Chapter Twenty-Seven
And thus farewell, Unkind, to whom I bent and bow;
I would you know, the ship is safe that bare his sails so low.
Since that a Lion's heart is for a Wolf no prey.
With bloody mouth go slake your thirst on simple sheep, I say
With more despite and ire than I can now express,
Which to my pain, though I refrain, the cause you may well guess.
As for because myself was author of the game,
It boots me not that for my wrath I should disturb the same.
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
More than three years later… A letter dated September 12, 1546
My Dearest Gertrude,
How I miss you, my darling friend! It has been difficult to get away from court over the last couple of years since King Henry married Catherine Parr. But I have arranged with Edward to go on a progress to Sussex, where our eldest boy, Beau, shall be fostering in Sir Anthony Browne’s household. His own boy, Anthony, who will be celebrating his eighteenth year next month, shall be working personally with our son. I know such news must shock you, but dear Edward has struck a bargain which he has not allowed me to be privy to.
I shall be bringing gifts with me from the Lady Mary, which I know you were so pleased to hear she was back in the line of succession, although still deemed illegitimate.
I thank you ever so much for sending the lovely gifts for my twin babes, Margaret and Henry, last year, and the lovely necklaces to my little Jane and my eldest girl, Anne. Beau was also pleased with his new doublet, which made him feel so like a grown man, despite him being only seven summers.
We shall be leaving on progress in the next sennight. I cannot wait to behold you, as we have so many things to catch up on.
With the greatest friendship,
Anne, Countess of Hertford
October 2, 1546
Gertrude’s face was stricken, and she raised her eyes to mine. We stood in the center of her solar. A silent message passed between us, and I was glad Edward had gone to see to the horses after we’d arrived at the former marchioness’s home.
“He looks like…” Her voice trailed off.
“His father, does he not?” I continued, speaking of Beau.
“Yes,” she said, and then being the gracious woman she was, continued, “Where are the others?”
“They are all at home with their nurses. Beau is going on to Sussex so he can train to be knight and the next Earl of Hertford.”
He puffed out his chest and lifted his handsome face to the sky. He was truly a Beau at heart.
“I must tell you, Anne, you look beautiful. I’ve never known a woman to bounce back to her figure as you have after having children. Exquisite you are!”
My face heated from her praise. I was quite proud of having been able to remain in my figure, but I thought part of it was mostly due to many missed meals and much brisk walking around the grounds and within the walls of the castle.
We gathered inside and took our rest before coming down to supper in Gertrude’s great hall. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to prepare the meal for us. Edward chatted with Gertrude’s only son, Edward Courtenay. He had the look of his father, tall, handsome, and just turned nineteen years of age.
“You must tell me all the news of court. We do not hear much out here, and my own Edward has just returned to me from fostering. He seeks a spot in King Henry’s court, but I have doubts they will give it to him.”
“He could always come with us, Gertrude. You know that. Edward would be happy for another squire to earn his spurs.”
“The Duchess of Suffolk said the same thing. You are both so very kind. But enough about us. Tell me, how is the new queen? I have a vague recollection of her.”
I took a long swallow of wine. “She is a quandary to me. On the one hand, she hates me to her very core, even took to calling me ‘Hell’ for a little while, until the king made it clear he holds myself and Edward in high esteem, and of course I reminded her of the treason she’d be committing by continuing to flaunt her love of Tom.”
“Yes, I thought I had heard such.”
My eyes widened at that. “Really? So far from court?”
Gertrude tapped at her chin. “Scandal always travels faster than anything else.”
“How right you are,” I murmured, realizing I needed to come north every once in a while to see how much they knew and how twisted tales became so far from anyone who could set them to rights.
“Do they continue to love one another?”
“She and Tom? Not that I am aware, and I’ve been very careful and keen to it—the one reason Edward wants me near the queen, and I suspect the king, as well. The king knows how volatile our relationship with Tom is and that he can trust us to ferret out any indiscretion.”
“What about her gives you pause?” Gertrude refilled her goblet with wine.
“She is a great believer in the Reform and has gone to great lengths to embrace Mary—one of the reasons Mary and Elizabeth were put back into the succession was Queen Catherine’s influence. Of course their positions don’t hurt Prince Edward and it is unlikely she’ll conceive. So why, I wonder, does she push me away? Together, we could be a formidable force.”
“That is odd. I suspect most of it is for her separation from Thomas.”
I inclined my head and nodded. “Yes, but even before then, she hated me so.”
“Perhaps it stems from some unknown jealousy. All you can do is attempt to gain her friendship.”
I fingered my skirts and the flowers embroidered there by my own hand. “Perhaps her anger also stems from being friends with Frances de Vere, Surrey’s wife, who has always held a vicious grudge against me. Who knows what wagging tongues will say when dripping with vinegar? No matter, Queen Catherine has calmed toward me somewhat in the last few years. I think part of it originated from Edward’s support of her when she ruled as regent while King Henry was on campaign in France two years ago and then again with the plot against her earlier this year.”
“A plot against her that was not your own?” Gertrude laughed.
“Odd, is it not? I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I believe I may have helped to save her, and still she holds me at arm’s length, although I am glad to not be called ‘Hell’ anymore.”
“But such an endearing name!” Gertrude sipped her wine. “Who was behind the plot, do you think?”
“Most definitely the Howards. Surrey, if you ask me personally, put the bug in Wriothesley, Lord Chancellor’s ear. They conjured up all sorts of charges for heresy, saying the queen and her intimate ladies held and read with great enthusiasm banned religious books. They had so much fake evidence that they drew up an arrest warrant for her. One of the guards, whom Edward and I have employed as our eyes and ears, dropped the warrant and allowed me to pick it up and read it. As soon as I saw what was contained within, I ran to Edward and then straight to the queen.”
Gertrude gasped. “How fortunate you were able to do that.”
“I agree. Edward coached Catherine on how to reply to the king when he came to chastise her. Her words of only seeking his instruction on such great matters smoothed the king’s ire like sweets to a tantruming child. I do not know how she does it. She is nothing like our Queen Jane, but she handles the king well, even had special chairs made for him, so his groomsmen can take him about the castle and outdoors. His health, the leg, his size have all declined so much, the man cannot walk on his own.” I tapped my finger against my glass in tune to the chime of the clock. “But I do fear with all the opposition against her, we have only just begun our journey to defend her.” A shock to myself indeed, since I’d suggested her to the king out of revenge. But she was actually good at caring for the king.
“Do you think Thomas will try to gain her favor… intimately?”
“He is still hopelessly in love with her, but he has tried to move on. The king wanted to arrange a marriage between Tom and Mary Howard—Richmond’s widow and Norfolk’s daughter—but her brother, Surrey, was opposed to it. After the latest Howard tragedy, Norfolk was resigned to align our two families. Even Edward was open to it. As the king has always said, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But Surrey was so outspoken about the matter that we laid our ideas to rest.” I leaned in to whisper, “I do believe Surrey is much like his father was. I heard some of the queen’s ladies whispering that Surrey told his sister, Mary Howard, to not accept the betrothal and instead assert her feminine wiles on the king.”
“But she was married to the king’s bastard son, for God’s sake!”
I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Surrey is a beast, and he has become increasingly cocky, argumentative and taken to drink in excess—more than before. I won’t be surprised if the king soon tires of his disturbances and bans him from court. Albeit, the king has always loved him for his enthusiasm in the past, in his old age he is starting to find it cumbersome. There are any number of increasing arguments and rifts between the courtiers, and Surrey’s hatred of Edward has grown beyond measure. At times I think he might actually be losing touch with reality.”
“’Tis sad in a way, but the man has always had a side to him that rubbed in the wrong way.”
I nodded but said nothing. Personally, I believed that whatever was coming for Surrey he fully deserved. He’d tormented me. ’Twas God’s will, and I fully trusted in God.
December 12, 1546
Tension at court was rising. It was palpable, and I think everyone could feel it just as strongly as I could. When I walked through the great hall, through the king’s and queen’s presence chambers, the air was thick, the people strung like violin strings pulled too tight. Without a moment’s notice someone would break and the whole of court would erupt into chaos.
Beside me walked the fair prince, slight for his nine years, and just as red in hair as his father, and also just as extreme.
“Highness, my lady, a pleasure to find you both here.” Francois van der Delft, the replacement for Ambassador Chapuys, who’d retired the previous year, walked up beside us as we entered the great hall. The prince had taken a liking to walking with me, perhaps he saw me as somewhat of a replacement to the mother he’d lost—unlike the three stepmothers he’d now had.
“Ambassador, you are looking well,” I said.
Prince Edward eyed the man wearily, as if already weighing how much the man would try him when he became king.
“I feel just as young as I was when I first arrived at this marvelous court,” he said with a laugh. “And you know how hard that can be to maintain.”
“I wish I could say the same.” I wished for Chapuys, a man who at one time had annoyed me greatly but who had become somewhat more than an acquaintance, although we’d never been too close on a personal level. He had been a man I could trust, and one who had been complete in his support of Lady Mary. Van der Delft was a younger man, newer to court and most eager to please His Majesty.
“You are still very beautiful, if you will allow me to bestow such a compliment on you.”
I glanced sideways at the prince, who feigned boredom, though his gaze was riveted on the two of us.
“I thank you kindly.” The ambassador was stalling.
“My lady, if I may, I need to have speech with you…regarding something of an important nature.”
“By all means, Ambassador. Your Highness, if you would excuse me.” I glanced about and saw that the Duke of Suffolk stood on the opposite side of the room. “There is Charles, go with him now to see your father.” I curtsied to my nephew, who loved to follow the rules of etiquette. Once he’d gone in the direction of his father’s dear friend, the ambassador and I walked to a corner of the room where our conversation would be less likely overheard.
“While at Oatlands Palace, the king fell ill with fever a few days ago.”
“Yes, I heard this. I am glad he recovered soon.” And he’d arrived back at court just that morning.
“Yes, but his health is failing, and very fast. I feel I must inform you Surrey has begun making whispers that he should be placed as protector of the prince. It is even said he has redesigned his new coat of arms, replacing the coronet with a crown and the initials H. R.”
I gasped at this last bit of news, H. R. being a specific signature for Royal Highness, and wondered why the ambassador was coming to me with such warnings, as we had not had so many dealings previously. “You cannot be serious.”
“If only I were joking, my lady. I think it best you and Lord Hertford begin an investigation into these allegations, as I am afraid should the man be allowed to continue down this path, there will be much heartache.”
“He has created quite a bit of it already,” I muttered.
“Exactly. Faction pitted against faction. Arguments are not only not unheard of, they have become the norm during the afternoons of courtiers meeting, greeting and discussing politics.”
Yes, the factions… There were the Howards and the Seymours. The ring leader of the Howards was Surrey, and on his side was, unfortunately, Wriothesley. The Seymours were headed by none other than Edward—and Tom was not even always on our side. For finally the truth had come out, and he had joined with Surrey who, for one, thought he himself should have been named Lord Protector over the prince. In the event that he was not chosen, he backed Tom. But we had gained favor with John Dudley, Lord Lisle, as well as many other powerful nobles at court.
For Tom it would have been the perfect fit—as he saw it. He would have been Lord Protector of the young king, and most likely married to the dowager queen. In essence, he would have been king himself, and by doing so rising above and beyond his brother as he seemed fit to do.
“What’s more, Henry’s health deteriorates with each passing day, and sometimes within those days, by the hour. And then just as suddenly, the next day, he could be in good spirits and ask to be taken outside, hoisted onto a horse and go riding. I’ve heard from many at court they are worried he will not last much longer, but no one is willing to tell him.”
“No, the king does not deal well with the imminence of his own death. If he could have found a potion, a fountain of youth and remained immortal, he would have.”
“Si. He is young at heart, and his aging body does not agree with his mind. ’Tis why he often seems depressed. Be certain to speak with Lord Hertford soon, for from the looks of it, His Majesty will not rally much longer.”
“Why do you tell me these things?” I could not help but ask. My curiosity burned to know.
“Lady Hertford, I am the ambassador to Spain, and as such I have the confidence of the Princess Mary. She esteems you greatly. I first approached her with this news, and she saw fit for me to inform you directly.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. I shall seek out Edward promptly.”
“Good day to you, my lady.” Van der Delft crooked a leg and bowed low before turning to find some other courtier to talk with.
Was it just luck Edward that tended to the prince, the queen and our most gracious sovereign, Henry VIII? Or had he planned for such all along? He’d fought wars, argued his way through the council, and dug out traitors, including two of Henry’s wives. He had always been a ruthless man of Henry’s court, doing what needed to be done. And now, it appeared Edward had adapted to yet again what Henry needed, a nurturer, a man of quiet compliance, yet still just as fearsome. At times if someone confronted him or attacked his principles, he would engage in an argument, but for the most part, he was massaging our future, and the king thanked him for it.
Ever since the plot against Catherine Parr was hatched, she had become a most pious woman and tended to her husband, and his children equally. Although it was said she and the king had engaged in connubial visits, there had never been cause to think she was with child. And having been married two times previously without issue, it was hard to say this was for no other reason than her being barren.
I searched above the crowd of various-colored caps with feathers stuck in the sides for Edward finding him with a few courtiers. After catching his eyes, he excused himself and made for my direction. I relayed the news to him from the ambassador, and then we both parted ways to once again speak with our allies in the room.
Not an hour later, a loud commotion came from the front of the hall.
“Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey! Show yourself!” It was Suffolk, and beside him stood Edward, and the prince not in sight.
A moment of panic seized me until I realized the young heir was most likely still with his father, perhaps even observing this disturbance from a secret place cut in the wall.
“Surrey!” Edward’s voice boomed above the din of courtiers, who all slowly turned, their mouths closed in silence, the sounds of fabric swishing, the clicking of heels on the stone floor and chink of swords swaying in scabbards.
Surrey swaggered into the middle of the hall, where courtiers stepped aside, so he was in the middle of a wide-open space.
“What the devil do you two want?” he spat out.
I swallowed hard, forcing my smile down. A dozen of the king’s guards entered the hall behind Edward and Suffolk.
Suffolk opened a scroll, unrolled it and began reading.
“By order of the king, you, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, are hereby arrested for treason against His Majesty, King Henry VIII.” Suffolk actually smiled, as he’d always found Surrey to be a pain in his arse.
I turned grateful eyes on Edward, who also seemed pleased, albeit more reserved than Suffolk. He gave me a curt nod—all the reassurance I needed that he’d finally been able to get rid of Surrey for me.
“Preposterous!” Surrey slurred with a drunken tongue.
“There are witnesses who state otherwise,” Suffolk said dryly.
“My father—”
“Is already making a new home out of his cell in the Tower,” Edward replied.
At this latest news, gasps and hushed whispers went up all over the great hall.
“Let us not make any more of a scene. Come willingly, or I shall have the guards force you,” Suffolk said cheerily.
Surrey turned hate-filled eyes on the crowd, scanning the people, searching, briefly flicking over me. When he did not find what or whom he was looking for, he turned his rage on Edward.
“This is your fault! You seek to take what is mine! You always have!” His words were a punch in my gut, as he’d always considered that Edward had stolen me away from him.
“All that is mine was rightfully earned and humbly accepted,” Edward said patiently, as if talking to a child.
Surrey began to draw his sword, but before it was halfway out of its scabbard, Lord Lisle, out of nowhere, punched him in the jaw. The crack resounded in the stone-walled room. Surrey stumbled to the left, and the guards swarmed on him, carrying him from the great hall.
It was all bittersweet. For many years, I had wished for such a fate for Surrey, and here it was happening, and I was not satisfied. From the looks of it, Suffolk and Edward would find him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, and this time he would climb to the top of the scaffold and meet Monsieur le Ax. Perhaps I felt this way because I did not get to ball my fist and punch him in the jaw. Whatever the reason, it most definitely fell flat of any plans I may have made to torture him myself.
December 21, 1546
The king’s health continued to decline. In fact he’d ceased all feasting, and musicians had been turned away so that he might take solitude, as he called it, with only a handful of people allowed to attend him, and even fewer with whom he was granting an audience.
Edward had moved the Privy Council meeting to our London house. He had moved me there as well, as the queen had not been in need of so many attendants since she had been by Henry’s side each and every day or at the chapel attending Mass and staying even longer to pray.
Today was to be the meeting, and a private chamber had been composed to accommodate the lords. However, to make the meeting seem much less formal, and not to jar the council members too much with the statement this move had made, Edward had prepared a feast, which I was overseeing. I walked up and down the length of the trestle table, counting the chairs, the dishes and goblets, assuring there were exactly enough.
“My lady, so filled with concentration.” Anthony came up beside me and eyed the table. “Is it to your liking?”
How was it he was so easily able to be congenial with me? Perhaps he had perfected the art of manipulation.
“Sir Anthony. How is Beau?”
“Are you not glad to see me?” His eyes teased, and I was nearly struck off balance. A flash of what we used to be came to mind, but I shoved it aside. Another life, perhaps, but not now.
I turned away from him and began counting linen napkins.
“Ah, I see, we cannot be friendly with one another. So hard and cruel you are to me. Did we not once share a heart? Have we not a child—”
“Shh! Do not say such things in my house!” I hissed.
His hand came up over his heart. “I shan’t do it again. But, honestly, Anne, can we not be friends?”
“’Tis not possible.” And I left off the reason why…because to be friends with Anthony was inconceivable, because all I wanted was to be his lover, his companion, his midnight dalliance, and his heart. Not to mention Edward forbade it.
“Why ever not? We were once.”
“We were never only friends, and you well know it. Now hush before Edward comes in here. Tell me about my son.”
Anthony pursed his lips in disappointment. The twinkle in his eyes faded. How many times would he come at me with an olive branch that I might thrust it away? My gut twisted at the thought that this could be the last time, for I longed to accept it. To rush into his arms, even if only for one last embrace.
“The boy is well and taking to his lessons quite like a sponge. He shall grow up to be intelligent, articulate and a good soldier.”
“Ah, you speak of our Beau do you?” Edward chose that moment to enter, eyeing us warily and, taking in my disinterested accounting of the linens, remained in good spirits. But his suspicious nature was not lost on me and, in fact, only reinforced my ideas of pushing Anthony away.
“Lord Hertford, the man of the hour. Yes, indeed, your boy is quite a fine pupil. My son is truly enjoying his tutelage of young Beau.”
I soon tuned out their conversation, rechecked the servants’ work and left the feasting hall. Elizabeth Cromwell was in my solar since her husband would attend the meeting as well, and I was in dire need of female companionship.
January 17, 1547
“I think the king just might rally once more,” Edward said, after his men left the second council meeting held at our London house.
“Why do you say that?” I had mixed feelings on the topic. On the one hand, I had no desire for the king to die. But, at the same time, if he did, Edward and I could move on with our lives, begin the next phase—even closer to the crown.
“He gave audience to both the French and Spanish ambassadors today. Van der Delft came by my office just prior to the meeting to let me know the king had been lucid, jovial even, and discussed much regarding political affairs, military campaigns, and that he was planning the investiture of Prince Edward as Prince of Wales.”
“Did he mention Surrey and Norfolk?” My stomach had been tied into knots with that situation yet to be resolved. The two men still languished away in the Tower.
“The ambassador did not, but Paget did during the meeting. We passed a bill of attainder against the father and son. Their lands and possessions shall be forfeited, and they both shall be executed. Paget is taking it to the king on the morrow to have him sign it.” But Edward only frowned, not really showing true joy at the outcome.
“That is good news. Why do you not appear to be pleased?”
“How can one be pleased at planning the death of another? I am never happy when it comes to that, Anne. I wish Surrey to rot in a hole, but Norfolk, although bad as he was to our ideals, he was making an attempt to come around at least. He has done so much for the king, given his very life to see to the king’s pleasure, and he is thanked for it with the ax of an executioner.” Edward swallowed hard and loosened his doublet ties around his neck. “I, too, have given my life to the crown, and I fear one day I shall see my life’s end met with the steel of a blade.”
I frowned at his words, even though I had thought them many times myself and still had that recurring nightmare. “Only on the battlefield like any noble knight.”
“If only I could be so lucky.”
I came forward and placed my hand on his arm, squeezing. “Luck has nothing to do with it, Edward, and you of all people should know. Indeed, the only thing we can count on is ourselves and what we make happen. No luck, only the success of carefully laid plans.”
At this, Edward laughed. “You would have made a good soldier, Anne, had you been born a man.”
“Give me a blade and shield, and I shall show you how accomplished a soldier I am as a woman.”
Was I truly the hellish viper they called me?
January 21, 1547
Today saw the end of a long chapter in my life.
This morning the warden had walked in on the Earl of Surrey as he had scooped stone and rubble with his bare hands from his privy hole, trying desperately to escape his fate.
But he had been caught.
Snowflakes fell slowly, tranquilly, blanketing the ground in powdery-white. Despite the thick ermine within my cloak, I was chilled to the bone. I feared even if my body were covered in flames, I would have felt icy all the way to my bones.
When Surrey arrived at Tower Hill, with me standing not five feet from the scaffold, he was covered in offal. Streaks of brown marred the light sprinkling of snow on the cobbles where he walked. Regret shone in his eyes as he stood on the wooden platform, his gaze directed on mine and mine alone. My stomach twisted, my head seared with pain, threatening to make me close my eyes, but I held steady. Held his gaze as and he knelt and mumbled his prayers. Held his gaze until the executioner pushed his head down on the block and all that was within my view was the top of his head.
With Surrey’s arms stretched out, his offer of forgiveness to his executioner, the ax was raised and came crashing down on his neck.
I stiffened as the crunch of bone and slosh of blood echoed in the morning. Beside me, Edward wrapped his arm around me, offering comfort I wished to take but somehow couldn’t grasp.
Surrey was dead. He could no longer torment me, and yet there was no rush of peace. No elation at being free of him. Only a sick feeling deep in the hollows of my heart.
Funny how the death of one person who had tormented me so much in this life did not make those feelings of anguish go away. I could still feel his hands violently gripping my body, tearing my flesh. I could still hear the sinister tone of his voice as he’d berated me, or the threatening tones he’d used only to put me on edge.
Instead of rejoicing in his execution, I found myself wondering if he had been cold while he’d knelt on the scaffold. Had the small snowflakes falling hit his skin and melted right away or had they lingered? Had the regret in his eyes been for me, or for himself?
I wondered why I even cared.
But the truth was this… If it hadn’t been for Surrey, I would not have been where I was today.
So, regrettably, despite him being an awful and despicable man, I must also, in some odd and twisted realm of fate, thank him for it.
And with that realization, my knees buckled.
January 28, 1547
Someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes to the dim light coming from the fire in the hearth.
“Anne, you must wake.”
“Edward, what is it?”
I heard the sound of the flint, and then a candle flared to life on the table beside my bed. Edward’s clothes were rumpled. Dark circles smudged beneath his eyes.
“Tonight the king’s breaths became labored, his lungs rasping, his lips turning white. Archbishop Cranmer was called to his side, and Henry made his confession and received a blessing.” Edward recanted the tale in a monotone voice.
I sat straight up in bed. “Did he…”
Edward nodded, tears in his eyes, and sat down beside me. “After Cranmer gave his blessing, Henry lost his ability to speak. He called out once, for Jane, then his lungs rattled, his body shook, and everything was very still. He died before our very eyes.”
I embraced him, and he sagged against me. “Does the queen know?”
Edward shook his head. “Not yet. No one knows except the few members of the Privy Council who attended him tonight.”
“When shall you tell her?” I was curious how long she would wait before marrying Thomas, as he remained an unmarried man—mostly likely waiting for his time to be with her.
“We must get affairs in order first. I think it will take two days. But I have done something, I must confess.”
At this, my eyes widened in fear. “What?”
“I changed the Will of the king.”
“How did you do that?” Whatever blurriness had been left in my eyes dissipated, and I felt my throat swell.
“Paget holds the chest which protects the Will, but I hold the key. The king wanted a council regency and no Lord Protector. I changed it to add a Lord Protector to reside over the council.”
My mouth dropped open. “But what about witnesses? The king had witnesses sign the original.”
Edward nodded. “Yes, but I was able to convince Paget to sign as a witness giving the regency over to me—a council of regency would only create problems. You saw what rifts just the mention of the lord protectorship brought at court. Paget agrees with me.”
“Yes, but what of the king’s signature?”
“We forged it.” He took a deep breath, and I had the feeling he was about to confess another great sin. “I also had Tom sign it.”
“What?” My voice was raised to a near shout. Tom had only confessed to us some months prior to being on the side of Surrey, and with the death of Surrey, he’d tried to regain Edward’s love. But it was all a ruse. I believed none of it.
“He was blackmailing me, Anne. I had him added as a privy councilor.” His head fell into his hands, and he obviously was scared.
I could see the black cloud descending. We’d made it so far, and now we should fall. “This will be your downfall, Edward.”
Edward’s head shot up, and he glared at me through bloodshot eyes. “Do not say that, Anne. Remember, we make our own fates, you said it yourself. I have promised him my approval in the name of King Edward VI, in his request to marry the queen dowager.”
My mouth went dry. All I could do was stare at him. For all his work, I envisioned he would see his fate at the end of a blade.
“You must retain a tight leash on your brother, Edward. He is a rabid dog, more dangerous than even Surrey.”
Edward nodded, opened his mouth to say something else and then closed it. He took a deep breath. “The king has pardoned Norfolk.”
“I am actually glad of that fact.”
“Why?”
“It shows he had mercy at the end and gave reprieve to a man who’d devoted his life to him. I hope the new king will see that in you and give mercy should it ever be requested. Let his father have set a good example.”
Two days later, the king’s body still lay in his bed the same way it had when he’d passed into heaven.
Edward had ridden at breakneck speed to Hertford Castle so he might be the first to bring the news to Prince Edward, now the new king. And then he would bring the boy to the Tower, where he would be proclaimed king on the morrow.
Paget would open the chest containing the fake Will, and I would have to take a deep breath and pray we did not feel the executioner’s blade when Edward was proclaimed Lord Protector.
Although the king had been ill for so long, his health fading over time, his girth growing so large, and the ulcer in his leg constantly paining him, I still found that I was shocked by his death. King Henry had been an important part of my life for twenty-five years. Longer than most. While I wouldn’t miss his volatile moods and would always be angry at the swift and unjustly punishments he’d placed on some, I would miss the charming, convivial man he’d been when I’d first come to court.
Everything would change now. We were rising! Filled with power! The Seymours—Edward and I—we were victorious.
When King Edward arrived at the Tower, he was accompanied, to my surprise, by Sir Anthony Browne. And sitting so tall next to him was my little Beau.
“Mother,” he said, so grown up since he’d been away.
“Beau, darling, come and give me a hug.”
“I came to pay homage to the new king. I shall be a member of his household. I shall serve him well, Mother.”
“Yes, you shall.” A broad smile curled my lips. My son would grow up beside the king, guiding him in his rule.
God had blessed us for certain. We’d survived King Henry VIII with our necks intact, and now, we all but owned the realm!
Shouts rang out. “The king is dead! Long live the king!”
February 16, 1547
Today, Edward was named Duke of Somerset, making me a duchess. I’d reached the pinnacle of my career as a court lady, and I would not let that fall for anything.
I now knew how Edward had struck his bargain with Anthony—as the knight would be one of the seven council members who would sign letters of patent granting Edward office as the Lord Protector.
My son had already risen beyond the nursery and his foster house and would grow up with the king. One day he would become a member of the Privy Council, as his father had been for the king’s father.
Several days after the king’s death, fear truly mounted for those left in charge when those in the north began grumbling for the yet unwed, Princess Mary, to take the throne. Mary herself came to me with tears in her eyes, for fear that Edward would imprison her. But, lucky for Mary, we were her friends, we knew her and knew that she wished for her brother, Edward, to take his place and rule as he should. And we convinced our nephew of Mary’s good will. He was a smart young prince—now a king.
All the uprisings had been laid to rest, as had Henry, according to his wishes, beside his loving and true wife, Jane.
It had taken sixteen strong members of the king’s guard to carry his coffin into St. George’s Chapel and then lower it into the vault. I hoped and prayed that now he could be at peace, spending eternity with the one woman who’d given him pause to see the better side of life, the virtue and purity one soul could have.
For Edward, myself and our children, everything had fallen into place.
Tom would marry Catherine Parr. They were both so overcome with joy, they did not have time to glower in our direction. Although, Catherine did take the time to mention that, as queen dowager, she would still be above me in station. I’d ignored her.
My husband, Lord Protector for King Edward VI, was the ruler de facto of England, and I, as his wife, was the most powerful woman at court. Until King Edward took a bride, I would be queen in all but name. Not Anne Boleyn. Not my dear Jane. Not Catherine Parr. I had survived and triumphed to preside over England. They might call me hell, they might call me viper, and they would never call me queen. But they all knew, it was just what I had become.
THE END
Author’s Note
A note on historical research, detail and accuracy… While extensive research was done to write this book in the most historically accurate fashion as possible, I did take liberties as a creative artist and a writer of fiction. Most of the characters within are real figures in history, and major events are true and accurate to the best of my knowledge. I am no historian by profession, only a history lover and a great fan of the Tudor dynasty and court. Things that are not factual have been tweaked or created in the recesses of my imagination to fit this story.
The life of Anne Seymour (nee Stanhope) is intriguing, to say the least! Not much is written about her other than to give a few facts and report she was a vicious woman. A romantic at heart, I do believe that we are products of our environment, and Lady Anne was no different. Judging from how Anne led her life and the events that it entailed, I was able to come up with a story that is not only intriguing in itself, but parts of which could have possibly happened in her time.
There is some discrepancy on Anne’s birth date. Some have her as being born in 1497, and others in 1510. I do believe the latter is the appropriate date. She married Edward Seymour in 1533/34, and then proceeded to have about ten children. If she had been born in 1497, that would mean she was thirty-seven when she married. Her last child was born in about 1552, which would have made her fifty-five years old. This would have just been a miracle at court. Additional support of my belief in her birth date comes from the fact that Anne was the product of her father’s second marriage to Elizabeth Bourchier. The children from his first marriage are recorded as having been born around 1502, which would negate that any children from a second marriage could have been born beforehand. One more thing: If she had been born in 1497, then she would have died at the age of ninety. Therefore, I have put her at being born roughly thirteen years later, in 1510.
There is no evidence that Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, and Anne had any sort of sexual relationship. I conjectured that she must have had some sort of past personal relationship or encounter with Lord Surrey for him to have penned the poem that graces the beginning of each chapter and even some places within the manuscript. Poems are passionate pieces of art that bare your soul to the world. Thus, Lord Surrey must have felt passionately about Lady Anne—whether as a scorned lover, or not.
There is also no evidence that Anne had a relationship with Anthony Browne—or that she had a child with him. However, they were linked at court. Additionally, after Anthony passed away, his titles of Lieutenant and Keeper of the chase and other parks for the realm was awarded to Anne’s brother, Michael Stanhope.
Anne’s brother Richard, died before the story takes place—and the cause of his death was not documented that I could find. For a little intrigue, I kept him alive a few years longer.
According to sources, when Jane Seymour’s labor continued to be difficult and they were speculating on whether or not Jane would live, Henry was asked what his choice should be if it came to that, and he did supposedly choose the child. I chose to change that—give him a little bit of humanity.
As for the burial of Queen Jane… Her opulent tomb was never constructed as Henry requested. I added it to the book, so that even though in “real life,” it didn’t happen, at least in the world of My Lady Viper, Jane received what she’d deserved. King Henry and Jane both are now buried in the center aisle of the church, beneath a plaque, together forever.
Little Eddie (I took creative liberty with the nickname) actually died in 1539. The exact date or cause of death I was unable to find. However, for the purposes of the story, I moved his death to October 1538.
Henry VIII really did have a great interest in natural medicine and was a patron of the Royal College of Physicians. He was also an advocate of herbalists and at some point contributed the Herbalists Charter of Henry VIII.
The poem that Anthony sends to Anne was written by Thomas Wyatt—The Long Love that in my Heart Doth Harbor.
Anne Bassett was a mistress of the king, and for a brief time, considered for the place of his fifth wife.
There was a lot a speculation as to the Will of Henry VIII and his desires for a regency council and the Lord Protectorship. What I’ve written is pure fiction, and I cannot say what actually happened, only that there was some foul play and trickery at hand, according to the facts.
The majority of conflicts and drama that happen within this book are based in fact—including Lord Lisle punching Surrey in the jaw! The Tudor court was rife with drama, making it one of the most fun eras to research and re-create.
Acknowledgements
As with any book, a writer cannot do it alone. There are many people I wish to thank for helping bring this creation to life. First, and foremost, is my husband and daughters who have been such a huge support to me over the years, and endured the hours I spend researching, writing and talking endlessly about my characters.
Many thanks to my grandparents, who invited me to visit them in France many times throughout my childhood (and for my mom who brought me!). Without walking through castles, royal gardens, art museums and Monet’s house/gardens, at such an impressionable age, I’m not sure I would have developed the passion I have for history.
Much thanks to my father for giving me my first Ken Follett book to read, introducing me to all that is historical fiction, and for indulging me in hours of documentaries and historical movies, as well as for taking me to Ireland where I fell in love with the soil, castles and raw beauty of the Emerald Isle.
My Lady Viper was a true labor of love, and I could not have written and published it without the help of the following people: Stephanie Dray for reading endless chapters and helping me to revise, listening to me vent and talking me down off of ladders. Kate Quinn for knowing how to write excellent copy. Amy Bruno for helping me to find advance readers, setting up my blog tour and the release party. My copy editor, Joyce Lamb, who bled with me over tense issues. My critique partners, Kathleen Bittner-Roth and Tara Kingston, who read the chapters of this book in its beginning stages years ago, and encouraged me to keep going.
How could I not issue my thanks to the wonderful writers who’ve inspired me? Ken Follett, Alison Weir, Margaret George, and so many more!
And last but never least, my readers. Without your dedication to my books, your support and pure awesomeness, I would not be able to do what I do. Endless gratitude!
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