At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) (23 page)

When the meal was over, the entire company, pageant wagons and
all, formed a triumphal procession for the journey back to Greenwich. It seemed to Anne as if every person in the realm had come out to see the display.

How she had missed this, not only the pageantry, but the camaraderie! There was nothing to equal the rush of excitement and pleasure that came from simply being among other nobly born ladies—to talk, to share, to enjoy.

With so many people in the cavalcade—thousands, it seemed—she had to wait her turn to dismount. Another rider came between Anne and Bess, spooking Anne’s horse. She murmured soothing words and brought the mare under control again without difficulty, but when she looked up, she found she had become separated from the other ladies. Instead, a gentleman rode beside her. Will Compton looked down at her from his seat on a big black gelding.

“Lady Anne.” He doffed his bonnet—green, as was every piece of clothing he wore, even his shoes.

“Sir William.” She regarded him with what she hoped appeared to be cool detachment, for inside she felt decidedly unsettled at seeing him again after so long. He looked exactly the same as she remembered him—tall, toothsome, and smiling that engaging smile.

With a mild sense of surprise, she realized that she was no longer angry with him. Five years was far too long to bear a grudge against someone who had done nothing worse than tell her the truth. He did serve at the will and pleasure of the king. No matter what his feelings for her had been, he’d had no choice but to leave her at Littlemore.

“It is good to have you back at court,” Compton said.

She could not help but smile. “It is good to be back.”

“The king sends you greetings. His Grace noticed you riding alongside Lady Boleyn.”

Her smile dimmed. She was uncertain she wanted to attract the king’s attention. Having it had not done her much good five years ago.

As if he’d read her thoughts, Compton laughed. Then he leaned across his horse’s neck and spoke softly, for her ears alone. “Never fear, my lady. These days our Bessie keeps the king busy.”

“Bessie?” she echoed, thinking for a moment that he meant Bess Boleyn.

“Mistress Elizabeth Blount,” Compton explained. “She has been the king’s mistress for some time now and he shows no sign of tiring of her.”

“I am delighted to hear it.” Anne urged her horse forward, forcing Compton’s mount to sidle out of her way.

He fell in beside her again. “I, however, have never forgotten my sweet Lady Anne.”

She rolled her eyes at this nonsense. “You, Sir William, have a wife now, and I left three young children behind when I returned to court.”

“I have a daughter.” His voice was warm with pride. “She’s called Catherine, after the queen.”

“I congratulate you. Is your wife here at Greenwich?”

The warmth abruptly vanished. “She is not.” Dismounting, he helped her down from her horse. He kept his hands on her waist longer than he needed to.

Anne slipped deftly out of his grasp, wagging an admonishing finger at him. She was glad she had when she caught sight of George on the far side of the stable yard. He was watching them with a scowl on his face.

“The past is best forgotten, Sir William,” Anne said firmly. “This is a new beginning.”

He regarded her with clear hazel eyes for a long moment before he nodded. “Indeed it is,” he said and, with a courtly bow, he took himself off to rejoin the king.

T
he official English wedding of the king’s sister to his dearest friend, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk—actually the third time they’d exchanged their vows—took place in the presence of all the nobles then at court. Others arrived in time to share in the festivities, even though many found little cause for celebration. What was Charles Brandon, after all, except a jumped-up country gentleman who’d won his title through his prowess in the tiltyard?

George Hastings studied his brother-in-law, the Duke of Buckingham, with wary eyes. The duke was a prideful man who much disliked the king’s tendency to give preferment to commoners. Buckingham was also a force to be reckoned with within his family and, unless George was much mistaken, he was even now making his way to Anne’s side. An encounter between brother and sister was unlikely to be harmonious.

They had seen one another only rarely during the years Anne had spent away from court. After one such occasion, George had named his brother-in-law steward of all of George’s Welsh properties, essentially giving Buckingham control of their revenues, just to stop him from paying another visit to Ashby de la Zouch.

He was too late to intercept the duke, but arrived in good time to see the militant gleam come into his wife’s eyes at the sight of her
brother. She sank at once into a curtsey, but her jaw was set and her teeth clenched tight to hold back hasty words. George prayed she would be able to contain her ire. An open feud would benefit no one.

Buckingham was either oblivious to his sister’s feelings or discounted them as unimportant. He had always treated her like a child and did not seem likely to change this condescending attitude. Nor would it occur to him to refrain from meddling in her life.

“Are you pleased to be back at court, sister?” he asked.

“Indeed, I am, Edward.”

“Then, in gratitude, perhaps you will do something for me in return.”

Taken aback that he would so blatantly take credit for arranging her return, she gaped at him. George covered the last few feet between them in a rush, coming up beside his wife and placing a restraining hand on her arm.

He arrived a second too late. Anne found her voice. “Do you mean to claim,” she asked with deceptive calmness, “that it is only with your permission that I remain?”

“You
were
sent away in disgrace,” the duke reminded her.

“I was taken away against my will, and not by the king’s wish.”

He made a dismissive gesture with one heavily beringed hand. “That scarce matters now. Water over the dam, as they say. And I have a task for you, dear sister.”

“You have another sister. Use Elizabeth!”

“Elizabeth is not at court at present. You are.”

“Honestly, Edward, for sheer gall you—”

He talked right over her words. “In your absence, there have been changes at court, and few of them have been for the better.”

George could see his wife’s anger and resentment simmering just beneath the surface, although Buckingham remained unaware of his danger. Somehow, Anne managed to hold her tongue. She made a curt gesture to indicate that her brother should continue.

He glanced warily over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned closer. “I have enemies here at court.”

Neither Anne nor George made any reply. The truth of the duke’s statement was too obvious.

“They would keep me from my rightful place,” Buckingham continued. “It is therefore necessary that I learn of their plans in advance, so that I may protect myself
and my family
.” He put particular emphasis on those last three words, reminding Anne that, as his sister, she would share in both his triumphs and his defeats.

George could feel Anne’s muscles tense beneath his fingers. She wanted to refuse to do anything her brother asked, but she had as strong a streak of duty to family as he did. And she had children to protect. Anne loved their daughter and two little sons. George had seen that clearly when it had been time to leave Ashby de la Zouch. As much as she’d longed to return to court, it had broken her heart to leave them behind.

“You have spies aplenty already,” Anne told her brother. “You forget how well I know you, Edward. I have often seen you set one servant against the other. Charles Knyvett is so eager to win your favor that he’d let you know of it if one of your chaplains sneezed out of turn.”

Buckingham did not seem to notice her sarcasm. “How else am I to learn if my men are loyal? I do not need your advice on how to run my household.”

“But you do need my assistance here. Is that not what you just said, Edward?” She was openly taunting him now. A wise man would have retreated.

Buckingham seized the opening to make more demands. “You are friends of old with Lady Boleyn. She knows how to show proper obedience to the head of her family. The Duke of Norfolk makes use of all of his children here at court. I would know his mind.”

“Ask him yourself. Your daughter is married to his eldest son. Better yet, let
her
spy for you.”

Buckingham’s daughter, named Elizabeth like their sister,
was
at court, and on good terms with Queen Catherine, too. But clearly the duke did not care for this suggestion. His frown deepened.

“You have age and experience and can manage matters more subtly.” In an obvious attempt to ingratiate himself to her, he affected a smile.
It did not reach his eyes. “My daughter,” he added in a confiding tone of voice, “is cursed with a volatile temperament.”

“I wonder where that came from?” Anne muttered under her breath.

“Besides, you are the best one to gain access to another individual whose movements I would have watched. You can keep me informed of Sir William Compton’s plans.”

George’s grip tightened on his wife’s arm, but it was toward Buckingham that he aimed his incredulous words. “You must be joking.”

Anne spoke at the same time. “That is out of the question.”

The duke buffed his nails on the front of his doublet. “I will have your obedience in this, Anne.”

“You do not control my movements,” she shot back.

He lifted a supercilious eyebrow.

“Enough!” George’s interruption startled them both. “You may be a duke, my lord, but I will not permit you to threaten my wife.”

Anne stared at her husband in amazement. Then she began to laugh. “Too little, too late, my dear. Where was this bold and chivalrous knight five years ago?”

George felt his color rise, along with his temper. How could she compare his defense of her now to what had happened then? The hurt and disappointment of that night flooded back as if only days had passed instead of years. He had to forcibly remind himself that he had forgiven her long ago for her misbehavior with Will Compton.

Even so, he knew he could not tolerate seeing the two of them together. Who knew what would come of it if she did as her brother demanded? As much as he might wish to avoid conflict with his powerful brother-in-law, George was determined to take a stand.

“My wife will not spy for you, Your Grace. Nor will she whore for you.”

He heard Anne gasp, but he kept his attention on the duke. Buckingham’s eyes went cold and hard.

“Defiant puppy!” Contempt underscored every word the duke spoke. “Correct me if I am wrong, George, but as I recall, you hold no state or court office. You are not a member of the king’s Privy Council. You
have no diplomatic duties. You have, in fact, no excuse to be at court at all.”

They stood only inches apart, poised like two stags ready to lock antlers and fight to the death. Then Anne stepped between them.

“If you wish to avoid attracting the king’s attention, and that of his guards, you will go your separate ways at once and speak no more of this.”

“My wife is a wise woman,” George said through gritted teeth. Fighting at court was forbidden, and harshly punished. “Far wiser than her brother.”

“Impudent churl!” But Buckingham backed off. With a swirl of his costly cape, he stalked off.

George turned back to his wife and bowed stiffly to her. Then he, too, strode away. He’d had enough of Staffords for one day.

A
fter he had heard Mass and broken his fast on midsummer day, the king mounted his horse and rode into the parkland surrounding the palace. It was the beginning of hart hunting season and he was eager for a kill. King Henry hunted every day he could manage it, sometimes coursing with greyhounds and at others shooting at deer from a standing. He laughed aloud with delight as three loud blats on a hunting horn signaled the release of the first relay of the running-hounds. The sound of their baying filled the clear morning air.

Accompanying the king was a small company of favored courtiers and some of their wives. The sisters married to Harry Guildford and Nick Carew giggled together as they set out. Lady Anne, who was some years their senior, disdained the company of these silly girls and chose to ride instead at her husband’s side.

In and out of the bedchamber, George was, for the most part, congenial company. Anne supposed that in their time together at Ashby de la Zouch she had learned to love him, after a fashion, in spite of the fact that he continued to doubt her ability to remain faithful to him. If jealousy was proof of love, she thought, then George must be most horribly in love with her! Ever since their encounter with her brother the previous month, he had been particularly attentive, bringing her little
gifts and being even more generous in his lovemaking than he ordinarily was.

The hart they were chasing had been selected the previous evening after several of the king’s huntsmen, using lymers—hounds with extraordinary scenting abilities that had been trained to work on a leash and to trail only harts—had reported their findings to the king’s master of game and compared descriptions of potential quarry. The hart was the noblest prey, an animal that combined guile with innocence and, it was said, could not die of fright because it had a certain special bone in its heart. This bone, when retrieved from the carcass, was highly valued as a talisman. Anne herself had an amulet made from one. George had given it to her during her second pregnancy.

The progress of the hunt was tracked by various combinations of short and long notes on the horns. These told the riders how great the distance was between hart and hounds and signaled the release of each relay of hunting dogs. The hounds pursued their quarry in full cry, but the success of the hunt was never a sure thing. The scents left by other deer in the forested park sometimes confused them, and the hart itself, clever beast that it was, had been known to interrupt its own line of scent by crossing through streams or doubling back.