Bishop’s Waltham, England. 2nd of July, 1522.
Lodewijk van Praet is nothing if not a loyal man. He had faithfully served his Duke, now Emperor, with the best of his capabilities, as grand bailiff of Ghent and Bruges, and since May, as the Imperial Ambassador to England. Personally, he considered the Emperor’s betrothal to Princess Mary as his greatest achievement, since it had taken many months to convince the King of England to accept such a deal. It was his work alone that the Emperor had acquired great trading deals with the English and when the children from his marriage to young Mary Tudor eventually came, Lodewijk would be proud to know that it was his words that had brought them to life.
Except they would never come. Except for the fact that Charles of Austria summoned Lodewijk and two of his attendants in the middle of the night, having them meet him in the chapel of Bishop’s Waltham, a market town just outside Bishop Waltham’s Palace. There, Lodewijk met the Emperor, with a woman holding his arm as they talked with a priest.
Lodewijk hadn’t wanted to believe what was before his eyes, and so he lied to himself. He lied to himself as they stepped inside the chapel. He lied to himself when the Emperor introduced the woman, Anne Boleyn, to them. She had dark hair and eyes but was not a great beauty herself. Lodewijk noticed her fine green dress and the diamond necklace around her neck that was supposed to have been given to Princess Mary at the end of the Emperor’s visit.
No, he thought, as the priest, whose name he did not know, started and finished the wedding ceremony, You cannot do this. You are promised already.
Lodewijk said nothing. He couldn’t say anything, because this ceremony was a secret. He was there only as a witness, to assure the world that it was a godly bond, legal and binding. It was not up to him to say anything against it.
But the Emperor felt the need to tell them, “Say nothing of this until we have returned to Castile.” He was holding the hand of Anne, his wife, tightly, as if he was afraid she would soon leave, “We do not know how Henry will react and the Spaniards deserve to know first. They will be the most disappointed, after all.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Lodewijk, “I would not dream to go against your will.”
“Thank you, Lodewijk.” the Emperor smiled, “I will never forget your service to me. To us.”
Lodewijk nodded. His service was a loyal one, true. He would keep his mouth shut until the Emperor announced his marriage to Anne Boleyn and, when it was done, would do his best to calm the temper of the King of England. He would be the one more disappointed about this marriage, more angry, not the Spaniards.
“Now, my lord,” said the Emperor, “I must retire for the night with my bride.”
The Empress giggled then, high and proud on the arm of her husband. No one could tear her away from him, it seemed. Lodewijk would never dare to try.