The Mirror and the Light

The king’s chamber servants meet them, bowing. Whatever roof shelters Henry, hunting lodge or palace, the etiquette is the same, a ring of protection sealed by familiar faces and expert hands: by a monogrammed close stool with a kidskin seat, by a stack of linen cloths for a sore royal backside; by a holy water stoup, by great blazing candles of wax at close of day, by the sanctuary of velvet bedcurtains. But now Henry smiles and blinks in the sunshine, a summer king.

The duke dives in. ‘Majesty! I think you might employ my son Surrey on a mission to Cleves. An envoy of noble blood would gain us credit, surely?’

He, Cromwell, frowns. ‘I don’t think we need credit. We are past that stage.’

‘It is true,’ Henry says blithely. ‘All Duke Wilhelm’s councillors are in accord. We need not disturb your boy. I know he is occupied with our defences in your own part of the world. It were a pity to divert him.’

Norfolk’s brow furrows. ‘What about the money? What will she fetch?’

He says, ‘Wilhelm will give a hundred thousand crowns with his sister. But it will remain on paper.’

‘What, not pay it?’ Norfolk is shocked. ‘Are they paupers?’

Henry says, ‘We are pleased to waive what is due. The duke is young and has great charges. You know he has entered into Guelders, which is his right. But he must be ready to defend it against the Emperor.’

He, the Lord Privy Seal, has told the Cleves delegation, ‘My king prefers virtue and friendship to hard cash.’ Relieved, the Germans exclaim, By God, what a very gallant gentleman he is! But we expected no less.

‘The arrangement must not leak out,’ Henry says. ‘Wilhelm would be shamed. Soon I shall call him my brother, so I would wish to spare him embarrassment.’

‘What about her journey?’ Norfolk says. ‘It costs, moving a princess.’

‘We have ships,’ Henry says.

The duke bristles. ‘Any impediment? Affinity? Are they kin?’

‘Anna is the king’s seventh cousin.’

‘Oh,’ Norfolk says, ‘I suppose that’s all right. We need no interference from the Pope, then. By Jesus, no!’

The king says, ‘I confess I was surprised we have no language in common, but our envoys say she has a good wit, and I am sure she will learn our tongue as soon as she puts her mind to it. Besides, everybody speaks a little French, even if they say not – do you not think so, my lord Cromwell?’

‘Duke Wilhelm’s advisers speak French,’ he says. ‘But the lady –’

The king interrupts him. ‘When Katherine came from Spain to marry my lord brother, she spoke neither English nor French, and he had no Spanish. The king my father had thought, no matter, she is said to be a good Latinist, they will get along that way – but as it proved, they did not understand each other’s Latin either.’ The king chuckles. ‘But they had goodwill towards each other, and were soon affectionate. And of course, we will be able to make music together. If she does not know the words to English songs, I am sure she will know them in other tongues.’

He says, ‘In Germany, I understand, great ladies do not have music masters. A lady there would lose her good name by singing or dancing.’

The king’s face falls. ‘Then what will we do after supper?’

‘Drink?’ Norfolk says. ‘They are great drinkers, Germans. They are known for it.’

‘They say the same of the English.’ He gives the duke a fierce look. ‘Lady Anna takes her wine well-watered. And they do not forbid music, not at all. The Duchess Maria listens to the harp. Duke Wilhelm travels with a consort of musicians.’

All this is true. But our men in Cleves have told him the duke’s court is sedate to the point of tedium. By nine at night every man has gone to his own chamber, not to issue out till daylight. You can’t get so much as a glass of wine without troubling some high official for the keys.

‘My wife and I will hunt,’ the king says. ‘We will enjoy the pleasures of the chase.’

‘I believe she can ride, Majesty.’

‘She must. She has to get about,’ Norfolk says.

‘But I am not sure if she shoots. She can learn.’

The king seems puzzled. ‘They don’t hunt either, the ladies? Do they sew all day?’

‘And pray,’ he says.

‘By God,’ Norfolk says, ‘she’ll be grateful to you, for taking her out of that place.’

‘Yes.’ Henry sees it in a new light. ‘Yes, her life must have been a trial, bless her. And no money of her own, I suppose. She will find our ideas quite different. But I trust –’ He breaks off. ‘Cromwell, you are quite sure she can read?’

‘And write, Majesty.’

‘Well, then. When she is married and here with us, she will find honest pastimes. And when all is said, it is a wife we want, not a learned doctor to instruct us.’

Henry draws him aside. He looks over his shoulder to see that Norfolk is out of earshot. ‘Well, my lord,’ he says, diffident. ‘It has been a long road to get here. I thought no one would have me.’ He laughs, to show it is a joke. Not have the King of England? ‘Only I regret the Duchess of Milan. I shall be angry if I hear she is promised to some other prince. And I am sorry I never saw her with my own eyes. I had inclined myself towards her.’