Page 24 of Love, Remember Me

"The night has only begun," Cromwell answered. "By the dawn the king may be a happier man, my lord." He smiled with a confidence he was not truly feeling, and the duke smiled back. Norfolk's smile was a knowing and superior one. Thomas Cromwell felt an icy premonition slither down his backbone. What was the duke up to?

The queen was divested of her wedding finery by her ladies, and the maids of honor were kept busy running to and fro fetching this item and the other. Anne was a tall, big-boned woman with slender limbs and a narrow waist. She had small pear-shaped breasts, which were entirely out of proportion for a woman of her stature. The queen's ladies silently eyed one another and shook their heads in despair as they helped the queen into a simple white silk night shift. Still, her lovely blond hair was long and thick as they brushed it out.

Mother Lowe, the queen's old nurse, and now comistress of the maids, said to Anne in a soft voice, using their own language, "What will you do with this great bear you have married, child? He does not like you, as we both know—thanks to young Hans, who listens to the foolish men who ignore him because he is a boy, and chatter in his presence. Your mother, I know, has told you nothing of what transpires between a man and his wife; but I have enlightened you. Will you try to win him over, child? I am fearful for you."

"Do not be," Anne reassured the old woman. "I do not know what I shall do yet. It depends upon this king, my husband. Perhaps if I give him an excuse to annul our marriage, he will think more kindly of me. If he had had an excuse to break the betrothal, to avoid the marriage ceremony today, I do believe he would have done so. He is not, I am told, a man who likes being denied his will. We are just married. He has no cause for divorce, yet he wishes to rid himself of me. If I do not give him just cause for an annulment, then he must kill me. I did not come to England, Mother Lowe, to lose my head, but rather to gain my freedom from that boring court of my brother's." She smiled and patted her old servant's hand. "Pray for me that I make the right decisions."

The sound of revelry came from the queen's antechamber, and then the door to her bedchamber was pushed open. All the ladies in the room curtsied as the king, in a velvet robe and nightcap, reluctantly entered, followed by his gentlemen and the archbishop. Without a word the king climbed into the bed next to the queen. Archbishop Cranmer then droned a prayer for the marriage's success and the couple's fertility.

When he had finished, the king growled to them, "Get out! I want to get this over and done with. Out!All of you!"

The ladies and gentlemen of the court departed, chuckling, and casting sly looks at one another. The door closed behind them with an ominous sound.

The bride and groom sat silently side by side. Finally Henry turned and looked at his new queen. He could barely repress a shudder of distaste. It was not that she was really ugly; she wasn't. But her features were stronger than Holbein had painted them, and she was so damned big when he compared her to Katherine, the first Anne, and his sweet Jane. Her blue eyes were intelligent, however, and they regarded him cautiously now. Best to get the thing over with. He reached out and fingered a strand of golden hair. It was soft, and somehow that pleased him. At least there was something about the woman he liked.

"You do not like me," Anne said suddenly, her voice clear in the tense silence.

He remained silent, surprised, and curious as to what else she would say to him.

"You vould not haf ved me, but you not haf. . . haf. . . ach! I do not know the vord!" Her accent was thick, but he fully understood her words.

"Excuse," he supplied gently.

"Ya! You not haf excuse to . . . to . . . "

"Reject," the king offered.

"Ya! Reject me!" she concluded triumphantly. "If I gif you excuse, vill you let me stay here in England, Hendrick?"

He was amazed. She had been in England but eleven days, yet she was already speaking the language, a clear indication of her intellect;and, she had quickly grasped the situation with regard to his feelings. Was he making a mistake? No. He would never love this woman. He could not. Not even for England's sweet sake.

"What excuse?" he demanded of her, his blue eyes narrowing with speculation. "It must be foolproof, Annie. They tell me my reputation with wives is not the best, but 'tis not true. I am misunderstood."

He had spoken very slowly, that she might at least grasp some of his words, but it seemed that his bride understood more than she could say. She laughed aloud, and he saw she had big teeth.

"I understand Hendrick vell," she told him. "Ve no make luf, and you haf excuse to reject me. Ya?"

It was simple and absolutely brilliant, Henry Tudor thought, and then he realized that it must be he who could not make love to her, not she who refused him. Either way, he thought, he would be embarrassed, but he would be less embarrassed if he blamed her unattractive person for the problem. She had to understand that.

"We need Hans to talk for us," he said, "but not tonight. In secret. Tomorrow. Yes?"

"Ya!" she nodded, and then swinging her legs off of their bed, she stood up and asked him, "Ve play cards, Hendrick?"

Henry Tudor laughed. "Ya!" he told her. "We play cards, Annie." She wasn't the sort of woman he wanted for a wife, or for a lover, but he had a strong feeling that she was going to become a good friend.

The king was up early the following morning. They had gambled until well after midnight, and his Flanders mare had won heavily off of him. At any other time he might have been angered to be beaten so thoroughly, but his new queen had been a good companion. Gaining his own bedchamber by use of a private passage, the king greeted his gentlemen dourly. It was all part of the plan that had formed in his head the previous night. He must continue to appear dissatisfied from the very start with Anne of Cleves. He would not be believed otherwise.

Cromwell met the king on his way to mass. "What think your grace of the queen now?" he asked low. "I trust your night was pleasant."

"My night was not pleasant, Crum. Not pleasant at all. I have left the queen as good a maid as I found her. I cannot for the life of me bring myself to consummate this marriage, though my dreams were of a most sensuous nature, I admit. At least twice I soiled myself with the passion of them, but I am not happy, Crum."

"Perhaps your grace was tired with all the pomp and excitement," Cromwell offered weakly. " 'Twill be better tonight when you are better rested."

"I am not tired!" the king snapped. "Bring me another woman, and I could perform the act eagerly,but not this woman!She fills me with repulsion, Crum. Do you understand me?"

Cromwell understood all too well. Unable to get out of the marriage before it was formally celebrated, Henry Tudor was now going to seek another route by which to rid himself of this unwanted new wife. He had gotten the king into this situation, and he knew for certain that his very life would be forfeit unless he got the king gracefully out of it.

Cromwell's peace of mind was shattered irretrievably when the king personally told every influential gentleman at court of his inability to perform the marriage act with the new queen. When Henry Tudor spoke with his personal physician, Dr. Butts, Cromwell found himself growing dizzy with anxiety. Across the room the Duke of Norfolk smiled.

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