Hever, England. 3rd of July, 1522.
“You can’t possibly think we believe in you, Anne,” said her father, his face red with fury.
“But it’s true,” Anne responded, extending her arm. On her finger, there was a golden ring, a ring that until the day previous had been on the hand of Emperor Charles. The jewel bore the two-headed black eagle of the Habsburgs and the Holy Roman Emperor, her new family. When her father looked at the jewel, he frowned and turned away his face, disgusted, “We are married. I am the Queen of Spain now.”
“The Emperor is already promised to another,” her brother said, disbelief clear on his face, “A binding promise. He cannot be your husband.”
Anne raised her chin. She would not let them speak like that to her, as if she were a mere silly child who did not understand the ways of the world. She was married to the Emperor, for goodness’ sake, and may very well already have the next Emperor growing in her belly, “Princess Mary is a child. The contract was never consummated and so it’s not legally valid. The Emperor,
my husband, will easily acquire a dispensation from the Pope for it.” She shook her head, “Why aren’t you happy for me? Alone, I have gained a good and honourable married. I am Queen now, mother to a future King. Our family has never been higher.”
“He has tricked you,” her father said, shaking his head, “Do not think this marriage is binding, Anne. He has fooled you into believing it is just so he may enter your bed.”
Her mother’s blue eyes filled with tears, “Oh, my poor daughter… My poor darling daughter…”
Anne swallowed the desire to stomp her feet on the ground like she was a child, or to throw a tantrum. She was a Queen now and had to behave as such. Queen Catherine came to her mind. Her Majesty was always so calm, so collected. Anne had to be just like her, “You do not know that. Charles and I are married. We were joined by God until death does us apart.”
“Well, do not think this marriage will hold anywhere!” her father shouted, “Do you think King Henry will recognize this union when it was supposed to be his daughter in your place? Or the Portuguese. Or the French. All royal families of Europe will refuse to even say your name, as you have stolen the crown that they believed to belong to their relations.”
“Papa!” Tears came to her eyes at his words, freely sliding down her cheeks. Now, Anne regretted coming to Hever Castle to warn them, to ask them to come with her and Charles to Spain, where they would be safe from King Henry’s wrath.
Despite her crying, her father continued his verbal assault, “Do you think the Imperial Diets will recognize you? That they will bow before you and kiss your hand, call you Empress? You who have come to this marriage bare, without lands or dowry to enrich your husband? Or the Spaniards? Do you think you are worthy of sitting where Queen Isabella the Catholic sat?”
“Father, I think Annie has understood…” said George, looking between her and their father.
“Do not call her that!” responded her father, “She is no longer our darling Annie. She is a whore, who ruined everything by getting into the Emperor’s bed. The King will never look to our family for positions again because of her.”
“Papa!” Anne said at the same time her mother gasped, “Thomas!”
Thomas shook his head and averted his eyes from her, walking to the window. He placed his hands on his waist and sighed as he looked at the imperial coach outside of his walls, the coach that had brought his daughter,
the Empress, home.
“Perhaps there is still time,” he said, more to himself than to his wife and two children, “I will warn King Henry, beg for his forgiveness. He will find a way to have this marriage annulled and will forgive us, in due time. And you…” He turned to Anne, his eyes as wide as saucers, “You will be sent to a nunnery where you can repent from your mistakes.”
“No!” Anne said, “Father!”
She turned then, grabbing her red skirts with her hands, and ran away, ignoring the call of her father to have the guards take her. They hesitated, clearly not understanding why their lord would want to have his once darling daughter taken in, and she took advantage of the situation to run down a flight of stairs, cross the corridors and leave her family’s castle.
There, the imperial guards, quicker and smarter than her father’s, drew their swords at the sight of her running away. They would protect her because she was their Empress, she had to be.
Anne looked back at her family home, her home, and the tears slid down her cheeks as hot as boiling water. Her father looked at her from the window, shaking his head, “Go,” he said, “But know that when the Emperor sets you aside, you will not be welcome here. I no longer have a daughter named Anne.”
