Three Sisters, Three Queens

EDINBURGH CASTLE, SCOTLAND, WINTER 1528

For the first time, my brother writes to me as he should have done before, to tell me of his fears about his marriage. He explains that he has no other lady in mind, though I know that Anne Boleyn is occupying beautiful rooms provided by Thomas Wolsey and all the court troops to see her every day, that she writes postscripts to my brother’s letters, that even this letter may have been composed with her hanging over his shoulder and turning the smooth phrases.

Even so, I cannot help but feel for him. He is my little brother. He thinks—and God knows that he has good reason to think—that his marriage has been cursed from the first day. I think of the bitter vitriol of our lady grandmother and how she swore that Katherine should never marry Harry and I think—what if she was right? What if there was no true dispensation? What if Katherine was Harry’s sister-in-law all along and never his wife? What else could explain the terrible procession of dead babies? What else in the world could explain that grief?

He writes:

If our marriage was against God’s law and clearly void, then I shall not only sorrow the departing from so good a lady and loving companion, but much more lament and bewail my unfortunate chance that I have so long lived in adultery to God’s great displeasure, and have no true heir of my body to inherit this realm. These are the sores that vex my mind, these are the pangs that trouble my conscience, and for these pains I seek a remedy. Therefore, dearest Sister, I require you, as our trust and confidence is in you, to declare to our subjects and our friends, to your subjects and friends, our mind and intent, and pray with us that the very truth may be known for the discharge of our conscience and saving of our soul.

“God bless him,” I say to my husband, Henry Stewart. “Whatever his desire for that woman Anne Boleyn it is a truly terrible thing to happen to a man—to be married for so long and to find his marriage is invalid.”

“It is like a nightmare,” Henry says. “But he seems to be insisting that there is no beautiful young woman in the best rooms of his palace.”

“There are always beautiful young women,” I say. “Never before has Harry thought that his marriage was not valid. There have been beautiful young women and they have given him babies—even sons. If he says that his conscience is troubled then I believe him.”

“And d’you now think Katherine should be set aside?”

I think of the girl who came from Spain, of the sulky bride at Arthur’s wedding, of the widow who leapt from such terrible poverty and humiliation to being Queen of England, and the queen militant who sent her army against my husband and wanted his body pickled as a trophy.

“She has never thought of anyone but herself,” I say coldly. “But my brother is now thinking of the law of God.”

Mary writes me a Christmas letter, but it is nothing but an anguished list of the gifts that Harry has given to Anne. She does not ask after me, nor Henry, her new brother-in-law; she does not ask after my son as he takes his power as king. As always, Mary misses the point. She is full of the glorious rooms that Anne has usurped at Greenwich Palace, and how everyone visits her and neglects Katherine. She says that Anne is wearing borders of gold set with precious stones, and heart-shaped jewels set in headpieces like coronets. Her bracelets are the talk of the court; apparently I would be grieved to my heart if I saw her rubies. Mary says nothing about our brother’s distress and worry nor the state of his soul.

Katherine is not well served in her rooms and the Boleyn and Norfolk ladies do not even attend her now. Our brother the king does not dine with her, nor does he ever spend the night in her bed.

I feel so impatient with Mary. Why should the king spend the night with Katherine? It’s not as if he is going to get a Prince of Wales from sleeping in her barren bed. It may be that the papal legate advises that they are not husband and wife at all. Why should Katherine be served by duchesses? If she is a dowager princess of Wales then she is not a queen and should not have that service. Mary—a dowager queen herself—might consider that rules of the court are there to be kept. Katherine has gloried in her title and her position, she humbled the rest of us while she queened around. Perhaps now the world is changing. My world has changed a hundred times with no help from her. Now her world is changing too and I cannot find it in my heart to pity her. She ruined me once, now she is facing ruin herself.