Elizabeth shook her head. “Not really, but I have seen animals when they mate. The male mounts the female and pumps her full of his seed. Rams, horses, dogs, and cats, I have seen it all. I have even seen the rooster mount the hen in the barnyard.”
“Humankind does not mate quite that way,” Anne said. “We lie upon our backs and are mounted that way, my mother says. Humankind mates face-to-face. But I have not let the king mount me yet. They say I must give in to him soon or I will lose him. Yet I have held him at bay for all these years, and I fear if I give him his pleasure now he will leave me then. He could not do that if I were his wife. If I were queen.”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. She had just been allowed intimacies that she should not know.Poor Anne,she thought.Is there no one in whom she may confide but a country woman from Cumbria?But then, Anne Boleyn was no fool. She had relieved herself of a burden, and she knew that Elizabeth Meredith would not be long at court. “A king may do what he pleases,” she reminded her companion softly.
“Am I wise or foolish, Bess?” Anne wanted to know. “What say you?”
“The court is a place in which I am a stranger, Anne,” Elizabeth began. “There is much intrigue, much gossip, much plotting of plots, all of which come to naught. The king is wed to Queen Katherine, though she be out of favor and unlikely to ever again gain it unless she gives him his way. That much is fact. He needs a legitimate son, which means he needs a new wife. Since she will not agree to an annulment or to a divorce, he must continue to pursue a means of dissolving his marriage. Or the queen must die a natural death, which seems unlikely in the near future. Until then any child born to him of any but his lawful wife will not be eligible to inherit the throne. You have often said you are not your sister, Mary, nor would you be. What if you gave in to the king’s blandishments and yielded your virtue to him? And you bore him a son. And perhaps another. Both would be deemed bastard-born. And then finally the king would be free to remarry. Would he marry you? Or would his advisers convince him that he was perfectly capable of having sons, given the example of your sister, you, and Mistress Blount? And he would allow them to arrange his next marriage with a proper princess. The king is usually most considerate of his reputation. Would you be content to accept such a situation?”
“Never!” Anne Boleyn spat angrily.
“Then do not listen to your uncle, Anne. Or to anyone else who tells you to give yourself to the king. They do so in hopes he will tire of you and marry the princess they will choose for him one day when this matter with Queen Katherine is settled. And he who makes a successful marriage for the king will have great power. But he who fails the king will suffer as the cardinal has suffered. They say his heart is broken.”
“He was a horrid little man,” Anne said darkly. “He hated me, but then I hated him. Had he not interfered I should be Harry Percy’s wife, and happy.”
“You have the heart of a king in your keeping, Anne. Are you not happy knowing that? The king loves you.”
“I wonder if he does,” was the candid reply. “Or if it is that he just wants what he cannot have.” She tossed her dark head impatiently. “I am so unhappy,” she admitted.
“Did you love Harry Percy?” Elizabeth probed. At this point there was little point in being politic. “Do you love the king?”
“I did love Harry,” Anne replied. “And strangely I find that I love the king. He can be the most wonderful man to be with when we are alone. But oddly I believe he is no happier than I am right now. The matter with the queen troubles him greatly. His need for a legitimate son worries him. I comfort him as best I can, but you are correct, Bess, when you tell me to keep myself as chaste as I can until I can be his wife.” She laughed weakly. “There are those who say I have bewitched the king, you know.”
“I know,” Elizabeth responded, “but the court is populated by fools, as you well know. If the king is bewitched it is by your wit, your beauty, your charm.”
Anne took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “I have never had a friend before,” she said sadly. “Must you return to your Friarsgate, Bess?”
“I don’t belong here, Anne. I am able to survive because I know I will be leaving shortly. Friarsgate is where I gain my strength. I must go home!”
“I could make you stay,” Anne said. “If I asked the king he would order it.”
“Aye, you could,” Elizabeth agreed. “But if you are really my friend you will not. You will let me go. You will not lose my friendship by my going. My mother has always continued her friendship with Queen Katherine and with Margaret Tudor, despite the distance between them. I will always be your friend, Anne Boleyn. And when you are queen one day, I will still proudly proclaim our friendship. But I must go home.”
Anne sighed. “I envy you, Bess Meredith. You have a home and a purpose in life. My home is, of necessity, wherever I am. My purpose is to help my family in any way in which I can. That is the Howard law. Advance oneself.”
“My family motto isTracez votre chemin,” Elizabeth offered with a small grin.
“Trace your own path,” Anne smiled. “It is a good motto, Bess, and it suits you, for despite what others think or say, you are most determined to do just that.”
“I am,” Elizabeth agreed.
“But you have to have a husband, Bess. All girls do. What will happen now that your trip to court has proven unsuccessful?”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth replied. “I do not believe my family will force me into a union that I do not want. It is not their way. I suppose I must leave my fate in God’s hands. I see no other way.”
Anne nodded. “I think both of our fates are in God’s hands,” she said. “I hope he will be merciful to his humble handmaidens, Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth Meredith.”
Chapter 7
Elizabeth kept her conversations with Anne Boleyn to herself. She did not even discuss them with Lord Cambridge, and certainly not with her older sister Philippa. She was flattered to be the confidante of a girl who was obviously destined for great things. But at the same time she was uncomfortable with the situation. Yet she was wise enough to understand that Mistress Boleyn had needed to unburden herself to someone she knew she might trust. Someone who would shortly be gone from court.I shall never again be able to look the king in the eye,Elizabeth thought, blushing at the word pictures that Anne Boleyn painted of her faux lover.
Henry Tudor, however, was delighted that the object of his desire had apparently become companionable with the daughter of Rosamund Bolton. Rosamund’s daughters were models of discretion, as their mother had been. Still, the knowledge that two of Rosamund’s daughters were wed, and the third seeking a husband—the fact that someone he had known as a boy was now a grandmother—made him even more aware of the passing of time. Of his need for a legitimate son. He watched, amused, as Anne and her friends played Blindman’s Buff on the lawns of Greenwich. The air was delightfully warm, and the days growing longer. For the moment he was content.
Elizabeth Meredith could not see from behind the blindfold. She could hear the scuffling of shoes and boots, the swish of fabric, the giggles around her as she moved carefully forward, hands outstretched seeking a target of opportunity, listening for someone to make a mistake. There was someone behind her. She was certain of it. Whirling, she felt her quick fingers catch at the velvet of a doublet. “Aha!” she cried, and lifted her blindfold, blinking at the sunlight as she did so. “Flynn Stewart, you were careless, I fear. I heard you.”
“Bah, mistress!” he replied. “I merely took pity on you.”
“Liar!” She fastened the blindfold securely about his eyes and twirled him about, moving out of his way as she did. Eventually there would be a pretty girl to take pity on him, deliberately standing in his way to be caught. And sure enough, two giggling lasses were quickly vying for the honor.
