Philippa Gregory's Tudor Court 6-Book Boxed Set (75 page)

“Hulloa!” Henry shouted, spurring his horse forward.

“There!” I cried. At the end of the avenue of trees opening before us I saw the outline of a large stag, his antlers held flat on his back as he crashed away from the hunt. At once the hounds streamed out behind him, almost silent except for the occasional bark of excitement. They plunged into the undergrowth and we pulled up the horses and waited. The huntsmen trotted anxiously away from the hunt, crisscrossing the forest by the little
rides, hoping to spot the deer break away. Then one of them suddenly stood high in his stirrups and blew a loud note on his horn. My horse reared with excitement at the sound and spun round toward him. I clung gracelessly to the pommel and to a handful of mane, caring nothing how I looked as long as I did not tumble off backward into the mud.

The stag broke away and was racing for his life across the rough empty ground at the edge of the woods that led to the watermeadows and the river. At once the dogs poured after him and the horses after them in a breakneck race. The hooves pounded all around me, I had my eyes squinted, half-shut, as divots of mud flew up into my face, I crouched low over Jesmond’s neck, urging her onward. I felt my hat tear from my head and tumble away, then there was a hedge before me, white with summer blossom. I felt Jesmond’s powerful hindquarters bunch up beneath me and with one great leap she cleared it, hit the ground on the far side, recovered and was pounding into her fastest gallop again. The king was ahead of me, his attention fixed on the stag which was gaining on us. I could feel the ripple of my hair as it shook out from the pins and I laughed recklessly to feel the wind in my face. Jesmond’s ears went back to hear me laugh and then forward as we came to another hedge with a nasty little ditch before it. She saw it as I did and checked only for a moment and then made a mighty cat-jump: all four feet off the ground at once in order to clear it. I could smell the perfume of crushed honeysuckle as her hooves clipped the top of the hedge, then we were on and on, even faster. Ahead of me the little brown dot that was the stag plunged into the river and started to swim strongly for the other side. The master of the hunt desperately blew for the hounds not to follow the beast into the water but to come back to him and to run down the bank to keep pace with the quarry to bait it as it came to shore. But they were too
excited to listen. The whippers-in surged forward but half the pack were after the deer in the river, some of them swept away by the fast current, all of them powerless in the deep water. Henry pulled up his horse and watched the chaos develop.

I was afraid that it would make him angry but he threw back his head and laughed as if he delighted in the stag’s cunning.

“Go then!” he shouted after him. “I can eat venison here without cooking you! I have a larder of venison!”

Everyone around us laughed as if he had made a wonderful jest and I realized that everyone had been afraid that the failure of the hunt would turn his mood sour. Looking from one bright delighted face to another I thought for one illuminating moment what fools we were to make this one man’s temper the very center of our lives. But then he smiled toward me and I knew that for me at least, there was no choice.

He took in my mud-splashed face and my tumbling tangled hair. “You look like a maid for country matters,” he said, and anyone could have heard the desire in his voice.

I pulled off my glove and put my hand to my head, ineffectually twisting a knot of hair and tucking it back. I gave him a little sideways smile which acknowledged his bawdiness and yet refused to answer it.

“Oh shush,” I ordered softly. Behind his intent face I saw Jane Parker suddenly gulp as if she had swallowed a horse fly and I saw that she had realized at last that she had better mind her manners around us Boleyns.

Henry dropped from his horse, threw the reins to his groom and came to my horse’s head. “Will you come down to me?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

I unhooked my knee and let myself slide down the side of my horse and into his arms. He caught me easily and set me on my
feet but he did not release me. Before the whole court he kissed me on one cheek and then another. “You are the Queen of the Hunt.”

“We should crown her with flowers,” Anne suggested.

“Yes!” Henry was pleased with the thought and within moments half the court was plaiting honeysuckle garlands and I had a crown of haunting honey perfume to put on my tumbled golden-brown hair.

The wagons came up with the things for dinner and they put up a little tent for fifty diners, the king’s favorites, and chairs and benches for the rest, and when the queen arrived, ambling on her steady palfrey, she saw me seated at the king’s left hand and crowned with summer flowers.

♦   ♦   ♦

Next month and England was finally at war with France, a war declared and formal, and Charles, the Emperor of Spain, aimed his army like a lance at the heart of France while the English army in alliance with him marched out of the English fort of Calais, and headed south down the road to Paris.

The court lingered near the City, anxious for news, but then the summertime plague came to London and Henry, always fearful of illness, ruled that the summer progress should start at once. We fled rather than moved to Hampton Court. The king ordered that all the food should be brought from the surrounding country, nothing could come from London. He forbade merchants and traders and artisans to follow the court from the unhealthy stews of the capital. The clean palace on the fresh water must be kept safe from illness.

The news from France was good, and the news from the City was bad. Cardinal Wolsey organized the court to go south and then west, staying at the great houses of the great men, entertained with masques and dinners and hunting and picnics and
jousts, and Henry went like a boy, easily diverted by the passing scene. Every courtier living on the route had to play host to the king as if it were his greatest joy instead of his most dreaded expense. The queen traveled with the king, riding by his side through the pretty countryside, sometimes traveling in a litter if she were tired, and though I might be sent for during the night, he was attentive and loving to her during the day. Her nephew was the English army’s only ally in Europe, the friendship of her family meant victory to an English army. But Queen Katherine was more to her husband than an ally in wartime. However much I might please Henry, he was still her boy—her lovely indulged spoilt golden boy. He might summon me or any other girl to his room, without disturbing the constant steady affection between them which had sprung from her ability, long ago, to love this man who was more foolish, more selfish, and less of a prince than she was a princess.

T
HE KING KEPT HIS COURT AT
G
REENWICH FOR
Christmas and for twelve days and nights there was nothing but the most extravagant and beautiful parties and feastings. There was a Christmas master of the revels—Sir William Armitage—and it was his task to dream up something new for every day. His daily program followed a delightful pattern of something for us to do out of doors in the morning—a boat race to watch, jousting, or an archery competition, bear baiting, a dog fight, a cocking match, or a traveling show with tumblers and fire-eaters, followed by a great dinner in the hall with fine wine and ale and small beer and every day some enchanting pudding made of sculpted marchpane as fine as a piece of art. In the afternoon there would be a diversion: a play or a talk, some dancing or a masque. We all had parts to play, we all had costumes to wear, we all had to be as merry as we could be, for the king was always laughing this winter and the queen never stopped smiling.

The inconclusive campaign against France had ended with the cold weather, but everyone knew that come the spring there would be another series of battles and England and Spain would jointly venture against their enemy. The King of England and the queen from Spain were united in every sense of the word
that Christmas season, and once a week without fail they dined privately together and he slept in her bed that night.

But every other night, also without fail, George would come to the room I shared with Anne and tap on the door and say: “He wants you,” and I would go to my love, to my king, at the run.

I never stayed for the whole night. There were foreign ambassadors from all over Europe bidden to Greenwich for Christmas and Henry would not show such a snub to the queen before them. The Spanish ambassador in particular was a stickler for etiquette and he was a close friend to the queen. Knowing the part I played at court, he did not like me; and I would not have enjoyed bumping into him coming out of the king’s private rooms all flushed and disheveled. Better by far that I should slip from the king’s warm bed and hurry back to my chamber with George yawning at my side, hours before the ambassador arrived to hear Mass.

Anne was always up and waiting for me, with ale ready mulled and the fire banked in to warm our chamber. I would jump into bed and she would throw a woollen wrap around my shoulders and sit beside me and comb out the tangles from my hair while George put another log on the fire and sipped at his own cup.

“It’s weary work, this,” he said. “I fall asleep most afternoons. I cannot keep my eyes open.”

“Anne puts me to bed after my dinner as if I were a child,” I said resentfully.

“What d’you want?” Anne asked. “To be as haggard as the queen?”

“She’s not looking too bonny,” George agreed. “Is she ill?”

“Just old age, I think,” Anne said uncaringly. “And the effort of appearing happy all the time. She must be exhausted. Henry takes a lot of pleasing, doesn’t he?”

“No,” I said smugly, and the three of us laughed.

“Has he said if he is giving you a special gift for Christmas?” Anne asked. “Or George? Or any of us?”

I shook my head. “He hasn’t said.”

“Uncle Howard sent a gold chalice wrought with our arms for you to give to him,” Anne said. “It’s safe in the cupboard. It’s worth a fortune. I only hope we see some return on it.”

I nodded drowsily. “He has promised me a surprise.” At once the two of them were alert. “He wants to take me to the shipyard tomorrow.”

Anne made a grimace of disdain. “I thought you meant a gift. Are we all to go? The whole court?”

“Just a small party.” I closed my eyes and started to drift off into sleep. I heard Anne get up from the bed and move about the room, unpacking my clothes from the chest and laying them out for the morning.

“You must wear your red,” she said. “And you can borrow my red cape trimmed with swansdown. It’ll be cold on the river.”

“Thank you, Anne.”

“Oh, don’t think I’m doing it for you. I am doing this for the advancement of the family. None of this is for you, as yourself.”

I hunched my shoulders against the coldness of her tone but I was too tired to retort. Dimly, I heard George put down his cup and rise from his chair. I heard his soft kiss on Anne’s forehead.

“Weary work but everything to play for,” he said quietly. “Good night, Annamaria—I leave you to your duties and go to mine.”

I heard her seductive chuckle. “The whores of Greenwich are a noble calling, my brother. I shall see you tomorrow.”

♦   ♦   ♦

Anne’s cape looked wonderful over my red riding habit and she lent me her smart little French riding hat as well. Henry, Anne,
I, George, my husband William, and half a dozen others rode alongside the river to the shipyard where they were building the king’s new ship. It was a bright wintry day, the sun sparkled on the water, the fields either side of the river were noisy with the sound of water birds, the geese from Russia overwintering at our milder watermeadows. Against their continual gabble, the quacking of ducks and the call of snipe and curlew were very loud. We cantered beside the river in a little group, my horse shouldering against the king’s big hunter, Anne and George on either side of us. Henry pulled up to a trot and then a walk as we came near to the dock.

The foreman came out as he saw our party approaching and pulled off his hat and bowed low to the king.

“I thought to ride out and see how you do,” the king said, smiling down on him.

“We are honored, Your Majesty.”

“And how goes the work?” The king swung himself down from the saddle and tossed the reins of his horse to a waiting groom. He turned and lifted me down and tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and led me to the dry dock.

“So what d’you think of her?” Henry asked me, squinting up at the smooth oak side of the half-built ship as she rested on the great wooden rollers. “Don’t you think she is going to be most lovely?”

“Lovely and dangerous,” I said, looking at the gun doors. “Surely the French have nothing as good as this.”

“Nothing,” Henry said proudly. “If I’d had three beauties like this one at sea last year I would have destroyed the French navy as they skulked in port, and I should have been King of England and France in deed as well as word today.”

I hesitated. “The French army is said to be very strong,” I ventured. “And Francis very resolute.”

“He’s a peacock,” Henry said crossly. “All show. And Charles of Spain will take him in the south as I come at him from Calais. The two of us will divide France between us.” Henry turned to the shipwright. “When will she be ready?”

“In spring,” the man answered.

“Is the draughtsman here today?”

The man bowed. “He is.”

“I have a fancy to have a sketch made of you, Mistress Carey. Will you sit for a moment and let the man take your likeness?”

I flushed with pleasure. “Of course, if you wish it.”

Henry nodded to the shipwright who shouted from the platform to the quay below us and a man came running. Henry helped me down the ladder and I sat on a pile of newly sawn planks while a young man in rough homespun cloth sketched a quick likeness of my face.

“What will you do with the picture?” I asked curiously, trying to keep still and hold a smile on my lips.

“Wait and see.”

The artist put his paper to one side. “I have enough.”