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There was one thing that Anne never understood. One person she never figured out. She was proud of her ability to see what men wanted, to be able to manipulate them to her will without them noticing.
Her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, wanted the power and prestige that was denied to him at Henry’s court. With promises of how with her as Queen he’d have to be respected and acknowledge, she had swayed him to her side, to her plans. But he wanted to be in control, so she’d guided him silently to make the choices she wanted and present them as his own plan to her. Norfolk was hers to mould, all she had to offer him was power.
Henry was even simpler. He wanted an heir. Some days it seemed that he needed an heir more than he needed to breath. She promised him a son and he was hers. He’d nearly driven them to war in his quest for a divorce and then when he’d began faltering, she’d whispered a few soft words of how the Pope should have no control over the King of England. Then he’d ripped the country in two in a quest for a reformation just so he could have her, have the son he craved. Henry was hers to mould, all she had to offer him was an heir.
But then there had some Suffolk. He’d been easy at first. It was clear to anyone who saw him that he was suffering away from court after marrying Henry’s sister. So easy to whisper the right words in the right places and Suffolk was back at court and owed it all to her family. He’d followed through on his half of the deal and helped get Wolsey out of the way, out of her way. But then, he’d just walked away.
Oh, he’d been pulling away even while they removed Wolsey, but he’d stayed because that was the deal he’d made. She thought she had him then, had though Suffolk was a man who stuck to his principles, to his word no matter the cost. But even the debt he owed them for getting him back to Henry’s side wasn’t enough to stop him from using that exact position to warn Henry against her. Hadn’t that been a shock, it had been a long time since a man had pulled out of her grasp once she had him.
So, she used Henry, got him to send Suffolk away before he could do any more damage. And Henry had sent his best friend away, pretended it was his idea not hers as she’d intended. At least the king was still hers to control. But then Suffolk was back, sitting at the king’s side murmuring together while she was relegated to watching from a distance. She watched as he caused anger to flash through Henry and the clear dismissal from the king of his friend. Then Suffolk was approaching her, and Henry was watching him closely, so she put on a smile and turned to him. He’d bowed, he’d thanked her, he’d been every bit as respectful to the Queen of England as he had to be, but he hadn’t been hers. He’d had a hard glint in his eye that screamed that he knew she had manipulated Henry into sending him away and he would never forget. She thought she knew then what he desired above all else, what she could use to control him. Suffolk needed to be near Henry, he craved it and would do anything to stay there. She should have guess years ago when he been all but crawling on his knees, begging Henry to forgive him to come back to court.
Later she found that that wasn’t true. Oh, it was true that Suffolk thrived when he was near the king, but he didn’t just fold to Henry like others who wanted to stay in his presence. He argued with him, he beat the king in the lists, he got sent away and summoned back so fast it made her head spin. Suffolk should have been dead many times over. Henry had only offered one line of reprimand when Suffolk had arrived late to their marriage and even through all her careful cajoling she hadn’t managed to make Henry properly punish him for that. No, Suffolk’s desire to be near Henry wasn’t something she could use to control him. The man was far too assured of his own standing with the king, of the fact he would always be forgiven and always be wanted for her to manipulate him with promises of keeping him in favour. Suffolk knew he was loved; knew he was safe. Even the death of More hadn’t shaken that belief in him.
As she sank to her knees ready for her own execution she wondered how different things would have been if she’d found an answer. He’d been the one who’d encouraged Henry to cast her aside. He’d beaten her and she was sure he hadn’t ever realised he was playing the game. Looked straight ahead she saw him, standing among the kneeling crowd. His face emotionless as he looked on, one hand resting on the shoulder of his son. Part of her understood as she met his hard gaze what made Suffolk the man he was.
He wasn’t a man who was ruled by his principles, though he did have them. He wasn’t a man who would bind himself up in his word, though he’d fight to avoid betraying those he gave it to. He wasn’t a man who needed to be in the king’s presence to have his love, though he’d bask in it when offered. Suffolk was the only man, she’d never figured out, never been able to control but now she understood him at the end of her life. Surrounded by crowds kneeling and praying for a Queen accused of treason he stood firm.
Charles Brandon loved his king and was loyal to him above all else. It wasn’t just empty platitudes that feel from his lips when he called himself Henry’s humble and loyal servant but a promise of the truth. The one way to control him, was the one thing that made him completely uncontrollable. Suffolk wasn’t a man who wanted anything for himself or worked for his own aims; he was a man who desired whatever the king wished and would go to the ends of the world to give it to him.
Anne knew then what Henry had known for years; Charles Brandon was the king’s man to his core. He’d break his principles, abandon his word, argue with his king, all in the name of love and servitude to one man. As the sword swung back behind her, she watched him sink to a knee his eyes still locked with hers. She’d figured him out, but too late to protect herself from him.