The Most Happy- Bearing Read online

  The Most Happy

  Christina Price

  TITLE Copyright © 2016 by Christina Price

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact; address [email protected]

  Book and Cover design by Christina Price

  CHAPTER 1

  May 15, 1536

  It was a windy, yet sunny day as Anne was called from the Tower to stand before the jury of noblemen. She had heard the charges and the rumors, but far more haunting, she had seen the look of cold indifference on the face of her husband, the King as she pleaded her innocence. Anne shuddered as she recalled the moment. ‘Henry!’ she cried. ‘Please Henry you must listen to me!’ The king’s steps never faltered. Anne stumbled and fell under the weight of two year old Elizabeth. With her mind racing, Anne stripped the toddler of her gown, a miniature of Anne’s own. Tearing the pins from her gleaming red curls, Anne shouted once more. ‘Look at your child!’ Henry stopped and after a few minutes turned. ‘She how perfect she is? She is a tiny version of you? Of me. Of our love for one another?’ Anne whispered desperately. Henry walked to them and removing his cape, draped it over Anne and the child to hide her nakedness. Taking her chin in one massive hand, he peered into the three year old’s intelligent blue eyes, and she stared intently back. He noticed a streak of blood on the girl’s cheek where Anne wasn’t able to fully shield her as they fell. A few strands of hair stuck to it. Red on red. As red as the hair on his own head. ‘Papa,’ the toddler said with a slight incline to her head. Imperious and challenging even of her royal sire. There was no way that the copper haired mite could have come from anyone’s loins except his. He closed his eyes and Anne held her breath expectantly. Opening them, he fixed his gaze on Anne and coldly said, ‘You must be an enchantress and a harlot. I cannot explain it any other way and I can have no more words for you. May God help you, for I will not.’ With that, he stormed away. Clenching her hands in her lap, Anne bit her lip to stop the tears that threatened. She was innocent, yet a wicked lie had been concocted that she had been unfaithful with her husband and had slept with four men, one of which was her own brother, George. Anne’s heart ached. She thought over her long courtship and her comparatively short marriage. Anne had been convinced to seduce the King of England by her father, Thomas Boleyn, the earl of Norfolk. What neither of them had counted on was Anne falling in love with the charming king. After nine years of waiting, they were secretly married, and Elizabeth was born shortly after. From there, was a downward spiral. Her heart ached further as she recalled the three pregnancies that followed; each promising joy and hope, only to break her heart when they ended in loss. She had never known that they also broke her marriage. Henry was on the quest for a healthy son, and now that he was convinced that he would never father a child by Anne, Henry had begun to despair.

  Anne’s old ally turned enemy, Thomas Cromwell, the King’s chief advisor, began to look for ways to rid himself, and the King of her. They began as allies to turn Henry away from the considerably decadent and corrupt Catholic Church and reform the mislead monasteries of England. After being accused of stealing from the poor and perhaps even the King by Anne, Cromwell feared that his new position, and perhaps even, his life would be forfeit if the Boleyn’s continued to have power. Rather than attack the Queen outright, Cromwell united with a new promising family, the Seymour family, to poke at a festering wound in the King’s pride, his lack of male issue, the Queen’s miscarriages, and the fact that many in Europe still considered his current marriage invalid. To distract him from his obvious love for his wife, the sister of Thomas and Edward Seymour, Jane, was placed in the path of the King. The ploy worked as Jane was almost the polar opposite of Anne. Where Anne was loud and flirtatious, cultured and argumentative, dark and regal, Jane was soft and meek, simple and submissive, blonde and homely. Henry was instantly taken with the lady-in-waiting, to the chagrin of the Queen. The affair was the indirect cause of Anne’s last miscarriage, as she walked in on Jane sitting on the King’s lap as the two shared a kiss. This so upset the Queen that her labor started early and the child, a miniature boy, slipped from her body the next evening without ever drawing a breath. This was the opening that Cromwell needed. Evidence was created, witnesses were bribed, and the King had an answer to his problem.

  ‘Anne, Queen of England!’ a voice shouted, startling Anne

  from her musings. ‘You are commanded to come before the panel. Gently touching a finger to her lips and then to the prayer book that she kept at her waist, Anne straightened her back, lifted her chin, and calmly walked into the room. She looked every bit of the queen with her black damask gown peppered with diamonds and pearls over a crimson kirtle. Her raven tresses, normally left to swing free, had been curled and swept onto her head and there secured by pins of diamond and pearl. A black French hood studded with pearls kept the tendrils from falling into her face. Around her neck, she wore a walnut sized diamond on a chain of gold, a gift from the king. As she entered, she noticed to her dismay and anger that no one stood in respect for her. ‘Does no one stand when the queen enters a room?’ she said bewildered, looking about the room at the nobles and common folk alike. Somewhat embarrassed, one by one the panel stood and doffed their hats.

  After being coldly acknowledged, they sat and began the trial. The jury consisted of her own uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, her former youthful love, the Duke of Northumberland, Henry Percy, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, The Marquis of Exeter, The Earls of Oxford, Westmoreland, Worcester, Rutland, Huntingdon, and Sussex, and several other lords. Anne noticed, with bitterness, that all of these men except Henry Percy, who stood trembling and pale faced, stood to gain from her conviction. Undeterred, the leader of the panel, her uncle began the trial. ‘Queen Anne, you have been brought before us on charges of adultery, incest, conspiring to murder the king, and witchcraft. How do you answer these charges?’ Anne tossed her bejeweled head defiantly, and shouted, ‘I do not answer these charges as they are untrue and unbecoming of my station!’ pressed on listing dates and times that she was seen with her supposed lovers. This proved to be a mistake as Anne rebutted each date. She was either pregnant, recovering from a miscarriage, or with her ladies. The panel paused a moment to talk amongst themselves.

  Anne’s stomach clenched and she fought a wave of dizziness and nausea. Was she really wanted dead so badly? ‘My good people’ she began, ‘I am come before you all painted a common adulteress and whore. I beseech you to attend the details of this fraudulent trial!’ Norfolk began to shout for her to be silent and the ill feeling threatened to overwhelm her as the edges of her vision blurred, but Anne kept on. ‘I have answered their charges, but have they brought more evidence before me? Have they produced witnesses? I speak to every mother, wife, and daughter of good and just England. Where you able to perform your wifely duties so soon after childbirth or a miscarriage?” The women began to cry out there protest that ‘the good Queen Nan was surely innocent’ and that they would ‘have none of those Seemores’. Anne was sweating profusely and her vision was beginning to blacken, but she had to save herself, for only the people could sway the King to her cause. “So how then could I commit adultery? Be not deceived by this wickedness. Entreat to His Majesty the King, who is just
and wise to not listen to unwise council and to aid me in my moment of need for I am innocent!’ The uproar from the crowd was deafening; shouts of ‘Good Queen Anne!’ and ‘God save the Queen!’ could be heard beyond The Tower. As the panel shouted for order to be returned, the world around Anne went dark, and as the ground rushed up to meet her, she felt a familiar stab in her belly, heard the screams and shouts from the crowd, and felt the warmth trickle down her legs. Then there was nothing.

  CHAPTER 2

  Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, had never liked Anne.

  He had considered her unbefitting of her crown if only for the fact that Anne had a disturbing way of swaying the King. He wasn’t sure that he would call it manipulation or even witchcraft, but what Anne wanted, more often than not, the King provided, as demonstrated by the massive reforms. When Cromwell had approached him with information that the Queen was involved in not only adultery, but treason as well, he welcomed the chance to be on the jury and see the proud queen fall. After hearing the ‘evidence’ and hearing Anne’s defense, Brandon was apprehensive, but when the crowd, who had never liked her, began to shout and protest her innocence, Suffolk was now confident that the wronged queen was innocent. He was watching her impassioned defense with a mixture of dismay and joy that his closest friend would not have to put his wife to death.

  Suddenly, a different cry rose from the crowd. A Brandon watched, blood began to stain the floor beneath the Queen’s skirts, and she dropped to the floor like a stone. He was the first to her side. She was burning with fever and her skin was as white as a sheet. “Send for a physician!” he cried. By the providence of God, one was already in attendance, and ran over to help with his assistant. After touching a hand to the Anne’s brow, heart, and finally her stomach, the older man gasped and whispered urgently to Charles, “This is a highly sensitive and urgent matter. Have her moved to a clean chamber at once. The queen was carried with great care to a chamber within the Tower. There the physician sent everyone out except his assistant, a matronly midwife. After removing the gown and kirtle, and examining Anne, they discovered that she was in the early stage of a miscarriage. After making a tea of cramp and black haw bark and forcing as much of it as they could between her lips, they packed white linen between her legs, and kept her feverish brow bathed in cool water. This was all that could be done at this time, and after a while the bleeding had stopped.

  After being assured that the child was still nestled inside its mother’s womb, they removed the linen. After several long hours, the Queen’s fever broke, and Charles Brandon was allowed inside to see her. As he was briefed on her current status, Brandon fell silent. He was almost certain that the King was the father of this child, and that he would want to hear of this miracle. Thanking the physician and giving him coins from his purse, Charles immediately mounted his horse and rode hard and fast to Whitehall. Abandoning all royal protocol, he strode right into the King’s chambers where he was being barbered. Kneeling and removing his cap, Charles Brandon breathlessly recalled the day’s events to the cross and lathered king.

  ‘With child!’ Henry shouted ‘How could she be with child?’ he asked his best friend, Brandon Charles. Charles swallowed and spoke, ‘It appears that she is nearly three months gone with child.’ The color drained from Henry’s face. The last time that he had shared a bed with her was in early February. It could be no coincidence. The child must be his. Henry sighed, and looked at his best friend. The man was headstrong, and impulsive, but when it mattered most, Charles was honest, loyal, and true. ‘There is little doubt in my mind that the child is mine.’ He paused for a moment and steadied himself. ‘What should I do?’ Charles understood the gravity of the moment as the fearless and independent king seldom asked for advice. While he certainly had no love lost for Anne, his conscience would never allow him to condemn an innocent woman, an expecting innocent woman at that. ‘Majesty…,’ Charles tentatively started, ‘Perhaps you should speak to Her Grace, the Queen.’ Stunned to hear the man who had whispered doubts about the queen into his ear defend her now, the King could only gape at Charles Brandon. After a moment, Henry nodded and walked from the room. He dismissed his servants and with only a single guard, rode to the Tower.

  Anne opened her eyes and blinked at the sunlight streaming through the window. She was lying in a bed not much bigger than her own in a white shift. She knew instinctively that she was not at Whitehall. Looking around, she recognized the room as the suite reserved for queens awaiting their coronation, and as her vision cleared further, she gasped, startled. In the chair near her bed sat the King. He said nothing as he studied her with an impassive face. Uneasy still, but suddenly hopefully, Anne spoke, “My love?” The king’s face twitched as the emotion in the phrase pierced his heart. “I thought it best that everyone think you remained in the Tower under judgement.” Anne inclined her head in thanks. Henry narrowed his eyes and said, “The child nearly died and you along with it.” He watched her face and saw surprise flare across it before she masked it. This stunned him. “You didn’t know?” he asked, astonished. “Were you not examined before you were situated into the Tower?” Anne shook her head, “Your Majesty, the men who accused me must have been in a hurry to have me judged. I was not examined.”

  Anne looked at the only man she had ever loved and studied his face. If she could not convince him that she was innocent, and that the unborn miracle child growing in her womb was his and possibly his long awaited heir, it would possibly be the last time she saw him. She gazed at his auburn hair, think and curly and his crystal blue eyes. His strong nose and thin, but soft lips. All featured so clearly in Princess Elizabeth. Would the child growing within her bear the same resemblance to the man she loved so desperately? Henry was both disturbed and deeply touched by the sincere love that he saw in this fallen queen. He loved her so desperately, but her alleged crimes were unforgivable. He wanted to believe that she was innocent, but why would so many people, among them her father, uncle, and his own best friend, accuse her? He closed his eyes, took a breath, and looked at her. She still watched him; peace emanating from her. She was tense, but calm and quiet as she waited for his judgement. ‘So easy to pass judgement.’ Henry thought. ‘So very easy to have she and the child put away. I can have my Jane and we can begin a new Tudor dynasty.’ Even as he thought it, Anne placed her hand on her slightly rounded stomach and looked away as tears flowed. She had seen the calculating look that had slid over his face. “Has the merchant’s son so easily won your trust and loyalty that you would seek to have me judged pregnant with your child as I am?” she managed to whisper. Looking back at him, her tears gleaming like diamonds from her fathomless brown eyes, she shook her head, sadly. “Or perhaps Mistress Seymour and her alleged pureness has destroyed your love for me.” Seeing his eyes blaze, she gathered her courage and placed her hand atop his. “Your Majesty, I had never known another man, had never even entertained a man’s embrace before you. Yet Mistress Seymour, for all her supposed pureness, pursues a married king.”

  Henry’s hand clenched beneath her own, but she carried on with her voice calm and gentle. “Surely you know how she bragged and boasted that she meant to have you, opening and closing the miniature bearing your image in front of me, whilst I was heavy with child.” Henry closed his eyes, but forced himself to listen with a rational ear. Anne closed her own eyes and with a trembling voice said, “Majesty, I saw our son.” His eyes flew open and he started at her. She had gone white so that her dark curls and pink lips stood out. “After he was born and the life had fled him, I saw him and held him. Our little Prince gone too soon. How tiny, but perfect.” She opened her eyes as the tears fell faster. “My love, I am so sorry for the death of our son! I tried so hard, and I wanted him so badly. Forgive my jealous rage that stole him from you.” With her energy spent, Anne collapsed into a tearful slumber. Henry stared at his wife’s slender form, the bulge of their child barely visible.

  Chapter 3

  Later that evening
, Henry recalled the encounter. As soon as he heard that Anne was miraculously saved from miscarriage and the estimated gestation, in his heart of hearts he had hoped that his Queen was innocent. After speaking to her, he was now almost certain. So where had the evidence come from? He called for Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who had heard Anne’s confession. Thomas Cromwell had told him sorrowfully of how the Queen had railed in hysterics of her innocence, called the King a fool and Jane a whore, and had descended into such hysterics that the rest of the confession could not even be recorded. Cranmer, on the other hand, seemed reluctant to speak of his royal charge. Shortly, Cranmer was announced and led into the King’s chamber where he bowed. Henry, after raising him, invited him to sit and drink a glass of wine. Cranmer was outwardly gracious and pleasant with his king, but inwardly, he was terrified. Had the King called him in only to ask him to declare the marriage null and void? He was adamant that the Queen that he himself had crowned and anointed was innocent of all charges. He calmed his fears and waited patiently for the King to reveal his intentions. “Your Grace” the King finally began. “I am sure that you have heard of a certain miracle by now.” Swallowing heavily, Cranmer answered smoothly, “A miracle from the Most High, I am certain, Majesty.” Grunting, the king continued. “They say that upon her arrival, she begged you to hear of her confession. Did you indeed?” Cranmer paused, afraid to reveal that he had indeed, but seeing no harm in the admission, confirmed that he had indeed. “Tell me then, what had she to say. I beg you to be honest and truthful in all words and expressions. I absolve you of any offenses.” This took Cranmer aback. He had not expected to be asked this at all. This moment surely was a sign that the Queen’s Majesty was innocent, and that God meant him to insure her return to her rightful place, at her husband’s side and on the throne. “Majesty, the Queen was in good spirits and sound mind after her imprisonment. She was saddened at the accusations of herself, her beloved brother, and the other innocent men but asked me to commend herself unto your Majesty. She confessed that she had not always been humble and meek, as a goodly wife ought, and was exceedingly jealous of her sovereign’s affections, but that she had never offended the King’s Majesty with her body. She begged the King to be good to his daughter, the Princess Elizabeth, for she is small still and an innocent, deserving of her father’s good graces and affections.” Having told the King of the heart wrenching confession, Cranmer fell silent as the King pondered the words. Henry was now certain that someone had sought to use his affections for Jane Seymour and his desire for an heir to bring his Queen’s downfall. Thanking and dismissing the Archbishop, Henry, along with a body servant, mounted and rode for the Tower.