The Secret Diary of Anne Boleyn Read Online Free PDF Page A

could that be, my lord Cecil?”
    “Your marriage, Majesty. It is of the utmost importance. A foreign alliance —”
    “Do not speak to me of a foreign alliance!” Elizabeth leapt from her chair in a swirl of rustling brocade and wafts of heady perfume which left her councillors dizzy. “When I took the throne I was hailed as a queen of no mingled blood of Spaniard or stranger, but born mere English and therefore most natural. What you want from me is a child of my body, is it not? An heir. Well, do you not believe my subjects wish for a true English prince?”
    “But, Your Majesty —”
    “I should be better off marrying you!” She twirled to face her Lord Steward. “Indeed, the Earl of Arundel wishes me to believe
he
is the best match in all of England.” She turned again and came eye to eye with the old Marquess of Windsor who had served under both her father and her brother. He was bent and frail, but when the Queen ran her ivory fingers over his grey beard he smiled like a young boy in love. “If my Lord Treasurer were a younger man I could find it in my heart to have
him
as my husband!”
    “Forgive me, Madame, but you jest upon a most serious subject,” said her chief counsellor.
    “If I did not know you better, Lord Cecil, I would think you subscribed to the common belief that beauty is nature’s gift to woman in compensation for her deprivation of brains —”
    “Your Majesty —” he begged.
    “— or to the writings of that pompous idiot John Knox who holds that for a woman to rule over men is as reasonable as the blind leading the sighted.”
    Elizabeth was no longer smiling and an angry flush had spread across her pale cheeks. “I ‘have told you and I will tell you once again. I will act in this matter as God directs me. Besides…” she said, regaining her composure as handily as she regained control of an unruly gelding, “I am already married.”
    Her councillors froze. Hardly a whispered breath could be heard from the lot of them. Had the worst happened? Had the Queen secretly married Dudley? Elizabeth raised her right hand, brandishing the heavy gold and ruby coronation ring at her councillors.
    “My husband is the Kingdom of England! Good day, my lords.”

    She had never seen anyone quite so old. When Kat Ashley showed the bent and hobbling woman into the Presence Chamber, Elizabeth found herself staring. The hair under the cap was thin and dull grey and the face impossibly wrinkled, like an apple left to dry in the sun. The ancient’s gown was frayed, faded, and altogether out of fashion, hanging loosely on her bony frame. Nevertheless Elizabeth felt quite certain this was a highborn lady. The woman’s deep and well-schooled curtsy despite painful joints was further proof of her nobility and training.
    Elizabeth’s curiosity piqued, she dispensed with formality and said, before the woman had even time to rise, “Speak. Tell me why you have come.”
    The woman was now upright but the great widow’s hump forced her to throw back the aged head at an extreme angle in order to meet the Queen’s steely gaze.
    “We must speak alone, Your Majesty.”
    Kat spluttered at the outrageous demand and with her eyes implored the Queen to allow her to eject the woman. But although the old lady’s overproud demeanor seemed at odds with her shabby appearance, Elizabeth sensed a strange importance in the occasion. She dismissed her lady, and Kat, red-faced with annoyance, swept out the door.
    “I have something once belonging to your mother,” the crone said.
    “Tell me your name, old woman, and let us dispel all secrecy. I may have interest in what you bring, but little patience.”
    The woman stared unflinching into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Lady Matilda Sommerville, Your Grace. And perhaps patience will, like creaking joints, be acquired with age.” As the Queen gazed at the crone unsure whether she was amused or infuriated, the woman reached deep into the folds of her skirt and extracted