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Wondery Plus subscribers can binge entire seasons of British Scandal early and ad-free. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Alice, as you know, we're trying to secure the long-term future of British Scandal, so we need to find the financing for that. Sadly, the things we've tried so far have not raised enough money.
I thought you were looking down the side of the British Scandal sofa. You said there'd be loads of loose change there. There was a couple of coins, mainly some old cornflakes. It wasn't enough. Oh, God, this is depressing. So, I've actually come up with an idea. Okay. Just hear me out. We're obviously trying to secure our future and our social standing. So, I thought you could seduce Elon Musk. What? Well, he's rich and he's said some nice things about you online, so...
I think he's open to you as a potential suitor. Oh, is he? Is he open to me? I'm not open to seducing Elon Musk. Not only is that ludicrous, but that is deeply offensive. It tells me that you have no moral compass and that you assume I also have no ethical code. This is so...
from something that I would do that it makes me question this friendship. Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It was just born out of desperation. I won't suggest anything like this ever again. I mean, the final name I was going to suggest was Lewis Hamilton, but you're absolutely right. I wouldn't cheapen you in that way. Let's not be hasty. If we need to secure the future of the show, we need to secure the future of the show and I will do my bit. We all need to muck in. January 1536, Greenwich Palace.
Anne Boleyn stands on a frost-covered viewing platform above the tilt yard, large flags fluttering in the wind behind her. She pulls her fur cloak tight around her bright yellow silk dress, keen to protect herself from the bitterness of the cold. She smiles as she cups her growing belly. She finally has everything she ever dreamed of. Anne swells with pride as she watches Henry tie her favour, a bright yellow handkerchief, to his lance.
But as she settles back to enjoy the joust, a sharp pain sears through her abdomen. Anne gasps, grips the wooden railing. One of her ladies in waiting rushes over. "Your Majesty, something's wrong." Her ladies swarm around her, their faces etched with concern. Anne rises to her feet. For a moment, she locks eyes with Henry and desperately tries to hide the fear that's bubbling up inside her. Then she starts back to the palace.
Anne turns her head to see hordes of people rushing to the tilt yard. "The king is down!" Anne starts to run through the crowds, elbowing people out of the way, until finally she reaches an opening. She feels the blood drain from her face because there in front of her is the king's horse flailing on the ground and Henry's seemingly lifeless body visible beneath it. "Henry!" Anne tries to race down to him, but her legs buckle.
She looks down to see her dress slowly darken. It takes a beat for Anne to realize that the growing stain is blood. "Your Majesty, we must get you to a physician!" Anne knows what this is, because it's happened before. Her face contorts with agony. She takes in the dark glances of her ladies-in-waiting, as the reality of her situation hits with devastating clarity. This was her last chance.
She could be about to lose everything she spent the last ten years working so hard to achieve. Her husband, the king, the promised heir to the throne, and with that, perhaps even her place as Queen of England.
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From Wondery, I'm Alice Levine. And I'm Matt Ford. And this is British Scandal, the show where we bring you the murkiest stories that ever happened on these odd little isles. British scandals come in many shapes and sizes. Some are about money, some are about sex, they're all about power. But when we look at scandals, a
bit closer, they turn out to be stranger, wilder, just plain weirder than we remember. So we're journeying back to ask who's to blame for what happened. And when the dust settled, did anything really change? I've got a big name story for you this time, Alice. So I'm not going to ask you if you've heard of the woman at the centre of this series, Anne Boleyn. Instead, I'd like to know what you think of her.
Okay, just to be clear, she was the second of Henry VIII's wives, right? That's right. The one who seduced the king and split the church? Oh yeah, kind of. In that case, whore, seductress, temptress springs to mind, schemer. As I remember it, we've got poor Henry happily ticking along in his marriage to his lovely wife and to the Catholic Church until she beguiled him into all sorts of crazy antics. Oh.
OK, I'm quite surprised that that's your view of her because you could see her as the victim who fell into the orbit of a homicidal egomaniac. Many say she was happily ticking along at court until Henry started paying her attention and she did what she needed to do to survive in a dangerously patriarchal society. No, not having it. This is the problem with women, Matt, and I've always said it. They flutter their eyelashes, they pout, they...
And they persuade innocent, simple men to do things they'd never normally do. And then they cry victim. And scene. In all seriousness, I have been wanting to do this one for ages because it feels so relevant. Anne has been cast as, I suppose, the original evil woman in the public eye. And we're so used to seeing it, just looking at people we've covered in British Scandal, Yoko Ono, Kristen Keillor, and maybe the most...
contemporary example would be Meghan Markle, women who are blamed and held to account for their partner's behaviour and their choices. Yes, but in Anne's case, the stakes were much, much higher. She is someone who altered the very religious, social and political fabric of our nation, and her legacy still fascinates us today. This is episode one, To Catch a King. Ten years earlier...
In 1526, I imagine that was one of the top pastimes. Just mirror twirling. Pretty much. She holds a decorated half-mask up to her face, then turns to look at her sister Mary, who sits on a cushioned stool nearby. What do you think? Mary grins.
"'Better than those awful hooded gowns you've favoured since your return?' Anne narrows her eyes. "'Must you always be so conventional, Mary?' Anne's pale skin and dark mane were made for the elegant gowns she wore during her seven years as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Claude of France. But tonight, aged 24, she's making her English court debut in a pageant, and Anne's thoughts are firmly fixed on the task at hand.
Father has the Earl of Northumberland's son in mind for you. He's very dashing. Anne goes into an exaggerated courtly bow. She and Mary dissolve into giggles. Cut short when the door bursts open and their father, Thomas, strides in. Father, do you like my gown? Anne rushes over to him, twirls dramatically to show off her dress, but he pushes her aside, instead strides over to Mary. Is it true?
Anne looks at her sister in confusion. "Has the King cast you aside?" Anne's stunned as Mary bows her head, her cheeks turning red. "Yes, Father." Anne raises a hand to her mouth. "Damn it, girl! I've worked for years to put this family at the heart of court, to build our status from nothing. Am I now to watch that crumble into dust?"
OK, so what's Thomas Boleyn's story? Well, Thomas has worked his way up, as he suggests. He wasn't born a nobleman. He married up in order to gain status. And that was the way in Tudor England. If you wanted status, you did it through marriage. So Thomas had done that himself. And what better way for him to gain even more status than to use his daughter effectively as a bargaining chip?
And I suppose as a woman, you obviously are in training to find yourself the most prestigious union, so you're anticipating this anyway. Despite herself, Anne cuts in. You can't blame Mary. Everyone knows how fickle the king can be. Thomas turns his disapproving glare on Anne. She casts her gaze downward, takes in her low-cut neckline that she's insisted on in the hope of drawing men's eyes, as a thought occurs. If the king requires a new mistress, perhaps...
I could tempt him. Strange dynamic, isn't it, father-daughter in 15-whatever-it-is? Father, perhaps I could tap that? Father, perhaps a tonk? You'd have to listen to a previous series to know that that's Matt's term for lovemaking. Yeah, it's a phrase I've heard the older boys use. Thomas waves a dismissive hand. With your flat chest and sickly complexion. Anne bristles, glances at Mary's long, fair hair, framing her rosy cheeks and ample bosom.
But her father stays on her, thoughtful. "Although, there are few virgins of suitable age left in court. I take it you did not open your legs to any of King Francis's wine-soaked libertines?" Anne blushes furiously. "No, I can assure you, I never..." "Then perhaps you're as good a lady as any to warm the king's bed." Anne feels her resolve harden. She's just as capable of securing her family's future as Mary. She straightens up, determined.
I won't let you down, father. Anne feels an excited flutter of butterflies in her stomach as her father nods and strides out. The Boleyns have always aimed high and she will be no exception. Tonight, she will make it her mission to catch King Henry VIII. That evening, March 1526, the Great Hall, York Place, London.
Anne balances atop a wooden mock turret as masked noblemen storm the make-believe fortress. Hold fast, virtues! Danger and jealousy shall not prevail!
I mean, obviously I know what's going on here, but for the benefit of the listener. Yes, this is a morality play. Okay. It was the popular entertainment of the Tudor times, where people would put on productions with the personification of effectively values. So you'd have angels and demons fighting to get the protagonist to go one way or the other. It's sort of, if it was a running time of, say, 27 minutes, you know, it's Tudor EastEnders. It is, although Tudor real life...
based on what we've seen already, way more outlandish than EastEnders. Although I will say Phil Mitchell, not not King Henry VIII. I imagine Phil's had six wives by now. Oh, minimum. And he wears a codpiece. Anne, as Perseverance, waves her silk handkerchief in faux distress as she searches her mind for her next line, then almost freezes when she realises the man leading the assault is King Henry.
costumed as Ardent Desire. Oh, boy. She's never seen him up close before, and there's no denying how strong and handsome he looks, draped in gold cloth, his reddish beard catching the light. Surrender, fair Virtuels! Ardent Desire shall overcome all obstacles. Anne forgets her nerves and steps forward, desperate to catch his eye. But his gaze has already moved to the buxom lady beside her, playing Beauty.
Anne kicks herself for not making a better first impression, but hearing the musicians tune their instruments, she quickly regroups. She rushes over to her father, drags him to the centre of the great hall, adjusts her sleeves and bows as the first lutes pierce the air. Anne's feet follow her father's with precise, delicate steps. "The eyes of the room are upon you, daughter."
including his majesties, and looks up to see Henry staring straight at her. She holds his gaze for a heartbeat before lowering her eyes with practice modesty. What, me? Well, this is what she learned in France. So all the other women there are dancing...
In a pretty basic English way, we know we're amongst the worst dancers in the world and we're cool with it. So true. But she's learnt that coquettish French style. So they're all doing some like lame, probably two-step with their handkerchiefs in the air or something. And she's twerking. The twerking of the day. Yes. They're Morris dancing. She's slut dropping. Moments later, Henry beckons Anne to join him.
But as she starts to walk over, she catches a whispered conversation between two of her fellow maidens. Have you seen the disdainful way the king looks at her sister Mary now? She's gone from whore to boar. Their tittering laughter echoes through Anne's head as she crosses the room. Is that what she's setting herself up to be in a few months' time? Soiled goods. Her mind races. As she nears the king and takes a deep breath, an idea starts to form.
She smiles broadly and then sashays straight past Henry. Anne hears nearby courtiers gasp. A hushed silence falls across the room, broken only by the unmistakable voice of England's king. Mistress Boleyn, your majesty. Henry towers above her as she meets his eyes. Forgive me, your majesty, but after my sister's experience, I've grown overly wary of engaging with...
Certain men at court. Henry's expression darkens. Lady Anne, I am no mere man. I am the king. She hopes she hasn't overstepped, but can only double down now. Yes, your majesty. Thank you for reminding me. Facetious little wench. She ignores her father's shocked pleas and instead turns and rushes away, her father's panicked voice ringing in her ears.
My lord, I must apologise. Anne's heart pounds so hard she fears it might burst from her chest. What she's just done could mean her whole family faces ruin. She can only hope her gamble pays off.
I mean, this could end so badly. Having said that, I think she's really smart because he's got women throwing themselves at him all the time and she's done the one thing that is taboo and that is to deny him. And some men love that. They bloody love it. The following morning, Westminster Palace Gardens, London.
Henry stomps towards the archery butts as his Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Wolsey, scurries alongside him. I'm trying to remember my Tudor and Stuart history. Cardinal Wolsey, big deal, right? Oh, massive deal. One of the last churchmen to play a dominant role in English political life.
He was King Henry's right-hand man, his most trusted advisor. And he actually carried out a lot of the duties effectively of what was then the government. He led on foreign policy. He was basically foreign secretary. And latterly described as the alter rex, the other king. Wow, OK. He's a big dog. Now that King Francis is free of Spain's grip, it presents an opportunity, Your Majesty. Henry comes to a halt and signals for a page to bring his bow.
He wants to listen, but all he can think of is the impotent Berlin girl he met last night. I propose that we position you as a neutral mediator. Did you see her last night? The way she spoke to me? He casts his mind back to her long neck, her dark eyes, that defiant smile. He focuses on Wolsey, who seems lost. Lady Anne! Now Wolsey returns with a look of grave recognition. Berlin's youngest? Yes, I...
The court was shocked by her behaviour. Thomas will struggle to find her a suitable husband if she cannot be brought to heel. Henry nods, reminded of how foolish Anne made him look. Indeed. Henry takes an arrow from his page and draws it back against his bow, focusing on the bullseye in his sight. Well, your majesty, why do we use Queen Catherine's link to keep Spain sweet? We might also strengthen our bond with Rome.
But as Henry tightens his three fingers around the bowstring, he finds Anne's soft voice entering his mind in its place. After my sister's experience, I've grown overly wary of engaging with certain men at court. He releases the arrow. Instead of hitting its target, it whizzes past and embeds itself in the grassy turf several yards away. He throws down his bow in frustration. This treacherous breeze thwarts me.
Arrest the breeze. Walsy and the page nod dutifully. But Henry knows full well the wind is not what's put him off his game today. Okay, release the breeze. Sir, we already killed the breeze. Later, in his private chambers, Henry stares out into the torch-lit gardens, his mind too restless to sleep. He turns to his chief groomsman. I wish for company tonight.
Oh, thanks, sir. Well, we could play some games. Ah, I see what you mean. Leave it with me. The groomsman nods. One of your usual ladies? Find me someone dark-haired, slender, intelligent eyes. He sees his groomsman pause at the final request before he scuttles off. Henry realises he can't allow this situation to continue. He must banish these troubling thoughts in order to regain his focus, his power.
He's going to have to take more drastic action, and he's already decided what it will be. The next day, Hever Castle. Anne sits at the Long Oak dining table. She picks at her bread, unable to meet her father's furious gaze. Do you have any idea what you've risked? Anne knows she should stay silent, but she's desperate to explain herself. The ladies of the French court believe a man values what he must work to win,
I thought if I behaved as they do, perhaps... Thomas slams down his water goblet, making Anne flinch. When the king shows interest, you respond with gratitude, humility, not French arrogance. Anne looks down at her lap. The silence is broken by a sharp knock. A boy in royal livery enters. Master Thomas Boleyn, His Majesty requires your presence at Westminster immediately.
Anne watches Thomas' face turn ashen. She feels bile rise up in her throat. When her father speaks again, it's in a nervous whisper. "Pray the king is in a merciful mood." Anne starts to reply, but before she can utter a word, her father storms across the room and slams the door. Four hours later, Anne's pacing her room as darkness falls. When Thomas finally strides through the door, she rushes over to him, overwhelmed with relief.
"Oh, father, I am so sorry!" Thomas holds her back, keeping her at arm's length. She feels tears prick her eyes. But then, to her amazement, he breaks into a triumphant smile. "The king has appointed me controller of the royal household, and you have been invited to serve alongside Mary as lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine!" Anne stands frozen, stunned. But Thomas isn't finished. He produces a small box.
This is for you, from his majesty. Anne's hands tremble as she opens it. Inside lays an exquisite gold pendant, a large red ruby in its centre. My clever girl. It seems you have made quite an impression, but now you must yield. The games must end. Dad, shut up. You've got to go over there and do it with him now. Horrible. Anne's mind begins to race with possibilities. How much more could she achieve?
Her ambition growing, she hands back the box. "No, have this returned to the king." Her father's smile vanishes. Anne clasps his hands, locks eyes with him. "The king doesn't just want a bedmate, father. Everyone knows he's desperate for a male heir, and Catherine has failed him. Perhaps a new wife could solve his problems?" Anne holds Thomas' gaze as his eyes widen. "Trust me, father.
The harder the chase, the more valuable the prize. Anne knows exactly how to play this game, and she intends to win. She will not settle for being a mere mistress. Nothing less than Henry VIII's new queen will do.
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and the temptations of technology. Listen to Flesh and Code early and ad-free on Wondery Plus. New Year's Day, 1527, Greenwich Palace. Can you imagine the novelty glasses for that one? Quite tricky, isn't it? Year 2000 was sort of good, but all the other ones, 1527, very difficult to see out of. Catherine of Aragon watches hawk-like over the tilt-yard.
as Henry's squires fasten ornate armour to him piece by piece. But it's not the king her dark eyes fixate on. It's one of her new ladies-in-waiting, Anne Boleyn. Catherine forces herself to stay composed. She reaches into her sleeve and takes out the favour she's hand-stitched for Henry, a purse with their intertwined initials at its centre. It warms her heart, reminding her of the days they were truly united. But as she looks up, to her horror...
Henry moves not towards her, but to Anne. His voice carries across the yard. Mistress Boleyn, might I request your favour for today's contest? Catherine stiffens as Anne hands Henry a delicate lace handkerchief, which he presses briefly to his lips before tying it to his lance. Her grip tightens around her own favour, aware all eyes are flicking between her and Anne.
She fixes a rictus grin on her face, but the humiliation burns like acid. She's turned a blind eye to Henry's mistresses over their 18 years together, but she refuses to be mocked in public. In plain sight of the entire court, she storms off the royal stand the moment the joust is done, rushes to the king's privy chamber, hammers on the door. Henry, I wish to speak to you. Catherine opens the door a crack, peers into the room.
Satisfied it's empty, she steps inside. Her heartbeat quickens as she's hit by Henry's musky scent. She picks up one of his heavy silk robes, enjoying the feel of it against her skin. She knows it's been a rough few years, but despite herself, she still loves Henry. She's about to take a seat and wait for him to return, when her eyes are drawn to a small prayer book on the bureau, open at an illustration of Saint Mary. Catherine takes a closer look.
and gasps as she realises it's been defaced, with Anne written beside it, along with explicit lines of French verse in Henry's distinctive handwriting. So is this like a sort of naughty limerick type of poem? I guess so, yeah. There was a young girl called Boleyn. Who in court caused quite a din. A king she did want to kiss and to tongue. LAUGHTER
And she looked great with his balls on her... Et cetera, yeah, exactly. Yeah, yeah. It's that sort of vibe. All the standard romantic lines of the time. Very 1500s. I mean, is that the vibe? I don't think it is. So they corresponded through things like prayer books and they would write little notes next to religious imagery. And it was quite chaste compared to the stuff we just said. But obviously, in the 1500s, and the fact that this was Henry VIII writing it himself...
means that actually this is very risque. So he would call her mine own darling and his good sweetheart, or the one woman in the world who I most esteem. What a perv. Next to the prayer book is a half-written letter. Catherine steals herself as she reads, Of late I have put my heart into your hands, beseeching you to have friendly care for it, and that it may be increased in the fervent desire which it bears you.
Catherine feels the bitter taste of bile hit her throat as the truth sinks in. It's not mere lust Henry feels for this girl. It's love. She jumps as she hears the door creak open. "Catherine, I have endured much over the years, husband. I have always put up with your diversions, but never have you been so public in your disrespect." "You imagine such things.
Infuriated, Catherine picks up the letter and raises it to Henry's face, forcing him to acknowledge his betrayal. "I deserve better than to be humiliated." Henry moves towards her, darkening. "And England deserves an heir." Catherine feels the daggers pierce her heart. "God may yet bless our union with a son." Henry turns back to her, his anger now matching hers. "After four boys too sickly to survive,
God has made his will clear enough. Catherine bows her head, overwhelmed with grief and shame. The pain of all the babies she's lost is as visceral now as ever. You've had your say, madam. That is all. Catherine knows she will get no more from him, that he has no intention of ending things with this latest concubine. To see the spell broken, she will have to deal directly with the sorceress who cast it. You just cannot imagine...
The trauma for women at this time of losing multiple babies, having not only no support, but...
your partner, in this case the king, truly believing that it's God's will and it's an example of his lack of approval of your union? Catherine lost six babies in total, four boys and two girls. Most were stillborn. The eldest survived to just 52 days. And she's shouldering all of the blame for this. All of the pressure is on her. Something completely out of her control. But of course, no one is blaming the man.
Uh-oh.
She watches as Catherine takes a crumpled letter from her sleeve and tosses it at her feet. There was a young girl called Berlin. Anne feels a rush of panic. Your Majesty, I... Pick it up. Anne stares at her in disbelief, then starts to slowly bend to retrieve the piece of parchment. I never reached the end. Perhaps you could read it for me? Anne starts to feel sick. Surely your Majesty would rather not...
She watches as Catherine fixes her with a stare. "Rid, I have put my heart-" But Catherine waves the dismissive hand. Anne stops talking. "You think yourself clever, making him gush to you like a schoolboy." Catherine halts, leans in closer. "But you are no more than a flat-chested novelty that will fade. End this, or I promise you and your family will regret it." Anne stays rooted to the spot as Catherine sweeps from the room.
She knows Catherine is dangerous, but as she re-reads Henry's lovesick words, she feels a calm descend. Catherine must view her as a real threat, to have been rattled enough to warn her off. But she must not back down now, quite the opposite. The following morning, Anne enters the Great Hall with her fellow ladies in waiting for the giving of New Year gifts. She eyes Catherine on her throne next to the King. Anne tightens her hand around the small object enclosed in her skirt pocket.
From the Earl of Shrewsbury, your Majesty. He gives me the same every year. What's next? Lady Anne Boleyn wishes to present the king with a gift.
Anne notes a flicker of shock cross Catherine's face, but she wills her eyes to focus on Henry as she presents him with a small model ship. Her heart thuds as he studies it carefully. If it pleases your majesty, it represents a maiden's journey. She sails toward a harbour, uncertain if she will reach safe shores or be dashed against the rocks. From the corner of her eye, Anne sees Catherine's barely contained fury. She requires certainty, your majesty.
A promise that the harbour awaits her, and that no contrary winds will change her course, no matter what storm may come. Anne's stomach feels like it's in knots as she steps back, hoping she hasn't overplayed her hand. An hour later, Anne is summoned to the king's privy chamber. She enters to find Henry alone. Lady Anne, the queen is far from happy. Anne feels a rush of panic, but then, to her relief, Henry's lips turn up into a wide smile.
But such an audacious move only excites me more. I must ask something important of you. Anne's heart skips a beat as he takes her hands. I wish you to be my only mistress, singular in my affections. Your mistress? You would have rooms at court, an allowance, servants, more than any woman has ever had outside of... outside of being queen? Henry stares at her, stunned.
Anne, you know that's impossible. Come on, love. Anne realises in horror that marriage hasn't even occurred to Henry. But now there's no going back. She places a hand on his chest, her boldness surprising even herself. Nothing is impossible for a king. I am not some kind of consolation prize and I will not compromise my honour or my future. I cannot. Henry blinks slowly, as if dazed.
Anne steps back, curtsies, then walks from the room. She's lightheaded as she enters the corridor. She's put all her cards on the table. Now she can only pray Henry loves her enough to make her his new queen, before Catherine convinces him otherwise. Thirty minutes later, January 1527, Greenwich Palace. Catherine paces her chamber, clutching her rosary beads.
Her heart hammers against her bodice as her lady-in-waiting and most loyal companion, Maria de Salinas, enters. Do you bring news? To Catherine's despair, Maria looks up at her, her face etched with regret. Your Majesty, I have heard the king has sent for Cardinal Wolsey. Maria hesitates. Catherine stares at her, imploring her to go on. It seems the king has tasked him with asking the Pope to...
It cannot be. I mean, there's no such thing as a divorce at this point, is there, in England? Kings in England weren't getting divorced, but kings elsewhere on occasion were, although there were high ecclesiastical standards for doing so. But Louis VII got a divorce and...
Catherine and Henry are deeply religious people, as people were back then, and they truly believed that divorce was a mortal sin. So they weren't just worried about judgment and the court of public opinion. They truly believed they would burn in the fires of hell for all eternity. Catherine straightens up. She charges down the long corridors of the palace so fast she's breathless by the time she reaches Henry's privy chamber.
She strides towards his bedroom door, only for his groom of the stool to block her way. Forgive me, Your Grace, but the king has commanded that you remain undisturbed at this time. I am his queen, and my business is most urgent. The groomsman stands firm. Your Majesty, I am bound by my sacred oath to the king. Catherine's heart sinks as she realises Henry could stonewall her this way for weeks.
She rushes back to her chamber and sits down at her bureau. If Henry is going to try and divorce her, she'll use the power she knows she still has. Because she is no mere wife. She is a queen. A Spanish queen, no less. Taking a quill, she starts writing a letter to her nephew, King Charles of Spain. My dearest nephew and lord, it is with sadness that I bring you this news. Catherine feels stronger with every word she etches on the parchment.
She knows Spain's support is still vital to Rome. So if she can't stop Henry or Anne, she'll see to it that the Pope does. The king can try all he likes to rid himself of her, but Catherine will use everything in her arsenal to remain England's queen. Two weeks later, January 1527, Hever Castle, Kent. Anne anxiously rips open the letter that's just arrived, as her father studies her fearfully.
Well? Your devoted servant, HR. Your devoted servant from the King?
Anne presses the letter to her chest, dizzy with triumph. "It worked, father! This is it!" Two hours later, she already feels every inch the Queen when she's ushered straight into Henry's privy chamber at Greenwich Palace. "My Anne, finally!" Anne giggles as he kisses her hands. He guides her to a seat at the room's large window, which overlooks the magnificent grounds, then reaches into his pocket and takes out a small velvet pouch.
Anne feels her heartbeat quicken in anticipation. She can't wait to see what ring he's chosen. But her smile fades when he produces a gold bracelet set with sapphires instead. "'Is it not to your liking?' "'In your letter, when you spoke of what we discussed coming to pass—' "'And it will. I've set things in motion.'
Waltsey is consulting experts. But these matters are complex, dear. And with Catherine doing her best to sour relations with Rome... At the mention of her rival, Anne snaps. To hell with that dried-up husk! I gave up everything for you. My reputation, my prospects for a proper marriage. How long must I keep waiting? Henry's face reddens. You speak as if I've been idle. Anne knows she should back down, but she can't.
"'Yet Catherine still sits on the throne beside you!' Anne's words are sharper than she intended, and when Henry next speaks, she's unsettled by his quiet tone. "'The Queen's cousin is the most powerful ruler in Europe, and I'm risking his wrath for you. How dare you accuse me of empty promises?'
Anne realises she's crossed a line. Your Majesty, forgive me. But it's too late, Anne no longer sees love in Henry's eyes. Only fury. Get out of my sight! She looks at him in confusion. Out! Out! She stumbles back and curtsies deeply. Then she flees from the chamber, her legs threatening to give way as she runs, tears flowing from her eyes. She has ruined everything, and she has no idea what it will mean for her
or her family.
Each week on Redacted Declassified Mysteries, we pull back the curtain on these hidden histories. 100% true and verifiable stories that expose the shadowy underbelly of power. Consider Operation Paperclip, where former Nazi scientists were brought to America after World War II, not as prisoners, but as assets to advance U.S. intelligence during the Cold War.
These aren't just old conspiracy theories. They're thoroughly investigated accounts that reveal the uncomfortable truths still shaping our world today. The stories are real. The secrets are shocking. Follow Redacted Declassified Mysteries on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Redacted early and ad-free right now on Wondery+. Today is the worst day of Abby's life.
The 17-year-old cradles her newborn son in her arms. They all saw how much I loved him. They didn't have to take him from me. Between 1945 and the early 1970s, families shipped their pregnant teenage daughters to maternity homes.
and force them to secretly place their babies for adoption. In hidden corners across America, it's still happening. My parents had me locked up in the godparent home against my will. They worked with them to manipulate me and to steal my son away from me. The godparent home is the brainchild of controversial preacher Jerry Falwell,
the father of the modern evangelical right and the founder of Liberty University, where powerful men emboldened by their faith determine who gets to be a parent and who must give their child away. Follow Liberty Lost on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.
The following day, January 1527, York Place, London. Cardinal Wolsey licks the grease from his fingers, pulls a swan feather from his teeth before cradling his full to bursting belly. Wolsey looks down at the long dining table where English scholars and clerics knock back wine from silver goblets. Two servants stagger in, groaning under the weight of the platter holding the next course.
Wolsey looks proudly at the two roasted peacocks, redressed in their feathers. Dig in, gentlemen, dig in, before they fly away. He's about to reach for his claret when the double doors of the dining room burst open and King Henry strides in. Your Majesty, what an unexpected honour. We need to speak, Cardinal. Now. Wolsey takes in Henry's feverish eyes.
He's served the King since he came to the throne 18 years ago, has been his Chief Minister and Lord Chancellor for the past 12, and this look means trouble. He's barely got Henry into his study when the King blurts out what's on his mind. "Where are you with my divorce?" Wolsey's eyes are drawn to the map of Europe on the desk beside them, its markers showing the shifting alliances he navigates daily on Henry's behalf.
Knowing all too well what such a move could do to diplomatic relations, he's been stalling for weeks, hopeful that Henry's lust for Lady Boleyn will wane. Sadly, Your Majesty, I am still waiting for a response from Rome, and Catherine is... This is intolerable! Anne and I have been estranged for days due to this matter, and my yearning for her has made me understand her frustration. Days? Henry takes a step closer and looms over Wolsey.
I must have her. Do you understand? Looking into Henry's desperate eyes, Wolsey realises he can no longer deny the seriousness of this. He's well horny. Calm down, Your Majesty. You'll be up and over like a pan of milk. Wolsey pulls himself straight. Don't. It's time to deliver the truth to the king. Sire, papal law simply won't allow you to divorce Catherine.
Wolsey holds his nerve as he watches Henry kick the table, then slump into a nearby chair. "I am the King of England! How is it that Rome forbids me from being with the woman I love when it bent its nonsensical rules to allow me to wed Catherine in the first place?" "Eh? What's he on about?" Wolsey stays on him, confused.
I'm sorry, sire. I don't... Catherine is my late brother's widow-man. Is that in itself not a sin? But, your majesty, Catherine came to you pure in body and mind. She never consummated her marriage with your brother.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What is going on here? This is Jeremy Kyle levels of drama in the 1500s. So Catherine had originally been married to Henry's older brother, Arthur. They got married in 1501. Arthur dies in 1502, leaving Catherine a widow at the age of just 16. And what they argued was that Catherine had never consummated her marriage with Arthur. So on two grounds, one, that Arthur was dead, and two, that they'd never had sex, therefore...
effectively it wasn't a proper marriage, the Pope approved Henry to marry Catherine because effectively that initial marriage didn't count. And that's crucial in terms of the framing of it as a sin because back then, if you were to marry your brother's wife, that was seen as incest. And that is a real no-no. Henry grabs Wolsey's arm as if suddenly struck. What if she was not pure? What if she lied?
What if she did lay with my brother before he passed? Wolsey is lost, but Henry's enthusiasm is growing. If that was so, it would explain why God denies me an heir. And it would surely make an annulment possible, would it not? This is dastardly. Slash genius. Wolsey stares at him, aghast. Sire, invalidating your entire marriage would have profound political implications. You would be calling the Queen a liar.
Princess Mary's legitimacy would be void. But Henry immediately snaps back. You have done very well in my service, Cardinal. Your houses, your riches. It would be unfortunate if that were all lost. Wolsey feels a wave of nausea. He has seen firsthand what happens to those who disappoint the king. If an annulment is what you seek, Your Majesty, I shall apply all my men and resources.
Wolsey knows enraging Rome could shatter relations with Italy, not to mention Spain, possibly France too. So while he will do Henry's bidding, he vows to keep looking for ways to get Anne Boleyn out of the picture, for good. Three days later, January 1527, the Great Hall, Greenwich Palace. Anne tries to mask her regret as Catherine presents Henry with a jewel-encrusted gold chalice. A small token of my devotion, Your Majesty.
It is most impressive. Thank you, wife. Catherine's eyes fall directly on Anne, taunting her in triumph. Anne directs her gaze to her hands. She keeps it there as she starts to leave with her fellow ladies. Lady Anne, wait. Anne's heart thuds as she realises she and Henry are now alone. He beckons her over. She falls at his feet. Your Majesty, I beg for your forgiveness. I was wrong to push...
If you will allow me to remain in your wife's service, I shall behave in a way more befitting. And can only look up at the king with desperate eyes. He studies her a moment. Then, to her surprise, he reaches into his doublet and takes out a large gold ring with an emerald at its center, surrounded by pearls. My heart is ached for you, Anne. I cannot lose you. This ring is a solemn promise of my intention to make you my queen.
Anne hears an involuntary gasp escape her lips. Henry searches her eyes with his. "Will you wait for me a little longer?" Anne feels tears of joy well in her eyes. "Yes, my love. Yes, I can wait." Henry gently places the ring in her palm, wraps her fingers around it. "I have made a plan with Wolsey that will rid me of Catherine, but we must keep it secret until everything is ready."
Anne nods. Until matters are resolved, I will wear this by my heart, not on my hand. Anne attaches the ring to the chain around her neck. Then she allows Henry to kiss her gently on the lips. She practically floats from the room, colliding with Cardinal Wolsey in the corridor. She curtsies, then leans towards him and whispers conspiratorially. Your Eminence, His Majesty has shared with me your plan. I wait with the excitement of a child. Wolsey holds her gaze abeat.
Then, to her shock, he grabs her wrist, hisses at her. "I implore you, Lady Anne, if you truly love the King, you will remain his mistress and nothing more. For the sake of his kingdom!" Anne angrily pulls her arm from his grip. "Why should I not be Queen, you silly girl? Do you really believe the Pope will roll over? That the people will accept you instead of Queen Catherine? Such things are impossible!"
Anne instinctively moves her hand to her chest, pressing it against the ring that sits beneath the fabric of her bodice. She stares at Wolsey, unblinking, and allows herself a small smile. "Then perhaps, Your Eminence, the King needs better advisers, who can make the impossible possible." Anne watches his superior expression falter. She brushes past him, head held high. Her betrothal to the King may be a secret, but she's never felt so sure of Henry's love.
And if anyone dares get in her way, Catherine, Wolsey, even those in Rome, they'll have to go. Anne will do whatever it takes to become England's next queen.
Every big moment starts with a big dream. But what happens when that big dream turns out to be a big flop?
From Wondery and At Will Media, I'm Misha Brown, and this is The Big Flop. Every week, comedians join me to chronicle the biggest flubs, fails, and blunders of all time, like Quibi. It's kind of like when you give yourself your own nickname and you try to, like, get other people to do it. And the 2019 movie adaptation of Catastrophe.
Cats. Like, if I'm watching the dancing and I'm noticing the feet aren't touching the ground, there's something wrong with the movie. Find out what happens when massive hype turns into major fiasco. Enjoy The Big Flop on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to The Big Flop early and ad-free on Wondery+. Get started with your free trial at wondery.com slash plus.
From Wondery and Samistat Audio, this is the first episode in our series, Anne Boleyn. A quick note about our dialogue. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but all our dramatisations are based on historical research. If you'd like to know more about this story, you can read Hunting the Falcon, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn by John Guy and Julia Fox, The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn by Eric Ives. You can listen to In Our Time, Catherine of Aragon, BBC Sounds,
or you can watch The Boleyns, A Scandalous Family on BBC iPlayer. We love hearing from you with comments and suggestions, so please keep them coming. BritishScandal at Wondery.com. British Scandal is hosted by me, Matt Ford. And me, Alice Levine. Written by Wendy Granditer. Additional writing by Alice Levine and Matt Ford. Our story editor is James Maniac. Sound design by Dan King. Our engineer is Jai Williams.
For Samizdat, our producer is Redsy Bernard. Our assistant producer is Louise Mason. Our senior producers are Joe Sykes and Dasha Lissitzina. For Wondery, our senior producer is Theodora Leloudis. And our senior managing producer is Rachel Sibley. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Chris Bourne and Marshall Lewis.
In the early 20th century, a seemingly ordinary cook in New York City became the center of a medical mystery and a public health crisis. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery's podcast, American History Tellers. We take you to the events, times, and people that shaped America and Americans, our values, our struggles, and our dreams.
In our latest series, we follow the trail of Mary Mallon, an Irish immigrant and cook to wealthy New York families who was unwittingly spreading typhoid fever throughout the city. Public health officials identify her as a healthy carrier of the disease, meaning that despite showing no symptoms herself, she's been infecting others for years.
But when they try to persuade her to submit to testing and isolation, Typhoid Mary will fight back with a vengeance. Follow American History Tellers on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. Experience all episodes ad-free and be the first to binge the newest season only on Wondery+. Join Wondery in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Start your free trial today.
We're counting down the days. July 4th weekend, Essence Festival of Culture, sponsored by Coca-Cola, returns to the city that raised the rhythm, New Orleans.
Four days, one community, endless joy. A Jill Scott John featuring Miss Patti LaBelle and Jasmine Sullivan. Maxwell, Babyface to Erykah Badu, the Isley Brothers to Boyz II Men, DeVito to Boojie Banton, Lurilla to Master P. We pay tribute to the legends, celebrate the icons, toast the disruptors, and honor all that makes us
This is a love letter to our legacy, a gathering of generations, a space made for us by us. Because we're not just attending a festival, we're living the culture. We're made like this. Tickets on sale at essencefestival.com.