Indulgence/Tudor Times/Ch.1

  Henry's bright blue eyes grazed the dazzling energetic movement of his court. It was dinnertime and the large room was alive with chatter, gossip and laughter. Wine flowed every which way, and a group of musicians were playing a lively piece. And the girls, ah the girls! Rosy cheeked beauties with plumped up breasts danced before him by the dozens. Not only was King Henry's court filled with exquisite decorations and some of the wealthiest families in the country, it was also littered with some of the fairest ladies in the realm. Several of them were at that moment trying to catch his eye, as their partners led them across the dance floor. Two or three of the prettier ones received a smile and a wink from the flirtatious king, and the minds of their ambitious families were instantly in motion. A smile from a king can mean many a thing.

A voice on his right brought his attention back to the woman sitting beside him; his wife, Queen Catherine of Aragon. "Are you enjoying the music tonight, my husband?," Catherine inquired in her heavy Spanish accent, putting extra emphasis on the word husband, as if to remind him that he was married. "As if that's ever stopped me before," chuckled Henry inwardly, as he took sip of wine. Catherine was a simple, pious woman, who had once been a famed beauty for her rich auburn hair and shy smile. Now her body was thick and unshapely, due to her constant pregnancies. And she was getting quite old, at 34 years, compared to Henry's youthful 28 years. And from her several pregnancies Catherine could boast only one living child, and she only a girl, and a slight timid little girl at that. Certainly not a robust energetic child that might grow into a healthy fertile young woman who could be married off anytime soon. The corners of Henry's rosebud mouth turned down slightly. Being around Catherine only inspired gloomy thoughts and bad memories. "Its no wonder I seek companionship elsewhere," thought Henry sulkily.

Catherine had her thin eyebrows raised slightly, and Henry remembered that she had asked him a question. "Yes, the music is very fine indeed," he answered briskly, taking another sip of wine. How predicable his dinners with Catherine had become, she asked the same questions over and over, in the same quiet, humble way. He sighed, bored with this marital familiarity. "You will be pleased to hear that Sir Thomas Boleyn has returned from his trip to France," Catherine offered, trying to engage her husband in conversation. "Has he now?" Henry's gaze was already caught by a twinkling blond beauty with a promising smile. "Yes, and he has brought with him his daughter, Anne." That caught Henry's attention, and he immediately searched the room with his expert gaze. A fresh female face was always welcome news to King Henry. It wasn't long before Sir Thomas Boleyn and his handsome family was in sight. Beside Thomas was his wife, Lady Elizabeth, who had once been quite a beauty herself, as Henry recalled. Their eldest child, George, a terrible flirt of twenty-one years, had been on the dance floor from the moment the music had started playing. Nineteen year old Mary Carey, the middle child and wife of William Carey, was conversing with someone, her golden brown hair catching the light of the candles in a most angelic way. Henry's eyes twinkled as he recalled the many nights he'd spent with Mary in previous years. It had been fun, undoubtedly, while it had lasted. He had even fathered two children on the girl, though of course it had never been made public. The little boy and girl carried the name Carey, and lived in Kent with their nursemaids. But where was Mistress Anne Boleyn? Mary caught the King staring at her, and bent forward slightly to whisper something to her companion. The girl turned her head, boldly meeting Henry's blue gaze with her dark one.

It was as if time had instantly stopped. Henry's gaze was focused on the stunning beauty and she alone. The first thing one noticed about Anne were her eyes; glittering dark brown almond shaped eyes, framed generously with black lashes. She had the long Boleyn nose, shared by both her siblings, as well as that bold imperious look which Lady Elizabeth Boleyn had perfected long ago. Her skin was creamy and pale, with a hint of an olive undertone, most unusual in a court of pink cheeked ladies; however the contrast was most intriguing to Henry. She also differed from the other girls in the style of her hood and dress, which were in the French style. Henry immediately took to Anne's crescent shaped hood, which allowed him the full view of her heart shaped face. She smiled then, drawing Henry's attention to her well shaped pink lips. Without breaking eye contact Henry took yet another sip of wine, and rose to make his way to where the Boleyn family sat. "Husband, will you not finish your dinner?" begged Catherine in vain, as her Spanish ladies gave Henry dark looks under lowered brows. But Henry was on a mission, and dinner (and his wife) were the last things on his mind.

  Realizing that the king was making his way to their table, Sir Thomas and his family immediately rose and bowed respectfully. "Good evening your majesty," offered Sir Thomas politely, as Lady Elizabeth quickly adjusted her heavy gable hood, a Spanish style Queen Catherine favored. “Little rooftops,” Henry often liked to joke. "Welcome home Sir Thomas! I hear you are just returned from France." Henry's comment was directed at Sir Thomas, but his blue gaze kept drifting to the ebony haired beauty on the other side of the table. "I have, your majesty. Do let me allow myself to introduce my youngest, Anne. She is just returned from the French court herself, after having spent several years in the court of the French queen." Anne bowed demurely, allowing Henry an excellent view of creamy breasts, plumped up by the tight fastenings of her deep green velvet gown. "Bon soir, your majesty," her voice was most enchanting, with just a hint of a French accent. "Such a seductive little thing," chuckled Henry inwardly. "Ah, you are all but French now Mistress Anne. And are you happy to return to England?" Anne's dark eyes were bold and challenging as she answered, "Bien sur. Who could not be happy to return to such a golden court. It is nearly as lively as the court from whence I came." Henry's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, he certainly wasn't used to his court being deemed anything but the best! Yet coming from a young woman such as Anne, he was not at all angered, but deeply intrigued. Henry shot a flirtatious grin at Mary, "Well Lady Carey, we shall have to show your sister how enchanting this court can be! Mistress Anne, would you do me the honor of a dance?" He held out his hand expectantly. Yet shockingly Anne sat down, and began fanning herself quite regally. "Perhaps tomorrow night your majesty. I am afraid I am quite tiered from my journey. Dancing is not at all possible tonight." Her tone was pleasant and charming, yet at the same time firm and unyielding. Henry's cheeks flushed a bright pink at the refusal, though he attempted a quick recovery. "But of course Mistress Anne. Foolish of me to expect you to be up and dancing after such a journey. I shall hold you to your promise tomorrow evening. Perhaps Lady Carey would honor me with her hand tonight?" Mary made no hesitation at accepting the king's outstretched hand, and within moments the handsome couple had all eyes upon them as they graced the dance floor.

  Anne watched, demurely fanning herself, oblivious to the gossip flying about the court. Had she actually refused a dance with the king himself? Was she completely mad? Anne made no response to the whispers, she only reached out one slim fingered hand for her goblet, and took a sip of the fine wine. Her glittering dark gaze moved to the right, where Queen Catherine sat, looking quite statuesque, as her husband whirled Mary around the room. "Such an old, plain thing," mused Anne, as several men in the room tried to capture her attention with no success. Anne turned her attention back on the king. He was head and shoulders above every other man, well formed with a muscled build, thick auburn curls and those enchanting bright blue eyes. He towered over her petite sister, who showered him with the sweetest of smiles. Mary knew her family was watching every step she took. And even though she’d already caught the king, there was always room for new possibilities. After all she did have his son in the cradle at Hever Castle. Suddenly Anne felt a sharp pinch on her hand. Her mother sat beside her, giving her the most endearing of smiles, though when she spoke her tone was like ice. “Daughter, I might wonder why you have just refused the king of England a dance?” Anne lowered her lashes, an instant veil over her dark eyes. “It is just as I said, Lady Mother. I am tiered. By the by, have I not been brought back to England to marry a certain cousin of mine?” Anne’s countenance was all innocence. Lady Elizabeth sighed impatiently. The mentioning of Anne’s Irish cousin, James Butler, the Earl of Ormond, obviously had no effect on her annoyance. “That matters not!” hissed Lady Elizabeth, as Sir Thomas gave Anne a meaningful look. Anne simply turned her attention back to where King Henry was kissing her sisters hand. Mary’s flushed pink cheeks were most inviting, yet what would come out of him showing her particular favor once more? Another child perhaps? A few jewels or a piece of land? Anne’s quick mind spun rapidly. “I shall not be like Mary, or any other easy whore in this room. I shall be something much greater.”