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Authors: Anne Clinard Barnhill

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (4 page)

BOOK: At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn
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“I’ll hear nothing against the queen. You should be forewarned—I am to become one of her ladies,” said Madge.

“Watch your step, my lady, lest you trip and fall, as yet Queen Anne may do. Bluff King Harry may seem jovial but he can let fly more heads than you can count,” said the young man.

“Enough of this bold talk—let us finish our meal, Lady Margaret, and be gone from this place,” said Cate.

“It’s unlikely we shall dine again together, my lady. Sorry if my words have offended you. I’ll warrant you’ll be eating with the queen in her own chambers soon enough. Just remember, nothing is quite as it seems at court. ’Tis a dangerous, lively place,” the young man said.

“I can take care of myself, sir. You are the one with the loose tongue. You should take care not to lose it,” said Madge.

Master Brandon grabbed a warm hunk of bread and stuffed it into his pocket as he scrambled over the benches and out of the hall. Madge and Cate relaxed their shoulders, looked at each other, then laughed.

“What a strange young man! Full of mutton and ideas! I hope the queen greets us soon so we can join her for our dinner. Such company sours my stomach,” said Cate.

“Master Brandon
is
upsetting,” said Madge. “But listen, the musicians are tuning their lutes. The trestle tables are being taken down and the king and queen are walking down to the open floor. Oh Cate, we shall see our first dance!”

“Not tonight, my dear. It would be unseemly for us to dally here before we’ve yet been welcomed by Her Majesty. We are allowed to dance only after the queen has accepted you as one of her ladies. And then we dance with those gentlemen she selects,” said Cate.

“I do not wish to dance, merely to watch—alas, I do not yet have the skill for dancing,” said Madge.

“It’s to be a bath for us, Maddie. Then prayers and sleep, for another day beckons,” said Cate as she guided Madge out from the Great Hall and into the corridor that would lead them to their room.

When they entered their chamber, Shadow jumped to greet Madge, slobbering kisses on her hands and face.

“Down, girl! You’ll spoil my silk!” said Madge as she reached into the muslin sack greasy with food for Shadow. The dog sat, barely able to keep still, tail wagging and front paws kneading the floor. “The smells from the castle alone would feed the hungry. How can the court consume so much? And what happens to that which is left?” Madge asked as she fed Shadow little bits of mutton and boiled carrot.

“I’ve heard the steward sells the gristle and fat meats to the poor, keeping the better pieces to hawk to the shopkeeps and other such folk. Cardinal Wolsey used to keep a watch on such doings but with him gone, it’s hard to stop the trafficking of the king’s goods. And the king never knows the waste and business made off his court. He thinks the gold will continue to flow and he’ll never have cause to worry. And, the way he’s pillaging a few of the monasteries, he’s right. Great Harry will not know want,” said Cate.

“How do you know all this, Cate? You’ve only arrived when I did and I know none such,” said Madge.

“I listen, dearest. A skill you should develop. And, as your lady, I talk to other ladies who tell me all kinds of gossip—some true, some wild. Besides, at my age, I know a little how the world works,” said Cate as she laid out Madge’s nightdress and began to comb the girl’s hair.

The candles flickered against the well-worn tapestry that hung on the stone wall of their room. On each cot was a plump feather quilt of bright colors; fresh rushes were strewn across the floor. The smell of beeswax sweetened the air with a little help from the sachet of lavender that hung from the belts of both women.

In the candlelight, Madge was beautiful, her skin the color of rich cream with a hint of strawberry at each cheek. Her hair caught the light and glimmered gold and red; her eyes seemed darker in the close room, the green more like the forest that surrounded the castle than their usual light green of new-budding trees.

“When do you think we shall meet the queen?” Madge asked.

“When it suits her, my girl, and not one moment earlier,” said Cate.

Cate finished combing Madge’s hair, then used the lice comb to be certain none of the bugs had made a home. She rubbed a salve of lemongrass and citrus onto Madge’s arms and face to keep the fleas and other bugs away during the night.

“Sleep well, Maddie. Who knows what the morrow will bring?” said Cate.

 

Five

“Lady Margaret! Lady Margaret! The queen will see you. Make yourself ready immediately!” cried Mistress Marshall as she hammered the heavy wooden door of Madge’s room.

Cate opened the door and Mistress Marshall barged in looking much like an admiral in the royal navy. Madge pulled up the bedcovers to her chin.

“No room for modesty at court, young miss! Up! Up! Get out her best dress, Mistress Cate, and I’ll send for a muffin and cup of ale. She can eat while you fix that unruly hair! The queen will see her sharply after matins!” With that, Mistress Marshall turned her battleship-of-a-self on an impossibly small foot and sailed down the corridor.

“She’s taken her sweet time—ten days—and now
we
are to move with all haste. Well, she
is
the queen,” mumbled Cate as she pulled out Madge’s golden gown, the one she’d worn when she first met the king and queen, the one that set off her green eyes.

“What shall I say, Cate? What shall I do?” said Madge.

“Answer the queen as she requires. Do not make merry; take your cues from her. If she is full of fun, you be so as well. If she is somber, then pull down your mouth. Do not offend her. Make her proud. You are her cousin, remember? That alone will stand you in good stead,” said Cate.

“Should I wear the jewels Uncle Thomas gave me, the little pearl necklace?”

“Yes, the pearls speak of purity and wearing them will proclaim your innocence to all the court. The pearls, my Maddie,” said Cate.

Cate combed Madge’s hair and wet down the unruly curls so they lay flat beneath the French hood, copied from the queen’s own, though without the jewels. She pinched Madge’s cheeks and lips, then helped her step into her gown. Her stomacher was laced tight, but Madge breathed easily. Though she’d eaten her fill at every meal, her uneasiness led her into the gardens at all hours for walking and playing in the secret hedges with Shadow. Her gown was actually looser than when she’d first worn it.

“You are a vision of delight. The queen will be pleased,” said Cate.

“I hope you are right. I want nothing more than to please her. Uncle Thomas has drilled that into my head; he’d do anything to secure the position of the Boleyn clan,” said Madge.

“Aye. Even sell his own daughter,” whispered Cate as she hooked the pearls around Madge’s delicate neck, long and slender, though not so long as the queen’s.

“What do you mean?” said Madge.

“Never mind. I hear the bells. Go to the queen. Remember, reflect her own mood back to her and you will be fine,” said Cate.

At that moment, Mistress Marshall reappeared at the door.

“You’ll do, I suppose,” she said with a long face.

Madge curtsied deeply but her face had lost its smile. Seeing that, Mistress Marshall tugged at Madge’s elbow.

“You’re really quite the little beauty, my dear. But one must never outshine the queen,” she said.

The hall leading to the queen’s rooms seemed the longest walk of Madge’s life. The stones chilled her bones, giving her little shivers as she hurried after Mistress Marshall. The tapestries lining the walls did no good to warm her, though she enjoyed looking at the various scenes portrayed—knights and ladies eating in the deep forest while on the hunt, the Virgin at vespers, lush gardens peopled with courtiers dancing.

At a large oak door inlaid with mother-of-pearl and embossed with gold, Mistress Marshall halted, whispered to the guard on her left. The guard opened the door and led the two women into the queen’s chambers.

“Lady Margaret Shelton!” a voice cried as Madge entered the room. She was astounded at the noise: chattering couples playing at cards in one corner; the fool turning cartwheels across the open space in front of the queen’s throne; a handsome young man strumming the lute and singing in a strong baritone; laughter ringing out from the queen’s own mouth.

“My dear coz, up, up! Let me look at you,” Queen Anne said as she stood, then bent to lift Madge’s face as she helped the girl rise.

Madge couldn’t help but smile at the queen, who looked even lovelier than she had during her visit to Hever Castle. Being with child suited Her Majesty, giving a nice fullness to her otherwise slender figure. At thirty-three, the queen needed the ripeness of pregnancy to smooth out the furrows that were beginning across her brow. And the lift to her bosom gave her a womanly shape, very pleasing.

“I am so glad you have come, Margaret. It’s nice to have family around, especially as I shall be shut up in these quarters soon enough. Let me introduce you,” Queen Anne said as she took Madge by the hand and led her to the bevy of gentlemen that surrounded the throne.

“Of course, you know my brother, George, Lord Rochford. His friend, Sir William Brereton. And Sir Henry Norris—ah, he blushes at beauty such as yours, Margaret. And our poet, Sir Thomas Wyatt.” The queen laughed as each gentleman bowed and smiled at Madge.

Madge mumbled a “Good, my lord” to each man in turn and felt the blood rush to her ears. She found she couldn’t raise her eyes to meet any of the gentlemen and would not recognize a one of them if they were to meet again in the corridor.

“She’s a beauty, Anne. Good looks must be part and parcel in the Boleyn blood,” said Wyatt.

“The Lady Margaret does have her charms—those green eyes could melt my beating heart,” said Sir William Brereton.

“Off, you hounds. Leave the girl alone—she’s barely out of swaddling clothes and listen to you. Save your bantering for one who can banter back,” laughed the queen.

“Now, dear Margaret, you are called here to serve as a lady-in-waiting and I must swear you to my service. The king will do so more formally at supper tonight but for now, will you swear unto God to do my bidding, to live honestly and chastely while in my court?” The queen looked deeply into Madge’s eyes.

“Yes, Your Grace. It is my honor to serve Your Majesty until my last breath.” Madge stared back into the queen’s dark eyes, the brown so deep as to seem almost black. The queen’s eyes were large and round, with thick lashes that curled up in a most attractive way.

“Then welcome, Margaret. I have a little gift for you.” The queen turned and picked up a small package wrapped in blue silk. “You may open it at once.”

Madge untied the velvet ribbon and loosened the covering. Inside, a small book, its cover etched in gold, was attached to a golden chain. Beside the book, a ring with three rubies clustered at the center lay waiting.

“Oh, Your Majesty. The ring is beautiful. Thank you.” Madge slipped the ring onto her middle finger and watched as the rubies shone against her clear, pale skin.

“This Book of Hours is written in English. You are to wear it at all times and study the works. You will find such admonishments very handy at court. I expect you to guard your virtue at all costs. I cannot afford any unseemly behavior from my ladies. Do I make myself clear?” The queen’s voice, until this point warm and friendly, had suddenly turned cool and commanding.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Madge felt the blood rise again, not because she had done any wrong but because the queen would mention such things in the presence of so many.

“I’ll watch out for her, Anne,” said George.

Much laughter from the other men met this comment.

“Yes, brother, but who will watch after you?” The queen’s voice had returned to normal and she laughed that low laugh of hers. The others joined in the merriment but Madge felt herself grow redder still.

“Stop badgering the girl, friends. Can’t you see she’s about to explode!” Sir Thomas Wyatt moved toward Madge and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the queen. “Pay them no mind, my lady. They are barbarians.”

He sat on a low bench near the window and beckoned Madge to join him.

“You will grow accustomed to their ways in time, Lady Margaret. Soon, you’ll find your tongue and sally forth to battle with the bravest. Tell me, what think you of court thus far?” Sir Thomas smiled encouragingly.

“I think it unlike any place on earth. Such sumptuous food and drink, the rich tapestries, the fashionable clothing … in the north country, we have no such splendor. Why, even the town of London is greater than anything I’ve known … I sound like a silly goose,” said Madge.

“Not at all. I can well imagine the change is disconcerting. But I will make you a bargain. If you will allow it, I shall be your friend. I shall show you London and teach you the ways of the court. I am a great friend of the queen’s and, as you are her cousin, I offer the same friendship to you,” said Sir Thomas.

“I accept. And am happy for it.”

*   *   *

“You have never played at cards, milady?” said Sir Thomas. “I find this incredulous. What do you do in Great Snoring for fun?”

“Oh, we do not lack for entertainments, sir. We chase the lambs in the spring and in the summer, we pile the hay in great stacks, then jump onto the stacks from atop the barn. We run our dogs through the fields and follow them, exploring all the wonders of nature as we go. And we dance to the fiddle music of our yeomen, dances as old as the hills themselves,” said Madge, happy with remembering.

“Simple pleasures … I envy you, Lady Margaret. I fear I shall never be able to enjoy those humble pastimes again. Life at court has cured me of such … well, enough of dreary thoughts. Let us begin. I shall deal out four of the cards—you can see they are all numbered except for the cards with faces—see? The kings, queens, and knaves are the cards you wish to avoid. If you can discard one, do so. Now, you may ask me for one of my cards to match one in your hand—the object is to collect all four of one kind—four of the ones, twos, and on and on…”

“And after I ask for one of yours, I then throw off one of mine? Is that it?” said Madge, staring intently at her cards.

BOOK: At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn
7.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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