In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,38
King was working against him? He must have returned from that visit to France a disillusioned man.
I heard about his return. The King was surrounded by his courtiers, Anne Boleyn at his side, when Wolsey sent a messenger to tell him of his arrival, expecting my father to tell him he would receive him at once and naturally in private. He was travel-stained and wished to wash and change his linen before meeting the King, but Anne imperiously ordered him to come to them as he was, there in the banqueting hall. Wolsey was dismayed. This was not the treatment he was accustomed to, but when the King did not countermand Anne Boleyn's order, he must have known this was the end.
The King intended to marry the woman; and farseeing, clever as he was, Wolsey could see that there would be no place for him at Court while she was there.
When my mother heard what had happened, she was very melancholy.
It seemed that the King was determined.
She said, “But time is on our side. He will tire of her in due course. I am sure of it.”
She was right in a way, but she did not see it. Perhaps she knew him too well to trust in his fidelity. Heaven knew, she had had experience of his nature in this respect.
There was little comfort for us except in the love and support of the people. When my mother and I took a barge from Greenwich to Richmond, they lined the banks of the river to cheer us. The sound was heartening. “Long live the Queen! Long live the Princess!”
Did we imagine it or was there an extra fervor in their cheers? How much did they know of the King's plan to replace my mother and disinherit me?
THERE WAS TROUBLE EVERYWHERE. My father was on unfriendly terms with the Emperor. There was no doubt that he was shocked by my father's attempts to divorce my mother and regarded it as an insult to Spain. I rejoiced that she had such a strong champion. This meant a halt to trade, which caused unrest in the country. England did a certain amount of business with Spain but that with the Netherlands was vital to our people and especially the clothiers of Suffolk. As before, the manufacturers found it necessary to discharge workers and there was a return of the riots.
My father had always dreaded to lose his subjects' affection. I had never seen anyone so delighted by approval as he was. Despot that he was, he wanted to be loved. It was a measure of his infatuation with Anne Boleyn that he risked their displeasure.
However, there was an immediate truce with the Netherlands.
Then disaster struck. The sweating sickness came to England.
This was the most dreaded disease which seemed to strike our country more than any other, to such an extent that it was often known as the “English Sweat.” There was a superstition about it because it had first appeared in the year 1485, at the time of the battle of Bosworth Field when my grandfather, Henry VII, had become King after defeating Richard III. People said it was revenge on the Tudors for having usurped the throne; and now here it was again when my father was contemplating divorcing my mother.
It was dreaded by all and was so called because the victim was struck until his death—which was usually the outcome—by profuse sweating. It was a violent fever; it rendered those who suffered from it with pains in the head and stomach and a terrible lethargy. The heat the patient had to endure was intense, and any attempt to cool it meant instant death.
When victims were discovered in London, there was great consternation.
The Court broke up. The King believed that the best way to escape the disease was to leave for the country without delay and move from place to place, and this he proceeded to do.
I could not help feeling great satisfaction when I heard that Anne Boleyn had caught the disease. She was immediately sent to Hever, away from the Court.
My father was deeply distressed and sent his second-best physician—but only because his first was away—to look after her. This was Dr. Butts, a man of great reputation. I heard my father was in a panic lest she die.
I frankly hoped she would.
I said to my mother and the Countess, “This is God's answer. When she is dead, all our troubles will be over.”