VIII

clearing a path to let me through.
    At the end of one line stands Anne. I stop in front of her, breathing heavily. She curtsies low and then straightens, perfectly composed.
    “May I speak with you a moment?” I say, and take her upper arm without waiting for a reply. I steer her towards a half-built arbour a short way off. I know my grip is uncomfortably tight, but she doesn’t complain, just walks quickly to keep up with me, steadying her skirts with her free hand.
    The arbour is a stone bay window, glassless and roofless. As we step in, I let go and she turns to face me.
    “Have you…” My voice sounds strangled. I clear my throat. “Have you given yourself to Wyatt?”
    For a moment, her eyes register something disconcertingly like curiosity. Then she says, “Your Grace. If this is about the pearl, I didn’t give it to him; he stole it from me three days ago, and has been taunting me with it ever since.” She folds her hands against her dress. “As for myself, sir, I give myself to no one.”
    “Anne, forgive me.” I feel suddenly desperate. “You are plaguing me.”
    She raises her eyebrows.
    “In my head, I mean. I…” Exasperated, I snatch off my cap and rub my hair roughly. “Look – did you read my letter?”
    “Which one?”
    I stare at her, then press on. “My offer still stands. You could be my acknowledged mistress. No one has been offered that before.”
    She blinks, catlike, saying nothing.
    “You will have status.”
    Still no response.
    “And I will not even so much as glance at another woman.”
    “Except your wife.”
    “Of course, but—”
    “Then, sir, I thank you for your favour, but I must ask you to look for your amusement elsewhere.” She gestures towards the garden. “There are plenty of eager, pretty little things out there who would consider it an honour to please you, surely?”
    I look at her. She doesn’t flinch.
    “Anne. I’m not enjoying this. It’s irritating. It’s…” Torture , I could say. I take a breath, effortfully. “I will not ask like this again. I don’t know where this stupid feeling has come from – or why. But I can train myself out of it. I will .”
    It is a threat, and I like my threats to be met with alarm and apology. Instead I sense amusement; something sidelong, quick and mischievous in her eyes; as if, wherever my thoughts are heading, she’s got there before me and is waiting further up the track, hidden by the trees – watching me, laughing.
    She says, “I would have hesitated to use the word if you had not used it first, sir, but I agree that it is stupid to urge me to give up my honour. My future husband and the children God will grant us would not thank me for throwing it away.”
    There is a silence. I find that I am shaking.
    “Then you may consider this – whatever it is – at an end. My Lady.”
    I walk away – not back to the orchard, but on, towards the palace. I want to go inside without looking back, but I don’t make it. Almost at the door to my private stairs, I turn. In the distance the girl is gliding away across the grass, heading back to the orchard, trailing picked stems of poppies against her skirts. Untroubled.
    I watch her go. I know full well that nothing is remotely at an end. On the contrary, it occurs to me that she has issued a challenge.

 
♦  ♦  ♦  III   ♦  ♦  ♦
     
     
    “Marry her ?”
    Wolsey has turned the colour of porridge.
    “And when… when did this idea occur to you?”
    I don’t reply. Under my gaze, Wolsey sinks to his knees. “Sir, I am begging you. Not to.”
    Silence. We are in a small chamber at Westminster; Wolsey is kneeling in a patch of sunshine, squinting against the light.
    He opens his mouth, closes it; starts again. “Sir, kings do not marry for love. Surely you agree? That is what mistresses are for. Royal marriages are political alliances – made with foreign princesses. Not with the daughter of one of your own courtiers. This way, we… you, sir, would lose every single scrap of advantage that a new match could bring… And it would make the annulment a – a thousand times more difficult to achieve.”
    I walk slowly into the shadows behind him. “I know why Lady Anne has refused me. Because she is sent by God.”
    Wolsey turns and stares at me. “To be your wife ?”
    Bending to his ear, I whisper, “You are very quick.”
    Then, briskly, I say, “And the annulment will not be so difficult to achieve as you pretend. Anne has