The Other Boleyn Girl
Chapter 68 : "For G.o.d's sake, I nearly ran you through. You shouldn't be here witho

"For G.o.d's sake, I nearly ran you through. You shouldn't be here without invitation. Get out, lad. Go!"

"I have to ask...I have to say..."

"Out," George said.

"Will you bear witness for me, Your Majesty?" Smeaton cried over his shoulder as George thrust him toward the door. "They called me in and asked me so many questions."

"Wait a minute," I said urgently. "Questions about what?"

Anne dropped into the windowseat and looked away. "What does it matter?" she said. "They'll be asking everybody everything."

"They asked if I had been familiar with you, Your Majesty," the lad said, blus.h.i.+ng as scarlet as a girl. "Or with you, sir," he said to George. "They asked if I had been a Ganymede to you. I didn't know what they meant, and then they told me."

"And you said?" George demanded.

"I said no. I didn't want to tell them..."

"Good," George said. "Stick to that and don't come near the queen or me or my sister again."

"But I'm afraid," the lad said. He was trembling with earnestness, there were tears in his eyes. They had questioned him for hours about vices he had never even heard of. They were hardened old soldiers and princes of the church, they knew more about sin than he would ever learn. And then he had come running to us for help and was finding none.

George took him by the elbow and walked him to the door. "Get this into your thick and pretty head," he said flatly. "You are innocent, and you have told them so, and you just might get away with it. But if they find you here, they will think that you are our lad, suborned by us. So get out and stay out. This is the worst place in the world to come for help."

He pushed him to the door, but the lad clung to the frame even as the soldier waited outside for a word from George to throw him down the stairs.

"And don't mention Sir Francis," George said in a rapid undertone. "Nor anything that you have ever seen or heard. D'you understand? Say nothing."

The boy still clung on. "I have said nothing!" he exclaimed. "I have been true. But what if they ask me again? Who will protect me? Who will stand my friend?"

George nodded to the soldier who made a swift downward chopping blow on the boy's forearm. He released the door with a yelp of pain as George slammed it in his face. "No one," George said grimly. "Just as no one will protect us."

Next day was May Day. Anne should have been woken at dawn with her ladies singing under her window and the maidens processing with peeled willow wands. But no one had organized it and so, for the first year ever, it did not happen. She woke haggard and pale at the usual time and spent the first hour of the day on her knees at the prie dieu, before going to Ma.s.s at the head of her ladies.

Jane followed behind in white and green. The Seymours had brought in the May with flowers and singing, Jane had slept with flowers under her pillow and had, no doubt, dreamed of her husband-to-be. I looked at her bland sweet face and wondered if she knew how high were the stakes in the game she was playing. She smiled back at my hard face and wished me a joyous May morning.

We filed past the king's chapel and he looked away as Anne went by. She kneeled for the prayers and followed them carefully, saying every word, as pious as Jane herself. When the service was over and we were leaving the church the king emerged from his gallery and said briefly to her: "You will attend the tournament?"

"Yes," Anne said, surprised. "Of course."

"Your brother is in the lists to ride against Henry Norris," he said, watching her closely.

Anne shrugged her shoulders. "And so?" she asked.

"You will have trouble choosing a champion for that joust." His every word was heavy with meaning, as if Anne should know what he was talking about.

Anne looked past him to me, as if I might help her. I raised my eyebrows. I did not know either.

"I should favor my brother as every good sister would do," she said carefully. "But Henry Norris is a very gentle knight."

"Perhaps you cannot choose between them," the king suggested.

There was something pitiful in her puzzled smile. "No, sire. Which would you want me to choose?"

His face darkened at once. "Be sure that I shall watch and see who you do choose," he said with sudden abrupt spite, and he turned away, his limp very p.r.o.nounced, his sore leg fat with the padding over the wound. Anne wordlessly watched him go.

The afternoon was hot and heavy, low clouds pressed down on the palace and the tiltyard was stultifying in the heat. Every other moment I found I was looking toward the road to London to see if William was returning, though I knew I could not expect him for another two days.

Anne was dressed in silver and white, carrying a white May wand as if she had been Maying like a carefree girl in springtime. The knights prepared to joust in the tournament, riding in a circle before the royal gallery, their helmets under their arms, smiling up at the king with the queen seated beside him, and at the ladies behind her.

"Shall you take a wager?" the king asked Anne.

I saw the readiness of her smile at his normal tone of voice.

"Oh yes!" she said.

"Who do you like best for the first joust?"

It was the same question that he had put to her in the chapel.

"I must back my brother," she said, smiling. "We Boleyns must stick together."

"I have lent Norris my own horse," the king warned her. "I think you will find he is the better man."

She laughed. "Then I shall give my favor to him and put my money on my brother. Would that please Your Majesty?"

He nodded, saying nothing.

Anne took a handkerchief from her gown and leaned toward the edge of the royal gallery and beckoned to Sir Henry Norris. He rode toward her and dipped his lance to her in salute. She reached out with her handkerchief and gracefully, holding the sidling horse still with one hand, he pointed the lance toward her hand and lifted the handkerchief from her in one smooth easy movement. It was beautifully done, the ladies in the gallery applauded and Norris smiled, dropped the lance through his hand, s.n.a.t.c.hed the handkerchief from the top and tucked it into his breastplate.

Everyone was watching Norris but I was watching the king. I saw on his face a look I had never seen before but one I had somehow realized was there, like a shadow. The look he turned on Anne when she gave her kerchief to Norris was that of a man who has used a cup and is going to break it. A man who is weary of a dog and is going to drown it. He had finished with my sister. I saw it in that look. All I did not know was how he would be rid of her.

There was a rumble of thunder, as ominous as the roar of a baited bear, and the king shouted that the tournament should begin. My brother won the first joust, and Norris the second, and then my brother the third. He took his horse back to the lines to let the next challenger take his place and Anne stood up to applaud him.

The king sat still, watching Anne. In the heat of the afternoon his leg began to stink but he took no notice. He was offered drink, some early strawberries. He ate and drank, he took a little wine and some cakes. The jousting went on. Anne turned and smiled at him, engaged him in talk. He sat beside her as if he were her judge, as if it were the day of judgment.

At the end of the joust Anne stood up to deliver the prizes. I did not even see who had won, I was watching the king as Anne gave the prizes and extended her little hand for a kiss. The king heaved himself to his feet and went to the back of the gallery. I saw him point to Henry Norris and beckon him as he left. Norris, stripped of his armor but still on his sweating horse, turned and rode round to meet the king in the rear of the gallery.

"Where's the king going?" Anne said, looking round.

I glanced toward the London road, longing for the sight of William's horse. But there, on the road, was the king's standard, there was the unmistakable bulk of the king on his horse. There was Norris beside him, and a small escort of men. They were riding quickly, west to London.

"Where is he going in such haste?" Anne demanded, uneasily. "Did he say he was leaving?"

Jane Parker stepped forward. "Didn't you know?" she asked brightly. "Secretary Cromwell had that lad Mark Smeaton at his house all last night and has now taken him to the Tower. He sent to tell the king so. Perhaps the king is going to the Tower to see what the lad has confessed to? But why should he take Henry Norris?"

George and I were with Anne in her rooms like prisoners in hiding. We sat in silence. We had a sense of being completely besieged.

"I shall leave at first light," I said to Anne. "I am sorry, Anne, I must get Catherine away."

"Where is William?" George asked.

"He went to fetch Henry home from his tutor."

Anne's head came up at that. "Henry is my ward," she reminded me. "You cannot take him without my consent."

For once I did not rise to her. "For G.o.d's sake, Anne, let me keep him safe. This is no time for you and I to quarrel over who can claim what. I shall keep him safe and if I can protect Elizabeth, I shall guard her too."

She paused for a moment as if even now she would compete with me, but then she nodded. "Shall we play cards?" she asked lightly. "I can't sleep. Shall we play all night?"

"All right. Just let me go and make sure that Catherine is sleeping."

I went to find my daughter. She had been at dinner with the other ladies and told me that the hall was buzzing with gossip. The king's throne was empty. Cromwell was missing too. No one knew why Smeaton had been arrested. No one knew why the king had ridden away with Norris. If it had been a mark of special honor then where were they tonight? Where were they dining on this special May Day night?

"Never mind," I said repressively. "I want you to pack a few things, a clean s.h.i.+ft, and some clean stockings in a bag, and be ready to leave tomorrow."

"Are we in danger?" She was not surprised, she was a child of the court now, she would never be a girl fresh from the country again.

"I don't know," I said shortly. "And I want you strong enough to ride all day, so you must sleep now. D'you promise?"

She nodded. I put her into my bed, and let her rest her head on the pillow where William usually lay. I prayed to G.o.d that tomorrow would bring William and Henry back and we all might go together, to where the apple tree leaned low over the road, and the little farm nestled in the suns.h.i.+ne. Then I kissed her goodnight and sent a pageboy running to our lodgings to warn the wet nurse that she must be ready to leave at dawn.

I slipped back to the queen's rooms. Anne was huddled over the fire with George at her side, seated on the hearthrug as if they were both chilled though the windows stood open and the hot airless night did not even stir the hangings.

"Boleyns," I said, coming quietly through the door.

George turned and put an arm out for me and pulled me down beside him so he could hold us both.

"Bet you we brush through this," he said stoutly. "Bet you we rise up and confound them all, and this time next year Anne has a boy in the cradle and I am a Knight of the Garter."

We spent the night huddled together like vagrants in fear of the beadle, and when the window started to grow light I went quietly down the stairs to the stable yard and threw a stone up at the window where the grooms slept. The first lad who put out his head got the job of pulling my horse out of the stable and tacking her up. But when he had Catherine's hunter in the yard he stopped and shook his head. "Cast a shoe," he said.

"What?"

"I'll have to take her to the smith."

"Can she go now?"

"Smithy won't be open yet."

"Tell him to open it!"

"Mistress, the forge will be cold. He has to wake and light the fire and get the forge hot and then he can shoe her."

I swore in my frustration and turned away from him. "You could take another horse," the lad suggested, yawning.

I shook my head. It was a long ride and Catherine was not a strong enough rider to manage a new horse. "No," I said. "We'll have to wait for the mare to be shod. Take her to the smith and wake him and get him to shoe her. Then come and find me, wherever I am, and tell me privately that she is ready. And don't tell the rest of the castle." I glanced anxiously at the dark windows of the palace looking down on me. "I don't want every fool in the world to know I am riding out."

He pulled his forelock, his hand cupped empty air. I slid a coin from the pocket of my gown into his grimy palm. "There's another one for you, if you do this right."

I went back into the palace. The sentry at the door raised a sleepy eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing strolling out at dawn and back in again. I knew he would report to someone: Secretary Cromwell, or perhaps my uncle, or perhaps Sir John Seymour, who was now grown so great that he must have men watching for him too.

I hesitated on the stairs. I wanted to go and see Catherine, sleeping sweetly in my big bed; but there was candlelight under the door of the queen's apartments and I felt I belonged to the night-long vigil of the two of them. The sentry stepped to one side and I opened the door and slipped in.

Still they were wakeful, cheek to cheek in the firelight, whispering as soothingly as a pair of doves cooing in the cote. Their heads turned together as I came into the room.

"Not gone?" Anne asked.

"Catherine's horse has cast a shoe. I couldn't go."

"When will you leave?" George asked.

"As soon as she is shod. I paid a lad to take her to the smith and tell me as soon as she is fit to ride."

I crossed the room and sat on the hearthrug with them. We all three turned our faces to the fire and watched the flames. "I wish we could stay here like this, for always," Anne said dreamily.

"Do you?" I said, surprised. "I was thinking that this is the worst night of my life. I was wis.h.i.+ng that it had never started and that I might wake up in a moment and it could all have been a dream."

George's smile was dark. "That's because you don't fear tomorrow," he said. "If you feared tomorrow as much as we do, you would wish that the night would go on forever."

However they wished, it grew steadily lighter, and we heard the servants stirring in the great hall and then a maid clanking up the stairs with a bucket of kindling to light the fire in the queen's bedroom, followed by another with brushes and cloths to wipe the tables for the start of another new day.

Anne rose up from the hearthrug, her face bleak, her cheeks smeared with ash as if she had been mourning in church on Ash Wednesday.

"Have a bath," George said encouragingly to her. "It's so early. Send them for your bath and have a hot bath and wash your hair. You'll feel so much better after."

She smiled at the ba.n.a.lity of the suggestion and then she nodded.

George leaned forward and kissed her. "I'll see you at matins," he said, and he went from the room.

It was the last time we saw my brother as a free man.

George was not at matins. Anne and I, rosy from our bath and feeling more confident, looked for him but he was not there. Sir Francis did not know where he was, nor Sir William Brereton. Henry Norris had still not returned from London. There was no news of what charge was laid against Mark Smeaton. The weight of fear came down on us again, like the low bellies of the clouds which rested on the palace roofs.