Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn Read Online Free Page B

see Bess for myself. I was met by the figure of a young woman dressed rather plainly and clearly still in her first flush of youth. She was scurrying after us, her arms laden with linen. Clearly, she too was giddy with excitement at the King’s visit.
    In a deep Kentish country accent the maid, and I felt quite certain by her dress that she was a maid, replied.
    ‘Yes, Mistress Mary.’ With her words, the identity of my companion was confirmed. This pretty, young woman was indeed Mary, Anne’s elder sister. She was beautiful, and I could see why the King had taken her to his bed. Of course, I knew of their affair from history books. With the King clearly here to visit Anne, I assumed that it was, by then, over. Yet, I detected no hint of jealously in her manner toward me. I could not help but marvel at her behaviour, and wondered if I would be so generous if I were in her place. At the same time, my mind was frantically trying to remember when this dalliance between the King and Mary Boleyn had ended. I thought that if I could just bring this to mind, I might have an idea of the year that I was in, and of more immediate importance, where Anne was in her relationship to Henry.
    I suppose looking back, I am surprised I did not start laughing at the absurdity of it all. Yet, for some reason, I did not. I seemed stuck there, despite myself, and if the truth be known, beneath the fear was excitement. All my life, since I had fallen for Anne’s charms, I, perhaps like every other lover of history, had dreamed of what it would be like if just for a short while, I could be transported back in time. To be able to see the people whose drama I knew in intimate detail; to speak with them, to ask them about their lives and fill in the gaps left frustratingly blank through documents long lost or destroyed; to know for myself the truth about the people whose reputations had been shaped after their deaths by the personal and political agendas of their contemporaries.
    Yet my thoughts were interrupted by the servant girl, who turned her attention to me and asked,
    ‘Mistress Anne, which dress shall I fetch for you?’ The young girl, whose blonde hair was caught up in a white linen cap, looked at me expectantly. For a moment, everything seemed to hang in the air, as if time were standing still. My first thought was that I had no idea! Then, before I had a chance to dwell on this any further, I realised that I was speaking boldly and decisively. This was to be the first of many times in the days and months ahead that words would tumble forth without my understanding of whence they came. Every time this would happen, it seemed as though I was being guided from beyond my understanding by Anne herself. It was from these experiences that gradually over time, I would also come to know more of the real Anne Boleyn. I would begin to see the world through her eyes, feel her passions, her fears, her hopes. I would understand more and more intimately her character, the events that would shape and define her, and her actions which would leave her essence indelibly marked on the pages of European history.
    In that moment, for the first time since I had opened my eyes in this unbelievable world, I felt strangely calm and self-assured. I did not quite understand why. After all, I found myself in a strange place; it seemed also that I had arrived in different time! I was somehow in the body of Anne Boleyn, whose story and fate I knew well from my history books. The King was waiting for me downstairs; I should have been terrified. I knew what Henry was, and would be capable of, in the years to come. Yet, nevertheless, I felt a surge of courage well up from within me. I knew exactly what I must do. For the first time, I took control. Letting go of Mary’s hand, I turned toward Bess.
    ‘Bess, bring me my yellow, silk gown and white silk hood – the one with the black velvet veil.’
    ‘Very good, Madame’, with that, Bess gave a slight curtsey and