Everyone who could find a craft seemed to be on the river that day. The city merchants were out in their decorated barges, and dressed in scarlet, their heavy gold chains about their necks, they made a fine sight. The Lord Mayor, splendid in his ceremonial robes, was followed by fifty barges filled with the leading men of the city… all rowing down to Greenwich. In the leading barge—the Lord Mayor's—was a dragon which, to the amusement of the crowds on the bank, capered as the barge passed along and spat out fire—a most ingenious feat. The people laughed and cheered. The vessel I liked best was the one decorated with my device and in which were seated young girls singing sweetly of my beauty and virtues; in the midst of them sat a white falcon surrounded by red and white roses. At the foot of this was written my motto, “Me and Mine.” The white falcon was henceforth to be my device. It was taken from the Butler crest, and of course the roses indicated that my offspring would bind even closer the Houses of York and Lancaster.

I came out from Greenwich Palace at three in the afternoon, dressed in cloth of gold, and as I stepped into my barge, the trumpets sounded. This was indeed triumph.

We went up the river toward the Tower—my barge followed by members of the nobility, my father in the lead. As I approached the Tower, the guns began to sound. I alighted and was conducted to the postern gate, where Henry was waiting to greet me.

He kissed my hand, his eyes alight with pride. I was doubly dear to him because of the child I carried.

Nan Saville had wondered whether the ordeal of the coronation would be bad for me in my condition, but I told her no. I had waited years for this and I was determined to enjoy every moment.

I was to stay in the Tower for several days. There Henry knighted several people in honor of the occasion, and through those days the river was alive with craft; the sound of music was everywhere; there was singing and revelry and the streets were crowded. For these few days the people were ready to forget their animosity toward me. I might have been Nan Bullen, the King's concubine yesterday, but today I was Anne, Queen of England, and this was my coronation. These were great days for them as well as for me: a holiday with feasting, sporting, dancing, singing and general rejoicing. So therefore just for today it was “God bless Queen Anne.”

There had never been a more splendid occasion. Henry was determined that it should be so. It was more than a coronation. It was an act of defiance against the Pope. No one should gainsay Henry. He was King in his country, and his will should be law.

I was to ride through the city from the Tower to Westminster Abbey. Rails had been set up in the streets to protect the people from the horses. The Lord Mayor, Sir Stephen Peacock, received me at the Tower gate. Then came the French ambassador, the judges, the nobility and the Arch-bishop of Canterbury with the bishops. Suffolk was there as Lord High Constable of England. I wondered what he would be feeling to see me here as Queen. He had tried to destroy me and had worked hard to try to prevent my reaching this position; his wife, my one-time mistress, had refused to accept me. Poor woman, there would be no question of that now, for I had heard that she was very ill—sick unto death, they said— and even if she had wished to leave her home at Westhorpe to come to my coronation, she could not have done so.

It was strange, thinking back over all those years—but such thoughts will come on these occasions—to those days when as a little girl I had accompanied the proud beauty to France. Now I was a Queen and she was a dying woman.

I stepped into my litter. My surcoat was of silver tissue and my cloak was of the same material lined with ermine. I wore my hair flowing about my shoulders, and on my head was a circlet of rubies. My litter was made of cloth of gold, and my two palfreys, which drew it, were in white damask. They were led by sumptuously clad footmen, and the company stretched out behind me.

There were wonderful pageants on the way; we stopped to marvel at their ingenuity and to listen to the speeches of praise. One of these represented Mount Parnassus, from which sprang jets of Rhenish wine. Of course, the white falcon figured in these scenes. One was particularly effective—the falcon uncrowned in the midst of red and white roses; as I approached, an angel appeared and placed a golden crown on the falcon's head. In Cheapside the wine flowed freely—white in the conduit on one side, red on the other.

And so we progressed through the city to Westminister, where I was to spend the night with the King.

I went to bed that night exhausted, but deeply content. I reminded myself that I was not only the Queen but the idol of the people. Well… perhaps for a day or so. The joy was so exquisite that I must savor it to the full. This was no time for analyzing my thoughts and finding uneasy portents there. It was a time for absolute rejoicing, and I gave myself up to it.

The morning dawned… that day for which I had waited through the years. The first day of June. In four months’ time my joy would be complete. Then I would hold my son in my arms and I would have the King's gratitude forever. People would no longer revile me. They would realize that I, Anne Boleyn, had won the love of the King so that he had discovered his first marriage had not found favor in the sight of God. So he had married me and I was giving them their new King, thereby saving the country from split loyalties and perhaps civil war. Henry was not yet old—forty-two years of age. He had time to bring up a son to be a good King to follow him. Had it not been for this marriage and my production of the heir, what would have happened on Henry's death? The old wars of the roses might well have broken out. Any country which has endured civil war would go to any great lengths to prevent that happening again.

I was up early, ready for the great day. My ladies helped me to dress in surcoat and mantle of purple velvet lined with ermine. Then came the walk from Westminister Hall to the Abbey. The barons of the Cinque Ports held the canopy over me; the Bishops of London and Winchester walked beside me; and the ladies, led by the Duchess of Norfolk, carried my train.

I sat in a chair between the choir and the altar, and then I went to the high altar where Cranmar was waiting for me. Finally the crown of St. Edward was set on my head, and the Te Deum was sung.

The ceremony continued and afterward we left the Abbey for West-minster Hall where a banquet was being prepared. Then we sat at a table which had been decorated in a most splendid manner; we were served with twenty-seven dishes and ate to the accompaniment of music.

The King was not present. This was my occasion. He watched, he told me afterward, through a window, for he wanted to see the whole company do honor to me. I was to be the most important person at the table; and had he been there, of course, that honor would have fallen to him.

The meal went on until six o'clock, and when I had drunk from the golden cup which had been brought to me by the Mayor, I presented him with the cup as a reward for his services. I gave the canopy, with its golden bells, to the Barons of the Cinque Ports as payment for their services in accordance with custom. Then I thanked them all for what they had done for me.

Very tired, but deeply contented, I left the hall.

The great day had come to an end and I was Queen of England.

Into Danger

I HAD THOUGHT THAT when I reached the pinnacle of my ambition I should be completely happy. Here I was, Queen of England, soon to bear the heir. My tribulations were over. Whatever the Pope did could not harm me now. Cranmer was the King's man and he had declared the King's first marriage invalid; and if there was any difficulty from Rome, Cromwell had his solution. Oh, I knew it was a drastic one and that the King was nervous of putting it into practice; but we were married now. This was the culmination of all our efforts for seven years.

But it was not quite perfection. Perhaps there is a reaction after such a conclusion is reached. Perhaps the continual plans, the upheavals, even the setbacks gave a zest to the days. I wondered if the King felt as I did. The excitement of our encounters had waned a little. Perhaps it was because the excitement of doing what was forbidden was removed. There is a spiciness in sinning which acting virtuously lacks. It was now perfectly legitimate for us to share the same bed. We were almost like a long-married couple; and there was I, no longer alluring, for how could a woman heavy with child be that?

The King was very tender toward me, very solicitous that I should take great care. But I began to ask myself whether that was really for the sake of the child.

I was surrounded by all the ceremony which is a Queen's natural right; I was the most talked-of person in the country. Soothsayers and astrologers were making prophecies about my child. They all declared it would be a boy. They would have received little thanks from Henry for a girl.

I was learning more about my husband. When I thought of all the warning signs I had had during the last years, I marveled at my lack of perception. I had been adored so long that I thought it would go on forever. I had come to believe that I was possessed of some special powers to draw men to me. I should have looked more closely at men's motives— more than that, I should have looked to myself. I had been the most attractive woman at Court, and I had been convinced that this was due to some special quality I possessed. Now I perceived that, although I was not without attractions, it was the ardent desire of the King which had enhanced my allure. There must be something very exciting about a woman for whom a man would do so much. That was what they told themselves, and they promptly fell in love with me. I should have seen that Henry was tired of Katharine and that his mixture of piety and sensuality made it necessary for him to indulge his desires while placating his conscience. He had never taken mistresses to the extent that François had. He wanted a regular union because he thought that was pleasing in the eyes of God, and Henry sought favor in that direction—just as his courtiers did with him. Thus there had been a combination of events: boredom with Katharine and the need to remove her but in a manner which could be seen to be righteous; desire for me, who had stood out against anything but marriage; the obstinacy in his nature which could not bear to be balked; and above all the overriding need and desire for a son. That was what had motivated Henry, and I had deluded myself into believing that it was entirely due to his passion for me.