A year later in February 1503, tragedy struck again with the death of the queen, Elizabeth of York, leaving the king a morose shadow of his former self. The queen had been pregnant with a daughter, Katherine, but the child had died within a few days of her birth, the queen a week later. Three heirs remained: Margaret, now Queen of Scotland; the youngest princess, Mary, pretty, laughing, a miniature version of her late mother; and Henry. The young prince had been devastated by the loss of his mother, whom he had idolised, his world turning upside down,as his father, who had previously paid him scant attention, suddenly insisted the boy remain near him at all times.
Lady Margaret Beaufort, the king’s mother, helped in training Henry as all the hopes of continuing the Tudor dynasty were loaded onto his young shoulders. He lived a life of study, religious devotion and, while he was trained with all the skills required for a king – riding, the joust, the sword and archery – his father refused to allow his heir to join in the boisterous sports of the tournament ground. Instead, Henry was forced to watch as young men he admired, like Charles Brandon, Edward Howard, Henry Norris and Thomas Boleyn, cut a glamorous swathe across the lists.
The court became a sombre place, filled with the ghosts of those loved and lost by the king. A hardness had stolen over him, and the country had felt they were in the grip of a never-ending winter. There were endless taxes, strict laws and the bleak shadows of mourning at every corner. It ended with the death of King Henry VII in April 1509 and the ascension to the throne of the dashing, handsome, energetic young prince; spring had arrived at last.
To prove his intentions of a more generous and even-handed reign, Henry instigated a number of changes within a general pardon claiming justice would be given ‘freely, righteously and indifferently’. There would be no more informers or spies, men could go about their business in peace and privacy. In support of the validity of his words, the new king punished those whom he believed represented all the mistakes of his father. In August 1509, Sir Richard Empson and Sir Edmund Dudley, who had enforced the old king’s stringent and parsimonious financial policies regarding tax and legal matters, were beheaded on Tower Hill.
Following the death of Lady Margaret Beaufort, five days after the coronation of Henry VIII and Katherine, far from beingunnerved by the loss of his father and grandmother, the young king had thrown himself into his new role with alacrity. He gathered around him men whom he admired and trusted, no matter their rank or background. Thomas Wolsey, the son of an Ipswich butcher, was appointed Lord High Chancellor, even though Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, Elizabeth’s father, was determined to try to oust Wolsey as Henry’s leading advisor.
Elizabeth’s husband, Thomas Boleyn, was another rising star in the court. He had been made an Esquire of the Body of Henry VII in the December before the old king’s death. At the coronation, Thomas was created a Knight of the Bath, and he continued to rise high in the court. His talents as a linguist, his connections to the Howard family, his own family wealth and his skills in the tiltyard made him a favourite of the new king.
Elizabeth’s life had changed too. She had given birth to five children – three boys and two girls, although with the death of two sons, only three remained in the nursery at Hever Castle: Mary, Anne and George. As a member of Queen Katherine’s court, Elizabeth divided her time between her husband and their roles as courtiers, and her mother-in-law and her children at Hever Castle.
A flurry of music brought Elizabeth’s attention back to the bustling room, where the queen was directing one of the maids of honour, Anne Browne, daughter of the courtier Sir Anthony Browne, and Agnes Howard, Countess of Surrey, Elizabeth’s stepmother, in a dance step from Spain.
‘You must stamp your foot and raise your hands, thus,’ said Katherine, throwing her hands above her left shoulder and clapping as she brought her right foot down with a firm clip.
A cheer went up from the surrounding crowd and Elizabeth clapped along with the others. Her anger at Agnes had softened over the years, although she had never managed to return to the easy friendship she and Agnes had shared in their youth.
A draught of cold air rushed into the room and a group of men entered. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and gasped in surprise. The king had arrived, unannounced, grinning broadly, accompanied by her husband, Thomas Boleyn, Charles Brandon and Elizabeth’s brother, Edward Howard.
Thomas saw her glance and put his finger to his lips, moving around to stand beside her and slip his arm around her waist.
‘The king wants to surprise the queen with a present,’ he whispered.
‘As long as he doesn’t shock her into giving birth too early,’ said Anne from beside them.
‘He’ll be careful,’ assured Thomas.
A moment later, the queen squealed in surprise, then a peal of laughter rolled across the room.
‘Henry, you’re a clever man to surprise me,’ she said and patted his cheek.
‘Open it,’ the king insisted, like an excited child.
All eyes were upon the queen as she opened the small velvet pouch Henry had pushed into her hands. A pair of perfectly matched freshwater pearl earrings fell into her palm.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, standing still as he attached them.
‘You are even more gorgeous now,’ he claimed and a cheer went up from his excitable court. ‘Let’s dance,’ the king called and clapped his hands towards the minstrels. ‘A galliard to make the blood flow. You must sit, my dear,’ he said, leading Katherine to her chair near the fire. ‘Take care of our son.’
‘I shall watch you, my love,’ she said.
Henry smiled and gazed around the room, searching for a suitable partner.
Elizabeth felt a thrill of dread as Henry’s brown eyes met hers.
‘Lady Boleyn, may I have the honour?’ he called, his cheeks flushing.
Elizabeth’s instinct was to refuse, but Thomas pushed her forward.
‘Go on,’ he whispered, ‘it’s an honour for us both.’
‘Do you not wish to dance with me, Lady Boleyn?’ Henry said as he saw her hesitation, but he was laughing.
‘It would be my greatest honour,’ she replied and walked towards him, taking his hand. ‘But, like the queen, I enjoy watching others, particularly those who are more skilled than myself. It would sadden me if my inferior dance steps were to hamper His Majesty’s speed.’
‘Nonsense, I’ve watched you and Thomas many times, you’re an accomplished dancer, Lady Boleyn,’ he said and squeezed her hand as he gazed into her eyes.
