Chapter 10
“Does anyone know when I am to be married?” Anna asked in her husky voice, as her women dressed her the next morning. One of her Flemish ladies, Susanna Gilman, translated.
“We have not been told, your Grace,” Margaret Douglas said, exchanging glances with Mary Howard behind Anna’s back. Kate, standing near them, holding Anna’s headdress, was aware that something was wrong, and it was obvious that the other ladies knew it, too.
“The King has not mentioned the wedding, so I do not know when I should be ready.” Kate could hear the concern in Anna’s voice.
When she was dressed, the maids returned to the dorter while Anna received her German dignitaries. They did not see her again that day, for Mother Lowe, the German Mistress of the Maids, kept all the English attendants at bay.
“Something’s wrong,” Mary Norris said.
“The King doesn’t like her,” Katheryn Howard declared. “He’ll send her home, I’ll wager.”
“He was most affectionate and courteous to her yesterday,” Kate reminded her, thinking that the humiliation of rejection could not be worse for the Queen than marrying that loathsome monster.
“Oh, he was putting on an act,” Katheryn retorted. “But he won’t put his neck in the noose when it comes to bedding her!”
Kate didn’t like such lewdness. It was disrespectful.
—
The next day, Anna could eat little of the choice fare served to her at dinner. Mother Lowe was fussing over her like a mother hen and again waved the English ladies and maids away.
“You will be called for when you are needed,” she said firmly.
They weren’t needed until it was time to prepare Anna for bed.
“I am to be married on Tuesday in the Chapel Royal here,” she told them. “It will be the Feast of the Epiphany.”
Kate wished she sounded happier about it.
But then, who would sound happy if they were marrying someone as gross and cruel as King Henry?
If she were in Anna’s place, she would be dwelling on the fates of his three previous wives: one divorced and exiled, one beheaded, and one dead in childbed through, it was said, lack of care.
In fact, she would be planning to run away.
—
On Epiphany Eve, before the Twelfth Night feast, the King accompanied Anna to Mass.
Kate was among those in attendance as they processed through the court, smiling to left and right at the press of courtiers lining the walls.
The King was as courteous as ever. After Mass, he escorted Anna to her presence chamber, and there presented her with a long document on which, he said, were listed the many properties that made up her dower.
“It is a most generous settlement,” she said, curtseying. “I thank your Grace, from my heart.”
“It is no more than your due,” he told her. “My Queen must be seen to live in the comfort and magnificence befitting her rank.” He bowed. “Make ready, Madam. We will be wed in the morning. I will send my lords to escort you to the Chapel Royal at eight o’clock.”
—
The ladies were telling Anna how beautiful she looked in her wedding gown.
Even though it was made in the Dutch style with a round skirt, Kate had to admire the cloth of gold worked in a pattern of large flowers and stitched with great Orient pearls.
As became a virgin bride, the Queen wore her fair hair loose beneath a coronal of gold set with brilliant gems. In her hair, and pinned to her gown, Mother Lowe had placed sprigs of rosemary.
“Rosemary symbolizes love, faithfulness, and fruitfulness,” she’d said in her guttural English.
The great ladies of the household came forward with gold chains and a jeweled crucifix, which Mother Lowe insisted on hanging around Anna’s neck herself, and a belt adorned with gold and stones to be fastened at her waist. Kate could not help staring at her when she was ready. She looked every inch a queen.
The maids were all wearing cloth of silver, the tissue so light that their skirts floated about them.
But it was no proof against the chill of the January morning, and Kate wondered how she would get through the ceremonies without freezing to death.
Above her low square neckline, her breasts were covered in goose pimples.
Yet the gown did make her look grown up and alluring, and she was praying that Francis would be attending the King, so that he could see her in it.
Surely, he would be present at the coming festivities, and she hoped they could snatch time with each other without arousing the wrath of Mrs. Stonor.
Baron Oberstein, a nobleman of Cleves, was to give Anna away.
It was still dark when they found him waiting for Anna in her presence chamber at seven o’clock sharp, with Grand Master Hochsteden, another German officer.
Preceded by Lord Cromwell, with Oberstein, Hochsteden, and a rather drunk Earl of Essex escorting her, Anna walked to the Chapel Royal, followed by her women.
Kate felt the familiar revulsion at the sight of the King standing at the entrance to the chapel, dazzlingly dressed in cloth of gold embossed with great flowers of silver, a coat of crimson satin slashed, embroidered, and tied with great diamonds, and a rich collar about his neck.
Anna made three low curtseys and he doffed his cap, bowing courteously.
His face was impassive; Kate found it impossible to detect his mood.
He held out his hand to Anna and led her into the crowded chapel, where Archbishop Cranmer was waiting for them.
During the ceremony, the ladies and maids stood two-by-two in the nave.
Kate looked around surreptitiously for Francis, but in vain.
And he was nowhere to be seen when the trumpets sounded and the bridal pair left the chapel, and it was time for Anna to go back to her apartments.
An hour later, everyone returned to the chapel, where the Mass of Epiphany was celebrated with great solemnity. And still there was no Francis.
After Mass ended, there was another fanfare, as the King and Queen went in procession to his presence chamber, where they dined together as the entire court looked on, with the chief lords and officers of state standing in attendance.
Anna was seated on a smaller chair beside the King’s throne, beneath the intricately embroidered canopy of estate, with the royal arms of England blazoned large in the center.
Her ladies and maids stood behind her. Kate was thankful that a hearty fire was roaring up the chimney, for she had been feeling cold to the bone.
As the meal was served with great formality, and eaten mostly in silence, her eyes roved along the ranks of Gentlemen Pensioners lined up against the tapestried walls—and then she saw him, and he was looking at her.
Her heart leaped, especially when he gave an almost imperceptible smile.
She could have feasted her eyes on him all day.
Too soon, the dinner was over, and Anna retired to her apartments, where her ladies and maids clustered around, congratulating her and saying how well she had acquitted herself.
“No one could take their eyes off you, Madam!” Margaret Douglas exclaimed.
“And you bore yourself so handsomely; every eye was upon you!” Susanna Gilman enthused.
All Kate could think of was that dinner would soon be served. She was ravenous, for there had been no time to break their fast before the wedding.
While Anna rested in the afternoon, the maids hung up their silver gowns on pegs and took the opportunity to make up some sleep.
But Kate lay awake. She could not stop thinking about Francis.
He must be there for the evening’s celebrations.
Bursting with impatience, she helped to dress Anna and yawned her way through Vespers.
Then she had to sit through supper with the household while the King and Queen dined in private. The waiting seemed interminable.
At long last, the maids were summoned to attend Anna when she processed with the King to the presence chamber, where privileged courtiers had gathered to partake of a banquet of sweetmeats.
The royal couple sat on their chairs of estate, and everyone gathered around them to watch the entertainment.
Standing by the dais, Kate caught sight of Elizabeth among the company, guzzling from a heaped plate.
They caught each other’s eye and grinned.
Then she suddenly became aware of Francis standing by her side.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Kate,” he said. He was smiling warmly at her. “You look very becoming in that gown.”
Kate blushed, suddenly aware of how low-cut it was. “I am pleased to see you,” she murmured.
There was no more time for talking because the players were assembling.
“Your Majesties, my lords and ladies, we present for you The Masque of Hymen,” announced the Master of the Revels.
Kate liked tales of the old Greek and Roman gods, but she had never seen anything like this.
Her eyes widened at the sight of lords and ladies dancing together in the most revealing costumes, and she blushed at the bawdy jests, many of which she didn’t entirely understand.
Francis, standing at her side, had reddened, too.
“I hope you are not offended,” he whispered in her ear.
“I hardly know what to be offended about!” Kate giggled. He looked relieved.
But the King’s expression was thunderous, and his fair skin had flushed a deep red.
His demeanor was certainly not that of an ardent bridegroom, and Anna looked terrified, as well she might, for no one could be in any doubt that he was in a very bad temper indeed.
Contrary to his normal fashion, he did not applaud the masquers once, and consequently they played to a silent court.