This was followed by Anne's coronation, a solemn affair, as the
masses ventured out and watched out of curiosity rather than
reverence for their new Queen. A hostile hush hung over London like
a dark thundercloud as the procession wound its way toward
Westminster Abbey.
Fifty barges were decorated with festive flags, streamers, and
banners for their trip down the Thames to Greenwich where they were
to meet and escort the Queen's barge to the Tower. A foist carrying
a red dragon led the way, spitting fire and emitting a loud
cacophony of sounds.
The lead barge carried musicians playing trumpets, clarions,
crumhorns, and viola-da-gambas. Next to the Lord Mayor on this barge
was Anne's device, a white-crowned falcon, sitting upon a root of
gold with red and white roses, surrounded by singing virgins.
When the barges reached Greenwich, Anne appeared, dressed in cloth
of gold, attended by her retinue of ladies. The blast of guns rang
out as her barge came gliding downriver, accompanied by the barges
of other noblemen, including her father.
As she arrived at the Tower, a booming cannon shot rang out and the
Lord Chamberlain took her inside. Amethyst joined the King and
Cromwell at Baynard's Castle, a royal residence by which the
procession would pass, and watched it all just as she had at Henry's
coronation, but the mood was not the same.
The royal purple, blue, and crimson velvet banners, canopies, and
caparisoned horses were all there, but there was none of the
jubilation, the drunken revelry outwardly displayed at the
appearance of the new king.
The streets were railed on one side, graveled to prevent the horses
from slipping, and decorated with tapestry, carpets, arras of
tissue, gold, and velvet. Anne's procession was led by twelve
attendants of the French ambassador in blue and yellow, followed by
gentlemen, knights, judges, Knights of the Bath in violet, doctors,
abbots, noblemen and bishops, the Lord Chancellor, the archbishop of
York, of Canterbury, every other noble of the land, all clothed in
crimson velvet.
Amethyst looked at it all in wide-eyed wonder and detested the very
sight of it at the same time. "This should have been for me, all for
me," she murmured as she gazed out the window.
Anne rode upon a glittering litter of white cloth of gold with a
canopy embellished by four gilt staves and silver bells. It was led
by two palfreys in white damask. The crowd turned to stare with
interest, as if eyeing an oddity, and at the same time the sheer
silence displayed their obvious disdain.
She was clearly with child by now, but was dressed completely in
pure white, as if defying anyone to question her honor at this
point. She wore a surcoat and mantle of white cloth of tissue furred
with ermine, her hair hanging under a coif with a circlet of
glittering diamonds. Behind her were seven ladies on horseback, her
chamberlain and master of horse, chariots followed by gentlewomen on
horseback, all in sumptuously hued velvets and silks.
The streets were adorned with pageants, including children dressed
as merchants, fountains shooting with wine, statues of mythical
creatures, singing, dancing, and reveling. It was a fine show, but
none of it came from the heart.
The next morning, Amethyst and Henry went to Westminster Hall to
await the Queen's arrival. At nine o'clock, dressed in a robe of
purple velvet trimmed with ermine, Anne entered the hall, then began
the procession to Westminster Chapel.
Followed by the nobles of the land came Anne under a canopy borne by
four men, her train carried behind her by the old duchess of
Norfolk. Her ladies followed at the end of the procession. The
archbishop of Canterbury began the service, and she lay prostrate
before the altar.
He anointed her on the head from the ampulla. The singing of the Te
Deum rang through the chapel.
After the service, the procession returned to Westminster Hall, and
the banquet followed.
Amethyst, with the King and several ambassadors, sat in a private
closet in the cloister where they observed the banquet.
"This will be you in a few months' time," Henry assured her,
embracing her lightly. "Once all of my great matters are in order."
Her heart fluttered with excitement and she prayed once again that
Henry would get naught but a girl from Anne.
The next day there were jousts at the tilt before the King's Gate,
and still more banquets. Amethyst wondered what anyone would have
left to eat for the rest of the year at the rate they were consuming
delicacies.
Amethyst was presented to Anne formally, and curtsied to her as a
loyal subject, though it rankled a good deal. As badly as Amethyst
knew it should have been the other way round, she could not resent
Anne. She had no one to blame but herself. And possibly Henry, but
again, he was doing what he saw as his duty.
What appeased her was the certainty that Henry would divorce Anne as
soon as this child entered the world, and the next coronation would
be hers. She felt sure the event would be a far more joyous one, for
the people could not possibly resent her, since she would not be
guilty in their eyes of having ousted their well-loved Queen.
As Anne approached her confinement, Amethyst could see Henry was
uneasy and edgy; his appetite was sporadic and he seemed to be
drinking more than eating. Goblets of wine flowed freely while trays
remained piled with food on the dais and in his chambers, as he told
his Lord Steward's servers, "Leave it, I'll eat it later."
He was moody, and discharged Margaret Pole from her duties as Mary's
governess when Margaret refused to give up Mary's jewels, but she
continued to look after the Princess at her own expense.
"I was only going to give those jewels to you, Amethyst," the King
said early one evening as they picnicked on the grounds of Hampton
Court in the setting sun. For the first time in her life, she'd
eaten more than he in one sitting.
"Please, my lord, I do not want any more jewels! They belong to
Mary! Give them to her, and let my Aunt Margaret and Mary enjoy each
other's company. Mary needs that motherly companionship, and
Margaret is so good with her."
"As you wish." He took another gulp of wine and looked at the simple
pearl around her neck, the first token gift he'd ever given her.
"Why do you not wish lavish jewels and radiant gold shimmering from
your neck and wrists like Anne does? She seems to thrive on it the
way normal people thrive on the most basic foods. She devours the
diamonds, rubies, and emeralds faster than I can have them made up
for her."
"Perhaps Anne will not feel that way in the next few weeks,"
Amethyst said. "When she is feeling the pangs of childbirth, I am
sure glitter will be the last thing on her mind."
"Amethyst, you are truly the earth's most glittering jewel," he
said. As she reached over to kiss him, his eyes brightened for the
first time in many months. "And to think I almost lost you. Look at
the punishments I have had to endure so far. A feeble girl, a
strong, healthy bastard boy, a wife I do not love, and a woman I do
love whom I cannot marry. Lord knows, Anne is praying for a son as
if her life depended on it."
She detected an ominous note, but did not question him about it.
They simply sat under the sky striped with fingers of alabaster,
purple and pink, listened to the crickets chirping, and said nothing
more. The only thing tearing at her heart was that it could have
been her. They could even now be man and wife, with their own child
to look forward to shortly. Now she would have to wait even longer
to win Henry's love for her own at last, and live the life they had
always dreamed of together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Greenwich, September 7, 1533
The King burst into Amethyst's rooms in a fit of rage causing her to
drop her hairbrush as she started back. "What is it, my lord?"
For a moment she wondered if her sister… But no, in recent months
she had heard no rumblings of ambitious discontent from that
quarter. The night was as clear and peaceful as the soft
hyacinth-scented breeze wafting through the window.
"It's a lass, for God's sake! A wench! Nan brought forth a girl!
What the Hell am I to do with another female! A useless, useless
female. I am cursed, I am convinced of it now!"
"Calm down, my lord." An immense relief washed over her and she
tried not to smile. Her prayers had been answered! The King still
had no male heir. A burst of happiness exploded in her heart. He was
now free to divorce Anne! They were now able to begin their lives
together—finally! But she did not dare voice her feelings to the
King. He was much too distraught at the moment to even think of such
a thing.
"Oh, Amethyst." He sat beside her, and she saw that as always, she
the only one who could offer him any comfort. The anger was giving
way to simple defeat. He looked crushed.
"What is the baby's name?"
"Oh...Elizabeth, I think. Aye, Elizabeth, after both our mothers."
"Pray God she is healthy?"
"Healthy as a horse."
"With your blazing red hair?"
He looked at her sideways and dared to grin. "How did you know?"
"I am sure you will grow to love the Princess Elizabeth as she will
grow to love you. It is not the son you sought, my dear, but you
know full well that you are also not with the bride of you heart, do
you not."
"No, that is true," he said, nestling against her.
"In which case, we can only wish them well in the future, but think
about healthy children of our own one day soon."
"Aye, soon. Soon indeed," Henry said, his lips swooping down upon
hers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Warwick Castle
Thomas More rode through the gatehouse and dismounted. A groom led
his horse away as a server greeted him. She led him through the
courtyard and up the stone steps to the staterooms, where Topaz
waited in the Green Drawing Room.
She rose from the overstuffed chair and placed the specially bred
Persian kittens that had been on her lap back down gently on the
chair. Her simple pink satin gown with billowing sleeves and trimmed
with tiny pearls gave her an aura of gentle meekness. She'd chosen
the room graced with the pale green walls as a sedative to the eye.
She didn't want to appear to More as the overpowering revolutionary
he'd been hearing about. Not at their first meeting.
"Sir Thomas," she greeted him, her sleeve swaying freely as she
extended her arm. He took her hand in his and swept off his plumed
cap with the other.
"Lady Topaz, 'tis a pleasure indeed to finally make your
acquaintance."
She motioned for him to sit in the green satin chair opposite hers.
She cuddled the kittens in her lap as she sat and rested her bare
feet on the footstool before her. A servant brought bread, cheese,
fruit and ale and closed the double doors.
She waved a hand in the direction of the bookshelves flanking her
writing desk, where she'd propped up a copy of
Utopia
inside
the glass cabinet doors.
"As you can see,
Utopia
is in its place of honor, as
always."
"Aye, I am glad you enjoyed reading it."
"I enjoy reading it more each time, and so do my sons. The ideas you
explore are reminiscent of so many of my beliefs about how the ideal
society should be run. I identified with it quite strongly. Our
society is so oppressed, so entrenched in the dogmas of Rome, where
it is a sin to do most anything that is pleasurable. I so agree with
your belief that youngsters should see each other naked before
marriage, to avoid the prospect of disenchantment later on. After
all, the body is so hidden by our cumbersome robes and doublets and
billowing sleeves and petticoats and breeches, we cannot begin to
wonder what is underneath it all!"
More snickered, gulped at his ale, and let Topaz speak on, for he
was beginning to wonder what was under all her skirts and
petticoats.
"To take a step further, I condone premarital lovemaking as well, in
order to avoid the prospect of incompatibility in the marriage bed.
You may find yourself attracted to someone who lights your fire by
day, but fairly bursts your bubble by night! Looks deceive, do they
not?"
"To a great degree, they quite do. When a fine gentleman, Sir
William Roper, came by to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage, I
led him upstairs where she slept, on her back, fortunately. I tore
the sheet away, and when she promptly flipped over onto her stomach,
Sir William said, 'Now I have seen both sides!' As a result, he and
Margaret have been quite happy ever since."
"Ah, but that was not fair, Sir Thomas, and that was not consistent
with your writings. She should then have had the chance to take a
gander at his credentials, fore and aft!"