At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn by Anne Clinard Barnhill

talks. The queen was teaching Madge a little French, how to apply lotions and powders to her skin to be more beautiful, though the queen had told her these tricks were not to be used now, but for Madge’s “older years.” Her Majesty also instructed Madge on how to do fine needlework, which the queen intended all her ladies to learn so they could sew clothes for the orphans and the poor. Madge soon discovered that the queen’s view of religion was much more like those of the reformers than the old faith itself. The queen saw mankind as a good and natural part of the creation and was not so concerned with beliefs about original sin or the evil lodged in the human heart as the priests and monks were like to describe. Madge found the queen’s faith unshakable and her concern about the virtue of her ladies oddly prim for one who had a seven-month belly in a five-month marriage. Nevertheless, Madge remembered hearing one of the poems spoken to the queen during her progress for her coronation:
    This gentle bird
    As white as curd—
    In chastity
    Excelleth she.
    Madge had stifled a laugh when she heard it, but the queen seemed very pleased by the verse and gave the child who read the lines a gold coin from her purse.
    Madge had discovered much about her queen, now that she was a mistress of the bedchamber, information known only to the queen’s intimates. She saw the strain across Her Majesty’s brow at the end of the day and often Madge rubbed oils and rosewater over the queen’s face and shoulders to ease the tension. And Madge watched as Henry often turned beet-red while his wife complained about her growing waistline. The king rarely replied to her grumbling, but Madge could see his patience was wearing thin.
    Cate took every chance to warn Madge of the king’s change of heart.
    “They say he has already taken up with another young maid, this one pretty as a peach,” said Cate, her voice not at all unhappy with this news.
    “You are wrong, good Cate. The queen will hold him—you’ll see,” said Madge as Cate helped her out of her sleeves and into a clean nightdress of soft linen. Dressed in her shift and night-bonnet, Madge sat near the fire.
    “Has Norris bothered you of late, my Maddie?” said Cate.
    “He’s been made Groom of the Stool and is in much demand from the king. Luckily, I see him rarely,” said Madge.
    “And Sir Churlish?” Cate asked.
    “Humph. I care not a whit to see him—he, too, has absented himself from court these last three weeks. Fears the sweats, I’ll warrant—probably running like a scared rabbit!” said Madge.
    “Or like the king,” said Cate.
    Both women laughed. They knew how the king loathed disease and how he paced and worried these summer days, stuck in London during the season of plague and sickness.
    *   *   *
    On her way to the queen’s bedchamber, Madge caught sight of movement in the queens’s privy chamber. The ladies had bedded down in their rooms and Madge knew the queen was already in her silk nightdress, a glass of warm goat’s milk by her bed. Her Majesty had dismissed Madge for one hour while she made her prayers and read from her Book of Hours. Late at night, though it was against the usual rules, the queen often sent Madge from her side, saying she needed a respite from the demands of being in sight of everyone all day long. Because of her condition, the king allowed it, giving Madge a warning that if anything befell the queen and the unborn prince, Madge would be held responsible. Madge remembered the cold look in his eye as His Majesty growled the words at her.
    She strained to see who was in the chamber as all the candles had been snuffed for the night. She could hear movement, the rustle of silk skirts, a masculine murmur. Suddenly, she spied a large shape by the windowpane. Even in the darkened room, she could tell it was the king. He was the tallest, most muscular man at court and there was no mistaking his size or shape. A much smaller