that if Louis died that she’d be free to marry Brandon then. Henry gave his promise that this could be, and we set sail. I told Percy how with three short months as Queen, the old King died and waiting not for Henrys word, she and Brandon married
secretly
, then returned to England bonded thus. And how Henry raged and hurled abuse and sent them both from Court disgraced. “But soon, my love,” I said, “he brought them home forgiven, and here they live today.”
“Your point?” asked Percy, much confused.
“That our good King has beating in his breast a tender heart which knows how lovers feel, and will forgive us our defiance as he did his sister. And if our King shows clemency, then, too, Cardinal Wolsey and our parents must do the same. And we will have won a rare and wonderful thing. A marriage of love.”
He laughed in terror and delight and grasped my hands. “Sweet, sweet Anne, I have never known a woman such as you. My feeble words tell nothing of my longing, so let my arms, my lips, my body tell you instead.”
“And like the Princess and her Brandon shall we defy and marry?”
“Yes, yes!” he cried. Curious eyes of ladies, gents and Queen did turn upon his oath, so we returned to calm and proper converse. The morning went to afternoon all sweet and full of soft endearments, promises and plans. Much too soon a call was heard that all of those returning to the Cardinal’s house must go with haste or miss the tide.
I did not wish to lose him withal, so walked with him out to the misty river edge. Cloaked in darkness we kissed. O, it made grow a great fire in my loins, shook my legs and arms and seemed to melt my very chest! We clung and touched, my hand found his hardness and his my breast. I had dallied some in France but this flame, this sweet desire was new to me.
Then the torches lit the scarlet Cardinal down our way and we were forced to separate. Hasty goodbyes, quite dignified under his master’s ice cold stare. But it mattered not at all, for we were betrothed by our own hearts. This promise shall stand, and by the by in fullness of time Lady Percy I shall be.
Yours faithfully,
Anne
22 November 1522
Diary,
How do I begin? My heart is broke. My life is done. Percy, gentle love of mine is banished North, his Fathers wrath a smothering shroud. I too am sent from Court disgraced, and languish now in my family home at Hever in the Kentish countryside. How came this all to pass, you ask?
When last I wrote the world was bright with possibility. The English Court felt more like home and France a lovely memory. Life was gay. Presiding like a living God our King Great Harry, hale and hearty made the ground to shake beneath his feet. In shimmering satins dripping gold at revels he led the leaping dancers like a stag. He rode robustly, jousted hard, yet sang and played, composed sweet verse and made the Court a wondrous place.
I served the Queen and spent the summer days in restless pleasures, hawking, riding, dancing, finding secret time alone with my beloved. O, together we did make a dazzling light and walked upon the air. Our various and false betrothals seemed a distant dream forgot. Our marriage was in all but law a fact and soon we would be joined, we knew.
And then like deadly lightning from the sky came Cardinal Wolsey, thundering wrathful with clear intent to kill our love. Summoned, Percy went to stand before the portly priest whose bulging angry eyes pierced my lover’s calm and left him shaking like a sapling in a gale. “Desist,” he said, “and leave the girl alone.” Of common birth was I, not good enough for he. Our mutual contracting he fumed was “a dire breach, angering fathers, God and King.” Henry sought alliance between the Tal-bots and Northumberlands whose binding gave his northern borders strong defense. So Wolsey, courting favor with the King, smote us vilely, making two of one, tearing beating hearts from loving breasts.
Percy wrote (in secret missive, since
secretly
, then returned to England bonded thus. And how Henry raged and hurled abuse and sent them both from Court disgraced. “But soon, my love,” I said, “he brought them home forgiven, and here they live today.”
“Your point?” asked Percy, much confused.
“That our good King has beating in his breast a tender heart which knows how lovers feel, and will forgive us our defiance as he did his sister. And if our King shows clemency, then, too, Cardinal Wolsey and our parents must do the same. And we will have won a rare and wonderful thing. A marriage of love.”
He laughed in terror and delight and grasped my hands. “Sweet, sweet Anne, I have never known a woman such as you. My feeble words tell nothing of my longing, so let my arms, my lips, my body tell you instead.”
“And like the Princess and her Brandon shall we defy and marry?”
“Yes, yes!” he cried. Curious eyes of ladies, gents and Queen did turn upon his oath, so we returned to calm and proper converse. The morning went to afternoon all sweet and full of soft endearments, promises and plans. Much too soon a call was heard that all of those returning to the Cardinal’s house must go with haste or miss the tide.
I did not wish to lose him withal, so walked with him out to the misty river edge. Cloaked in darkness we kissed. O, it made grow a great fire in my loins, shook my legs and arms and seemed to melt my very chest! We clung and touched, my hand found his hardness and his my breast. I had dallied some in France but this flame, this sweet desire was new to me.
Then the torches lit the scarlet Cardinal down our way and we were forced to separate. Hasty goodbyes, quite dignified under his master’s ice cold stare. But it mattered not at all, for we were betrothed by our own hearts. This promise shall stand, and by the by in fullness of time Lady Percy I shall be.
Yours faithfully,
Anne
22 November 1522
Diary,
How do I begin? My heart is broke. My life is done. Percy, gentle love of mine is banished North, his Fathers wrath a smothering shroud. I too am sent from Court disgraced, and languish now in my family home at Hever in the Kentish countryside. How came this all to pass, you ask?
When last I wrote the world was bright with possibility. The English Court felt more like home and France a lovely memory. Life was gay. Presiding like a living God our King Great Harry, hale and hearty made the ground to shake beneath his feet. In shimmering satins dripping gold at revels he led the leaping dancers like a stag. He rode robustly, jousted hard, yet sang and played, composed sweet verse and made the Court a wondrous place.
I served the Queen and spent the summer days in restless pleasures, hawking, riding, dancing, finding secret time alone with my beloved. O, together we did make a dazzling light and walked upon the air. Our various and false betrothals seemed a distant dream forgot. Our marriage was in all but law a fact and soon we would be joined, we knew.
And then like deadly lightning from the sky came Cardinal Wolsey, thundering wrathful with clear intent to kill our love. Summoned, Percy went to stand before the portly priest whose bulging angry eyes pierced my lover’s calm and left him shaking like a sapling in a gale. “Desist,” he said, “and leave the girl alone.” Of common birth was I, not good enough for he. Our mutual contracting he fumed was “a dire breach, angering fathers, God and King.” Henry sought alliance between the Tal-bots and Northumberlands whose binding gave his northern borders strong defense. So Wolsey, courting favor with the King, smote us vilely, making two of one, tearing beating hearts from loving breasts.
Percy wrote (in secret missive, since
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