“This very act prohibits all who maliciously wish, will, or desire by words or writing, or by craft imagine, invent, practice, or attempt any bodily harm to be done or committed to the king’s most royal person…. or to deprive him of any of their dignity, title, or name of their royal estates, or slanderously and maliciously publish and pronounce, by express writing or words, that the king should be heretic, schismatic, tyrant, infidel, or usurper of the crown….”

Cromwell read on for another five minutes, but none save the king and Anne were listening any longer. What this meant was that all were legally prohibited from speaking against anything the king had done or might do. Parliament, or rather Cromwell, had just given Henry unbridled power, and nothing and no one could stop him.

Later, at a reform meeting in Lady Carlyle’s sumptuous apartments, there was a glow of happiness that the Church in England was now autonomous. I knew by furtive look and discomfortable manners that several realized that giving absolute power to anyone save God was dangerous, foolish, and shortsighted. None of us dared say anything, of course; there were spies all round and today’s speech made it plain what dissenters earned for their honesty.

’Twas troubling, though. Had the brilliant Cromwell not seen the Achilles heel he’d firmly embedded in his own document, believing it to advance England and reform but placing them both in bloody hands? Or had he drunk deeply of power’s nectar and could not now see soberly the effects this document might have?

I suspected it was the latter, and Cromwell had unwittingly placed a very large bundle of sticks on the smoldering embers of destruction.

TWENTY

Year of Our Lord 1535

Whitehall Palace

Templeman Castle

Greenwich Palace

In January of 1535 Henry saw to it that Cromwell was well rewarded for his loyalty as chief henchman. Cromwell was appointed vice-regent, vicar, and special commissary, which made him not only the highest civil authority in England, save for His Majesty, but also the highest religious authority in England, save for His Majesty.

Henry, of course, remained head of the Church of England. Though he sometimes listened intently as the truly godly and learned bishops Anne had angled into place spoke and exhorted, His Grace also spent chapel time reading over accounts and jotting poesies and notes in the permanent copy of Holy Writ placed in the royal box afore handing it over to Anne, who oft replied in the same manner. Out of compulsion or desire, I know not. But it vexed me some, I’ll admit. As for me, I flourished under the teaching of men who taught, in English, and plainly, from God’s word.

One afternoon in early spring Anne instructed me to get her riding outfit ready and then called for her chamberlain to have her horsemen prepare some steeds for riding. “I feel the need to ride out,” she said.

“Is it…. safe?” I asked her.

She nodded solemnly. “I began to bleed this morning.”

Ah. I, like all of her ladies who cared for her future, knew exactly when her flow should come and prayed that it would not. But it had. Another month with no promise of a son. I, always eager to ride, prepared her clothing and then went to change into my own riding habit. We had servants attend to us, of course, but they knew well enough to stay a comfortable distance behind us.

We galloped out and across the parkland next to the palace before cantering and then walking. “We’ve got better steeds, thanks to His Majesty, than we had as girls, don’t we?” I asked.

She grinned. “Yes, he can be a generous benefactor. He’s just arranged for several more horses of spirited blood to be delivered for me. He said he wants the steed to match his mare.”

Coming from another man, that sentiment may have been a denigration, but when it had been said, all knew that Henry was signaling to a faithless court ready to shift loyalties within a moon phase that Anne was queen, his wife, and still held his affections in her elegant hands. Seeing her now, her color high and her spirit restored by his renewed affection, it was not difficult to see why.

“You look well,” I said. “And I am pleased.”

“The air does you good, too, Meg,” Anne said. “You are lovelier than when we rode as girls. I see why Sir Thomas was so taken with you at the masque last week; indeed, I believe he first trained his charm on you at a picnic a year earlier.”

“Your memory astonishes me,” I said, laughing, but thankful for the compliment. Anne was aware of her own effect on men but never begrudged another woman beauty or attention. She was jealous only for the affection and attention of her husband; ’twas reasonable, for certes. “I suspect Seymour trains his charm on any who eschew hose for gowns.”

Anne smiled but then turned to the sound of an approaching rider. None should ride toward us unless there was trouble. “’Tis George,” she said a bit distractedly.

Her brother shortly arrived but did not dismount. He did bow his head. “Ladies,” he said before raising it again. “I wanted you to know afore you returned to your chambers,” he said. “This day, the king has begun to enforce the Treasons Act. I was in the privy council yesterday when it was announced. Today the sentences were carried out.”

Anne nodded but the high color drained from her cheeks.

“His Majesty had four Catholic monks of good repute hanged, drawn, and quartered, their entrails burned in front of them before beheading them for denying that he, not the pope, was the head of the Church in England. And then, to show that he is just, he had fourteen of the reformers who had fled here seeking sanctuary burnt at the stake for refuting infant baptism.”

This was the man my lifelong friend succored in the bosom of her heart.

The look on Anne’s face was somber and she remained quiet for some time before responding. “I cannot do anything to help them. I cannot cross His Majesty and even I have learnt when I can offer counsel and when I must hold my peace.” She looked toward the castle, the west wing, where Henry was constructing a massive addition. “What I may do is bring English Scripture into places that it has been forbidden and allow all to read. I can place firm beams, load-bearing beams, men of goodness and godliness, committed to reform, on the altars and in the chaplaincy and hope that they can stand. I cannot do more.”

She lightly dug her heels into her mount and rode back alone, George and I trailing her. By evening, when Henry expected her to entertain some guests from Francis’s court, she had recovered her gaiety and drew near to the king. What other could she do? She, a beam, had to bear up too.

Within the month, Anne had Matthew Parker, a reformer of calm and patient temperament and dedication to the Scriptures, and a friend of Will and John Rogers, appointed to an important position in Stoke-by-Claire. She also named him as her personal chaplain.

It seems our king had whetted his taste for living without consequence. In June, he had Cardinal Fisher, Katherine of Aragon’s champion, hung for a day before being beheaded; his head was placed on a pike just outside for all to see.

A few weeks hence Anne came to my rooms, dismissed Edithe, and sat on my bed, head in hands.