Doomed Queen Anne

By tradition, the king would observe all the coronation ceremonies in secret. I knew he hated that tradition - it was his nature to be at the center of everything.

I felt the days slipping away like water, and that increased my despondency. In summer I would turn twenty-four. Every time I glanced into the mirror, I saw plainly that the first bloom of youth had faded. There were many pretty maidens at court to catch the eye of the aging king, now nearly forty.

It was at this time of great danger to all, from mighty king to lowliest pauper, that I first truly realized the depth of my feeling for King Henry. What had begun as a game and become a goal had grown into genuine love on my part as well.

When you are the king's mistress, you are the center of attention. Enjoy it while you can. From now on, every gesture you make, every word you speak, every gown and jewel you wear will be noted. Till now you have been merely a dark-haired maid of no importance. That is past. But beware - you are bound to make enemies... and not just Queen Catherine".

At first I was pleased to be back at court, but I quickly learned that life among the maids of honor was no better than before. In my exile I had almost forgotten the long dull hours of attending the queen, waiting to be sent off on some meaningless errand, meals taken in the crowded Great Hall of the palace with barking dogs and filthy beggars and brazen prostitutes; the noise and confusion of the endless boasting and bickering of the maids in our drafty chambers.

Oh, but King Henry was all anyone could wish for! At the feast that followed the blessing of the candles, I could scarcely take my eyes from him. He seemed at the age of thirty-one almost godlike, the tallest man of the court, the most vigorous and forceful of manner, and the most splendid in his person. Dressed in opulent robes studded with jewels and seated beneath his richly embroidered cloth of estate, King Henry made every man around him seem insignificant by comparison.

I know not any other queen in England than Queen Catherine, my mother. And if it should please the king's mistress I should be most grateful if she would intercede with my father on my behalf.

Of one thing I was certain: if I wished the king to wholly lose his heart to me, I must keep my own deepest feelings in check. If I allowed myself to love him too ardently, as ardently as I hoped he'd love me, then I risked surrendering the power to reach my goal. This was a difficult lesson in love thaty I'd learned long ago by observing the love affairs of the French court.