Anna of Kleve, the Princess in the Portrait Page 8
* * *
—
At supper one evening in October, Wilhelm announced that he had received a letter from Dr. Olisleger. “They had a good journey, and when they arrived in London, Lord Cromwell himself invited them to dinner and showed himself sympathetic to our situation here. He said that it was dishonorable of the Emperor to scheme to steal Guelders from me. Truly, I think this treaty will prove advantageous for us.”
Anna felt proud to be doing her country such a service. “Have the envoys seen the King yet?”
“Yes, they rode to his castle at Windsor, then traveled in his train to the palace of Hampton Court. He showed them every honor, and entertained them with hunting and feasting. They say he is in a joyous mood, in very good health, and eager to see the negotiations brought to a conclusion.”
“Will that take long?” Anna asked, passing a platter of meats to her mother.
“There is much to be decided and arranged on both sides,” Mutter said. “We need to provide you with a fitting escort that reflects the magnificence of Kleve. We have to choose the lords and ladies who will accompany you, and determine which of them will stay with you in England, at least until you acclimatize yourself to the customs there. Remember, Anna, that while you are a princess of Kleve and should do everything in your power to benefit your homeland, once you wed, you will be an Englishwoman, and must behave as such. The King will expect it.”
Anna drained her goblet of good Rhenish wine. “It is a slightly daunting prospect, I admit. I will do my best to learn English ways, and hope the King will be patient with me. But it will be a comfort to have some Germans about me. I am so grateful to you for allowing me to take Mother Lowe.”
Mutter smiled. “She has been a second mother to you from your infancy, and I trust her like no other. She will be your confidential attendant and have the rule of your maids. I hope the King will agree to her staying on permanently to run your household.”
“I shall have to work hard at learning English!” Anna said. “How else can I communicate with the King?”
“I have been thinking about this,” Wilhelm replied. “It may be too late in the day to find you a tutor here. I will ask Dr. Wotton for his advice.”
“When do you think my wedding will be?” Anna ventured.
“Before Christmas, I hope,” her brother answered.
“It is so soon.” It was hard to believe that in a few short weeks, her place at this table would be empty, and she would be celebrating Christmas in a strange land. It was devastating, knowing she would be saying farewell for good to her family, and that she might never again look upon the beloved face of her mother. Her hands were clenched in her lap, the knuckles white with tension.
“It will be upon us before we know it,” Mutter said briskly. “There is so much to do.”
* * *
—
News reached Kleve at irregular intervals. There was much discussion about Anna’s dowry, but King Henry proved most accommodating. Although a sum of a hundred thousand gold florins had been agreed, he generously insisted that Wilhelm did not actually need to pay it. And he agreed to Wilhelm’s request that Anna be granted the same dower as her predecessors, which amounted to twenty thousand gold florins.
“And if, after the King’s death, you are left a childless widow,” Wilhelm explained, “you shall have a pension of fifteen thousand florins for life, even if you wish to return to Kleve. And if you do so wish, you can bring with you all your clothes, jewels, and plate.” He gave her a rare grin. “Anna, if all goes as planned, you will live in luxury and never want for anything again.”
“And Kleve will be the safer for it,” she replied, warming a little more to King Henry. Maybe he had been more sinned against than sinning. For both their sakes, she wanted to believe the best of him.
Wilhelm was scanning Dr. Olisleger’s latest, highly detailed, report. “It has been agreed that you will travel to Calais at my expense. Calais is an English city, and King Henry will meet all the costs of conveying you thence to him in England.”
He turned the page. “Provision has also been made for you in the event of my dying childless. Sybilla would, of course, inherit Kleve, and you and Emily would jointly receive one hundred and sixty thousand florins and several castles, with five thousand florins a year for life.”
“So everything is settled then?”
“Almost. There has been much debate about how you will travel to England. As it will soon be winter, I told Dr. Olisleger I thought it better for you to travel to Calais by land, for if you were transported by sea—and you’ve never been in a ship, Anna, so you don’t know what it’s like—the rough weather might make you sick or mar your complexion, and you’ll want to be looking your best when you meet the King.”
“Then I shall travel overland,” Anna told him.
“Even that’s not as straightforward as it might seem.” Wilhelm sighed. Rummaging in a drawer, he drew out a map. “You can see here that the route to Calais lies through the Netherlands, which are the territory of the Emperor, and governed by his sister, the Queen Regent. There is no guarantee that the Emperor will grant you a safe-conduct to pass through his dominions. The only way to circumvent that is to go by sea. But even were you to risk the voyage, there might be danger from the ships of the Emperor’s subjects. What if you fell into their hands without a safe-conduct?”
“Does the King have a view on this matter?” she asked.
“The King is the founder of England’s navy, Anna. They say the sea is in his blood, and he sees no reason why his fine ships should not carry you to his kingdom. He wants you to sail from Hardewijk on the coast of Guelders. But then you would have to navigate the Zuyder Zee, and it is hazardous for ships to maneuver through its dikes and dams, even in good weather. The King is aware of this. He sent two experienced shipmasters to Guelders to draw up a pilot’s chart, but they warned him that no ship could come near the coast, lest it founder on sandbanks.”
Anna was perplexed. “So how shall I get to England? Envoys seem to go to and fro without hindrance, but it appears that I encounter only difficulties.”
“You are precious cargo.” Wilhelm smiled, rolling up the map. “Dr. Olisleger has asked the King personally to request a safe-conduct from the Queen Regent in Brussels, permitting you to travel overland through Brabant.”
“And are you hopeful of the Queen Regent granting it?”
“Reasonably hopeful. If she does, you will travel by land along the northern coast to Calais. It’s about two hundred and fifty miles away. The King is arranging for the Earl of Southampton, his Lord High Admiral, to receive you there with a fitting escort, and accompany you across the sea to England. Dr. Olisleger writes that Lord Cromwell is already ordering the fitting-out of the ships that will take you, and determining where you shall land, who shall be there to meet you, and where his Majesty will receive you.”
“I would rather not be the cause of such a fuss!”
“Anna,” Wilhelm said, stern, “you are to be the wife of the King of England. Everything that touches you must reflect his own magnificence. From now on, you will be the cause of a lot of fuss and ado, so you had best accustom yourself to it. I too am determined that you shall go honorably to Calais, and I will provide gold and jewels and all things suitable, as befits the intended bride of so great a king.”
Anna wished Wilhelm did not sound so pompous. “And what if the Queen Regent refuses a safe-conduct?”
“Then we will have to find a way for you to go by sea with a suitable convoy of ships. But let us hope it does not come to that. I have promised to keep the King informed by letter of my plans for your journey, so that he may time his preparations for your reception.”
He leaned forward in his chair and took Anna’s hands. “Schwester, this will be a good marriage for you. The King has shown nothing but solicitude for your comfort an
d honorable reception. Dr. Olisleger has enclosed a letter from him, thanking me for the goodwill I have shown in negotiating the alliance. He urges speed in concluding the treaty, as winter is approaching. Anna, he wants to be married as soon as possible. You have an eager bridegroom!”
* * *
—
Mutter, busy with preparations and endless lists of things to do, was delighted to hear that Lord Cromwell was equally busy ordering the refurbishment of the Queen’s apartments at the King’s principal palace of Whitehall, and improvements to St. James’s Palace, where Henry and Anna would spend their honeymoon.
“I hear that the initials H and A are being carved on all the royal fireplaces and ceilings, embroidered on hangings and linen, and chiseled on stonework,” she said, as they sat in Anna’s chamber surrounded by piles of body linen and towels, all to be embroidered with Anna’s new royal monogram, A.R., for Anna Regina. “I’m told that St. James’s lies secluded in a park.”
Anna, busy with her needle, suddenly felt chilled. The honeymoon. Her wedding night loomed ahead, and with it the fear of exposure—and what might follow.
She could not contain herself. “Mutter, I am frightened,” she blurted out. “Is there any way the King could guess that I am not…that I have borne…”
Mutter came to her rescue. “No, my daughter, I do not think so. And I am sure you know that, when you do your duty, as he requires you, you must act as if it is all new to you.”
For all Mutter’s wise advice, Anna realized that she did not really know the answer to the question. And there was another that Anna could not ask her. Was a virtuous woman supposed to feel pleasure in the marriage act? She could not imagine experiencing with the King the kind of ecstasy to which Otho had awakened her, yet she had so hoped to know again that glorious completion, and find it in the nuptial bed. Henry must be a seasoned lover, having had three wives and—it was said—many mistresses in his time, but he was nearing fifty now, and the fires of youth would long have been dampened. Truly, she had no idea at all of what she could expect from him, yet one thing was certain: he would want her to bear him sons, for the future of his dynasty was vested in one small boy, just two years old. God send that she herself prove fruitful!
“I hear that the principal English lords have bought much cloth of gold and silk against your coming.” Mutter’s voice interrupted Anna’s reverie. “You are going to have a splendid welcome!” She gave her daughter a searching glance. “Do not look so worried, child. There is nothing to fear in the marriage bed.”
Chapter 5
1539
King Henry had signed the treaty! The English court, Dr. Wotton reported, had been plunged into a flurry of excitement and lavish preparation.
Anna was henceforth to be addressed, and deferred to, as queen of England. Immediately, she felt set apart, even from Mutter, who, like Wilhelm, she now outranked, and who must now curtsey to her. Everyone had to address her as “your Majesty” or “your Grace,” and observe greater ceremony in her presence; at table, she sat at the high chair. Had she thought her previous life constrained? Already, she was missing it. At least she had enjoyed some informality.
And then young Mrs. Susanna Gilman arrived from England. Presenting her to Anna, Wilhelm explained that she was the daughter of the renowned Flemish painter Gerard Horenbout, and was herself a painter and illuminator of great competence in the employ of the King; more importantly, she could speak German.
“I will leave you to get acquainted,” Wilhelm said, and closed the door of Anna’s chamber behind him.
“I am delighted to receive you, Mrs. Gilman,” Anna said.
“His Majesty has sent me to wait upon your Grace,” replied her visitor. “He understands that you know little of England, and thought I could tell you about the ways and customs of the English court.”
“You are come as a godsend,” Anna said, beaming. She had taken instantly to Mrs. Gilman’s broad, wholesome face and pleasant manner.
“I very much hope so.” Mrs. Gilman smiled. “I know the court well, as I work there. I served the late Queen Jane as a gentlewoman of the privy chamber. My father is one of the King’s painters; he taught me my craft.”
Anna was impressed. “I did not know that women could be painters. I never heard of such a thing.”
Susanna smiled. “Your Grace, at the English court, they make no distinction, so a woman has the ability. And there too you will find women who are scholars, writers of songs, poets, and musicians.”
“It sounds so different from Kleve,” Anna said, a touch dismayed. “Here, it is frowned upon for women to do such things. I fear that, in England, I may be at a disadvantage, for I have none of those skills.”
“Not to worry, your Grace, for there are also many women who have the kind of virtues and skills for which you yourself are especially renowned, and which the King much admires.”
“So I am spoken of at the English court?”
“Madam,” Mrs. Gilman declared, “you may be sure that every word that is reported from here is repeated around the court within five minutes!”
“Oh dear,” Anna said, and they both laughed.
“Your father must know Meister Holbein,” she went on.
“Certainly he does,” Susanna told her. “Meister Holbein was his pupil. A most difficult man!”
“Indeed.” Their eyes met in amused agreement, and a friendship was born.
“I am so grateful to you for coming all this way, Mrs. Gilman,” Anna said.
“It is my pleasure, Madam. The King was generous with my travel expenses, and he paid for my husband to accompany me. We were married only recently.”
“How long have you lived in England?”
“Nearly eighteen years, Madam. I am quite settled there. I hope your Grace will be happy there too. The King is longing to see you. It is the talk of the court.”
“Then I trust I will live up to expectations!” Anna smiled. “I want you to tell me all I need to know, and how I can please the King.”
“Oh, I think you will do that very well,” Mrs. Gilman said. “And his Majesty has asked me to teach you some English, so that you will be able to observe the courtesies when you arrive.”
Anna was relieved to hear that. Mutter arranged for her and Mrs. Gilman to have their lessons in the ladies’ chamber, the finest room in her apartments, while she and her attendants retired to a smaller room. The lessons went fairly well, although, willing to learn as she was, Anna found English difficult. In some ways it was akin to German, but it didn’t seem to follow consistent rules. She made slow progress.
Mutter agreed that Anna might invite Mrs. Gilman’s husband to supper with his wife one evening. The couple were most appreciative of the honor of dining at the ducal table, and Anna found herself liking the merry Mr. Gilman, a successful vintner who was clearly in love with his bride.
“We met when I was delivering wine to Whitehall Palace,” he told her. “She was about to trip over a barrel, and I saved her.” His eyes twinkled.
“It was not the most elegant start to a courtship,” his wife observed. Anna felt wistful, seeing them together. They were so obviously happy, so in harmony with each other. How wonderful it would be if she herself could find that kind of easy contentment with King Henry.
Susanna—for so Anna was soon calling her—was full of the splendors of the royal palaces of England, the celebrations that were being planned for the wedding, and the great household Anna would have.
“The highest ladies in the land will serve your Grace,” she said, “and you will have your own council and officers.”
“I will not know where to begin!” Anna cried.
“There is no need to worry. You have been well schooled in all the requisite courtesies, and there will be many to guide you.”
“Including yourself, I hope!” Anna said fervently.
“Indeed. His Majesty assured me of a place as gentlewoman to your Grace before I left England.”
“That makes me feel much happier.” Anna smiled. “You will be the foremost of my gentlewomen.”
“You honor me more than you realize, Madam,” Susanna told her, “for there is great competition for places in your household. I assure you that, for every post, there are at least a dozen applicants, some ready to offer inducements. Of course, many places will go to those who served the last two queens and are experienced in their duties.”
“I do hope I will be allowed to keep some of my German servants,” Anna said.
“That will be a matter for the King,” Susanna told her. Anna hoped she was not being evasive.
* * *
—
Anna was sitting at the table in her mother’s chamber. She was supposed to be embroidering the chemises she would take with her to England, but she kept slacking, fascinated to watch Susanna painting exquisite little miniatures of biblical scenes.
“They are for a book of hours,” Susanna explained.
“I don’t know how you can paint such detail in such a small space,” Anna marveled.
They had become friends, for all that they had known each other for only a few days, and presently, as it grew dark outside and the maids withdrew after adding more wood to the stove, Anna ventured to ask the question she had been aching to pose for a long time, a question she could never ask any ambassador. “Susanna, what is the King like?”
“Does your Grace mean as a person?”
“Yes. Please tell me the truth.”
Susanna laid down her paintbrush. “I have always found him most charming. One never forgets he is the King, of course, but he has perfect manners and is always most friendly and pleasant to the ladies. He has what people in England call the common touch: he can be familiar and royal at the same time, if you understand what I mean. And he has always been kind and generous to me.”