But most striking is the King's own involvement: Henry threw himself into the scheme. On 6 November he ordered the Revels Office to put its resources at the disposal of the defenders. He picked the challengers, as Percy's letter shows. He was present in person at the proclamation of the combat. And he took great interest in the technical problems of assaulting the castle. He 'devised engines [for the assault], but the carpenters were so dull, that they understood not his intent, and wrought all thing contrary'. To everyone's frustration, therefore, the siege had to be postponed till the New Year.
The first of the regular chivalric contests, however, went ahead as planned on 29 December. Six defenders of the castle rode out fully armed across the drawbridge to the tilt-yard. But, before they could fulfil their promise to meet all-comers, there was a sudden interruption. Two 'ladies' (once again played by a couple of the ever-useful boys of the Chapel Royal in mock-antique drag and women's wigs hired from Mrs Pike of Cheapside) rode in, leading two 'ancient knights'. The knights had false hair and beards of silver and hats and robes of purple damask. When they came before Queen Catherine and her ladies-in-waiting, the two 'ladies' presented a petition on behalf of the two old knights:
Although youth had left them [the petition explained] and age was come, and would let [prevent] them to do feats of arms; yet courage, desire and good will abode [remained] with them, and bade them to take upon them to break spears, which gladly they would do, if it pleased her to give them licence.
The Queen and her women, after reading the petition, praised the courage of the two ancient knights and graciously gave them leave to compete. 'Then the knights threw away their robes' to reveal themselves as the King and the Duke of Suffolk.
The unexpected appearance in the tilt-yard of Henry and his longest-standing friend was a piece of calculated drama – a play within a play that transformed the meaning of the whole event. What had begun as the debut of a new generation at Court was turned into a battle between Youth and Age. The defenders of the White Castle of Loyalty were mere striplings, ranging in age from their late teens to their early twenties. In contrast, Henry, aged thirty-three, and Suffolk, aged thirtynine, were men in the prime of life. The theatre of their entry – their disguise of silver beards and wigs, their outlandish costume, their petition to Queen Catherine – heightened the contrast with the youthful defenders. It also made their eventual triumph all the sweeter.
For Henry proceeded to thrash his opponents. In the tilt, he amazed observers, 'for they saw his spears were broken with more force than the other spears were'. In the subsequent combat with swords (known as the tourney) it was Anthony Browne, aged twenty-four, who felt the full force of the King's attack. Henry launched such a furious assault on him that he 'had almost cut his pouldron [a piece of defensive armour for the neck]'.
But was extra force lent to Henry's strokes by the fact that this was also a battle for a woman? The King's opponent in the tourney, Anthony Browne, had been resident at the French Court during Anne Boleyn's later years there. There is no suggestion of intimacy between Anthony Browne and Anne Boleyn. But, with some of the other key participants, it was a different story. As we have seen, one of the defenders of the castle was Thomas Wyatt, now self-proclaimed as Anne's devoted follower; one of those nominated to attack the castle was Henry Percy, her secret betrothed; while Anne Boleyn herself, I have guessed, was one of the Maiden-keepers of the White Castle. Was King Henry also fighting in Anne's presence? And for her? To show that he alone was fit to match with Brunette, the new toast of the English Court?
7
It is impossible to be sure. But the winter of 1524–5
is
a likely starting point for Henry's interest in Anne. There is a single contemporary account. Its author is George Cavendish, Wolsey's Gentleman Usher, who, many years later, wrote the
Life
of his former master. Cavendish correctly identifies Henry's love for Anne as the beginning of Wolsey's fall, and so pays particular attention to it. His account is not without problems and there is an infuriating absence of dates (which are, in any case, the weakest point of his narrative).
Henry's infatuation, Cavendish remembered, started as a secret passion: 'not known to any person nor scantily to [Anne's] own person', the King began 'to kindle the brand of Amours' towards her.
8
Henry's intention, almost certainly, was to install Anne as his 'official' mistress. So far, two women had occupied this position. The first was the young, talented and exquisitely beautiful Elizabeth Blount. She became Henry's mistress soon after her arrival at Court as one of the Queen's ladies in 1513, and in 1519 she gave him a son, Henry Fitzroy. Six years later, as we have seen, Henry recognised the boy and created him Duke of Richmond. But the birth marked the beginning of the end of the love affair: babies, Henry seems to have felt, were for wives and not for mistresses, who should inhabit a more ethereal realm of chivalric fantasy.
In 1522, Elizabeth Blount, with Wolsey's help, was married off to Gilbert Tailboys, who was later created a baron. At the same time, Henry transferred his affections to a new mistress: Mary, elder sister of Anne Boleyn. Mary was already married to William Carey, one of the King's favourite Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber. The wedding had taken place on 4 February 1520 in the Chapel Royal at Greenwich and Henry himself had been present. How Mary's husband and father were squared we can only guess. But probably their acquiescence was bought by a stream of grants of office, land and title: Carey, whose income was assessed at £333 6s 8d for the Subsidy (income tax) of 1527, became a rich man; while Thomas Boleyn was made Viscount Rochford. These transactions might seem to turn Mary into the merest prostitute, with her husband and father as her pimps. But Mary, if her later behaviour is anything to go by, had been in love with Henry, and, being in love, had done what came naturally.
In 1525, Mary had a son, Henry Carey. Was her husband the boy's father or was it the King? In either case, childbed marked the end of her love affair with King Henry, just as it had done for her predecessor. Henry's old distaste for a mistress after she had given birth had reasserted itself. He also had a new love: Mary's sister, Anne.
9
* * *
Neither Elizabeth Blount nor Mary Boleyn had put up much resistance to the King. Henry probably expected the same easy acquiescence from Anne. But first there was the little matter of Henry Percy. Anne was in love with Percy, who, as far as she was concerned, was to be her husband. According to Cavendish, it was Henry's discovery of the pre-contract between Anne and Percy which first led him to take Wolsey into his confidence about his feelings for Anne. Wolsey would have been neither surprised nor shocked. He was himself the father of at least two bastards and he had been closely involved with Elizabeth Blount: she had been useful to him while she was royal mistress and he had helped to provide for her when she was honourably discharged. Naturally, therefore, the minister set about offering his services to the King's new liaison.
10
Wolsey's first task was to eliminate Henry's young rival. This he was well placed to do, since Percy was a member of his own Household. Immediately on his return to York Place from the Court, Wolsey summoned Percy. Then he set about browbeating him into submission. All the arts of the accomplished bully were used. He interviewed the young man in the Gallery at York Place, which was a semi-public space, and in front of his Chamber servants (who of course included Cavendish). And he employed his customary violence of language. 'I marvel not a little', he began, 'of thy peevish folly that thou wouldst tangle and ensure thyself with a foolish girl yonder in the Court – I mean Anne Boleyn.' Wolsey brutally pointed out the difference in status between Percy – 'like to inherit and possess one of the most worthiest earldoms of this realm' – and his prospective bride. Percy's rank made his marriage a question of State, on which it was his duty to consult the King. By failing to follow proper form, he had offended both the King and his father.
Moreover, Wolsey concluded his tirade, Henry had already planned another marriage for Anne herself. Anne knew nothing of it. But, Wolsey was confident, 'she, upon the King's motion, will be . . . right glad and agreeable to the same'. Wolsey, no doubt, was thinking of the proposed match between Anne and Piers Butler. But (unknown to Wolsey) had Henry already begun to toy with the prospect of another husband for Anne: himself?
In the circumstances, Percy's reply was not without courage. He wept (tears were as fashionable in the early sixteenth century as in certain circles today). But he stood his ground. He was an adult, he said, and thought himself fit to chose a wife 'where as my fancy served me best'. He defended Anne's descent and cited her Howard and Butler connexions. And he stood by his word to marry her: 'which I cannot deny nor forsake'. Wolsey, unused to such resistance, redoubled his attack and denounced him as 'a wilful boy'. Percy returned once more to the facts: 'I have gone so far before so many worthy witnesses that I know not how to avoid myself nor to discharge my conscience'.
Percy's steadiness is remarkable. He has the reputation, not altogether fairly, of a weakling and a wastrel who nearly destroyed his family. But somehow he found the strength to hold out against the King's all-powerful minister. The strength can have come from only one source: his love for Anne Boleyn.
Finally, Wolsey summoned Percy's father from the North. Northumberland, whose relations with his son were in any case bad, first administered another tongue-lashing to the boy and then did as Wolsey wished. The betrothal with Anne Boleyn was broken off and Percy's marriage to Mary Talbot was, at long last, concluded.
11
* * *
It is a good story. But is it true? For over a hundred years now historians have had their doubts. These centre on the date of Percy's eventual marriage to Mary Talbot. There was indeed a renewed flurry of activity about the proposed match in late 1523 and the wedding itself was confidently expected in the following spring. If it had gone ahead then, as recent historians have assumed, Cavendish's narrative must be wrong: there is not the time for Henry to have fallen out of love with Mary Boleyn and into love with Anne Boleyn, which Cavendish's account of the King's motives requires.
But the match between Percy and Mary Talbot did not proceed in early 1524
. Indeed, as late as March 1525, Percy was referring to his marriage as a future event. He was definitely married by September 1526, when one of Northumberland's servants sent his commendations to 'my young lord and my young mistress', as well as to 'my lord and lady'. And it was on 23 August that one of the Earl's officers had begun an annual account for the 'expenses of Lord Henry Percy and Mary his wife'. Why 23 August? It is not one of the quarter days, which provided the usual commencement dates for accounts. Instead, it must have been the date, on or shortly after their wedding day, when they had set up house together. Which in turn fixes the wedding itself to August 1526, if this is the first set of annual accounts, or to August 1525, if it is the second. The latter is the more likely. In either case, there was plenty of time for Henry's interest in Anne to have kindled.
12
Establishing the proper date for Percy's marriage to either August 1525 or August 1526 thus vindicates Cavendish's essential accuracy. It also suggests that he should be believed about the consequences. Anne, according to Cavendish, was furious with Wolsey for his role in breaking off her love-match with Percy and vowed her revenge. 'If it lay ever in her power', she said, 'she would work the Cardinal as much displeasure' as he had her. Her enmity, at first judiciously concealed, was to have profound consequences.
13
But, even more importantly, the dating of Percy's marriage to Mary Talbot makes good Cavendish's principal defect: it supplies the foundation for a chronology of Henry's love for Anne.
It started, I have guessed, around Christmas 1524–5; and the King's exhibitionist behaviour in the chivalric contests of the White Castle was probably its first symptom. Early in 1525, Henry took Wolsey into his confidence and the Cardinal set himself to break up Anne and Percy. Probably in June 1525, when Percy's father, Northumberland, was in London for the creation of Henry Fitzroy as Duke of Richmond, the deed was done and the marriage followed in August. It was a predictable disaster. There was a single, still-born child and the couple separated within a couple of years.
14
Henry, with Wolsey's cruelly effective help, had achieved his first goal. There are signs that Anne and Percy resisted to the end. According
to Cavendish, Percy was forbidden to see Anne, and Anne herself was rusticated from Court to get the young man out of her system. When she returned, possibly for the autumn season of 1525, Henry must have imagined that he had a clear run. He was quickly undeceived: no minister could help him now; instead he had to work his own passage.
15
For Anne made sure that, for the first time in the King's life, his gratification was delayed. But even she could not have guessed for how many weary years the delay would last.
41. Henry in love
A
nne kept Henry in suspense for over a year. He cajoled and pleaded. He made promises and gave gifts. Above all, he wrote letters. Anne, whether out of sentiment or prudence, kept his letters. But she was betrayed: somehow, seventeen of the letters, belonging to two widely different periods, were purloined and sent to Rome, no doubt to serve as evidence against Henry's Divorce from Catherine. And there, in the Vatican Library, they remain. Henry almost certainly kept Anne's letters to him. But they have vanished – probably because he destroyed them years later, when his love for Anne had turned to hate and he tried to eradicate every memory of her. The result of this asymmetric survival of evidence is that our knowledge of their courtship is one-sided also. Henry's letters document each fluctuation of his feelings. Anne's emotions, on the other hand, can only be glimpsed, refracted and perhaps distorted, in Henry's replies to her letters.