The Boleyn Inheritance Part 15

And I say, thinking of Thomas: "It is a scent, Your Grace. It is a scent like a perfume, a goodly smell that I love, like a flower like jasmine or roses. And then there is a deeper smell, like the sweat of a good horse when it is hot from hunting, then there is a smell like leather, and then a sort of tang like the sea. "

"I smell like this? " he asks, and there is wonder in his voice, and I realize, with a little shock, that of course this will hit home since in truth he smells of pus from his leg, poor man, and often of farting since he is so costive, and this stink g"s with him everywhere so that he has to carry a pomader all the time to block it out from his own nose, but he must know that to everyone he smells of decay.

"You do to me, " I say faithfully, thinking hard of Thomas Culpepper and the clean smell of his brown curly hair. "There is a scent of jasmine and sweat and leather and salt. " I look down and lick my lips, just lightly, nothing bawdy. "I always know you by this. "

He takes me by the hand and he draws me to him. "Sweet maid, " he breathes. "Oh G.o.d, sweet maid. "

I give a little gasp as if I am afraid, but I look up at him as if I would be kissed. This is rather nasty, really. He is awfully like my step-grandmother's steward at Horsham *very old. Old enough to be my grandfather almost, and his mouth is trembling and his eyes are wet. I admire him because he is the king, of course. He is the greatest man in the world, and I love him as my king. And my uncle has made clear that there are new dresses involved if I can lead him on. But it is not very nice when he holds me round the waist and puts his mouth wetly on my neck, and I can feel his spittle cold on my skin.

"Sweet maid, " he says again, and he nuzzles me with a moist kiss, which is like being sucked by a fish.

"Your Grace! " I say breathlessly. "You must let me go. "

"I will never let you go! "

"Your Grace, I am a maid! "

This works wonderfully well; he lets me go a little way and I can step back, and though he takes both my hands, at least I don't have him breathing down the front of my gown.

"You are a sweet maid, Katherine. "

"I am an honest maid, sire, " I say breathlessly.

He has tight hold of my hands, and he draws me to him. "If I were a free man, would you be my wife? " he asks simply.

I am so surprised by the speed of this that I cannot say a word. I just look at him as if I were a complete milkmaid, and stupid as a dairy cow. "Your wife? Your wife, sire? "

"My marriage is not a true one, " he says quickly; all the time he is pulling me closer, his hand sliding round my waist again. I think that the words are just to dazzle me while he backs me into the corner and gets a hand up my skirt, so I keep moving and he keeps talking. "My marriage is invalid. For several reasons. My wife was precontracted and not free to marry. My conscience warned me of this, and for my soul's sake I cannot lie with her in a holy union. I know in my deepest heart that she is another man's wife. "

"Is she? " Surely, he can't imagine I am fool enough to believe this for a moment.

"I know it, my conscience warns me. G.o.d speaks to me. I know it. "

"D"s He? Do you? "

"Yes, " he says firmly. "And so I did not fully consent at my wedding. G.o.d knew of my doubts then, and I have not lain with her. So the marriage is no marriage, and I will soon be free. "

So he d"s think me fool enough, because he has fooled himself. Good G.o.d, what men can do to their brains when their c.o.c.ks are hard. It is truly amazing.

"But what will happen to her? " I ask.

"What? " His hand, which is creeping up my stomacher to my breast, is halted at the thought.

"What will happen to the queen? " I ask. "If she is no queen anymore? "

"How should I know? " he says, as if it is nothing to do with him. "She should not have come to England if she was not free to marry. She is a promise breaker. She can go home again. "

I don't think that she will want to go home again, not to that brother of hers, and she has taken a liking to the royal children, and to England. But his hand is pulling urgently on my waist, and he is turning me to face him.

"Katherine, " he says longingly. "Tell me that I can think of you? Or is there another young man? You're a young woman, surrounded by temptation in a lascivious court, a dirty-minded, l.u.s.tful court with many bad, filthy-headed boys. I suppose one of them will have taken your fancy? Promised you some fairing for a kiss? "

"No, " I say. "I told you. I don't like boys. They are all too silly. "

"You don't like boys? "

"Not at all. "

"So what do you like? " he asks. His voice is lilting with admiration of himself. He knows the reply in this song.

"I daren't say. " His hand is creeping up from my waist again, in a moment he will be fondling my breast. Oh, Thomas Culpepper, I wish to G.o.d this was you.

"Tell me, " he says. "Oh, tell me, pretty Katherine, and I will give you a present for being an honest girl. "

I s.n.a.t.c.h a quick breath of clean air. "I like you, " I say simply, and one hand clamps *smack *on my breast and the other pulls me toward him, and his mouth comes down on mine, all wet and sucking, and it is really very horrible. But on the other hand I have to wonder what present I get for being an honest girl.

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He gives me the estates of two convicted murderers: that is, a couple of houses and some goods, and some money. I can't believe it. That I should have houses, two houses, and land, and money of my own!

I have never had such wealth in my life, and never any gift so easily earned. I have to acknowledge: it was easily earned. It is not nice to lead on a man who is old enough to be my father, almost old enough to be my grandfather. It is not very nice to have his fat hand rubbing at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and his stinking mouth all over my face. But I must remember that he is the king, and he is a kind old man and a sweet, doting old man, and I can close my eyes most of the time and pretend that it is someone else. Also, it is not very nice to have dead men's goods, but when I say this to Lady Rochford, she points out that we all have dead men's goods one way or another *everything is either stolen or inherited *and a woman who hopes to rise in the world can't afford to be particular.

Anne, Westminster Palace, April 1540 I thought that I would be crowned as part of the May Day celebrations, but we are already less than a month away and no one has ordered any gowns or planned the order of the coronation, so I begin to think it won't be this May Day, it can't be. In the absence of any better advisor I wait until the Princess Mary and I are walking back from the Lady Chapel to the palace, and I ask her what she thinks. I have grown to like her more and more and trust her opinion. Also, because she has been the child and then the exile of this court, she knows better than most what it is to live here and yet know yourself to be an outsider.

At the very word coronation she gives me a quick look of such concern that I cannot take another step. I freeze to the spot and cry: "Oh, what have you heard? "

"Dear Anne, don't cry, " she says quickly. "I beg your pardon. Queen Anne. "

"I'm not crying. " I show her my shocked face. "I am not. "

At once we both look round to see if anyone is watching us. This is how it is at court, always the glance over your shoulder for the spy; truth told only in whispers. She steps closer to me, and I take her hand and put it through my arm and we walk together.

"It can't be this May Day because we would have had everything planned and ready by now if he was going to crown you, " she says. "I thought that in Lent, myself. But it's not so bad. It means nothing. Queen Jane wasn't crowned either. He would have crowned her if she had lived, once she had given him an heir. He will be waiting for you to tell him that you are with child. He will be waiting for you to have a child and then there will be the christening and then your coronation after that. "

I flush deeply at this and say nothing. She takes a glance at my face and waits until we have gone up the stairs, through my presence chamber, through my privy chamber, and to my little withdrawing chamber, where n.o.body comes without invitation. I close the door on the curious faces of my ladies and we are alone.

"There is a difficulty? " she says with careful tact.

"Not of my making. "

She nods, but neither of us wants to say more. We are both virgins in our mid-twenties, old for spinsters, afraid of the mystery of male desire, afraid of the power of the king, both living on the edge of his acceptance.

"You know, I hate May Day, " she says suddenly.

"I thought it was one of the greatest days of celebration of the year? "

"Oh, yes, but it is a savage celebration, pagan: not a Christian one. "

This is part of her Papist superst.i.tion, and I am going to laugh for a moment, but the gravity of her face stops me.

"It's just to welcome the coming of spring, " I say. "There is no harm in it. "

"It is the time for putting off the old and taking on the new, " she says. "That's the tradition, and the king lives it to the full, like a savage. He rode in a May Day tournament with a love message to Anne Boleyn on his standard, and then he put my mother aside for the Lady Anne on a May Day. Less than five years later, it was her turn: the Lady Anne was the new Queen of the Joust, with her champions fighting for her honor before her royal box. But the knights were arrested that afternoon, and the king rode away from her without even saying good-bye. That was the end of the Lady Anne, and the last time she saw him. "

"He didn't say good-bye? " For some reason, this seems to me the worst thing of all. No one had told me this before.

She shakes her head. "He never says good-bye. When his favor has gone, then he g"s swiftly, too. He never said good-bye to my mother either, he rode away from her and she had to send her servants after him to wish him G.o.dspeed. He never told her that he would not return. He just rode out one day and never came back. He never said good-bye to the Lady Anne. He rode away from the May Day tournament and sent his men to arrest her. Actually, he never even said good-bye to Queen Jane, who died in giving him his son. He knew she was fighting for her life, but he did not go to her. He let her die alone. He is hard-hearted, but he is not hard-faced; he cannot stand women crying, he cannot stand good-byes. He finds it easier to turn his heart, and turn his face, and then he just leaves. "

I give a little shudder, and I go to the windows to check that they are tight shut. I have to stop myself from closing the shutters against the hard light. There is a cold wind coming off the river; I can almost feel it chilling me as I stand here. I want to go out to the presence chamber and surround myself with my silly girls, with a page boy playing the lute, with the women laughing. I want the comfort of the queen's rooms around me, even though I know that three other women have needed their comfort before, and they are all dead.

"If he turn against me, as he turn against the Lady Anne, I would have no warning, " I say quietly. "n.o.body at this court is my friend; no one even tell me that danger is coming. "

Princess Mary d"s not attempt to rea.s.sure me.

"It could be, like for the Lady Anne, a sunny day, a tournament, and then the men at arms come and there is no escape? "

Her face is pale. She nods. "He sent the Duke of Norfolk against me to order my obedience. The good duke, who had known me from childhood and served my mother loyally, with love, said to my face that if he were my father, he would swing me by the heels and split my head open against the wall, " she says. "A man I had known from childhood, a man who knew me to be a Princess of the Blood, who had loved my mother as her most loyal servant. He came with my father's goodwill, under his orders, and he was ready to take me to the Tower. The king sent his executioner against me and let him do what he would. "

I take a handful of priceless tapestry, as if the touch of it can comfort me. "But I am innocent of offense, " I say. "I have done nothing. "

"Neither had I, " she replies. "Neither had my mother. Neither had Queen Jane. Perhaps even the Lady Anne was innocent, too. We all saw the king's love turn to spite. "

"And I have never had it, " I say quietly to myself in my own language. "If he could abandon his wife of sixteen years, a woman he had loved, how readily, how easily can he dispose of me, a woman he has never even liked? "

She looks at me. "What will become of you? "

I know my face is bleak. "I don't know, " I say honestly. "I don't know. If the king allies with France and takes Kitty Howard as his lover, then I suppose he will send me home. "

"If not worse, " she says very softly.

I give a rueful smile. "I don't know what could be worse than my home. "

"The Tower, " she says simply. "The Tower would be worse. And then the scaffold. "

The silence that follows those words seems to last a long time. Without speaking I rise up from my chair and go to the door that leads out to my public rooms; the princess steps back to let me precede her. We go through the withdrawing room in silence, both of us haunted by our own thoughts, and enter through the small door of my rooms to a great bustle and fuss. Servants are running from gallery to chamber carrying goods. A dining table is being set up in my presence chamber, and it is laid with the gold and silver plate of the royal treasury.

"What is happening now? " I ask, bewildered.

"His Majesty the king has announced that he will dine in your rooms. " Lady Rochford bustles forward and curtsies to tell me.

"Good. " I try to sound as if I am very pleased, but I am still filled with dread at the thought of the king's spite and the Tower and the scaffold. "I am honored to invite His Grace by my rooms. "

To my rooms, " Princess Mary corrects me quietly.

"To my rooms, " I repeat.

"Shall you change your gown for dinner? "

"Yes. " I see that my ladies-in-waiting have already put on their best; Kitty Howard's cap is so far back on her head she might as well dispense with it altogether, and she is loaded with chains of gold strung with little seed pearls. She has diamonds dancing in her ears and pearls wound round and round her neck. She must have come into some money from somewhere. I have never seen her wear more than a little chain of thin gold before. She sees me looking at her, and she sweeps me a curtsy and then spins on the spot so I can admire the effect of a new gown of rose silk with an underskirt of deep pink.

"Pretty, " I say. "New? "

"Yes, " she says, and then her eyes slide away like a child caught out in thieving, and I know at once that all this finery has come from the king.

"Shall I come and help you dress? " she asks, almost apologetically.

I nod, and she and two of the other maids-in-waiting follow me into my inner privy chamber. My gown for dinner is already laid out, and Katherine runs to the chest and takes out my linen.

"So fine, " she says approvingly, smoothing the white-on-white embroidery on my shifts.

I slip on the shift and sit before the mirror so that Katherine can brush my hair. Her touch is gentle as she twists my hair up into a gold-encrusted net, and we disagree only when she puts my hood far back on my head. I put it right, and she laughs at me. I see our faces side by side in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine, as innocent as a child, without any shadow of deceit. I turn and speak to the other girls. "Leave us, " I say.

From the glances they exchange as they go, I see that her new riches are common knowledge and that everyone knows where those pearls came from. They are expecting a jealous storm to break on Kitty Howard's little head.

"The king likes you, " I say to her bluntly.

The smile has faded from her eyes. She shifts from one little pink-slippered foot to the other. "Your Grace " she whispers.

"He d"s not like me, " I say. I know I am too blunt, but I have not the words to dress this up like a lying Englishwoman.

Her color rises up from her low-cut neckline to burn in her cheeks. "Your Grace "

"Do you desire him? " I ask. I don't have the words to disguise the question in a lengthy conversation.

"No! " she says instantly, but then she bows her head. "He is the king and my uncle says, indeed, my uncle orders me "

"You are not free? " I suggest.

Her gray eyes meet mine. "I am a girl, " she says. "I am only a young girl; I am not free. "

"Can you refuse to do what they want? "

"No. "

There is a silence between us, as we both come to realize the simple truth that is being spoken. We are two women who have recognized that we cannot control the world. We are players in this game, but we do not choose our own moves. The men will play us for their own desires. All we can do is try to survive whatever happens next.

"What will happen to me, if the king wants you for his wife? " I know, as the words come awkwardly into my mouth, that this is the central, unsayable question.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think anyone knows that. "

"Would he have me killed? " I whisper.

To my horror, she d"s not start back in terror and exclaim a denial. She looks at me very steadily. "I don't know what he will do, " she says again. "Your Grace, I don't know what he wants or what he can do. I don't know the law. I don't know what he is able to do. "

"He will command you to his side, " I say through cold lips. "I see that. Wife or wh.o.r.e. But will he send me to the Tower? Will he have me killed? "