The Tudor Witness

On May 19, 1499, Arthur and Catalina were married by proxy. Catalina did not get it though; didn’t you have to be there, with your husband, when you got married? It seemed quite odd saying she was a married woman when she hadn’t even seen her husband.

Her father and mother had told her that the time she was to leave for England had been pushed back. Two years she would have to wait to see her husband, and the days dragged on forever.

It was good though, because she would have time to say goodbye. Maybe two years would not be enough time to say goodbye to Spain and prepare for England.

“Don’t fret so much as you do,” Maria nagged.

Catalina sighed, secretly holding the miniature of her husband in her palm.

“I want to leave,” Maria added.

“Stop it Maria! All you have to do is move about one hundred miles away to the country right next to us. You can visit mother and father whenever you want. I have to move thousands of miles away, to a country up north. ‘Tis a place where the summer days are as cold as our days in winter!”

Maria rolled her eyes. She was becoming more like Juana every day. “Goodness, Catalina! Why must you be so serious all the time? Just marry the man and have his children. Get it over with, buy pretty things, and then die.”

Catalina threw one of her pillows right at Maria.

There had to be something in a marriage. She hoped that maybe hers would have love, if anything at all.

=+=

Summer

The long, drawn-out spring had finally ended and then came the awaited summer.

In early summer Princess Mary arrived in court and seemed to be normal again.

The king doted on the little girl again like Anne had never been in the picture. The king went to visit the queen often and the princess every day. I was so very happy and I thought he was finally over Anne and her silly little ways.

But I was wrong.

In late June, after Mary and I had packed all the clothes we were to bring on the progress, we went out for a ride and also to say goodbye to Tom. Mary had become friends with him as well, though not as first, for he was a commoner. Eventually she warmed up to him.

We were riding around the gardens when we saw a horse coming down the path to the stables. As the horse got closer I saw it was Anne, her long, wavy black hair flowing beautifully in the wind.

She was obviously not sitting side saddle; it was very plain to see. Her stockinged ankles showed, yet luckily, her calves did not. It would have gone badly for her is someone would have seen her calves.

She rode up to the stable, a look of happiness and complete confidence on her face. Anne was not done with the king if she had a say in it.

“Hello, my lovelies!” she cried as she got down from the horse.

She handed the reigns to Tom and bobbed a wobbly curtsy to Mary, for she had been on horseback for hours.

I embraced her and she asked, “How have things been at court while I was away?”

Even though Mary did not like her, she replied, “Quite boring!”

“Well, don’t worry; we have a progress to look forward to!” Anne smiled and we walked to the castle together.

I was surprised at how Mary didn’t care that she was walking next to her enemy, Anne Boleyn.

The journey up to Colchester Castle in Essex was a relatively short one.

Mary, the Queen, and I, sat in one carriage, probably the biggest carriage in the retinue. I was glad Anne had not sat with us, for I knew there would be nothing but trouble if she did.

It wouldn’t be long until Anne and the king were together again, and I would need time to think of how I was to handle it all again.

The carriage jolted back and forth down the rocky roads and I looked out upon on the hilly countryside dotted with little villages and farms. It was midday, yet there was still a fog covering the valley in which we traveled.

“Colchester is a very old castle, built nearly five hundred years ago,” the queen explained.

“Is it cold and damp in there mother?” Mary asked.

“I don’t think so, my dear. Your father would not choose for a stop here if it was cold,” the queen assured her.

“Are we almost there?” I asked, though not wanting to be there yet.

“Yes, in a few moments we will enter the walls of the city,” the queen replied.

Mary put down her book. “Mother, may I wave to the people?”

“Of course, Mary, it is always good to acknowledge the people of the country. It tells them you care.”

“Well I do care, mother, and I must if I am to be queen someday.”

The queen laughed. “Yes, my dear, we will marry you to a wonderful prince when you are older and you will be the queen of a whole different country.”

“Don’t be silly mother! I am to be Queen of England when I grow up!” Mary smiled.

Even I knew that what she thought would never happen, it just couldn’t. A woman as queen was just a far-off dream.

Soon we passed the walls of the city.

“Colchester is just up the hill,” the queen pointed to an ancient-looking castle up upon the hill on the other side of the walls.

Soon people crowded around the carriages. We had guards on either side of the carriages to protect us, but the people still waved and still cheered for their Queen Catherine and Princess Mary.

The two loyally waved to their subjects, and then Mary prompted me do to the same. I felt regal waving to the subjects of the queen, who sat beside me.

A year before I had been lying in a gutter, grime on my face, my stomach grumbling for food.

A little girl in the crowd handed Mary a bundle of purple and red flowers. The red ones were as red as her hair, which she wore lose around her shoulders as I did that day.

The carriage was nearly showered with flowers, yet as we heard shouts some people shouted, “Long live the Queen,” and, “The future of England,” and yet other shouts were hard to understand.

“What are they saying?” I asked above the shouting.

“It’s not English, is it?” Mary asked.

“No, Colchester has many Dutch people living within it’s walls, in fact, I think we must be in the Dutch Quarter right now,” the queen explained.

But the Dutch folk seemed happy enough. I was sure they were hoping the queen to a long and happy life.

We eventually made it out the walls of the crowded city again, and we made our way up the hill to the castle.

It was a romantic old castle, and Mary and I walked in behind the rush of nobles as the maids carried in our things.

“’Tis a very sad looking castle, don’t you think?” I asked.

“Yes, I just hope it’s not cold and damp,” Mary shivered.

It seemed as if the king’s affections for Anne had not changed one little bit.

At dinner we all sat along one long table. The whole court, with the king at one end, the queen to his left, and Anne to his right. Mary sat next to her mother and I sat down the table, William at one side and Jane Seymour on the other.

Anne’s family sat across from us.

The king kept stealing glances at Anne, and each time she smiled and blushed and tried to pretend she did not know he was staring at her. What was wrong with her?

I saw Mary trying to catch her father’s attention, yet he would not look to either her or the queen.

Anne’s family seemed to soak it all in with a smile, as they were fast-gaining the king’s favor, yet at the same time they watched every single precise move that Anne made.

I could not eat for I was so sick with the grief of it all.

I tried not to worry myself over it, yet William saw my worry.

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “If Anne will not give herself up to him it will be over by the end of the week.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “He wants her, and he will have her anyway he can.”
I looked at Anne, at the confidence in her eyes.

She was so different from the rest of the women, her hair down and flowing down her back, her sun-tanned skin, and her dark looks. All the women at court had fair hair and pale skin, their high tied back tight.

Anne was not as beautiful as some of the women at court, but she was so different, and the king loved it.

At least there would be no dancing that day.

That night as Anne lied next to me in our dark, cool room, she whispered, “The king asked me to his bed again.”

“You said no,” I explained for her.

“Yes,” she smiled. “And I will keep saying no, until I know it is the right perfect time.”

“When is the right perfect time?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “My heart will tell me.”

I hid my face in my pillow and covered my ears so I didn’t need to listen to her talk of the king all night. Yet, I loved Anne, like a sister, and I hadn’t the clue how I would chose in the end, if the king loved Anne for more than a few more days.

I was Catherine and Mary’s friend by day and Anne’s friend by night.

The next night we danced.

The queen’s maids put on a little dance, not a masquerade this time. This time Mary and I would be part of it, and we were ready.

The dance was not long, nor complicated, but as we danced in front of the court, I was so afraid. Doing things in front of people I was not good at.

But I knew it did not matter anyway, for all anyone looked at was the wonderful and graceful Anne Boleyn. I envied how beautifully she danced, but not everyone could have everything like she did. She had the beauty, and she was smart and tactful, and she had the love of the king. Every girl in the court envied her.

Mary and I danced as we had done during Yuletide, which had seemed so long ago in the past.

“We have grown so much since then,” I told her.

“Well…I don’t feel any older!” she laughed. “I am eleven, and you are eight. Why act any older?”

“I agree to that!” I laughed and we twirled around to the music again.

Anne pulled me into her chamber before all the festivities and dancing had stopped. Her face was flushed, all red and aglow, lit up beautifully by the fire burning in the fireside, and she was out of breath. Her lips seemed redder and plumper than usual.

“What have you been doing?” I asked.

She smiled. “I was only kissing the king…” she whispered.

“Anne!” I cried.

“Well, Elizabeth, I had to. If I only dance with him then there will be nothing other than that between us. Besides, he is a very handsome man, the handsomest in the kingdom. And he wanted more, but I had to run from him…”

“Anne, why did you pull me in here? I was having great fun. The fire-breathers were about to appear on the stage!” I exclaimed, only wanting to go out and dance with Mary again.

“No!” Anne giggled. “I have the most wonderful news in the world, and I have not yet even told my family yet!”

“What?” I asked.

“I have been made Marquess of Pembroke!” she cried.

“Don’t you mean Marchioness?” I asked, for that was the feminine version.

“Even though I am a woman, it doesn’t mean I cannot do what men can do. I am just as good, if not better, than all of them!” she exclaimed in her haughty accent.

“And so you are done with the king!” I exclaimed. “You have your title and all and you may stop all this nonsense!”

The smile vanished from her face. “Well…no. I cannot merely stop being the King of England’s mistress, things don’t work that way. Besides, I don’t think I want to stop.”
“What?!” I cried. “What more is there?”

“There could always be much more, Elizabeth,” Anne sighed.

“I guess there could be. But why would you still want to hurt the queen?”

“That old hag! Elizabeth, the king doesn’t her anymore,” Anne shook her head.

“Anne, drink is getting to you! ‘Tis treason to talk so!”

“You’re right, I should get to bed before I do anymore damage,” she sighed and fell against her bed.

I felt tears coming to my eyes. Did she truly mean what she said?

I left the room quietly, wanting to join Mary in the festivities again and forget about things for a bit like I always did.

But even as I lied next to her and we talked and giggled all night, I could not forget what Anne had said.

“Let’s go hawking!” Anne exclaimed and set down her knitting.

I set down the quill that I had been writing with and looked to the queen, who sat next to me.

“Your Majesty, may I go out hawking with Anne?” I asked.

“Elizabeth, you must practice your letters for now. And I advise Miss Anne that she should continue knitting kerchiefs instead of making herself idle by going out to hawk.” I could see the queen glaring at Anne with fierce hatred in her eyes. I didn’t like it. Anne had once been her favorite.

Anne was glaring back at the queen, but they both knew who would win, and Anne’s eyes softened. “Yes, Your Majesty. I am sorry for the disturbance.”

“That’s quite alright Anne,” she replied, her expression softening as well.
I sat back down to my writing and continued to write my name over and over again until my hand could no longer move.

Towards the end of July we moved north to The Palace of Beaulieu which was north of Chelmsford.

We arrived at the bigger and more court-suited castle on July 23. I remembered that date so clear in my mind because of everything that happened there and how much things changed while we were there.

The chosen place for the queen’s rooms were very grand and recently rebuilt and redecorated. There were many rooms in her chambers, enough for a bedroom for each of her maids and a few rooms for Mary.

We were entertained during dinner by jugglers and fools that night.

It seemed more like court at home-the king and the queen up on the high table (Mary was up there are well) and all the other nobility down below.

I saw Anne at the end of the table, closest to the high table, also closest to the king. And she knew he was looking down at her at all times. He always was.

I heard Jane mention Anne’s name next to me. Well naturally she did-Anne was all anyone talked about-but what she said pricked my interest.

“Did you hear about Anne being a witch?” she whispered to me.

“What?!” I gasped. “Why do people think that?” “Well people seemed to believe that our Anne has a sixth finger on her left hand, and ‘tis why she wears all that lace at her wrists,” she explained.

Of course if could not be true. Anne changed in front of me all the time, which meant I saw her hands. Her hands were beautiful like the rest of her-long, thin fingers, each perfectly formed. I think I would have noticed if Anne had an extra finger.

“Anything else I should know?” I asked.

“Yes, actually, they say that she has hideous mole on her neck, and that is why she wears a thick ribbon with a huge gem around her neck,” she explained.

That was also not true. Anne wore huge gems just because she could. And besides that, the look was French, and Anne was all French.

Tonight she was wearing her new necklace, one that her mother had given her. It had a B on it, for Boleyn, so that she would remember who she was. She would always be a Boleyn.

Why could they accuse Anne of such things? She was a beautiful girl, and she had the affections of the king. They were just jealous. All of them would have loved to be in Anne’s position.

That night I told Anne what Jane had told me.

She started laughing. “Is that all they can come up with about me? Really, I thought the English court was worse than the French when it came to gossip. I guess that is not true.”

“But they think you are a witch!” I cried.

Anne rolled her eyes. “No one would dare call me that. They are just jealous, now I have a title. Every girl in England wants to be me, Elizabeth.” She laughed slightly, nervously. “Seems a bit odd. I was going to marry a page.”

She was talking about Henry Percy, of course. It was a subject she didn’t like to speak of, for it was hard for her to talk of the one she had loved.

“Well, goodnight, Elizabeth,” she leaned over and snuffed out the candle.

“Goodnight, Anne,” I whispered and pulled down my warm sleeping cap and snuggled under the covers.

The next night was a long night of dancing once again. I forced my brother into dancing with Mary, for Mary had been begging to dance with my brother for awhile.

Of course my brother had no lessons in dancing, once again proving what a horrible courtier he would be, and he ending up stepping on Mary’s feet or bumping into people while going in the wrong direction.

“I cannot feel my feet!” Mary giggled as she joined me again in a lively Irish jig.

“My brother cannot dance,” I apologized.

“No, no, it was quite fun actually. I’ve never danced with a boy before,” she sighed. “He is quite comely.”

“Mary!” I cried. “I guess I should expect you as my sister sometime soon!”

We started giggling and dancing and soon we nearly passed out from exhaustion.

I said goodnight to my brother and Mary and I went to the Queen’s chambers and then said goodnight and retired to our own chambers.

“The king asked me again,” Anne giggled as soon as I laid against the bed.

“And you said no,” I snuggled up in the covers, knowing that was the end of it.

“I said exactly, ‘No, for things like that are what wives are for, and I chose to remain chaste, for I am a respectable young girl and will be a maid till I marry,’” she explained.

“So?”

“I’m not sure. The king looked at me with an odd expression on his face. I just hope I still have his favor.”

“But, Anne, what do you really need him for?” I asked

“I don’t really know, Elizabeth. I just think there is something else I’m meant to do with this. I promise that if that thing does not come by the end of summer, then it will we over forever.”

“Good,” I whispered loud enough for only me to hear. For what could really happen by the end of the summer?

For the next two weeks the king did not come out of his chambers. No one knew why he was in there. Not the queen-not even Anne-knew.

“Do you think maybe he is sick?” William asked as he, Mary, and I were walking around the park surrounding the castle.

“Well I think he would want to let us know if he was sick,” I said.

“Maybe he wouldn’t, though, because he doesn’t want anyone to worry,” William stated.

“Or maybe he’s finally trying to think of how to rid of that horrible Boleyn girl!” Mary cried.

William and I shot a quick glance at each other. William was like me, he liked Anne in secret, for really, she was a nice person. She was the only friend I had in court when Mary was off in Ludlow in her court.

“Is it me or has my father completely avoided me since the summer progress?” Mary sighed, not looking for an answer.

“Your father has had other mistresses. And look what became of them…” I was cut of by Mary.

“Bessie Blount is the Baroness of Kyme and hasn’t been seen in court since who knows when and Mary Boleyn, that cursed Anne’s sister, was banished just recently. Just had a baby, she did, a boy,” Mary explained.

A shiver went up my spine. Mary had had the king’s boy.

“The only reason he is with Anne is the first place is because he needs an heir. Our dynasty is yet so young, and we need to keep it the longest and most powerful the country has ever seen! So my father needs a legitimate boy. I doubt he can get his stupid little law passed that allows an illegitimate to become the heir. Henry FitzRoy, the sickly little Duke of Richmond and Somerset, would never qualify as king of this realm,” she sighed. “He has his heir, right here.”

“Mary, everyone knows a woman cannot rule,” William argued.

“Just because I am a woman, it means I cannot rule as well as my father and his father and all the other fathers before him? I am perfectly capable.”

“But that’s how it’s always been. Men have always ruled, and you will be a queen, you have the biggest job-to provide the heir,” I explained.

“And then it starts all over. If the queen only has a daughter, then what happens? The queen is tossed aside and a fresh young girl comes in and does the job!” Mary yelled.

“But Anne is not as terrible as you think. She does not wish to hurt your mother and yourself. She was doing what her family bid her do, and she had to do as they said, or they would have disowned her,” I clarified.

“Just leave,” Mary sighed, running her fingers through the water in the little fountain that stood in front of us. She had her back to us.

William and I turned to go back up to the castle.

“So when will this be over?” William asked. “You are friends with Anne, when is it finally done?”

“She is waiting for the right time so that the king does not find way to punish her for ending things,” I lied. In fact, I wasn’t even sure when it was to end.

That night Mary did not go out into court and I did not dance. I sat at a table while a fool stood in front of me, trying to cheer me up. He danced, juggled, and made funny noises, yet it would not even cheer the small eight year old up.

Anne and the king-back from his two week retreat from court-were dancing with passion, their eyes locked, his hand wrapped tight around Anne’s waist. He wanted her more than she needed him to gain power. Anne was a powerful girl when it came to men.

The king did not look sick, or any different than he did when he had first retreated to his rooms before that two week period. It was eating away at me to know why I was in there.

I saw him whisper something in her ear. They stopped their dance and walked over to a dark corner, covered by a tapestry so no one could see them.

The fool had finally left me alone and my curiosity-once again-got the best of me and I found myself slowly stepping over to where the two of them were talked-or maybe more than that.

I hid myself in the shadows and listened, seeing them clearly behind the tapestry.

I heard Anne whisper, “What did you wish to tell me, then, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, call me Henry, you silly girl,” the king whispered.

“Of course,” Anne’s voice turned to that of want. “Henry.”

“Anne, my dear, as you have said, you will not join me in my bed, or no man into his bed, unless you be married to the man. I am here to say that I have found a way for this to be real and for my plan to work flawlessly. I have already sent a request to the Pope, which he will approve no doubt. Yet for now, let’s this be our little secret,” King Henry said.

“Oh what Henry?!” Anne exclaimed.

“Anne, will you marry me?” he whispered.

I heard Anne let out a cry of joy, and then I saw her fall to the ground, the king just missing to catch her.

I sat there as a few maids rushed over to see what had happened in the darkness of the corner as the tears poured down my eyes. I tried to cover my eyes from the scene, but I could not.

Now Anne had gotten that thing that told her what she was meant to do.

I just prayed that I was dreaming.

So that was what the king wanted. He knew his queen was not able to bear children, and he wanted a son, he needed a son as his heir.

It was the only way.

I pretended I did not know as Anne told me the king had proposed to her. Why had she chosen to tell me, when only her family knew? No one at court knew, no one.

I did not know what to think or how to act when she told me.

“The king has sent a letter to the Pope, asking for an annulment to Queen Catherine. He says he can divorce her surely, as she had been married to his older brother before that. She had told Henry the marriage was not consummated after her husband died, and he believed her, but he now believes it was, and in the Bible it does say you cannot marry your brother’s wife after he has died,” she rolled over and looked out the window, looking out at the countryside.

“I know not what to think, Elizabeth, though I must accept his offer, and I know you will hate me forever for it,” I almost thought she was crying. “Think of it, Elizabeth…I…I will be the Queen of England.”

I gasped and tried not to wail, for I could not imagine Catherine gone and Anne replacing her. I could not be, it could not.

“I am sorry, Anne, I just cannot,” I wailed and jumped off the bed and slammed open the door, wanting just to be with the queen and to warn her. I did not care if Anne would hate me forever for it.

The queen was the queen, and no one, especially not Anne, could change that.

But as soon as I opened the door I was caught by a tall, muscular man. It was Anne’s uncle, the Howard.

He looked down upon me with fierce eyes that promised to stab out my heart if I made any sudden moves. Even though the hallway was dark I could see the hatred in his countenance, and the way his hands squeezed tightly against my little arms made me feel like dying, right there. I would rather had died then lived and seen what would become of all this, all what would happen.

“Listen, girl,” he growled. “If you are to keep this secret, then you are to tell no one. ‘Tis why it’s called a secret. If anyone else knows besides the Howard’s, the Boleyn’s, and you puny little thing, I will be sure that every little bone in your body is broken.”

I felt my whole body quiver with fright and his cold hand slap against my face.

“Shut up girl!” he spat and released me from his grasp. “We speak of this no more.” He turned on his heel and left me there, scared of what would happen, what would become of me.

But it wasn’t I whose future mattered. What mattered were those of the queen and Mary. For what would happen to them when this all played out, when it all came true?

What all had I gotten myself into?