Scandalous Women: The Lives and Loves of History's Most Notorious Women by Elizabeth Mahon Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Mahon
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Anne was vivacious and flirtatious and not afraid to speak her mind. She must have seemed like an exotic bird to the Englishmen used to women who demurely lowered their eyes and spoke in soft voices. Her years on the continent had polished her talents to a high sheen. One courtier wrote, “Albeit in beauty she was to many inferior, but for behavior, manner, attire, and tongue, she excelled them all, for she had been brought up in France.” She was chased by several admirers, including the married poet Thomas Wyatt; however, she had her eye on Henry Percy, eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, one of the most powerful nobles in the north of England. The fact that he was already betrothed to the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury didn’t stop him from falling under Anne’s spell. They secretly became engaged, until Cardinal Wolsey, Henry’s chief minister, got wind of it and took Percy to task, reminding him of his obligations and Anne’s unworthiness to be married into the Percy family. Wolsey’s prevention of her marriage to Henry Percy would eventually end up costing him dearly.
It wasn’t long before Anne caught the eye of an even bigger fish at court. Grown tired of his wife, Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII turned his icy blue eyes Anne’s way. This Henry wasn’t the corpulent, sore-ridden, cantankerous monarch that he became in his later years. Then thirty-five, he could have been the centerfold in “Hot Renaissance Princes.” He stood six foot one, towering over most of the other men at court, with the famous Tudor red hair. He was a musician, poet, linguist, scientist, and star athlete. How could Anne resist? And yet she did.
Henry hunted her like one of the deer in Richmond Park, beating her down with the chase. He wrote her ardent letters, seventeen of which later ended up in the Vatican archives, filled with racy bits where he begs, “give your heart and body to me,” and talks of her “sweet duckies [breasts] I trust soon to kiss.” Anne tried to subtly reject his advances; she didn’t write back often and she stayed away from court. Her unavailability just spurred his obsession. Pulling out all the stops to woo her to be his mistress, he even sent her a buck that he had killed with his own two hands. Even when Henry wrote and told her that she would be his only mistress it didn’t sway her.
What Henry didn’t understand was that Anne was a rules girl. No ring for Anne, no ring-a-ding-ding for Henry. She was determined not to end up like her sister, Mary, discarded by the king after their liaison with no decent jewelry to show for her time on her back. But because of Henry’s interest in Anne, no other man would step forward as a possible suitor, for fear of offending the king. Anne was now twenty-five and in danger of ending up on the shelf. The stalemate went on for a year before the king finally capitulated and offered to make Anne his wife.
It would take six long years for Henry to end his marriage and make Anne his queen. They were turbulent years that involved never-ending papal entreaties, courtroom drama, bribery, and finally the cherry on top of Anne’s sundae, the disgrace and death of her enemy, Cardinal Wolsey. Anne wasn’t a passive participant; it was she who encouraged Henry in the idea of breaking with Rome. She had been reading a banned book, by the heretic William Tyndale, that suggested that kings ruled by divine right and must be obeyed in everything. It was just what he was looking for. Henry was not a man to be thwarted, he wanted a son, he wanted to be rid of Catherine, and he wanted Anne, even if it meant that he had to break with the Church of Rome to do it.
In the meantime, Anne continued to keep Henry on a leash, allowing him to get just close enough before pushing him away. She sang, she danced, and she hunted with him, but at night she closed the door to her room, leaving him to take a cold shower. It’s impossible to say when or if Anne fell in
Anne was vivacious and flirtatious and not afraid to speak her mind. She must have seemed like an exotic bird to the Englishmen used to women who demurely lowered their eyes and spoke in soft voices. Her years on the continent had polished her talents to a high sheen. One courtier wrote, “Albeit in beauty she was to many inferior, but for behavior, manner, attire, and tongue, she excelled them all, for she had been brought up in France.” She was chased by several admirers, including the married poet Thomas Wyatt; however, she had her eye on Henry Percy, eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, one of the most powerful nobles in the north of England. The fact that he was already betrothed to the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury didn’t stop him from falling under Anne’s spell. They secretly became engaged, until Cardinal Wolsey, Henry’s chief minister, got wind of it and took Percy to task, reminding him of his obligations and Anne’s unworthiness to be married into the Percy family. Wolsey’s prevention of her marriage to Henry Percy would eventually end up costing him dearly.
It wasn’t long before Anne caught the eye of an even bigger fish at court. Grown tired of his wife, Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII turned his icy blue eyes Anne’s way. This Henry wasn’t the corpulent, sore-ridden, cantankerous monarch that he became in his later years. Then thirty-five, he could have been the centerfold in “Hot Renaissance Princes.” He stood six foot one, towering over most of the other men at court, with the famous Tudor red hair. He was a musician, poet, linguist, scientist, and star athlete. How could Anne resist? And yet she did.
Henry hunted her like one of the deer in Richmond Park, beating her down with the chase. He wrote her ardent letters, seventeen of which later ended up in the Vatican archives, filled with racy bits where he begs, “give your heart and body to me,” and talks of her “sweet duckies [breasts] I trust soon to kiss.” Anne tried to subtly reject his advances; she didn’t write back often and she stayed away from court. Her unavailability just spurred his obsession. Pulling out all the stops to woo her to be his mistress, he even sent her a buck that he had killed with his own two hands. Even when Henry wrote and told her that she would be his only mistress it didn’t sway her.
What Henry didn’t understand was that Anne was a rules girl. No ring for Anne, no ring-a-ding-ding for Henry. She was determined not to end up like her sister, Mary, discarded by the king after their liaison with no decent jewelry to show for her time on her back. But because of Henry’s interest in Anne, no other man would step forward as a possible suitor, for fear of offending the king. Anne was now twenty-five and in danger of ending up on the shelf. The stalemate went on for a year before the king finally capitulated and offered to make Anne his wife.
It would take six long years for Henry to end his marriage and make Anne his queen. They were turbulent years that involved never-ending papal entreaties, courtroom drama, bribery, and finally the cherry on top of Anne’s sundae, the disgrace and death of her enemy, Cardinal Wolsey. Anne wasn’t a passive participant; it was she who encouraged Henry in the idea of breaking with Rome. She had been reading a banned book, by the heretic William Tyndale, that suggested that kings ruled by divine right and must be obeyed in everything. It was just what he was looking for. Henry was not a man to be thwarted, he wanted a son, he wanted to be rid of Catherine, and he wanted Anne, even if it meant that he had to break with the Church of Rome to do it.
In the meantime, Anne continued to keep Henry on a leash, allowing him to get just close enough before pushing him away. She sang, she danced, and she hunted with him, but at night she closed the door to her room, leaving him to take a cold shower. It’s impossible to say when or if Anne fell in
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