Free Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn by Sarah A. Morris Page B

is . . . difficult, Sire.’
    ‘How so, my love?’ Henry bit into some candied fruit he had plucked from a platter in front of us, as he listened intently.
    ‘It is not easy . . . Katherine knows and she hates me for it.’ I spoke earnestly, ‘I have given my heart into Your Grace’s hands and there is nothing more that I desire in this world than to be by your side. But sometimes, I find her loathing too difficult to bear. I am just a woman with none of Your Grace’s power or greatness.’ This did not resonate with my modern sensibility, but nevertheless the words poured forth with true sincerity. I sensed Anne was speaking through me—and with passion—about something that she clearly had to endure. ‘It is sometimes easier for me to be here, where I do not have to bear her scorn and yet . . . I can always treasure Your Grace’s memory close to my heart.’
    I watched Henry, searching his face for his reaction. To my surprise, I found that he seemed a little abashed. Perhaps he had not even realised how uncomfortable it must have been for Anne as it became increasingly evident to everyone—including the Queen—that Henry’s ardour and passion was growing day by day, and that his ‘infatuation’ was no mere passing affair.
    ‘Sweetheart, I do not wish you to feel like this. We will see what can be arranged.’ I wasn’t quite sure what ‘arranged’ meant, but I knew that I would have to be content for the time being. Without saying anything else on the matter, Henry motioned to a steward, who stood close by, to come forward with the wine. This was duly poured into a silver goblet and handed to the King. Engaged in this activity, he did not notice my eyes fix my father’s. Sir Thomas raised his eyebrows in an appreciative gesture of my forthright stance, raising his cup of wine to toast my good health as he did so.
    The King was in merry spirits all evening, talking openly with both me and my father, and other senior courtiers. I was amazed at the endless array of dishes presented to us; mostly meats, a stuffed pig, pheasants and, of course, venison. Initially, as we began to eat, I was a little perplexed at the absence of any forks. However, I soon observed from those about me, that eating with one’s fingers was de rigueur , using the knife only to cut away at the meat and silver spoons to take any liquid food.
    Finally, with the feasting over, it was time to dance. Henry looked up, indicating to the leader of the consort in the minstrels’ gallery that he should strike up a merry tune. With that, the King rose from his chair and offered me his hand. Soon many of the guests joined us in the space created in the middle of the room. I was apprehensive for I did not know any Tudor dances. I hoped and prayed that Anne would somehow guide me. Once more, she did not let me down. As the gentlemen and ladies of the court arranged themselves into lines facing each other, the consort struck up a jaunty melody and soon we were all dancing gaily. There was a great swishing of the ladies’ full skirts, a blur of colour and a montage of smiling, happy faces, as I was twirled around in the King’s strong arms. As we moved from partner to partner, I smiled graciously at each gentleman that led me in the dance, not yet knowing their names or whether they be friend or foe. Finally, I found myself back with Henry and our eyes locked once more. I could not help but notice how intently he followed each graceful move I made. Clearly, the King only had eyes for Anne.
    One dance melted into the next. I could have danced with the King all night. However, after a while, he indicated that we should once more take our seats. As Henry and I made our way back to the great table, I was giddy with excitement, my head spinning from being twirled around and around to the beat of the drum. We had our arms about each other, laughing breathlessly from the sheer fun and exhilaration of the dance when suddenly, I caught sight