Windsor 1537

And so the Queen is dead. Jane is dead. I have the son I prayed for but lost the mother. I have named him Edward and he is a bonny boy.

The court is quiet as preparations are made to give my dead Queen a regal funeral. I am taking no part in this. I have hidden myself away here at Windsor while she lies at Hampton Court, I am seeking solace they say in their whispers as they mill about in the corridors and rooms outside this chamber.

They can think what it pleases them to think. I do not mourn in any great way. Jane was a vessel to carry my child she served that purpose well and had she lived I would have been content as in her death I am content. I bear the sorrow due her but no more than that. She was not my choice of wife; she was a convenience, there willing and ready when I needed just such a one. I laugh at them as they creep on their toes, speak in hushed tones and pity me in my loss.

You may be shocked to have me say so but in writing this record, for you Elizabeth only for you, I intend to be honest and true in all things.

It is to be hoped that I will keep to the subject tho I am ever one to wander down a new path when it presents itself. It is my wish that you persevere in your reading that you miss not something of this defence which I am labouring upon.

I have long thought of the need to leave some defence as I would have it called, some words of comfort for you our child when I am no longer here to speak with you on the matters which must be touched upon. Tho I would not speak of this even were you to be here in my presence at this time. The matter is most privy and holds much that is not for speech in person between father and daughter. The ears and eyes of the court are in a multitude of unexpected places wherefore it would remain privy no longer were it voiced. A lesson to you Elizabeth have your own well trusted eyes and ears ever about you in your court when your time doth come – have them watch and listen to your great benefit and privy knowledge of all that goes on around you. Only then can you truly know the hearts, minds and secret schemes of your advisors and others.

I desire to make much clear to you and so tis to this end I take my stolen hours as I shut myself away, from the jackals and knaves of my court in my deep sorrow as their unknowing minds imagine, to begin what will at a some far time be of comfort to you and that by it you will grant me your poor father a goodly esteem. You will uncover the truth; the goodness and the innocence, ah the pure innocence of your mother, Anne, the much beloved wife of my heart. I loved your mother Elizabeth and truth to tell I love her still, I shall love her until my dying breath when in his goodness our Lord will bring me to her again that we may ride and hunt together once more in the great parklands of the heaven above, free of all Earthly concerns. We shall strum our lutes and sing together as of old. Mayhap we shall have cross words between us but they will, as ever, mean naught. In death Elizabeth you can be assured your father and mother will have the everlasting joy denied unto them most cruelly in life. Be happy in your heart for us, I pray you.

I return to this writing after some time my tears having been beyond all bearing, as they ever are when I think of Anne and how much I miss her presence but now I take up my task once more.

As I have described, here I sit in my privy chamber, unattended except for the occasional bringing of food and wine which is left outside the door and the keeping of the fire to which I can summon an attendant at need. I have spoken not a word to anyone this day. Cromwell can keep matters as they should be having my full support when he ministers to the business of the realm and the funeral rites which needs must be of grandeur with no thing lacking to the people’s discontent. They will mourn in their usual way for this wife of mine who gave them a Prince, taking as their due the day of holiday it will become unto them. Meanwhile I intend to stay secluded, in my supposed grief at the loss of the Queen of course, for many a day to come. I will be grieving but not for Jane.

Poor Jane, no conversation that I wanted to hear, no looks to enchant, no spark at all. She did try which is to her credit, tho at the instruction and proddings of her brothers and others to be sure. With her gentle coaxings on your sister’s behalf, and yours to be fair to her, then her prim and oh so chaste refusal of my billet and purse of sovereigns, ha they laid their bait out to snare me little knowing I was looking for just such a trap to fall into. Her words were rarely her own so well thought out her arguments but so easily outfoxed she became when I for the cheek of it did not reply as expected. I soon put her in her place, not with a roar as they say I do the men about me, a gentle growl was all it took.

But often I found she did bring me to a small anger which I in my most subtle way had to keep from her. To give you a picture of Jane let me here tell you of something which has come unbidden to my mind as I write. It was in this way, ever she attempted to imitate the style and fashionable ideas of Anne who was the best dressed and most exciting woman to behold. I came upon Jane one afternoon in her rooms and in a fond gesture sought to straighten her veil which to my mind had become tangled, she stayed my hand explaining it was a new device she had been toying with to wear the veil so, one side hanging and one flapped up, called it the shell or somesuch other foolery. I quickly recovered myself and complimented her on her original thought while keeping I know not how, my face from showing the real feelings in my heart. Did she really imagine that this strange appearance was in any way comparable with Anne’s flair and grace? Anne who could wear a necklace as a headpiece and it look as tho it had been made for the head not the neck. Anne who could wear a soft flowing gown when all around her were in stiffened fabric. Anne with her French style hoods so delicate compared to the ugly, wooden framed gable which many suffered great pains from including men as heads bumped in stolen moments.

How silly Jane looked but she was Queen, the new trend setter and before long they were all matching her; it looked to our eyes as they promenaded in the gardens that they had been buffeted about by a strong wind. It may be cruel of me to speak such things but I want you to see things as I did, as I do. These writings are my intent to bring you into my mind and heart in these years so you may see past that which you think it was and so be enlightened by the truth of it.

So no I did not like Jane over much, could not like her. She was not a woman to take a grip on a man, or was it that I did not want to be gripped by her or any woman in my heart? I think not, my heart was never there for anyone to take being in so many pieces and useless to any mineself included. The problem was not with me it was hers being she was not young and her looks were naught but homely, even were my heart to be whole and a great lust be upon me I would not have sought her out as a choice. I find it hard to imagine she ever did bloom as woman does in the early years of adulthood. She was unmarried and likely to remain so unless some old widower much burdened with children and having a liking for plain women should choose to pluck her from her obscurity. It comes to my thoughts that she was indeed saved by me, the King, a far greater man than would have been her lot otherwise. Through me she did at least for a short time, have the life of a wife tho I would say she was not unaware of men and their needs. A woman who is generous with her affection is usually greedy for jewels or, accepting of her own lack in those charms all men favour, she uses other means to gain attention and a tilt at romancing. Let me say Jane was never grasping when it came to jewels.

I do not say she was overly loose or slatternly but she knew of some things to please a man which do not come as naturally to a woman as I have ever known before. Her chastity shown before our marriage must have been a new play in the game of love for her. So a maid she was tho only by a feather’s depth if I am any judge. How could they think I was taken with her in all honesty when I had enjoyed the excitement of your mother’s love, conversation, wit and talent, had known such a woman of grace and delight, a woman who was a perfection in all things unto me? It is a most strange thing that they should have thought of bringing such a one to my notice but I doubt not it was in the way of the King would need a new wife when Anne was got rid of and so why not take a tilt at ensuring it would be a Seymour. John her father would not have thought it but Edward and Thomas are ever ones to seek favour and enrichment with not the wits to get them on their own efforts to any great amount.

You will know that the marriage was agreed the day your mother died with not one hesitant breath from any one of them. Had I not been numb in my sorrow as I played the part of a gallant suitor, had I not been a main character in the charade I would not have believed it possible. No shame in the Seymours. Ha Carpe Diem.

But it was easiest at that time and for my own purpose to let them continue in their course as they put her in my way. We were wed quickly and quietly. I tried to be kind to her. She had all honour shown with jewels, gowns, sleeves and furs more than any woman could ever need. Yes I am sure I was kind to her as needed and tho I bore her no love I gave her the affection which is ever needed between a husband and wife. She did her duty no more than that. So no I do not sit here grieving for Jane.

I grieve as I never could at the time for her, for my Anne. Here in these chambers, alone with my memories I do sob and snivel with snot all about me, I let my heart take its course and break over and over again as I could not when she died. It is still so raw even tho all these months have passed. My grief has been tightly held. I knew not when it could ever be released to be suffered even in some way enjoyed. There is a strange comfort in tears and letting everything about me take a course with no care from me. I have not washed, I have not dressed. I sit here in a robe and my old slippers. They are black with gold stitching, much worn but so precious. Her hand made them and for that reason these old slippers will ever be by me. I am grieving for my dead wife Anne, my heart full sore in the sorrow.

Ah! Now I would see you to be angrily speaking something of the words ‘she did not die father, you had her done to death!’ and you will be cursing me in my writings of the despair I describe thinking I doubt not, I do not deserve to make such claims.

Elizabeth, tho you have had much hurt and pain to live through I, with no foretelling of when you will read these words, I who cannot know how long your pains have been a privy trial to you, do most humbly beg that you hold back your hate for me on this matter. Hold judgement I pray you until you know all, then I fear not you will be light of heart and have pity for me in the terrible things I had to oversee, in the most destructive choices I had to make.

Your mother did not die, it is true, she did not sicken and fade. I had your mother killed. There I have written the words. I will do so again, I, Henry, King of this realm did have my dearly beloved wife, Anne killed. I had that part of me which she became ripped away most cruelly and destroyed. Everything has changed from that day. I have changed in ways I cannot put into words. They think they know me but they know nothing. Be assured Elizabeth many of the things which will have passed to your ears have not the purpose behind them they may seem to bear. I play a devilish game now, devilish it is but with God’s blessing upon me, I know I take the course I should.

Tears are returning but I must bravely overcome them and continue.

Where to begin is difficult to settle upon. I could write the facts so leaving you to weave a tale around them but you may mistake some things, mayhap not fully understand. In short that would not leave you with all the knowledge I wish you to have. I want you to be there with us in your mind, with your mother and I as we meet, love, marry. I want you to feel my pains when it all came crashing down, my shock and despair. I want you to see how I struggled even with the good Lord himself to save her, to have her alive and near me, to keep that most precious person as my support and my love. You will, I am assured, have often felt her pains when I turned from her, when she lay in the tower, when she trod the steps to her death but of me you will have only disbelief and hatred. I want you to feel my pains at that time Elizabeth for they were great, greater even than Anne’s because in her death she was released to her Lord leaving her Earthly trials behind her. I lived on to suffer, suffer an ever greater pain each day, to be twisted and crushed by all that had gone before without the solace of her gentle hand, her smile, her sparkling eyes and soothing voice.

Do you remember her voice Elizabeth? So gentle, her mouth slowly forming words which were like angels brushing the ear, I hear it still, in the dark hours as I lie awake aching to see her for one second, for a glimpse of one smile. She had a temper and on occasion her words were more like a lance about the head but even then she would stop suddenly and the silence would fall from above like a thick curtain to dull all senses. I see her now, eyes alight with mischief and desire, head titled to her left, eyebrow raised, mouth twitching, she would clutch her hands behind her to sway her hips slowly and say in that soft way, “Henry, my Lord, Henry, my King, Henry, my Husband, Henry, my Love”, each word becoming more and more of a whisper as she crossed the room to end in my arms laughing, her breath hot on my neck. I would hold her like the precious thing she was and join in her laughter. I called her my fearsome minx in those times. Oftimes she would say the words before I showing unto me she knew she was being troublesome but knew also I forgave her and I did, I forgave her everything Elizabeth, always I forgave her I loved her, she loved me that was all I needed or wanted. She was the air of my life, she was the sun that warmed me, the breeze that cooled me. Anne was my all. Her tongue ne’er harmed me or us tho some would have you believe other.

Many felt the sting of that clever tongue as it lashed them in her frustration and tempers, they backed from her in fear and discomfort. Ne’er to be soothed by her gentleness, I tried often to show her gentle words can gain much but when all about her was troublesome she could not find gentleness in her to give them. Truth to tell they did sore try her in their sly ways so were much deserving of her displeasure. Even now when she is cold and gone from us they talk of her angry outbursts, her threats and rollickings. There is little said of the good she was known for, her charity and kindness to those in need. They forget as they think I have forgotten. They are wrong, I remember everything and I will avenge all in my own time.

Where was I? I have to go back.

Ah! Yes, my suffering. As I have said I live to suffer her absence which has been the greatest pain I have endured in all my years. I want you to feel for me in my anguish as you feel for her in her death.

This is more discomforting than I imagined it would be and I see I have not yet found my way to the beginning so I will rest awhile and think on where that should be for the purpose of these writings. Forgive me daughter my wanderings from the point. The nib of this pen being worn I shall sit by the fire and sort me another while I think on all I have to tell you.