They all heard Henry’s laugh ring out from the outer chamber. It was muted by distance and muffled by design, but it was undeniably the king.
“What is making my lord so merry?” asked Anne, struggling to her feet. “Something amuses him.” She staggered towards the door, her hands wrapped around her belly.
“Come, Anne, be seated. Pay no mind,” said her mother, who was not fast enough to reach her. “Do not disturb yourself over some trifle.”
But Anne was already at the door, throwing it open and heading out towards the figures visible along the corridor. Thomasin hurried in her wake, just in time to see Henrylaughing with the pale-haired Jane Seymour, who was blushing at his attention.
Anne stopped at the sight of them. “Making merry, my lord?”
Henry half-turned towards her, his laughter turned to rage in an instant. “Should I not? Should I sit still and quiet as the grave? Am I not a man like any other?”
“Not while your wife labours, my lord!”
“Labours? Have your labours begun now? For it seems to me that the past seven years have been nothing but labour.” He turned to go.
“Do not leave!”
Henry spoke with clenched teeth, conscious of the eyes of the room upon him. “Madam, you forget yourself. Do not presume to lecture me. Return to your chamber at once.”
As he stormed away, he passed Sir Thomas Boleyn, hurrying back up from the kitchens, who shepherded them back into the bedchamber.
“What has irked the king?” he asked.
“I have,” said Anne, easing herself down upon the bed, “or rather, he has irked himself in dislike of my sorrows.”
Sir Thomas looked to his wife, but Lady Elizabeth shook her head.
“Well, I have discovered the culprit. A young laundry maid was paid a shilling to leave this here this morning by a man she met in the gardens. She does not know his name, nor where he came from or went, and can only describe him as of middling height. She is penitent and will be dismissed after she has answered more questions: Cromwell is with her now.”
“Well, that is unhelpful,” said Lady Elizabeth, “but at least we know how it came to be here.”
“The guards on the quay and road gate have been doubled as a result.”
“But the peril is in here,” said Anne, striking her hand against her heart. “The peril is in here.”
TWENTY-SIX
From the window overlooking the river, Thomasin watched Rafe and Isabel disembark from the barge and climb the flight of steps onto the quay. The sight of him made her stomach turn over, especially amid all the existing tension at Greenwich. Isabel looked well in a pale green dress, smiling as Rafe offered her his hand. She paused and looked up at the palace, causing Thomasin to draw back into the shadows of the chamber.
At the far end of the hall where she sat, Henry was brandishing a letter in front of Cromwell, his face red and bloated with rage. “I am threatened in a number of ways. Everything I have done is pronounced null and void; those who aid and abet me will be excommunicated, Cranmer deprived of his see and all those who name Anne as queen to be equally cast out. That is the Pope’s promise.”
“These are mere idle threats,” said Cromwell in a soothing voice. “Clement will never see them through; it is a ploy to appease the Emperor. You are head of the Church of England now; you answer directly to God, not to the Bishop of Rome!”
“And for how long? Clement is old; his health is failing,” said Henry, an idea settling in his mind. “He has already been thought to be dying on at least one previous occasion.”
“A new Pope could be more supportive, depending upon whom they appoint.”
“Yes,” said Henry, “yes, he will not last long. Since the sack of Rome he has been a thorn in my side, unable to act with his hands tied, going through the motions. That pretence of a Legatine Court was nothing but a sop to my conscience, but I was not fooled by it. The Emperor cannot stand that I have taken this matter into my own hands, that I act for myself, outside his command.”
“Now he has peace with France, he has time to turn his mind to your matters, my lord.”
“That peace will not last. Soon the Flemings or the Italians or the Ottomans will distract him again.”
“Perhaps you might offer assistance,” mused Cromwell, “when the inevitable happens? He would be grateful for an alliance against the French; even just a few hundred men might make a difference.”
Henry looked thoughtful. “And when I have a son, he will see that God has blessed this union. Why else would the queen have conceived a child so quickly, unless it was God’s will?”
“This is true, my lord. The queen’s safe delivery will confirm it to the world. A strong, unified kingdom, with a swathe of princes will offer proof of the justness of your choices.”
