(Both, ~MWG, ~Sex, Historical Fiction, Romance) - A different outcome to Henry VIII's fourth marriage
(Author’s Note: In writing this story, I attempted to be as historically accurate is as possible. I consulted The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir for factual details and recommend it if you are interested in the period. Though not always historically accurate, I used The Tudors as a guide for the feel of the story and highly recommend it for some good entertainment (accordingly, feel free to visualize folks from the show in these roles as best as possible—especially Joss Stone as Anne). Fact dominates in the beginning before giving way to fiction, which is largely informed by the facts. Accordingly, the beginning may be a little heavy, but I hope you shall all find that perseverance will be rewarded!)
“I like her not!” Henry VIII, King of England and the second of the Tudor dynasty, yelled at his Privy Council.
Very few of the assembled lords and officials of the realm met Henry’s eyes, which seemed to burn with an inward fire that was reserved only for when the King was greatly displeased. Thomas Cromwell, Lord Privy Seal, Chancellor, and the strongest member of the Privy Council, was one of this number. He knew that this would not be the only upbraiding he would receive on this subject, but it would without question be the most public.
“She is nothing at all like I was led to believe by every single one of you!” Henry continued to rage, “She possesses none of the virtues that I am known to value in women. She barely even speaks English!”
Henry paused in front of Sir Nicholas Wotton, the ambassador who had been sent to the continent to arrange the marriage. “SHE LOOKS LIKE A HORSE!” Henry bellowed.
The woman in question was Anne of Cleves, the sister of William the Rich, the Duke of Cleves. She was the woman to whom Henry had contracted to make his fourth wife in just a few days time. Henry had met her the day before in a state of complete anticipation and excitement. Upon seeing her, his enthusiasm had evaporated completely and now the King was making this fact very public to the men who had helped arrange the marriage.
“If I—” Wotton began.
“Silence!” Henry barked, “I was told that she had the fairest skin in all of Europe and then I discover that she is of a brown complexion. I am told that she is cultivated in every degree, yet she is ignorant of music, dancing, and literature. I have been utterly disappointed in every respect.” Henry paused in front of Cromwell for a moment of utter silence to wordlessly communicate his displeasure with his Chancellor in particular. “I find the very thought of marriage to her repugnant. It is more than that—it is odious. Accordingly, I have instructed my lawyers to examine the marriage contract to determine its validity, which I now begin to believe it is not.”
“Your Majesty, if I may…” Cromwell said hesitantly, “While the marriage may indeed be invalid, you have no choice but to continue with the marriage. It would be an embarrassment to England if the wedding were to be called off now, when all the preparations have been made and the peerage assembled from throughout the kingdom. Furthermore…there is the matter of the Treaty of Nice. With the Emperor now allied with France, England’s position in Europe is precarious. If you were to spurn Cleves by so publicly insulting the Duke’s sister, he would likely turn the Schmalkaldic League against England, isolating it at best and declaring war at worst. Your Majesty, you must marry Ann…for the good of the realm.”
The chancellor’s words hung heavy in the room and no one said anything as Henry glared angrily at Cromwell.
“Get out of my sight,” Henry said contemptibly, dismissing the Privy Council, “Charles, stay a moment.” The Privy Council exited, all of them glad to be removed from His Majesty’s wrath—and none more so than Cromwell—save for one. The man who remained behind was Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk, the King’s closest friend and confidant for many years.
As soon as the two were alone, Henry sighed and took a seat. Ever since Jane Seymour, Henry’s third wife, had died, the King had steadily put on weight. Worsening matters was the fact that one of his legs was troubling him from an old jousting accident, which sometimes even rendered the King immobile. Furthermore, the feasting that occurred at Henry’s court was sumptuous and marvelous. He had one of the best laid tables in all of Europe and now that Henry’s sporting activities were becoming rarer and rarer, it was beginning to show on his figure.
Henry had become quite a large man over the last two years. He was a giant of a man in every physical respect. Most of his weight went straight to his belly, which had become a gigantic gut. It spilled heavily over what would have been his waist, creating large love handles on both sides. The rest of him was equally large, but his immense belly was by far the largest thing about the King. Henry’s waistline had expanded just as quickly as his coffers had under the dissolution of the abbeys. He had recently been measured for a new suit of armor and his waist measurement had been a rotund 54 inches. This was despite the fact that Henry was incredibly tall, a full 6 feet and 3 inches. The King’s thighs were like tubby tree trunks made of lard. When Henry could move around, they rubbed together continuously. Even his knees were pudgy. Henry’s breasts were not immune to his weight gain. They had grown largely and flabby—though only a few of Henry’s manservants saw them when they dressed the King and speaking of such thing to others could easily be punishable by death. Even Henry’s arms, which worked the hardest of any part of the King as they brought tremendous volumes of food to his mouth, jiggled with excess weight. Since the King had abandoned his active lifestyle to sit on the royal rump it was appropriate that Henry’s bum had become a certified fat ass. Henry had plenty of fat cells padding his butt for his new sedentary lifestyle.
It was into his gargantuan belly that Henry poured every delicacy that his cooks could presented to him. There were dishes made from pheasant, swan, dolphin, and songbird. Spices from the Orient added new and exciting flavors to his meals. Good stout English ale was always present, and exotic alcoholic spirits imported from Arabia were brought periodically as well. There was even a novelty called sugar that was being brought back from the New World, along with vegetables and animals that boggled the mind. Puddings of every variety were always at Henry’s table and he decadently devoured them with gusto. The King stuffed himself at every meal until he was completely satisfied—and for a man as large as himself that took quite a bit of food.
Henry freely acknowledged that he was a man of prodigious bulk, but that didn’t seem to be a problem for him. In fact Henry had his wardrobe redesigned to feature garments with built up shoulders and bulky sleeves, which made a man of Henry’s size look much better than in the previous fashion. Accordingly, all the men at court changed their wardrobes to the same style in imitation of their beloved King even though it didn’t flatter their figures at all.
“Charles…what am I to do?” Henry said despondently, “I cannot stand her, but I am told I have no other option but to enter into a marriage I find to be interminable.”
“Though I am loathe to admit it, the Chancellor appears to have accurately surveyed the situation,” Brandon said, “With the Emperor and King Francis at peace with each other, England must turn to the Germanic states for partnership if she is not to become completely isolated.”
“I will not suffer this Charles—I cannot!” Henry said adamantly, “I will not be married to this woman even if she brought me a hundred thousand German mercenaries!”
“Your Majesty, the marriages of kings are subject to influences separate from those governing private citizens, a fact of which I know you are well aware,” Brandon said, “While it pains me to say so, you must go through with this marriage.”
“I like her not,” Henry fumed once more, “I like her not at all.”
The Duke of Suffolk paused. “Your Majesty, I will do everything in my power to ameliorate this circumstance with as much expedience as possible. You have my word on that.”
“Charles, if you could do that, you would have my friendship and favor for as long as we both shall live,” Henry said earnestly.
“It is favor enough for me to serve Your Most Gracious Majesty,” Charles Brandon said, bowing low to his monarch.
***
In public, Thomas Cromwell seemed unperturbed by the recent turn of events, dispatching the business of the court with all of his usual efficiency and energy. Indeed, with the King’s marriage rapidly approaching, there was quite a bit of business to take care of these days, keeping the Chancellor quite busy.
It was only when the chancellor was completely alone at the end of the day that he allowed the façade to fall. Cromwell had been the primary force behind the marriage of Anne to Henry. By allying England with Cleves and the Schmalkaldic League, it would draw her firmly into the bosom of Protestantism, which Cromwell had worked tirelessly to promote in England. Politically, it promised independence from the whims of the Pope completely, allowing England to finally stand on equal footing with France and the Holy Roman Empire. This was to say nothing about the production of a second heir to further buttress the Tudor dynasty’s future.
Cromwell had poured his entire political future into the marriage of Henry and Anne. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have had Anne praised as highly as she had been and from every quarter. Then again, it had been necessary to ensure that the marriage even occurred. The King was a man of discerning tastes and only the finest young woman would do for him. Unfortunately, it turned out Anne did not meet his high standards and now the Chancellor was in the most precarious position of his career.
In the face of such danger, there was only one thing to do. Thomas Cromwell got down on his knees and began to pray.
“Most gracious Heavenly Father, I beseech you to hear my prayer in my hour of need,” Cromwell prayed fervently, “I have only ever sought to serve His Majesty, your divinely ordained servant, and in doing so serve You. It has been my tireless devotion to You that has energized my muscles when they have been weary to pursue our most holy Reformation, so that we may banish superstition and popery and worship You more perfectly.
“But now I am come to my hour of trial. Lord, if Henry should not be married to Anne, our Reformation will falter, if not fail, in England. Make her pleasing to His Majesty so that Your most holy work will continue with me as its willing and humble servant. Lord, bless England with your favor and grant us peace and tranquility with Henry as our loving and noble King and Anne his most gracious and loving Queen.
“To that end, Lord, please have the King find his new bride to be most pleasurable in bed, thus allaying his current misgivings and converting his distaste into heavenly joy. Amen.”
***
Anne of Cleves did not look like a horse.
She was actually a rather attractive woman. The English peasantry had crowded to see her at every town she passed through on her way to the Palace of Placentia in Greenwich where she was to be married and they had taken an instant liking to her. She was a tall woman, about 5 feet and 10 inches tall. This alone put her in stark contrast with the three women who had preceded her as Queen, for all of them had been women of much shorter stature. Anne was a thin woman as, possessing not the curves of Catherine of Aragon or Jane Seymour, but rather emulating the svelte Anne Boleyn. This was largely due to the straight-laced court that her brother and their father before him kept at Cleves in keeping with their new Protestant identity. In Cleves there had been no wondrously lavish feasts like Anne had been treated to since arriving in English territory in Calais. It was quite easy to keep a slim figure in such an environment.
However, thanks to her Teutonic heritage, Anne of Cleves was not at all the waif that the other Anne had been. There was a broad athleticism to Anne’s body, even though it was covered by her voluminous garments made in the Dutch fashion. Though she was not fat, Anne was still a sturdy girl. Perhaps this, coupled with her tan skin, was what endeared her so much to the peasants. Though she dressed like a lady, the commoners saw in Anne something of themselves and it heartened them to think that the King should so honor someone like themselves.
The German noblewoman was determined to be in every way pleasing to her new husband. For example, she had been assiduously working on her English since news of her potential marriage to Henry had been given to her. Despite all of her efforts thus far, Anne’s English was still guttural and halting, but she continued work hard to improve with each passing day.
Accordingly, Anne had been preparations for this, her wedding day, had left no stone unturned. Her dress was made of fine white and silver cloth and done in the Dutch fashion. Unlike the multitudes of English noblewomen who were in attendance, Anne’s dress had no lengthy train, but instead was a round skirt. Her dark blonde hair was worn loose and free beneath her coronet to denote her virginity. Anne was also adorned with braided silver chain, which some of the noblewomen whispered seemed “rather beautiful, though not without its slightly troubling undertones”.
When she stood side to side with Henry, arrayed in clothing of white and gold, Anne quietly turned her deep brown eyes on her husband with nothing but the deepest affection. For his part, Henry returned the look, though not with as much fondness as his bride.
It should be noted that Anne of Cleves was totally ignorant of the fact that she did no please her bridegroom.
***
While it might seem impossible Anne could have been unaware of Henry’s displeasure, in reality there was no way for her to have known that the man who she was to marry was in any way displeased with her. Henry had been nothing but polite and kind to her in all of their encounters. When the impatient Henry rode out to Rochester to meet his bride-to-be on New Year’s Day, he had behaved with the utmost respect towards her, even making a present of a number of furs to her. In public, he even seemed to fawn over her. At every house in which she had stayed Anne was treated like the queen she was to become. No one had said a single negative word to Anne since being received by the British, and consequently Anne found her future subjects very delightful indeed. In short, there was not a single hint of the King’s displeasure, though by this point everyone at court was aware that Henry found Anne completely unacceptable.
Secure in the knowledge that the King loved her, Anne prepared for their first night as a wedded couple. Both the King and Queen’s attendants had withdrawn from the royal bedchamber, leaving the couple completely alone for the first time in their marriage. Considering the trouble to which Henry had gone to produce a male heir, it would have been understandable if Anne had been at all apprehensive about what was awaiting her, especially in light of the considerable difference in size between Henry and Anne. However, Anne was thinking of none of that. Her prim and proper mother had not seen fit to instruct her daughter in sexual matters, despite her already being twenty four years old.
Accordingly, Anne approached the royal bed clad only in her loose fitting shift. Henry had already gotten into bed, though not without some exertion. His shift was anything but loose. His belly protruded outwards, stretching the limits of the linen. Another woman might have been repulsed by Henry’s obesity, but Anne accepted him as he was. It was not the place of wives to change their husbands—especially royal husbands who had already cut off the head of one wife who displeased him. With little reservation, Anne climbed underneath the covers and lay down.
“Good night, Your Majesty,” Anne said in her halting English.
Henry rolled heavily over in bed and surveyed his new wife. As before, she failed to arouse anything in him. Still, he might as well give things one good last try….The King reached one chubby hand out and began to feel underneath Anne’s shift. The new Queen was unsure of precisely what was going on and laid perfectly still, observing this most curious maneuver. Henry cupped and squeezed each of Anne’s small, pert breasts, causing the Queen to lightly catch her breath.
Is this what husbands do to their wives in bed? Anne thought in German. The truth was she was beginning to feel a new and foreign, yet pleasurable, sensation catching fire within her.
Henry’s hand wandered down Anne’s body further, stopping on her belly, which he presently groped about. Anne opened her mouth ever so slightly as her breath started becoming quicker and sharper. She felt that she should say something to her husband, but what? Even if he could understand her in German—the only language she would be able to communicate in at the moment—what could she say as such passion began to build within her?
And then Henry pulled his arm out of Anne’s shift as if a viper had bit him. He rolled himself over in bed and muttered, “Good night, sweetheart,” leaving Anne in a mild state of shock at the sudden turn of events. All she could do was shut her eyes as she wondered what she had done to induce such a sudden change in her husband, the man who she only wished to please as best she could.
Henry, his back turned to Anne, only grit his teeth in frustration and anger, for the woman who was supposed to be his wife did not excite him in the slightest.
***
That very same night Charles Brandon sat up alone, brooding in his chambers. His wife, Catherine Willoughby, realizing that her husband had not joined her in bed had gotten up to search him out and found him so lost in thought that he was only made aware of her presence when she touched him gently on the shoulder, jolting him from his contemplations.
“Come to bed Charles,” Catherine urged gently.
“The revolutions of my mind are far too swift for me to find rest,” Charles said, “The King is married to a woman whom he loathes, which gnaws at him worse than his leg. He is frantic for a way out of his marriage, and in this we may finally have our chance to unseat Cromwell from power. He has staked his future on the successful marriage of the King to the Flanders mare as they now call her behind her back. The King will only find his marriage more and more intolerable with time and he will seek to have it terminated as swiftly as possible. When that happens, the Chancellor will be destroyed utterly.”
Catherine sat down next to her husband and took his hand. “But what is to become of Anne? Is there to be no consideration of her—a lonely woman in a foreign land, married off to a man who hates her through no fault of her own? What is to happen to her?” The Duke of Suffolk remained silent. “Charles, you know how the King gets when he is sorely displeased. Not even his wife is immune to his violent bursts of anger.”
“Cromwell must be ousted from power,” Charles said adamantly, “He uses his Reformation to enrich his own coffers through the dissolution of the monasteries. We cannot pass up this opportunity to ruin Cromwell once and for all.”
“You know that I agree that Cromwell and his Reformation must be stopped, but can it not be done without sacrificing an innocent woman?” Catherine pleaded.
Brandon sighed. “I have told the King I will do everything in my power to extricate him from his current predicament and I will,” he said, pausing, “…but I will see if it can be done without injury to the Queen.”
“Oh Charles,” Catherine said as she threw her arms about her husband.
“I make no guarantees,” the Duke cautioned.
“As your wife I have every confidence in your abilities,” Catherine said.
Charles Brandon sighed. Just when things were starting to look like they were finally becoming easier…
***
The next morning Thomas Cromwell entered the King’s chambers with apprehension. It was imperative that he find out how the King and Queen had gotten on last night. Cromwell knew that the question was literally a matter of life and death—namely his own.
The Chancellor discovered the rotund man at one of his large breakfasts. The Queen was not dining with him, which was no cause for alarm. The King often took his breakfast alone with his attendants to see to his needs, occasionally dealing with any pressing matters of state that Cromwell might bring him.
“Mr. Cromwell,” Henry said, acknowledging his Chancellor’s presence through a mouthful of food.
“Your Majesty,” Cromwell replied, bowing low.
“I trust England is contented and fair this morning?” Henry asked as he continued his breakfast.
“It rejoices over your marriage to the Queen,” Cromwell replied, “Reports throughout the kingdom say that the people adore her universally.”
“Ha!” Henry snorted, “Then they are of decidedly poor taste.” Cromwell tried to keep his countenance from falling. It was the last thing that the Chancellor had wanted to hear. “Her person is well and seemly, but nothing else,” Henry continued.
“By my faith, you say right, but I think that she has a queenly manner about her,” Cromwell said, trying to help the King focus on the more positive qualities of his new Queen.
Henry stood abruptly from the table and brought his bulk around to stand in front of Cromwell. “Surely, as you knew, I liked her not well before, but now I like her much worse,” Henry said, his voice rippling with low anger, “For I have felt her belly and her breasts, and, as I can judge, she is no maid. The thought struck me to the heart when I felt them that I had neither the will nor the courage to proceed any further in other matters.”
Cromwell was so stunned that he didn’t know what to say. Henry VIII, who all knew had an insatiable sexual appetite, had been so revolted by his bride that he had been unable to consummate his marriage! It seemed impossible, but yet the King would never brag about such a thing as he did now.
Sensing that the Chancellor had nothing else to say, Henry took his seat and resumed his breakfast. “You may withdraw, Mr. Cromwell.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Cromwell said as he bowed before leaving.
It was worse than Cromwell had even feared. The King’s marriage was turning into an unmitigated disaster. Something had to be done immediately before all was lost.
***
Queen Anne was kept quite busy by setting her household in order. She had already had good English gentlewomen selected to attend her, chief among them being Lady Winifred Edgecombe, who was to oversee her house and ease the Queen’s acclimatization to the English court, which differed in so many respects from the court of Cleves. Already Anne found herself very much in the debt of all those who surrounded her, even instructing them to do everything in their power to help her English, including correct her—albeit privately for the sake of decorum.
“I seek only to please His Majesty the King in all matters,” Queen Anne told her ladies-in-waiting, “Let all of us always act to do so.”
Though there was much for the ladies to do as Anne organized her household, they were still able to engage in light banter with each other. Naturally, the topic most on the noblewomen’s minds was the subject of the royal wedding night, but none wanted to broach such a sensitive subject with their mistress. However, they all kept their ears open in the event that the Queen should volunteer any details.
They were not long disappointed. It was only a few days later that the Queen enlightened her most senior ladies-in-waiting. Lady Edgecome, Lady Rutland, and Lady Rochford were all pursuing their needlework with the Queen sighed in her heavily accented English, “The King is so kind and solicitous. He is truly a most wonderful husband. When he comes to bed he kisses me and takes me by the hand and bids me, ‘Good night, sweetheart,’ and in the morning he kisses me and bids me, ‘Farewell darling’.”
Though it was not unusual for the King and Queen to spend the majority of their days apart, the noblewomen were aware that Henry was not well pleased with his bride. They all exchanged furtive glances with each other that said the same thing: Is that all? No one spoke for several seconds. It was Lady Rochford who broke the silence.
“We hope that soon you will be with child,” Lady Rochford said, remaining focused on her needlework to avoid the Queen’s eyes.
“I know very well that I am not now,” the Queen said simply.
“I think that your Grace is a maid still,” Lady Edgecombe said. It was a bold comment to make, but she could not resist.
Anne looked at Lady Edgecombe. “How can I be a maid and sleep every night with the King? I have told you what we do. Is this not enough?”
A silence fell over the room once again. “There must be more than this, your Majesty, or it will be a long time before we have a Duke of York, which the whole realm desires,” Lady Rutland said.
Anne looked puzzled and slightly dismayed. “What more is needed?”
The three English ladies exchanged looks and silently consulted with each other. They too laid down their needlework. “Well, your Majesty…”
When the conversation (which required the aid of Anne’s interpreter to be fully comprehended) was finished, Anne said nothing, but dismissed her ladies-in-waiting. When she was alone, she burst into tears for she now knew that something was horribly wrong with her marriage. The Queen got down on her knees and prayed softly in German aloud.
“Please God, help me please my husband the King in all ways that a wife. I am afraid that if he does not he shall kill me, and I do not wish to die.”
***
(Author’s Note: In writing this story, I attempted to be as historically accurate is as possible. I consulted The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir for factual details and recommend it if you are interested in the period. Though not always historically accurate, I used The Tudors as a guide for the feel of the story and highly recommend it for some good entertainment (accordingly, feel free to visualize folks from the show in these roles as best as possible—especially Joss Stone as Anne). Fact dominates in the beginning before giving way to fiction, which is largely informed by the facts. Accordingly, the beginning may be a little heavy, but I hope you shall all find that perseverance will be rewarded!)
Anne of Cleavage
By Id
By Id
“I like her not!” Henry VIII, King of England and the second of the Tudor dynasty, yelled at his Privy Council.
Very few of the assembled lords and officials of the realm met Henry’s eyes, which seemed to burn with an inward fire that was reserved only for when the King was greatly displeased. Thomas Cromwell, Lord Privy Seal, Chancellor, and the strongest member of the Privy Council, was one of this number. He knew that this would not be the only upbraiding he would receive on this subject, but it would without question be the most public.
“She is nothing at all like I was led to believe by every single one of you!” Henry continued to rage, “She possesses none of the virtues that I am known to value in women. She barely even speaks English!”
Henry paused in front of Sir Nicholas Wotton, the ambassador who had been sent to the continent to arrange the marriage. “SHE LOOKS LIKE A HORSE!” Henry bellowed.
The woman in question was Anne of Cleves, the sister of William the Rich, the Duke of Cleves. She was the woman to whom Henry had contracted to make his fourth wife in just a few days time. Henry had met her the day before in a state of complete anticipation and excitement. Upon seeing her, his enthusiasm had evaporated completely and now the King was making this fact very public to the men who had helped arrange the marriage.
“If I—” Wotton began.
“Silence!” Henry barked, “I was told that she had the fairest skin in all of Europe and then I discover that she is of a brown complexion. I am told that she is cultivated in every degree, yet she is ignorant of music, dancing, and literature. I have been utterly disappointed in every respect.” Henry paused in front of Cromwell for a moment of utter silence to wordlessly communicate his displeasure with his Chancellor in particular. “I find the very thought of marriage to her repugnant. It is more than that—it is odious. Accordingly, I have instructed my lawyers to examine the marriage contract to determine its validity, which I now begin to believe it is not.”
“Your Majesty, if I may…” Cromwell said hesitantly, “While the marriage may indeed be invalid, you have no choice but to continue with the marriage. It would be an embarrassment to England if the wedding were to be called off now, when all the preparations have been made and the peerage assembled from throughout the kingdom. Furthermore…there is the matter of the Treaty of Nice. With the Emperor now allied with France, England’s position in Europe is precarious. If you were to spurn Cleves by so publicly insulting the Duke’s sister, he would likely turn the Schmalkaldic League against England, isolating it at best and declaring war at worst. Your Majesty, you must marry Ann…for the good of the realm.”
The chancellor’s words hung heavy in the room and no one said anything as Henry glared angrily at Cromwell.
“Get out of my sight,” Henry said contemptibly, dismissing the Privy Council, “Charles, stay a moment.” The Privy Council exited, all of them glad to be removed from His Majesty’s wrath—and none more so than Cromwell—save for one. The man who remained behind was Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk, the King’s closest friend and confidant for many years.
As soon as the two were alone, Henry sighed and took a seat. Ever since Jane Seymour, Henry’s third wife, had died, the King had steadily put on weight. Worsening matters was the fact that one of his legs was troubling him from an old jousting accident, which sometimes even rendered the King immobile. Furthermore, the feasting that occurred at Henry’s court was sumptuous and marvelous. He had one of the best laid tables in all of Europe and now that Henry’s sporting activities were becoming rarer and rarer, it was beginning to show on his figure.
Henry had become quite a large man over the last two years. He was a giant of a man in every physical respect. Most of his weight went straight to his belly, which had become a gigantic gut. It spilled heavily over what would have been his waist, creating large love handles on both sides. The rest of him was equally large, but his immense belly was by far the largest thing about the King. Henry’s waistline had expanded just as quickly as his coffers had under the dissolution of the abbeys. He had recently been measured for a new suit of armor and his waist measurement had been a rotund 54 inches. This was despite the fact that Henry was incredibly tall, a full 6 feet and 3 inches. The King’s thighs were like tubby tree trunks made of lard. When Henry could move around, they rubbed together continuously. Even his knees were pudgy. Henry’s breasts were not immune to his weight gain. They had grown largely and flabby—though only a few of Henry’s manservants saw them when they dressed the King and speaking of such thing to others could easily be punishable by death. Even Henry’s arms, which worked the hardest of any part of the King as they brought tremendous volumes of food to his mouth, jiggled with excess weight. Since the King had abandoned his active lifestyle to sit on the royal rump it was appropriate that Henry’s bum had become a certified fat ass. Henry had plenty of fat cells padding his butt for his new sedentary lifestyle.
It was into his gargantuan belly that Henry poured every delicacy that his cooks could presented to him. There were dishes made from pheasant, swan, dolphin, and songbird. Spices from the Orient added new and exciting flavors to his meals. Good stout English ale was always present, and exotic alcoholic spirits imported from Arabia were brought periodically as well. There was even a novelty called sugar that was being brought back from the New World, along with vegetables and animals that boggled the mind. Puddings of every variety were always at Henry’s table and he decadently devoured them with gusto. The King stuffed himself at every meal until he was completely satisfied—and for a man as large as himself that took quite a bit of food.
Henry freely acknowledged that he was a man of prodigious bulk, but that didn’t seem to be a problem for him. In fact Henry had his wardrobe redesigned to feature garments with built up shoulders and bulky sleeves, which made a man of Henry’s size look much better than in the previous fashion. Accordingly, all the men at court changed their wardrobes to the same style in imitation of their beloved King even though it didn’t flatter their figures at all.
“Charles…what am I to do?” Henry said despondently, “I cannot stand her, but I am told I have no other option but to enter into a marriage I find to be interminable.”
“Though I am loathe to admit it, the Chancellor appears to have accurately surveyed the situation,” Brandon said, “With the Emperor and King Francis at peace with each other, England must turn to the Germanic states for partnership if she is not to become completely isolated.”
“I will not suffer this Charles—I cannot!” Henry said adamantly, “I will not be married to this woman even if she brought me a hundred thousand German mercenaries!”
“Your Majesty, the marriages of kings are subject to influences separate from those governing private citizens, a fact of which I know you are well aware,” Brandon said, “While it pains me to say so, you must go through with this marriage.”
“I like her not,” Henry fumed once more, “I like her not at all.”
The Duke of Suffolk paused. “Your Majesty, I will do everything in my power to ameliorate this circumstance with as much expedience as possible. You have my word on that.”
“Charles, if you could do that, you would have my friendship and favor for as long as we both shall live,” Henry said earnestly.
“It is favor enough for me to serve Your Most Gracious Majesty,” Charles Brandon said, bowing low to his monarch.
***
In public, Thomas Cromwell seemed unperturbed by the recent turn of events, dispatching the business of the court with all of his usual efficiency and energy. Indeed, with the King’s marriage rapidly approaching, there was quite a bit of business to take care of these days, keeping the Chancellor quite busy.
It was only when the chancellor was completely alone at the end of the day that he allowed the façade to fall. Cromwell had been the primary force behind the marriage of Anne to Henry. By allying England with Cleves and the Schmalkaldic League, it would draw her firmly into the bosom of Protestantism, which Cromwell had worked tirelessly to promote in England. Politically, it promised independence from the whims of the Pope completely, allowing England to finally stand on equal footing with France and the Holy Roman Empire. This was to say nothing about the production of a second heir to further buttress the Tudor dynasty’s future.
Cromwell had poured his entire political future into the marriage of Henry and Anne. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have had Anne praised as highly as she had been and from every quarter. Then again, it had been necessary to ensure that the marriage even occurred. The King was a man of discerning tastes and only the finest young woman would do for him. Unfortunately, it turned out Anne did not meet his high standards and now the Chancellor was in the most precarious position of his career.
In the face of such danger, there was only one thing to do. Thomas Cromwell got down on his knees and began to pray.
“Most gracious Heavenly Father, I beseech you to hear my prayer in my hour of need,” Cromwell prayed fervently, “I have only ever sought to serve His Majesty, your divinely ordained servant, and in doing so serve You. It has been my tireless devotion to You that has energized my muscles when they have been weary to pursue our most holy Reformation, so that we may banish superstition and popery and worship You more perfectly.
“But now I am come to my hour of trial. Lord, if Henry should not be married to Anne, our Reformation will falter, if not fail, in England. Make her pleasing to His Majesty so that Your most holy work will continue with me as its willing and humble servant. Lord, bless England with your favor and grant us peace and tranquility with Henry as our loving and noble King and Anne his most gracious and loving Queen.
“To that end, Lord, please have the King find his new bride to be most pleasurable in bed, thus allaying his current misgivings and converting his distaste into heavenly joy. Amen.”
***
Anne of Cleves did not look like a horse.
She was actually a rather attractive woman. The English peasantry had crowded to see her at every town she passed through on her way to the Palace of Placentia in Greenwich where she was to be married and they had taken an instant liking to her. She was a tall woman, about 5 feet and 10 inches tall. This alone put her in stark contrast with the three women who had preceded her as Queen, for all of them had been women of much shorter stature. Anne was a thin woman as, possessing not the curves of Catherine of Aragon or Jane Seymour, but rather emulating the svelte Anne Boleyn. This was largely due to the straight-laced court that her brother and their father before him kept at Cleves in keeping with their new Protestant identity. In Cleves there had been no wondrously lavish feasts like Anne had been treated to since arriving in English territory in Calais. It was quite easy to keep a slim figure in such an environment.
However, thanks to her Teutonic heritage, Anne of Cleves was not at all the waif that the other Anne had been. There was a broad athleticism to Anne’s body, even though it was covered by her voluminous garments made in the Dutch fashion. Though she was not fat, Anne was still a sturdy girl. Perhaps this, coupled with her tan skin, was what endeared her so much to the peasants. Though she dressed like a lady, the commoners saw in Anne something of themselves and it heartened them to think that the King should so honor someone like themselves.
The German noblewoman was determined to be in every way pleasing to her new husband. For example, she had been assiduously working on her English since news of her potential marriage to Henry had been given to her. Despite all of her efforts thus far, Anne’s English was still guttural and halting, but she continued work hard to improve with each passing day.
Accordingly, Anne had been preparations for this, her wedding day, had left no stone unturned. Her dress was made of fine white and silver cloth and done in the Dutch fashion. Unlike the multitudes of English noblewomen who were in attendance, Anne’s dress had no lengthy train, but instead was a round skirt. Her dark blonde hair was worn loose and free beneath her coronet to denote her virginity. Anne was also adorned with braided silver chain, which some of the noblewomen whispered seemed “rather beautiful, though not without its slightly troubling undertones”.
When she stood side to side with Henry, arrayed in clothing of white and gold, Anne quietly turned her deep brown eyes on her husband with nothing but the deepest affection. For his part, Henry returned the look, though not with as much fondness as his bride.
It should be noted that Anne of Cleves was totally ignorant of the fact that she did no please her bridegroom.
***
While it might seem impossible Anne could have been unaware of Henry’s displeasure, in reality there was no way for her to have known that the man who she was to marry was in any way displeased with her. Henry had been nothing but polite and kind to her in all of their encounters. When the impatient Henry rode out to Rochester to meet his bride-to-be on New Year’s Day, he had behaved with the utmost respect towards her, even making a present of a number of furs to her. In public, he even seemed to fawn over her. At every house in which she had stayed Anne was treated like the queen she was to become. No one had said a single negative word to Anne since being received by the British, and consequently Anne found her future subjects very delightful indeed. In short, there was not a single hint of the King’s displeasure, though by this point everyone at court was aware that Henry found Anne completely unacceptable.
Secure in the knowledge that the King loved her, Anne prepared for their first night as a wedded couple. Both the King and Queen’s attendants had withdrawn from the royal bedchamber, leaving the couple completely alone for the first time in their marriage. Considering the trouble to which Henry had gone to produce a male heir, it would have been understandable if Anne had been at all apprehensive about what was awaiting her, especially in light of the considerable difference in size between Henry and Anne. However, Anne was thinking of none of that. Her prim and proper mother had not seen fit to instruct her daughter in sexual matters, despite her already being twenty four years old.
Accordingly, Anne approached the royal bed clad only in her loose fitting shift. Henry had already gotten into bed, though not without some exertion. His shift was anything but loose. His belly protruded outwards, stretching the limits of the linen. Another woman might have been repulsed by Henry’s obesity, but Anne accepted him as he was. It was not the place of wives to change their husbands—especially royal husbands who had already cut off the head of one wife who displeased him. With little reservation, Anne climbed underneath the covers and lay down.
“Good night, Your Majesty,” Anne said in her halting English.
Henry rolled heavily over in bed and surveyed his new wife. As before, she failed to arouse anything in him. Still, he might as well give things one good last try….The King reached one chubby hand out and began to feel underneath Anne’s shift. The new Queen was unsure of precisely what was going on and laid perfectly still, observing this most curious maneuver. Henry cupped and squeezed each of Anne’s small, pert breasts, causing the Queen to lightly catch her breath.
Is this what husbands do to their wives in bed? Anne thought in German. The truth was she was beginning to feel a new and foreign, yet pleasurable, sensation catching fire within her.
Henry’s hand wandered down Anne’s body further, stopping on her belly, which he presently groped about. Anne opened her mouth ever so slightly as her breath started becoming quicker and sharper. She felt that she should say something to her husband, but what? Even if he could understand her in German—the only language she would be able to communicate in at the moment—what could she say as such passion began to build within her?
And then Henry pulled his arm out of Anne’s shift as if a viper had bit him. He rolled himself over in bed and muttered, “Good night, sweetheart,” leaving Anne in a mild state of shock at the sudden turn of events. All she could do was shut her eyes as she wondered what she had done to induce such a sudden change in her husband, the man who she only wished to please as best she could.
Henry, his back turned to Anne, only grit his teeth in frustration and anger, for the woman who was supposed to be his wife did not excite him in the slightest.
***
That very same night Charles Brandon sat up alone, brooding in his chambers. His wife, Catherine Willoughby, realizing that her husband had not joined her in bed had gotten up to search him out and found him so lost in thought that he was only made aware of her presence when she touched him gently on the shoulder, jolting him from his contemplations.
“Come to bed Charles,” Catherine urged gently.
“The revolutions of my mind are far too swift for me to find rest,” Charles said, “The King is married to a woman whom he loathes, which gnaws at him worse than his leg. He is frantic for a way out of his marriage, and in this we may finally have our chance to unseat Cromwell from power. He has staked his future on the successful marriage of the King to the Flanders mare as they now call her behind her back. The King will only find his marriage more and more intolerable with time and he will seek to have it terminated as swiftly as possible. When that happens, the Chancellor will be destroyed utterly.”
Catherine sat down next to her husband and took his hand. “But what is to become of Anne? Is there to be no consideration of her—a lonely woman in a foreign land, married off to a man who hates her through no fault of her own? What is to happen to her?” The Duke of Suffolk remained silent. “Charles, you know how the King gets when he is sorely displeased. Not even his wife is immune to his violent bursts of anger.”
“Cromwell must be ousted from power,” Charles said adamantly, “He uses his Reformation to enrich his own coffers through the dissolution of the monasteries. We cannot pass up this opportunity to ruin Cromwell once and for all.”
“You know that I agree that Cromwell and his Reformation must be stopped, but can it not be done without sacrificing an innocent woman?” Catherine pleaded.
Brandon sighed. “I have told the King I will do everything in my power to extricate him from his current predicament and I will,” he said, pausing, “…but I will see if it can be done without injury to the Queen.”
“Oh Charles,” Catherine said as she threw her arms about her husband.
“I make no guarantees,” the Duke cautioned.
“As your wife I have every confidence in your abilities,” Catherine said.
Charles Brandon sighed. Just when things were starting to look like they were finally becoming easier…
***
The next morning Thomas Cromwell entered the King’s chambers with apprehension. It was imperative that he find out how the King and Queen had gotten on last night. Cromwell knew that the question was literally a matter of life and death—namely his own.
The Chancellor discovered the rotund man at one of his large breakfasts. The Queen was not dining with him, which was no cause for alarm. The King often took his breakfast alone with his attendants to see to his needs, occasionally dealing with any pressing matters of state that Cromwell might bring him.
“Mr. Cromwell,” Henry said, acknowledging his Chancellor’s presence through a mouthful of food.
“Your Majesty,” Cromwell replied, bowing low.
“I trust England is contented and fair this morning?” Henry asked as he continued his breakfast.
“It rejoices over your marriage to the Queen,” Cromwell replied, “Reports throughout the kingdom say that the people adore her universally.”
“Ha!” Henry snorted, “Then they are of decidedly poor taste.” Cromwell tried to keep his countenance from falling. It was the last thing that the Chancellor had wanted to hear. “Her person is well and seemly, but nothing else,” Henry continued.
“By my faith, you say right, but I think that she has a queenly manner about her,” Cromwell said, trying to help the King focus on the more positive qualities of his new Queen.
Henry stood abruptly from the table and brought his bulk around to stand in front of Cromwell. “Surely, as you knew, I liked her not well before, but now I like her much worse,” Henry said, his voice rippling with low anger, “For I have felt her belly and her breasts, and, as I can judge, she is no maid. The thought struck me to the heart when I felt them that I had neither the will nor the courage to proceed any further in other matters.”
Cromwell was so stunned that he didn’t know what to say. Henry VIII, who all knew had an insatiable sexual appetite, had been so revolted by his bride that he had been unable to consummate his marriage! It seemed impossible, but yet the King would never brag about such a thing as he did now.
Sensing that the Chancellor had nothing else to say, Henry took his seat and resumed his breakfast. “You may withdraw, Mr. Cromwell.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Cromwell said as he bowed before leaving.
It was worse than Cromwell had even feared. The King’s marriage was turning into an unmitigated disaster. Something had to be done immediately before all was lost.
***
Queen Anne was kept quite busy by setting her household in order. She had already had good English gentlewomen selected to attend her, chief among them being Lady Winifred Edgecombe, who was to oversee her house and ease the Queen’s acclimatization to the English court, which differed in so many respects from the court of Cleves. Already Anne found herself very much in the debt of all those who surrounded her, even instructing them to do everything in their power to help her English, including correct her—albeit privately for the sake of decorum.
“I seek only to please His Majesty the King in all matters,” Queen Anne told her ladies-in-waiting, “Let all of us always act to do so.”
Though there was much for the ladies to do as Anne organized her household, they were still able to engage in light banter with each other. Naturally, the topic most on the noblewomen’s minds was the subject of the royal wedding night, but none wanted to broach such a sensitive subject with their mistress. However, they all kept their ears open in the event that the Queen should volunteer any details.
They were not long disappointed. It was only a few days later that the Queen enlightened her most senior ladies-in-waiting. Lady Edgecome, Lady Rutland, and Lady Rochford were all pursuing their needlework with the Queen sighed in her heavily accented English, “The King is so kind and solicitous. He is truly a most wonderful husband. When he comes to bed he kisses me and takes me by the hand and bids me, ‘Good night, sweetheart,’ and in the morning he kisses me and bids me, ‘Farewell darling’.”
Though it was not unusual for the King and Queen to spend the majority of their days apart, the noblewomen were aware that Henry was not well pleased with his bride. They all exchanged furtive glances with each other that said the same thing: Is that all? No one spoke for several seconds. It was Lady Rochford who broke the silence.
“We hope that soon you will be with child,” Lady Rochford said, remaining focused on her needlework to avoid the Queen’s eyes.
“I know very well that I am not now,” the Queen said simply.
“I think that your Grace is a maid still,” Lady Edgecombe said. It was a bold comment to make, but she could not resist.
Anne looked at Lady Edgecombe. “How can I be a maid and sleep every night with the King? I have told you what we do. Is this not enough?”
A silence fell over the room once again. “There must be more than this, your Majesty, or it will be a long time before we have a Duke of York, which the whole realm desires,” Lady Rutland said.
Anne looked puzzled and slightly dismayed. “What more is needed?”
The three English ladies exchanged looks and silently consulted with each other. They too laid down their needlework. “Well, your Majesty…”
When the conversation (which required the aid of Anne’s interpreter to be fully comprehended) was finished, Anne said nothing, but dismissed her ladies-in-waiting. When she was alone, she burst into tears for she now knew that something was horribly wrong with her marriage. The Queen got down on her knees and prayed softly in German aloud.
“Please God, help me please my husband the King in all ways that a wife. I am afraid that if he does not he shall kill me, and I do not wish to die.”
***
