To Die For: A Novel of Anne Boleyn by Byrd Sandra

Author:Byrd, Sandra
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Howard Books
Published: 2011-08-08T16:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Year of Our Lord 1533

Greenwich Palace

Whitehall Palace

His Highness had decided to start the new year off with a bearbaiting. As his bear garden was not quite finished at Whitehall, he traveled the court to Southwark, in the midst of the stews south of London. We boarded a dozen or more finely appointed barges, I along with Anne in Henry’s fine boat, and graciously sailed our way up the river to enjoy the brutality.

Henry and Anne sat in the royal seats, I next to Anne, and, curiously enough, an empty seat remained next to Henry. I raised my eyebrows and looked in the direction but Anne shook her head to discourage me from asking any questions. Though he were married to my dearest friend, Henry was still king and had not a word for me. I do not think he noticed me at all, truth be told. I was content with that. Like the hare, I had no desire to attract the eye of the hawk.

The bear was already chained when we arrived. “I like it best when they are chained by the leg and not by the neck,” one of Anne’s lesser ladies said to me. “’Tis better sport when they can reach out to smack the dogs.” Many placed bets on the outcome of the baiting. I noticed that the future Countess of Blenheim, Will’s sister, Rose, was a particularly enthusiastic gambler.

Women could be partial to blood sport too.

Afore the dogs were set loose someone slid into the seat next to Henry—Cranmer, the priest whom Henry had appointed to be the next archbishop of Canterbury. The old archbishop had passed on some months before and Henry, Anne told me, was eager to replace him with someone who would be sympathetic to His Highness’s philosophies.

Cranmer was a learned man, a good man, an admired priest, and, of course, a reformer who had been convicted to sola scriptura. He’d also been chaplain to the Boleyns and I knew Anne had a firm hand in his appointment.

The bear caller shouted out, “Tha dogs’ll be loose soon, set about ta worry the great beast in fronta ya.” He glanced up at the king and, as he did, seemed worried a bit himself at his royal patron. “I baited ’im with blood meself afore the evenin’ came so’s he’s as heated as one a th’ old bawds in the stews!”

Henry guffawed at the lewd joke before turning to the priest. “Cranmer!” he boomed. “’Tis a good sight to see you. I’ve a mind to settle our discourse on the archbishopric.”

“As you wish, sire,” Cranmer said.

Was there ever a phrase that Henry found more dear?

We all kept our eyes on the bear as well as the dogs now loosed to attack it, but our ears belonged to the king.

“You can plan to celebrate Easter Mass and, uh”—Henry fumbled, uncharacteristically, for a moment—“Whitsunday as archbishop.”

Cranmer noted. “’Tis as good as done, then, sire?”

“’Tis as good as done.”

The dogs challenged the bear, who lashed out at them, barking, biting, baiting.

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