Anna of Kleve, the Princess in the Portrait Page 9

  “He has been kind and generous toward me too,” Anna said. “And yet I have heard he can be cruel and ruthless.”

  “So people say,” Susanna replied, “but I have never seen that side of him.”

  “But what of Queen Anne? He had her beheaded. His own wife!”

  Susanna shook her head. “She was a whore. She paid a musician for his favors. She even slept with her own brother. And she would have murdered the King if she had not been stopped by Lord Cromwell. It was he who discovered what she was plotting.”

  “Truly?” Anna was dubious. “Most people I’ve spoken to here think Lord Cromwell made an occasion to get rid of her because she couldn’t give the King a son.”

  “Oh, Madam, it was not like that at all,” Susanna hastened to reassure her. “The King had forgiven her for her last miscarriage; he was hopeful she would soon be enceinte again. But then her crimes were uncovered…” She paused. “Madam, her name is not spoken at court. You would do well to avoid mentioning her to his Majesty. Her betrayal was so insulting to him, as a man, and as a king.”

  “You may be sure I will never mention her,” Anna promised.

  “She deserved to die,” Susanna said, with some vehemence. “It was she who made the King treat Queen Katherine cruelly. Queen Jane said that his Grace was a good man at heart, but that he had been led astray by Anne.”

  “She was in a position to know,” Anna said, feeling much heartened. “Tell me, did he love Queen Jane greatly?”

  “Yes, he was devoted to her, and mourned her deeply. He was in seclusion for weeks.” That too, sad as it was, was encouraging. It proved the King could be a good and loving husband. No wonder he was hoping to find a similar kind of happiness in their coming marriage.

  “And what was Queen Jane like?” Anna ventured.

  “Gentle, and quite shy, although she strove to overcome that. She was much upon her dignity as queen. But she was a kind mistress, and open-handed too. It was tragic she did not live to see her son grow up.”

  “He is so young,” Anna said. “He needs a mother.”

  “Madam, he has a lady mistress who dotes on him, and a huge household of servants. Never was child so cosseted and fussed over.”

  “Nevertheless, I will do my best to be a mother to him,” Anna resolved. “And to the King’s daughters, although the Lady Mary is about as old as I am!”

  “It is the Lady Elizabeth who needs mothering,” Susanna said. “She lost her mother when she was tiny, and her lady mistress to Prince Edward.”

  “It must be awful growing up in the knowledge that your mother was beheaded,” Anna reflected. “I cannot imagine how it is for her. I will make it my business to befriend her, poor little girl.” If she could not care for her own child, then she would lavish her frustrated maternal affections on Henry’s.

  * * *

  —

  Wilhelm asked Anna to join him in his library, his favorite sanctum, where he kept the precious books Erasmus had sent him, his maps, and portraits of his ancestors. Anna was moved to see the one of Vater, looking so healthy and lifelike, kneeling in adoration before the Blessed Virgin and Child.

  They sat on a bench scattered with cushions bearing the arms of Kleve.

  “Anna, you should know that the King’s decision to marry a German princess has led to much speculation and rejoicing among the Lutherans. The Elector is not alone in hoping that this marriage will lead the King further down the path of religious reform. Some even anticipate that you will persuade his Majesty to convert to the Protestant faith.”

  “But I am a Catholic. Why would I do that?”

  “Indeed, Schwester, but that is not widely known. Many make the mistake of thinking that, because Kleve has broken with Rome and is sympathetic to reform, we must be Lutherans. Dr. Olisleger writes that the English reformers are hoping their new Queen might be another Anne Boleyn, who was a friend to Protestants, and that they will soon have a friend and champion on the throne.”

  “Then I am sorry for them,” Anna said. “These are vain hopes.”

  “And dangerous too. While the King may have been sympathetic to reformists when he was under Queen Anne’s influence, he has withdrawn from that position, and is now much more conservative in his opinions. Earlier this year, he forced the English Parliament to pass an Act signaling a return to the old doctrines. It is now dangerous to champion reform or show Lutheran sympathies. I know we have not always held the same views on religion, but now I think it as well that you are an orthodox Catholic.”

  “And always will be,” Anna told him. “I fear the Protestants are destined to be disappointed in me.”

  “Have nothing to do with them,” Wilhelm counseled her. “In England, they burn heretics.”

  * * *

  —

  Mutter was much occupied with equipping Anna with an entire new wardrobe fit for the queen she soon was to be. Her apartment was littered with bolts of rich fabrics delivered for her inspection by the mercers of Düsseldorf.

  “Everything must be in the German fashion,” she said. Anna did not like to gainsay her mother, but she was aware of Susanna frowning.

  “Surely an English queen should wear English dress?” she ventured.

  “No!” Mutter said. “I have heard it is immodest. You must be seen in decent German gowns and headdresses.”

  Behind her, Susanna was shaking her head. But it was not her place to comment.

  Mutter was most put out when King Henry sent a tailor called William Wilkinson to Kleve.

  “Does not the King deem me capable of choosing my own daughter’s wedding clothes?” she asked. “This Meister Wilkinson wants to make you gowns in the English style. I have told him no!”

  “Surely,” Anna said, “it will be a compliment to my new country to wear its fashions?”

  Mutter shook her head. “No, child. Modesty aside, you go to England as the representative of Kleve, the living embodiment of the alliance. You must wear the best that Kleve can provide, and in our customary fashion, as a reminder of your standing in the world. Your father would have wished it.”

  Against the views of her late, much-lamented father, Anna knew she could not prevail. But Meister Wilkinson was of sterner clay. The gowns he made would be in the English style. The King had commanded it. And so, for the weeks he was working at court, Anna had to endure her mother’s complaints. The English gowns were not as becoming; they were indecorous, and that neckline was positively indecent…When Mutter had gone, Anna held up one of the gowns to show Emily, and both collapsed in giggles.

  “Wilhelm would die!” Emily spluttered.

  By contrast, the garments made by the German tailors and seamstresses, under Mutter’s direction, were cut high to the neck; their skirts were round, without trains, which made the English tailor shake his head. Anna spent ages trying them on, feeling the rich pile of the velvets, the silky contours of the damasks. The gowns were designed to be belted above the waist, and had long hanging sleeves, often edged with fur or banded with velvet or gold embroidery; many were heavily adorned with goldsmiths’ work. There was a selection of belts, most with decorative buckles. Mutter had ordered kirtles of damask and silk, to be displayed beneath a gown open at the front. There were, too, new Stickelchen, heavily beaded and bejeweled, with a few of white linen, as well as forecloths and lawn caps. Anna’s jewel chest—a thing of beauty in itself, for it was made of chased silver bound with ivory—was filling up with heavy gold collars and chains, jeweled necklaces and pendants, and a large assortment of rings.

  Her new wardrobe increased daily, for Mutter kept everyone busy. There was no time to lose, as winter would soon be setting in. Before then, Anna and her whole train had to be fitted out for going to England.

  She could not help fearing that Mutter’s efforts would be wasted, and that the King would not permit the wearing of Germa
n dress when he had provided Anna with a new English wardrobe. Secretly, she thought the English gowns were very becoming…

  * * *

  —

  In the third week of October, Wilhelm’s ambassadors returned to Düsseldorf. Anna was present when he received them and Dr. Wotton in his cabinet.

  “Your Grace, King Henry wants the Lady Anna to come to England as soon as possible,” Dr. Olisleger said. “We are here to conduct her to Calais.”

  “Sirs, we still await word from the Queen Regent about a safe-conduct,” Wilhelm told them. “The King himself has pressed the Emperor for one. Without it, the Lady Anna cannot depart.”

  “His Majesty is confident it will be obtained soon,” said Werner von Hochsteden, a personable, congenial man, devoted to the ducal family.

  “Lord Cromwell sent you this, my lady,” Olisleger said, handing Anna a sealed letter. “He wishes to congratulate you on your betrothal.”

  Normally, Anna reflected, it was the lucky bridegroom who was to be congratulated, having won his chosen lady.

  Dr. Olisleger read the letter aloud, translating it into German. It was courteously phrased in just the right tone of deference.

  Anna smiled. “I am most grateful to Lord Cromwell for his good wishes.” Of all people, he was the one she wanted to have on her side; he had made her marriage, and she owed him her goodwill.

  Dr. Wotton addressed her. “Lord Cromwell wishes me to tell you that many messages of congratulation are being forwarded to you, as well as rich and princely betrothal gifts from his Majesty, as is customary. And I am to present this to you.”

  He handed her a letter bearing the royal seal. It was from the King. She did not open it, but raised it to her lips and kissed it. The men watched with approval as she tucked it into her pocket. She wanted to be alone when she read it.

  “I was to give you this also, your Grace,” Olisleger added, handing her a package. “It was entrusted to me by Lady Lisle, wife of the King’s Deputy in Calais, when we passed through there on our way home. Lady Lisle is eager to win your favor.”

  Anna opened the packet. It contained some exquisitely embroidered gloves of Spanish leather. “They are beautiful!” she said.

  “Dearest Schwester, you must remember that nothing comes for nothing in this world,” Wilhelm warned. “You are new to the game of patronage. I assure you that Lady Lisle hopes for some favor in return, when you are in a position to use your influence with the King.”

  “That’s as may be, but I must thank her for so thoughtful a gift,” Anna insisted. “Dr. Olisleger, will you kindly inform Lady Lisle that I take much pleasure in it, and say how very acceptable it has been to me.”

  Wilhelm was shaking his head in mild exasperation. “Give the woman an inch…”

  “She has been generous—”

  “As will a lot of people appear to be, once the crown is on your head. Vice Chancellor Olisleger and Grand Master Hochsteden will bear that out, will you not, Sirs?”

  “Certainly, your Grace. Patronage is a corrupt, but lucrative, business.”

  “So exercise it sparingly and wisely,” Wilhelm counseled.

  “We were made most welcome by Lord and Lady Lisle,” Dr. Olisleger recounted. “The King has commanded Lord Lisle to make all ready in Calais for your Grace’s reception there. My lord told me he was having the royal palace renovated; they call it the Exchequer. Indeed, the whole town is to be put in clean order. We saw building works going on at the main gate into the town, and the streets being repaved.”

  “Goodness, so much fuss, just for me!” Anna exclaimed.

  “No, Schwester—for the Queen of England!” Wilhelm corrected her. “You do not quite appreciate how important a person you are now.”

  * * *

  —

  Later, when she and Mutter were sitting by the fire in the ladies’ chamber, Anna handed Susanna the King’s letter and asked her to translate it. Susanna read it out:

  “ ‘To my most dear and entirely beloved wife, the Lady Anna. The bearer of these few lines from your devoted servant will assure you of my loving intentions toward you, since I cannot be there in person to speak to you. I hope to hear from you soon, to be assured that my dearest lady is in good health. I am sending by another bearer a jewel I have commissioned for you, hoping that you will keep it forever in your sincere love for me. Methinks the time will be long until we meet. Until then, I will be counting the days until your coming. Hoping shortly to receive you into these arms, I end, for the present, your own loving servant and sovereign, Henry R.’ ”

  No one, Anna thought, placing the letter in her bosom next to her heart, ever received such a beautiful letter. Suddenly she was glad she had consented to this marriage, glad to be going to England, glad to be the wife of a man who could write so eloquently of love. This was not the letter of a tyrant, a wife-killer, or a brute. Rumor had lied, she knew it. Everything was going to be all right.

  Mutter was looking over her shoulder. When Anna noticed her, she raised her eyebrows and smiled.

  “Most fitting,” she pronounced, “and quite touching.”

  * * *

  —

  The ambassadors had brought home a copy of the signed treaty. There it was, at the bottom—King Henry’s own signature: “Henry R.”

  On the day after their return, Wilhelm sat in state in the great hall at Düsseldorf, where the whole court had gathered to see him ratify the treaty, and to watch Mutter and Anna signifying their approval by the gracious bowing of their heads.

  The very next day, word came from the Queen Regent.

  “She has granted you a safe-conduct, Anna, with the Emperor’s sanction!” Wilhelm announced triumphantly. “And she is permitting your retinue to accompany you through Flanders, to Calais.”

  There was now no obstacle to Anna’s journey. The path to her wedding was clear. Her stomach turned over.

  * * *

  —

  The King, they soon heard, was much gratified to hear of the safe-conduct.

  “He has urged the Queen Regent to issue orders for your personal comfort, and that of your suite,” Wilhelm told Anna, showing her the royal letter. Again, her insides churned. This was real! There was no going back.

  Dr. Wotton was a guest at supper that evening. He arrived with a book for Anna, a gift sent by the King. Newly printed, it was by one Richard Taverner, and was a translation of the German reformer Wolfgang Capito’s An Epitome of the Psalms.

  “His Majesty anticipates you would wish to see the dedication to himself,” the doctor said. “I will read it in German for you. Mr. Taverner prays that God will send King Henry that which the wise King Solomon esteemed the sweetest and best portion of man’s life, and a treasure inestimable—a prudent and wise lady to be his wife. It is to be hoped, he continues, that she will be a fruitful vine in his Majesty’s house, with children like olive branches round about his table. And lo! God has already heard the most ardent petitions of the King’s subjects, for a most excellent lady has been sent to him by the Almighty, and is ready to be transported into his realm. Mr. Taverner further prays that God might so temper the weather, and so graciously conduct her in her journey, that she might most happily arrive into his Grace’s presence, to the fulfillment of his heart’s desire, the expectations of his subjects, and the glory of God.”

  Listening to this overblown but fervent prose, Anna felt daunted. So many people were expecting so much from her. Would she ever be able to live up to their hopes?

  She summoned all her resolve. “I pray I may bring joy to his Majesty and his subjects,” she said.

  “I have no doubt that you will, Madam.” Wotton beamed.

  He told her of the great preparations being made in all the places through which she was to pass on her way to London. “Each town wants to afford your Grace a magnificent entry,” he en
thused. “All the King’s subjects wish to express their joy in having a queen who embodies an alliance they think much to their advantage.”

  She prayed she would be worthy of it all.

  After dinner, Dr. Wotton produced a scroll from his leather scrip and handed it to Wilhelm. “This, your Grace, is a copy of the King’s letters patent granting the Lady Anna her dower.”

  Wilhelm looked it over, then showed it to Anna. It was a long list of lordships and manors, all with strange English names.

  “Madam, on your marriage, all these properties become yours,” Wotton explained. “They will provide you with an income from rents and dues, to support you as queen—or, God forfend, as queen dowager, in the event of your widowhood. If you wish to travel in England, you may use your own houses as you please; your tenants will be glad to make you welcome.”

  Anna was astonished. “There are so many!”

  “Indeed.” Wotton smiled. “They yield the annual value of the dower agreed in the treaty. You need do nothing. Your officers, councillors, keepers, and stewards will manage and administer your properties to your best advantage. This grant is the same as that made to the late Queen Jane, and it is conditional upon your living in England, according to the terms of your marriage treaty.”

  “You will be a wealthy woman, Anna,” Wilhelm said, with immense satisfaction.

  “I am sensible of my great good fortune,” she replied.

  “All that needs to be concluded now is the wedding,” Dr. Wotton said.

  * * *

  —

  Everything was going so well that it looked as if Anna might be in England by the end of November.

  Early that month, Dr. Wotton asked to see her. Wilhelm, of course, was present, and Mutter. The doctor was bursting with news.