primrose and cream in the cold winter sky.
