Chapter 35
The sun flashed on the golden silk and Elizabeth raised her hand to shield her eyes.
Stretching into the distance was a vast city of sumptuous buildings: castles, manor houses, churches, yet it was all an illusion.
A town built from silk and wood, canvas and tar, created to show the wealth and skill of the two great countries – England and France.
Everywhere Elizabeth turned, there was splendour: pavilions festooned with cloth of crimson, fountains spilling spice-scented wine and Henry’s courtiers, men and women alike, wearing jewel-studded finery, strutting like peacocks in their carefully chosen outfits, each item selected to outshine and intimidate their French counterparts.
The wave of voices washing around her like an eager tide was resonant with excitement as it rose and fell, a background of accents, laughter and the desire to impress.
The meeting was to seal the new peace treaty between England and France.
Henry also claimed it was to promote Christian unity and show princely honour and chivalry to King Francis.
As Elizabeth gazed around, she realised this display was a clear demonstration of England’s power and wealth; it was both a gesture of friendship and also a warning to the wider European political powers that Henry was a king who was not to be underestimated.
It was awe-inspiring and Elizabeth knew Henry would adore this carnival of excess; after all, he could never have enough of his own image in the mirror, and the brilliance mixed with the gaudy colours, the illusion of the creations, was a reflection of Henry himself.
She heard her husband’s laugh before she saw him and, as it had done since their first meeting, she felt the giddiness of her love for Thomas.
‘Tom,’ she called as he strode out of the nearby tent, talking to the young Henry Stafford, Earl of Stafford.
‘Lizzie,’ he exclaimed as she hurried towards him. ‘I was showing Henry the tent we’ll be using this evening for the masque. He wants to ensure Ursula is seated in a quiet corner but one that has an excellent view of the entertainments.’
‘Lady Stafford told me your exciting news,’ said Elizabeth. ‘A baby on the way and you only married six months ago.’
Henry Stafford was part of the extended Howard family, as his sister Elizabeth was married to Younger.
The previous year, Henry Stafford had married Ursula Pole, the daughter of Margaret Pole, considered to be the last of the Plantagenets.
Elizabeth had included Ursula, who was barely sixteen, and her three gentlewomen within the Boleyn party.
‘We were very surprised, but my sister has confirmed Ursula’s symptoms and we have since seen a physician,’ said Henry, who was eighteen. His expression was one of mingled pride and nervousness.
‘My beautiful wife gave me a child every year for the first five years of our marriage,’ said Thomas, slipping his arm around Elizabeth’s waist, ‘and, if I’m not mistaken, the three who thrived and survived are here.’ He gestured towards the teeming crowds around them.
‘I’m sorry you lost two children,’ said Henry in a low voice to Elizabeth.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ replied Elizabeth. ‘It was many years ago, but they are always here.’ She placed a hand on her heart.
‘Are your remaining children married?’
‘Mary has recently wed William Carey,’ said Elizabeth, ‘and we are in negotiations concerning our son, George, to marry Jane Parker, the daughter of Baron Morley. Anne has been abroad but will return soon, so there are many happy events on the horizon.’
‘You are blessed, Lady Boleyn,’ said Henry, then he gave a shallow bow. ‘Sir Thomas, thank you for your consideration on our behalf. I shall take my leave and inform Ursula of the plans for this evening.’
He hurried away, swallowed up by the crowd.
‘Is this not magnificent, Lizzie?’ said Thomas, sweeping his hand around to encompass the spectacle.
‘We live in an age of true wonder,’ she agreed. ‘You’ve done a remarkable job, but now I need the man who is my husband, rather than the diplomat and courtier.’
‘And why is that?’ he asked, lowering his voice and raising one eyebrow, his tone deliberately seductive, pulling her close.
Lizzie laughed, her heart quickening as it always did under his touch.
‘Later, my love,’ she murmured, ‘for now, we’ll have to resist. Mary and George are waiting in our lodgings and, hopefully, Anne will have arrived by the time we return. For the first time in years, our family will be together.’
Holding hands and giggling like young lovers, Elizabeth allowed Thomas to hurry her through the crowds, past Henry’s temporary palace where he and Queen Katherine were lodged with the Princess Mary.
It was a vast and impressive structure, laid out in four separate sections, with a tower on each corner, all facing into a bustling central courtyard.
Thomas explained the base was made from bricks and from these solid foundations grew the 30-foot-high walls of cloth and canvas, each stretched over timber frames and painted to look like stone.
The slanting roof was made from oiled cloth and decorated to give the illusion of lead pointing on slates.
Huge windows glittered in the bright sunshine, containing images of warriors and heroes from mythology, including Hercules and Alexander the Great.
Men and women gazed at the palace in awe, their excited voices mingling with the shouts of the servants and the calls of knights and grooms as men cantered past on horses, preparing for the tournament the following day.
Elizabeth looked over towards the French settlement, this too was lavish, but as they passed away from the spectacle of the palace, Elizabeth felt Henry had won this particular battle of the kings.
‘Maman, Papa,’ a voice called as they entered their own luxuriously appointed tent and a slender girl with dark hair threw herself at them.
‘Annie,’ Elizabeth exclaimed, hugging her tightly. ‘You’ve grown so tall!’
‘It’s been many years, Maman,’ she said as Elizabeth wiped the tears from her daughter’s eyes.
‘Too many,’ said Thomas, hugging them both.
Elizabeth felt as though her heart would burst with happiness, then more arms joined them, Mary and George were laughing and crying, too, their joy at being together after so many years apart.
This must change, thought Elizabeth, as they disentangled themselves from the many-armed hug, chattering and laughing, teasing one another, catching up on each other’s news.
It is time to find Anne a husband, to bring her home and our family will remain close again, there have been too many years apart.
If she is married, she will be safe from the king and from Younger’s grand plans of a Howard heir.
A few days later, after the vast entourages of both kings and queens had settled and rested, a ceremony between King Henry and King Francis marked the official opening of the festival.
Thousands of people watched as, after bursts of artillery fire, the two monarchs met on the elaborate esplanade between the two encampments.
Thomas Boleyn, one of the forty especially appointed men who accompanied the king, rode a few paces behind Henry.
When the kings met, they doffed their plumed hats at each other, then embraced to rapturous applause and a storm of cheering.
Despite the scorching heat, the weather was unsettled and the strange intensity of burning sun with howling winds made Elizabeth uneasy.
‘This is what’s known as the mighty wind,’ Anne said to Elizabeth one evening as they dressed for a masque.
‘The French say it’s connected to the marsh of Vivarais in the Provencal region.
Legend says it can be calmed by singing it a lullaby, but never try to capture it, or if you do, you will be cursed forever. ’
The Boleyns laughed, but from the other side of the room, Jane Parker, George’s betrothed, gasped in shock.
‘How can you speak with such ease about curses?’ she said.
‘We’re nowhere near Provence,’ said George, squeezing her hand. ‘The wind can’t hear us, we’re safe.’
‘Say your rosary, Jane,’ said Mary, shooting an amused glance at Anne, the two sophisticated sisters united against the innocence of Jane, ‘then we’ll all be safe.’
Jane shrugged her shoulders. ‘Laugh at me all you wish,’ she said, but there was humour in her voice. ‘At least I shall be safe from the demons of the wind.’
Elizabeth shivered, but she forced a smile into her voice. ‘Enough, ladies,’ she said. ‘Time is running out, and, oh, here he is…’
Thomas Boleyn entered carrying three large jewellery boxes.
‘Girls, gather around me, please,’ he said, beaming at Elizabeth, who hurried to her packing chest in the corner and removed her own vast jewellery box, inside which were three more leather cases.
She did not notice as the velvet pouch she usually secreted at the bottom of the chest fell onto the floor.
‘Your mother and I have bought you all gifts. You too, Jane, as you will soon be our daughter as well,’ he said and smiled warmly at Jane, who blushed.
She’s so shy, thought Elizabeth, we must nurture her and give her confidence, or she may find herself led into trouble.
‘Papa, this is unexpected,’ said Anne.
‘You gave me so much upon my marriage to William,’ said Mary.
‘These are a sign of family,’ said Thomas and pushed a box towards each young woman.
‘I shall count to three,’ said Elizabeth, ‘and then you must open them together.’
Elizabeth beamed up at Thomas; it was he who had suggested these gifts – a striking jewel to show the sisterhood between their daughters and their soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
‘One, two, three…’ she said and all three young women opened their boxes.
‘These are stunning,’ said Mary.
Each box contained two pendants of pure gold adorned with three floating pearls which shimmered, catching the sunlight as they moved. There was an ‘M’ and ‘B’ for Mary, an ‘A’ and ‘B’ for Anne and a ‘J’ and ‘B’ for Jane.
‘And these are for you to wear them with,’ said Elizabeth and placed another box in front of each girl.
Anne pulled out the long rope of exquisite pearls and gaped at her parents. Each creamy stone was perfectly matched and glimmered with the mysteries of the sea.
‘This is too generous,’ muttered Jane, looking near to tears.
‘They are given with love,’ said Elizabeth, squeezing Jane’s hand, ‘and I hope they will be worn with love too.’
‘We must wear them this evening,’ said Anne, moving away from her parents and bending down to pick up the small velvet pouch from the floor. ‘Everyone will be so envious. Here. Mother, this fell from your jewel chest.’
Elizabeth stared at it in surprise, then took it from Anne and placed it in the interior pocket of her wide sleeve. The three girls moved away, admiring the jewels and holding up a mirror to admire the necklaces.
‘This is for you George,’ said Thomas and handed him a leather scroll which he unrolled to reveal a glittering ‘B’ broach. ‘I believe the king has made it fashionable to wear pins such as these on our hats. Go, ask the girls to help you pin it correctly.’
Elizabeth beamed and was about to join her children, when Thomas caught her hand and drew her aside.
‘Elizabeth, a moment, please,’ he said.
‘Is there something amiss?’ she asked.
‘Perhaps,’ he replied. ‘The reason I was delayed collecting the jewels is because your brother, Younger, and the Duke of Suffolk accosted me. The duke had a message from the king. His majesty has requested your presence as soon as possible.’
‘The king?’ said Elizabeth, her insides clenching with revulsion.
‘Suffolk said Henry has a gift he would like to present to you in person,’ said Thomas and Elizabeth saw the concern in his eyes. ‘Younger was most insistent I convey this message to you with all haste. His majesty will be in his receiving room before the masque this evening.’
Elizabeth stared into Thomas’s face. It was white with fear and fury. ‘Younger suggested I visit the king?’ gasped Elizabeth.
‘Yes,’ said Thomas through tight lips.
‘Will you stay with me?’ she asked, trying to keep the note of desperation from her voice.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I love you, Lizzie, I shall do all I can to protect you. We shall face him together.’
She turned away, hiding her shaking hands in her skirts as Mary, Anne and Jane returned, resplendent in their new necklaces and pendants.