Page 36 of Boleyn Traitor
‘Hush,’ George whispers to his sister. He takes my hand from his arm and raises it to his mouth in a pretty gesture of a kiss, but his lips don’t touch my fingers: it’s all show. ‘Carew was nominated by King Francis of France, the man I thought was my friend. Someone must have told him I met with the Spanish ambassador.’ He manages a wry smile to his sister. ‘The Knights of the Garter choose their own; it’s not in the gift of a woman. Not even you. I want to be known as a true knight, not as my sister’s pet. I’ll get it next year – I swear. I should’ve had it this year – but for sure I’ll get it next.’
‘The French king nominated Carew rather than you?’ I go to the essential question. ‘But why? He can’t doubt that we’re ruling the country? The monasteries are coming down, one by one; we’re reforming the Church. Lady Mary will take the oath or go into exile. Why would France support Carew – of the Spanish party? Why now, when they are losing and we’re winning?’
Both Boleyns look at me as if I am intruding on a private grief. ‘I’ll get it next year,’ George repeats.
‘That’s not the point!’ I say impatiently. ‘Who is telling the French king that it is safe to overlook you this year? And why are they saying that? And how has Henry Percy’s wife learned defiance? Why now?’
The double doors open, and Sir Nicholas Carew, the new Knight of the Garter, comes in, bows to the king, puts a hand over his heartin his bow to Anne, and nods at George. ‘Better luck next time,’ he says cheerfully.
‘À Carew!’ the king shouts, and everyone obediently choruses ‘ÀCarew!’
‘Congratulations on your well-deserved honour, Cousin!’ Anne says pointedly, and she rises from her chair and goes to the king, her hands outstretched, ignoring Jane, who leaps out of her way like a startled deer. ‘My lord husband, we must be merry and dance after dinner to celebrate my dear cousin’s well-earned honour.’
Nicholas Carew’s broad smile shows that he knows that Anne is choking on jealousy as bitter as poisoned soup. He bows as if grateful for her praise. ‘I’m so proud,’ he says to the king. ‘I’m so honoured.’
‘None more deserving,’ says the king, though George is standing right beside his sister.
I am thinking furiously, while my hands are clasped in delight, and I am smiling at Nicholas Carew. Something’s gone very wrong here: we’ve lost ground with our king, and even with the French king – what has he heard from his spies that I don’t know? Poor miserable Mary Talbot left Henry Percy’s house four years ago, why is she raking up his marriage to Anne now? Everything on the surface looks as if it is flowing our way, but something is wrong. Somehow the tide has turned, and it is against us.
IAM SURPRISED TOsee my father enter with the other lords for dinner in the great hall. He is amiable with them, a lord among his equals, friendly with everyone – a true courtier. I wonder if he has found the time to ask Will Somer if his fool’s mind can imagine death.
He comes over to me when they are clearing the tables away for dancing, and I kneel for his blessing.
‘I didn’t know you were coming to court again so soon,’ I say as I rise, and he kisses me.
‘Your mother needed some things from the London merchants. All well? In good spirits?’
He has never before come to court to enquire after me. ‘Have you heard anything?’
‘No, no, all’s well,’ he says. He tucks my hand in his arm and leads me away from a noisy dance. The music drowns out our conversation.
‘Father, is everything all right?’
‘Indeed, I hope so! You’re obedient to the head of your house, the Duke of Norfolk?’
‘I don’t see him very often. He and the queen are barely speaking – since her illness.’
‘Better not get involved in these family quarrels,’ my father silences me, as if he does not want to know; but usually he is a man who wants to know everything.
‘I’m not involved,’ I say calmly. ‘Father, have you heard anything? Is someone acting against us? Have you heard that the Boleyns are losing influence?’
‘I’ve heard nothing. Are you losing influence?’
‘George didn’t get the Garter again, for the second year, though he was promised it for sure,’ I admit. ‘And Henry Percy’s wife is making wild accusations...’
‘Your patron, your advisor, is Thomas Cromwell?’ he interrupts. ‘You report to him? You confide in him?’
I nod cautiously.
‘And he’s still at one with the Boleyns? For the reform of the Church, for the destruction of the corrupt abbeys?’
‘Yes – except Anne thinks the king should bring Master Cromwell under greater control – the abbeys should reform, not close; others should open as schools and centres for charity. She thinks that Master Cromwell is greedy and corrupt...’
‘No – you be advised by him.’ My father shakes his head. ‘Nobody wants to give away Church wealth to the poor – certainly not theking. The wealth of the lords, of the king himself, is not to be decided by ladies.’
‘But the reform of the Church came from the ladies!’ I exclaim. ‘All the new learning started in the queen’s rooms...’
‘Learning, yes, but now that great wealth is involved, it is of interest to the men. Faith can be the work of ladies, but wealth is the business of men. And nothing happens in this kingdom unless Thomas Cromwell agrees it. Even I am here on a commission from him.’
