The Tudor Wife. Emily Purdy

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      Only Anne remained seated and silent, then slowly she stood. I was seated only two places down and I heard her softly plead a headache and that she must go at once to bed.

      As she passed him, Henry seized her wrist and said in a voice that made me shiver, ‘Rarely when I hunt does the quarry escape me, no matter how fleet of foot or cunningly it hides. Make no mistake, Mistress Anne, I will catch you, and you will be mine!’

      Anne curtsied quickly and fled.

      Tom Wyatt’s eyes followed her as his body dared not do. He pressed a hand briefly to his heart as if it pained him, then he forced himself to smile and gave himself over to the congratulations of his friends.

      

      The clock had just struck midnight when Anne appeared at George’s door, huddled in her satin dressing gown and trembling violently.

      Wordlessly, he gathered her in his arms.

      Her words came out in a rush. A nightmare. Anne in a fawn satin gown running frantically through the forest, pursued by baying hounds, hoofbeats, and hunting horns. Then she was cornered, her back against a tree, and the King was there before her, steadily advancing, willful and determined, pressing into her, holding her fast, and lifting her skirts. It was then that she awoke, screaming.

      Murmuring soothing words, George led her to sit beside the fire. There was wine warming in a small cauldron and he ladled some into a goblet and pressed it into her hands.

      Both of them ignored me standing in the doorway.

      ‘I want to stop, George,’ she sobbed.

      ‘Then stop,’ he said as he sank to his knees before her and, taking the goblet and setting it aside, took both her hands in his.

      ‘I cannot! It has gone too far! I thought when the court failed to deliver the desired verdict that would be the end of it, and I could wave farewell and dance away from him, but he will stop at nothing to have me! I have become trapped in my own net! And Father and Uncle Norfolk never stop pressing me. Winning is all that matters, they keep telling me—it doesn’t matter how I play the game, only that I win! “Do not fail, Anne!” they caution with such hardness in their eyes it takes all the will I have not to let them see me give way to tears. They come at me from all sides, urging me to “Give in, Anne, give in! It is a great honor to be the mistress of a King!” until it is all I can do not to stamp my feet and scream and tear the hair from my head! Were he not King I would tell him what I truly think of him! Every time I see him I must bite my tongue to keep the words from spewing forth else he send me to the Tower and have them chop off my head, and yet I cannot help but think that at least then I would die with the truth upon my lips; that would be better than living a lie!’

      ‘You mean you no longer want to be Queen?’ I asked.

      Sobs shook her and Anne buried her face in her hands.

      ‘If the prize is within my grasp I shall take it; it would be folly to reject it, and there would be no forgetting or forgiving if I did, but do not ask me whether it is worth it because I no longer know! I am so tired, George, so very tired, yet the battle rages on and I must keep fighting!’

      ‘Then you must rest, darling Nan.’ He stood up and gathered her tenderly in his arms and carried her to his bed. ‘Sleep now,’ he said as he laid her down and drew the covers up over her. ‘And I shall sit here’—he brought a chair close to the bedside—‘and see that no one disturbs you.’

      And there he sat, stroking her hair, until sleep claimed her.

      ‘Damn them all for doing this to you, my sweet sister,’ I, still lurking in the doorway, heard him whisper.

      ‘Now you have what you have always wanted,’ I jibed. ‘Your sister is in your bed! Do not let my presence keep you from joining her!’

      ‘Bite your viper’s tongue!’ George hissed, and flung his slippers at my head.

      I turned my back and started back to my own bed, but my feet had scarcely crossed the threshold when I felt his fingers biting into the soft flesh of my arm.

      He pushed the door shut so our conversation would not disturb his dear, precious Anne.

      ‘Why do you always do this?’ he demanded. ‘Why do you say these awful things? What has Anne ever done to you to make you despise her so?’

      ‘She has stolen what is rightfully mine!’ I rounded on him furiously. ‘She has stolen my husband!’

      George laughed wryly and threw up his hands.

      When I heard him laugh at me, mocking me, I wanted to throw myself at him and claw at his face, raking long, bloody furrows into that handsome visage with my nails. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself doing so, and I hated myself for it. How could I have such violent, bloody thoughts about hurting the person I loved most? It was Anne who deserved pain and punishment, not my beloved George.

      ‘You are a madwoman!’ he declared. ‘You talk naught but nonsense. Anne is my sister. You talk of her as if she were my mistress!’

      ‘She is!’ I shouted. ‘She is your mistress! Mistress of your heart! No brother loves his sister as you do her—it is unnatural, George, unnatural! I should not have to compete with my sister-in-law for my husband’s attention, or his affection, but I do. Every day of my life, Anne is always between us. I know you bed other women, but I never worry about them because I know that for you there is only Anne, and that with her no other woman can compare! You don’t want a wife or a mistress, George; the only woman you want is Anne! And I hate her for it!’

      George just stood there staring at me, then he shook his head and laughed at me. ‘You are deranged,’ he said, and then he left me. He went back to Anne, and I fell weeping onto my bed to cry myself to sleep.

      

      But there would be no true rest for Anne. Henry continued to press her to grant him the ultimate favor, and all of her family, except George, took his side.

      I spied on them one moonlit night in the gardens of Greenwich.

      Anne stood steadfast in a gleaming gown of silver tissue, with diamond stars sparkling in her hair, while the King groveled at her feet like a lovesick swain.

      Suddenly Anne seemed to wilt and pressed a hand to her brow. In the moonlight she seemed very pale.

      Henry saw his chance and seized it. He clutched her close, pressing and grinding his loins, forcing her to feel his hardness through her skirts. His lips found hers, then traveled down her neck to her breasts, trussed high above the low, square-cut diamondbordered bodice. He peeled her gown down from her shoulders until her breasts were fully exposed, with the cool evening air stiffening her nipples. She tried to pull away but he held her fast, his cruel little mouth closing round each rosy pebble of flesh and leaving it glistening with drool. But when his hands began to fumble with her skirts she somehow found the strength to shove him away.

      ‘Anne, have mercy upon me! For three years I have lived like a monk, all for love of you! Do not be so cruel to one who has been nothing but kind to you. Give yourself to me, tonight, Anne!’

      Anne drew up her gown, tucking her breasts back inside and folding her arms protectively СКАЧАТЬ