wheels turning on many things.
Henry had married Anne of Cleves to maintain the delicate alliances between England, France and Germany, and as king, he knew he could not disturb that balance now. Norfolk knew he must be mindful of everything he did, as his actions affected far more than the royal marriage bed. There was no room for error in his advice to the king. Cromwell was about to discover that well enough himself. Norfolk had battled the cleric and the Seymour brothers quite long enough.
“I do believe there is a way, yes, Your Majesty.”
“Well, tell me, man! No time like the present.”
But just as he was about to speak, the queen interrupted them.
“English is not simple, but I keep trying to speak it.” The queen chuckled, her guttural Teutonic tone sounding almost like grunting.
Norfolk glanced past the king to the place on his left where the new queen sat happily chattering away in her achingly clotted and awkward English with her adviser, Earl of Waldeck. The music changed to a slower branle. It would have been easy to be overheard now. Her laughter in the relative quiet was a grating sound. Henry rolled his eyes and drained his goblet yet again.
“That is still the lady’s constant refrain to one who attempts to address her in English.” Henry groaned.
“Has the English tutor not met with the queen’s satisfaction?” Norfolk dared.
Henry slammed the jewel-encrusted cup onto the table, and for a moment all eyes were upon him until he waved his fat, freckled hand, and the silk of his cuff spilled back beneath his sleeve. “Everyone meets with her satisfaction, because she is dumb as a post!”
“Forgive me.” Norfolk wisely inclined his head.
“Yes, yes, well. But can I be rid of her then without seeming a tyrant to the world?”
“I am advised by the Bishop of Winchester that the marriage remains unlawful so long as it continues unconsummated. If we take that tack, then indeed Your Majesty is still actually unwed.”
Norfolk watched as the king considered this possibility. He dared not speak further. Not yet. They both surveyed the dancing for a time, lovely court ladies in fashionable French dresses, slashed sleeves, long, tight stomachers, chains and smart new hoods of velvet and silk adorned with ribbon or pearls. Norfolk watched the king stir.
Henry was most vulnerable when he was in love or in want of love.
Either would do.
“My Lord Bishop of Winchester has met with Your Majesty’s ministers and has posited that, as a first step, Your Majesty provide a personal deposition of the facts.”
“And the political risk if I am seen to be insulting my wife, Norfolk? What of that?”
“It is a fine and delicate road to walk, to be certain, Your Majesty. Forgive my saying so, but what Cromwell has gotten you so hastily into may take great patience and skill to extract you from.”
“Damn Cromwell to hell for his meddling, and for his eyesight!” He growled. “I believed the old bear. He assured me the queen was a beauty and I trusted him.”
“As Your Majesty should be able to do,” Norfolk replied calmly, driving the first nail into Cromwell’s newly constructed coffin.
The queen turned to Henry then, as if she sensed she was being spoken about. Yet still her smile was wide, her nature enduringly sweet. Norfolk saw the effort she took to find a few words that would be intelligible to the king. Despite her attempts to be pleasing to Henry, when he thought about how many times the king had tried to bed her, even Norfolk grimaced. Her face was square and masculine,
her skin was pockmarked, and her body was overly plump. Even when she was garbed in fine embroidered silk, the reality of how unattractive she was could not be masked any more than it could with Henry.
What made it worse was that Norfolk genuinely liked her. Anne was jovial, kind and compliant. If only she did not look so much like a horse. But it was precisely this that gave him the chance to elevate his own
Henry had married Anne of Cleves to maintain the delicate alliances between England, France and Germany, and as king, he knew he could not disturb that balance now. Norfolk knew he must be mindful of everything he did, as his actions affected far more than the royal marriage bed. There was no room for error in his advice to the king. Cromwell was about to discover that well enough himself. Norfolk had battled the cleric and the Seymour brothers quite long enough.
“I do believe there is a way, yes, Your Majesty.”
“Well, tell me, man! No time like the present.”
But just as he was about to speak, the queen interrupted them.
“English is not simple, but I keep trying to speak it.” The queen chuckled, her guttural Teutonic tone sounding almost like grunting.
Norfolk glanced past the king to the place on his left where the new queen sat happily chattering away in her achingly clotted and awkward English with her adviser, Earl of Waldeck. The music changed to a slower branle. It would have been easy to be overheard now. Her laughter in the relative quiet was a grating sound. Henry rolled his eyes and drained his goblet yet again.
“That is still the lady’s constant refrain to one who attempts to address her in English.” Henry groaned.
“Has the English tutor not met with the queen’s satisfaction?” Norfolk dared.
Henry slammed the jewel-encrusted cup onto the table, and for a moment all eyes were upon him until he waved his fat, freckled hand, and the silk of his cuff spilled back beneath his sleeve. “Everyone meets with her satisfaction, because she is dumb as a post!”
“Forgive me.” Norfolk wisely inclined his head.
“Yes, yes, well. But can I be rid of her then without seeming a tyrant to the world?”
“I am advised by the Bishop of Winchester that the marriage remains unlawful so long as it continues unconsummated. If we take that tack, then indeed Your Majesty is still actually unwed.”
Norfolk watched as the king considered this possibility. He dared not speak further. Not yet. They both surveyed the dancing for a time, lovely court ladies in fashionable French dresses, slashed sleeves, long, tight stomachers, chains and smart new hoods of velvet and silk adorned with ribbon or pearls. Norfolk watched the king stir.
Henry was most vulnerable when he was in love or in want of love.
Either would do.
“My Lord Bishop of Winchester has met with Your Majesty’s ministers and has posited that, as a first step, Your Majesty provide a personal deposition of the facts.”
“And the political risk if I am seen to be insulting my wife, Norfolk? What of that?”
“It is a fine and delicate road to walk, to be certain, Your Majesty. Forgive my saying so, but what Cromwell has gotten you so hastily into may take great patience and skill to extract you from.”
“Damn Cromwell to hell for his meddling, and for his eyesight!” He growled. “I believed the old bear. He assured me the queen was a beauty and I trusted him.”
“As Your Majesty should be able to do,” Norfolk replied calmly, driving the first nail into Cromwell’s newly constructed coffin.
The queen turned to Henry then, as if she sensed she was being spoken about. Yet still her smile was wide, her nature enduringly sweet. Norfolk saw the effort she took to find a few words that would be intelligible to the king. Despite her attempts to be pleasing to Henry, when he thought about how many times the king had tried to bed her, even Norfolk grimaced. Her face was square and masculine,
her skin was pockmarked, and her body was overly plump. Even when she was garbed in fine embroidered silk, the reality of how unattractive she was could not be masked any more than it could with Henry.
What made it worse was that Norfolk genuinely liked her. Anne was jovial, kind and compliant. If only she did not look so much like a horse. But it was precisely this that gave him the chance to elevate his own
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