Anna of Kleve, the Princess in the Portrait Read online

  “Then, my son, what is there to worry about?” Mutter asked.

  Wilhelm sighed. “Madam, I know my father considered the precontract void, but it was never formally annulled.”

  “It did not need to be,” Burchard chimed in. “Evidently the Duke of Lorraine agrees, because he is negotiating for his son to marry the French King’s daughter.”

  Olisleger turned to Wilhelm. “I assure your Grace you need not worry any more about this. For the love of God, let us proceed to negotiations!”

  There was a long pause.

  “Very well,” Wilhelm said. “I will send my ambassadors to England.”

  Anna tensed. It looked as if she might become queen of England after all.

  Chapter 4

  1539

  It was hot in Schwanenburg that July, and Anna found it hard to concentrate on reading or embroidering. It was not just the stifling heat that plagued her. Mutter had just come to her chamber and revealed that King Henry himself had expressed concern about her being free of her precontract.

  “His envoys want written proof that the betrothal was formally annulled,” she said. “The King is very keen to have the matter resolved, for he has heard of your virtue and wisdom, and other things to your praise. If you are not free, he will ask for Emily, but he would prefer you, since you are the elder. All he is concerned about is that there is no impediment to your marrying him.” She smiled. “I think Dr. Olisleger can satisfy him on that score.”

  “I am sure there is no need for concern,” Anna said.

  Mutter reached across and laid her hand on Anna’s. “I trust you are happy with this marriage, child?”

  “Yes, my lady. I admit, I did not want it at first, but I know my duty, and will do my very best to make the King a good wife, and to make you and Kleve proud of me.” She was reconciled, she realized. She was even a little excited about her great destiny.

  “The envoys want to meet you, and I think it is high time, since you are to be their Queen.”

  “Of course. I shall be happy to receive them.”

  “Good. I will arrange for them to meet us in the garden this afternoon. Tell your maids to dress you in the crimson velvet gown. It becomes you well, and you want to look your best.”

  Anna agreed. The crimson gown was the richest she had. She had outgrown the red silk with its telltale stains. How dearly she had paid for her pleasure…and might pay more yet. It had begun to prey on her mind, now that her marriage to the King seemed likely. Could a man know if his wife was no virgin? Worse still, would he be able to tell if she had borne a child?

  Resolutely, she thrust away her fears, and went to her chamber to change for the envoys.

  * * *

  —

  She knew she looked every inch the princess as she waited in the garden, seated to one side of Mutter on a stone bench, with Emily on the other. The round skirt of her gown, banded with gold, fell in soft folds about her feet; its long sleeves, gathered above the elbows with matching ornamented bands, trailed almost to the ground. Draped across her bejeweled bodice were heavy chains and a crucifix studded with gems; and on her head she wore an elaborate Stickelchen of silk damask atop a sheer winged cap of lawn and a gold embroidered forecloth. Her fingers were laden with rings.

  When the envoys approached and bowed low before her, she nodded graciously at them. Dr. Wotton, acting as their spokesman, was most courteous, clearly practiced in the art of diplomacy.

  “I was told that your Grace’s beauty excelled that of the Duchess of Milan, as the golden sun excels the silver moon,” he said, “and now I can see for myself that it is the truth. His Majesty is a most fortunate man. It is said that you have many gentle qualities.”

  “The Lady Anna has been well schooled in all the virtues, and in the accomplishments that befit a wife,” Mutter said. “She can read and write, and cook, and is most proficient with the needle.”

  “Admirable, admirable!” Dr. Wotton exclaimed. “And are you musical, my lady?”

  “I do not sing or play, Sir, but I enjoy music,” Anna told him. Was she mistaken, or did she see a momentary chink in his bonhomie?

  “What languages do you speak?” he asked.

  “Just German, Sir,” she told him, feeling at a disadvantage. Surely he had not expected her to know English? “But I am sure I could learn English quickly.”

  “Very good, very good.” Wotton turned to Mutter. “Your Grace, has any progress been made in obtaining the portraits his Majesty requested?”

  “Alas, no,” Mutter admitted. “We hoped to have them painted by Meister Wertinger, but he is otherwise committed. We have sent to Meister Cranach in Saxony, but have not yet received a reply.”

  “No matter, Madam. His Majesty will send his own painter, Master Holbein, if that is acceptable.”

  “Of course.” Mutter smiled. “I am sure the Duke will give his permission. We have all heard of the fame of Hans Holbein.”

  “I am also instructed to tell you, Madam, and the Duke, that if there is any difficulty about the dowry, my master prefers virtue and friendship to money.”

  Henry must be eager, Anna thought. All kings wanted money.

  “That is extremely generous of him,” Mutter said, her eyes widening in surprise.

  * * *

  —

  Early in August, the court moved to Schloss Düren, Wilhelm’s hunting lodge in the highlands of the duchy of Jülich. Here, the Duke spent much time closeted with Dr. Wotton and the envoys. At length, he appointed Dr. Olisleger and Werner von Hochsteden, Grand Master of the court of Kleve, as ambassadors to England.

  “They shall have the power to treat and conclude everything,” he told Anna, as the family sat together over supper that evening. “And we will be offering a decent sum as dowry, despite the King’s hint that he would waive it.”

  “Thank you, Bruder,” Anna said gratefully. She did not want to go to England without a dowry; she would feel like someone of little worth.

  Mutter finished eating and turned to her. “It looks, my dear child, as if you will be leaving for England soon.”

  “If the King likes my picture,” Anna said, feeling a great lump rise in her throat at the thought of parting from her family.

  “He might prefer mine,” Emily piped up.

  “Then I will be happy for you,” Anna said. In truth, she still did not know whether she would be jealous or relieved.

  “I think he will ask for Anna,” Wilhelm said.

  “I will be loath to suffer either of you to depart.” Mutter looked sad. “But I know my duty, as I know you know yours. It is for this that you have been carefully reared.”

  “Dr. Wotton asked me a strange question, Anna,” Wilhelm said. “He asked if you are inclined to the good cheer of this country.”

  “What did he mean, I am a drunkard?” Anna was aghast. Emily spluttered into her drink.

  “Such impertinence!” Mutter exclaimed. “Especially as you, my son, are well known for abstaining. These English are impossible.”

  “But it’s a fair question,” Wilhelm observed, “especially as we Germans are known for our love of beer and wine—and regrettably, for our carousing. Even Luther calls us boozing devils, and no doubt our reputation is known in England.”

  “Perchance the King fears he will be marrying a wine barrel!” Emily giggled. Anna laughed.

  “I should hope not!” Mutter retorted, but even she had to suppress a smile.

  * * *

  —

  They were at Düren when Hans Holbein arrived early in August.

  “The painter is here!” Emily cried, leaning out of the ornate bay window of the Duchess’s Tower, built by Vater for his womenfolk. Anna joined her, but caught only a glimpse of Holbein’s back as he disappeared through the door below. They watched as his easel and other equipment were unload
ed from a cart in the courtyard. “Maybe we should call our maids and start looking out our finery.”

  “I am going to wear the crimson velvet,” Anna said. “It made a good impression on Dr. Wotton, so I hope it will please the King.” Her eyes followed the stocky figure of Holbein as he emerged again, following an usher toward his lodging in the redbrick guest range opposite the tower.

  “He looks rather grumpy, doesn’t he?” Emily observed.

  He did. As Anna discovered at her first sitting, he was a taciturn man with lionlike features in a square face, a spade beard, and a severely cut fringe. He took his work very seriously, and did not encourage chatter. At least he was able to converse with her in German when he felt inclined, though mostly he did not.

  “Please keep still,” he told her. He had done a few preliminary sketches, and was now painting a little disc of vellum he had cut out.

  “Is it to be a miniature?” she asked. “It will be easier to send a miniature to England than a large portrait.”

  “Yes, your Grace. I will make a large portrait later. Now, please, no talking.”

  “Can I watch you drawing?” Emily asked, sitting at the side of the room, fidgeting with boredom.

  “No, Princess.” He looked up at Anna. “Keep still, my lady, and stay facing me. Rest your right hand over your left.”

  As the morning wore on, and the sun rose in the sky, Anna began to swelter in her rich gown. She longed to remove her headdress. Beneath it, her hair was clinging to her head, wet with sweat. She raised a hand to mop her brow.

  “Keep still!” Holbein barked. The minutes dragged by. The silence, like the heat, was oppressive. Emily was yawning.

  At last, Holbein laid down his brush. “That is enough for today.”

  “May I see?” Anna asked.

  “Not today. When it is finished, hopefully tomorrow. Good day, your Graces.” He began tidying away his brushes.

  Anna realized that she and Emily had been dismissed. Thank goodness the painting would be finished soon. She prayed it would be a good likeness, and appealing. Thankfully, Holbein had a good reputation.

  She was not disappointed. When, the next day, he announced he was finished, and let her see the portrait, she was thrilled to see herself so delicately delineated, smiling demurely. Her complexion was clear, her gaze steady, her face pleasing.

  Dr. Wotton, summoned to see the miniature, was delighted with it. “Master Holbein, you have made it very lifelike,” he declared.

  Now it was Emily’s turn to be painted. To Holbein’s obvious annoyance, Dr. Wotton stood at his shoulder as he made the first sketch and barked for Emily to keep still.

  “That’s marvelous!” Wotton pronounced, grabbing the finished drawing. “To the life! No need to paint a miniature. This will do perfectly.”

  Holbein looked furious. “My commission is to paint two miniatures,” he snapped. “The King himself commanded me.”

  “The King wants to see the portraits as soon as possible,” Wotton replied. “Yesterday, preferably! Let me send this, and the miniature, today. I assure you, his Majesty will be delighted. I will answer for it.”

  Holbein rolled his eyes. “Very well, Dr. Wotton.” He did not sound happy.

  Anna looked at Emily’s portrait. Her sister looked unusually grave-faced. What the drawing did not show was her fine attire, but doubtless King Henry would be more interested in her features. Would he prefer her to Anna? She did not think so, for this sketch did not do Emily justice. It did not capture her sunny personality or her quick wit. Had that been deliberate, to ensure that Anna was chosen? Or would Emily have looked different if Holbein had had a chance to paint her miniature?

  Anyway, it was too late now; their likenesses would be dispatched to King Henry today, and soon they would hear which of them was to wear the crown of England.

  Wilhelm seemed unconcerned as to which of his sisters the King would choose—so long as he chose one of them. In the wider scheme of things, Anna realized, it did not matter which princess’s name was on the treaty; it was the alliance itself that was the crucial achievement.

  * * *

  —

  “His Majesty was enchanted by the Lady Anna’s portrait,” Dr. Wotton said, beaming, “and declared at once that it was she whom he wished to marry.” He bowed to her, as if she were already his Queen.

  They were in Wilhelm’s cabinet, gathered in haste at Dr. Wotton’s request.

  Gratified at having been chosen, but not quite sure how she felt now that her marriage was a virtual certainty, Anna smiled at the ambassador.

  “The King does me a supreme honor,” she said, glancing at Emily, who must be feeling some mortification at not being chosen, but was hiding it well.

  “His Majesty is impatient for your Grace’s arrival in England,” Dr. Wotton told her. “It is already September.” He turned to Wilhelm. “Are you ready to proceed to the alliance, Sir?”

  “Indeed I am, Dr. Wotton.” Wilhelm looked jubilant.

  * * *

  —

  Anna watched from the dais as her brother signed the marriage treaty, scrawling his name with a flourish before the entire court. Then, at his nod, she stood up, aware of the expectant faces eagerly looking her way. She had been dreading this moment, never having spoken in public before, but knew she must accustom herself to it, for the Queen of England would have many public duties. She took a deep breath.

  “I should like to express my hearty thanks to his Grace, my brother, and to the people of Kleve, for having preferred me to such a marriage that I could wish for no better.” There—it was done, as Wilhelm had bidden, and her voice had not faltered once. She curtseyed and sat down, as Mutter looked on approvingly.

  Wilhelm, seated in the great chair next to her, beckoned forward his envoys. They would negotiate the many matters to be discussed, such as the dowry Anna would take with her, the dower King Henry would settle on her, her household, and how she would travel to England.

  Dr. Olisleger was to act as ambassador, and Wilhelm handed him his commission. “Tell his Majesty I desire him to treat with you as if I myself were present. God speed you all.”

  That evening, Anna asked Mother Lowe to attend her in her chamber.

  “Something is troubling me deeply,” she confessed, standing by the window and gazing out into the night. “Soon, I will be leaving for England. When I am there, how will I learn how young Johann is faring in Solingen?”

  “The same way you do now,” the nurse assured her, “although it will take a little longer for news to reach us. Your lady mother has already told me that I will be going with you. Frau Schmidt will keep me informed on Johann’s progress, as she has always done.”

  Anna sagged in relief, yet still her mind was not quietened. “We must be careful. The risks will be far greater now. The King thinks I am a maiden. What would he do to me if he found out? It has been preying on my mind.”

  Mother Lowe laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “No one has found out these eight years, Liebling. We’ve been careful, and discreet, and will continue to be so. If anyone asks, I will say I have a nephew on whom I dote in Kleve, and like to hear of his progress. What could be more natural? There is nothing to connect you with him.”

  “No, of course. I am worrying unnecessarily.” Anna paused. “Mother Lowe, I am leaving Kleve soon, probably for good. I had always hoped that, one day, when he is older, I might see my son, but that now seems a vain hope. Is there any possibility that I could see him now?”

  To her dismay, Mother Lowe shook her head, looking perturbed. “No, Anna. It is not possible. The agreement was that you would never see him again. As far as Johann is concerned, the Schmidts are his natural parents. They think his mother is a friend of mine who went to the nuns for help when she found herself in trouble. Liebling, you cannot meet the boy, lest it arouse suspicion. You
r name is famous throughout Christendom now, and a visit from the future Queen of England to a humble swordsmith of Solingen would draw comment!”

  “Yes, of course. I understand that. But could I not just see him from afar? I long to know what he is like, before I have to go away. I might never get the chance again.” Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. Always there was this unsatisfied yearning for her child. “Please!”

  Mother Lowe was turning down the bed, frowning. “In truth, I do not know how it can be managed. You cannot travel thirty miles from here to Schloss Burg without good reason. How would you explain it?”

  “Could they not come here, to Düsseldorf?”

  “But what reason would they have to do that?”

  “You could tell them I wish to purchase a fine sword as a gift for the King, and ask Meister Schmidt to bring a selection for me to see. You could say you had praised his craftsmanship to me.”

  Mother Lowe still looked doubtful. “And why would he bring his family all the way here on business?”

  “I have it!” Anna cried. “You could suggest that, if Johann is to be apprenticed to him, which he must surely be soon, the boy might enjoy a visit to court.”

  The nurse shook her head. “The matter is fraught with risk. It seems such a strange thing to suggest. Meister Schmidt might smell a rat. He cannot but have wondered all these years who Johann’s mother is. He’d know it was natural for her to want to see him.”

  Anna took off her necklace and laid it in her jewel chest. “Now you are worrying unnecessarily.”

  “No, Anna. I will not do it. Your lady mother has relied on me to maintain discretion, and I’ve never failed her. She would be horrified if she knew what you are suggesting, especially with your marriage to King Henry going forward. Liebling, I know it is hard, but it is impossible.”

  Anna knew herself defeated. As Mother Lowe helped her prepare for bed, she fought back the wave of emotion that threatened to engulf her; but when the door had closed and she had blown out the candle, she gave way to a storm of weeping—and not for the first time.