Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set

7

At court there was always something to do and always someone to do it with. I flirted with Harry Dudley, and with his brother, and with Davy Seymour, too. Alys and Mary and I spent long hours together in the garden and the gallery and in the queen’s presence chamber. From them I learned what persons had influence at court and why some of them were best avoided.

“Be wary of Lady Hertford,” Mary warned, pointing out a slender woman in earnest conversation with the queen. “She’s the wife of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, elder brother of the late Queen Jane. She likes to get her own way and will trample anyone in her path.”

Queen Kathryn was a slightly built woman in crimson velvet worked with gold. Lady Hertford was also small in stature, but she had an arrogant manner that the queen, who might have been expected to put on airs, did not. I studied Lady Hertford’s face, what I could see of it from that distance, taking note of a broad forehead, a sharp nose, and a negligible chin. Her form was fine boned and dainty looking.

“She looks too frail to have such a dangerous reputation.”

“Do not be deceived by appearances.”

“Seymour,” I mused, turning away from Lady Hertford so she would not think we were talking about her. “Is Davy kin to the earl?”

“Only a very distant connection. A poor relation, as I am to Her Grace.” Mary hid her smile behind plump fingers. “Davy does his best to avoid the countess. He says the earl’s first wife was far more pleasant, but she was put aside and her children declared illegitimate.”

“A divorce?”

Mary nodded. “And then she died, so he was allowed to remarry.”

“The queen is coming this way,” Alys whispered, and dropped into a curtsy.

I turned too quickly and almost lost my balance. Her Grace strode toward us between two rows of male courtiers sweeping off their hats and bowing. I hastened to follow Alys’s example, as did Mary, and remained in that position until a crimson velvet skirt appeared at eye level.

“Mistress Brooke, I presume?” The queen’s voice was soft and melodious and instantly put me at ease.

“Yes, Your Grace.” I looked up into luminous hazel eyes. She was queen of England now, but only a few months earlier she’d been just another country-bred gentlewoman like myself.

Queen Kathryn had been blessed with a clear complexion. What I could see of her hair beneath her French hood was a bright reddish gold. She was several inches shorter than I was and just slightly taller than Lady Hertford, who stood next to her, staring at me with unnerving intensity.

“My dear,” the queen said, “I hope you are enjoying the pleasures of Woodstock.”

“She has already discovered the maze.” Lady Hertford’s dry voice sent a flutter of alarm coursing through me. How had she known that? And what more did she know?

“I hope you had a guide who knew the way to the center.” Queen Kathryn sounded amused. “I was most fortunate in that regard. My lord the king escorted me to Rosamund’s Bower.”

A sudden image came into my mind—old, infirm King Henry in the legendary lovers’ trysting place, forcing his attentions on his bride. I swallowed convulsively and prayed my revulsion was not obvious. “Lady Lisle’s sons kindly offered to show me the way, Your Grace. And, as it turned out, my aunt, Mistress Bray, already knew the secret of the maze.”

She and Ned Brydges had emerged a full hour after the rest of us made good our escape. Grinning, Ned had assured everyone that they had not been lost. Dorothy had said nothing, but one of the points holding her bodice to her skirt had been broken.

Queen Kathryn evidently knew Dorothy well. Her laugh was a light, musical sound. “I am certain it was a grand adventure,” she said before moving on to speak with one of her gentlewomen of the privy chamber. They were distinguished by their livery, gowns of black, double-jean velvet and with the queen’s badge pinned to their caps.

A few days later, I encountered the king in the garden. I had seen him several times since arriving at Woodstock, but only from a distance. Most often he’d been sitting next to Queen Kathryn, his heavily bandaged leg resting in her lap.

Alys was walking Rig again, while I kept her company. His Grace entered the gardens, moving slowly, leaning on his staff. He appeared to be debating some weighty issue with one of his courtiers. A half dozen more trailed after them.

“Rig was sick last night,” Alys said, pulling my attention back to the spaniel dancing at our feet. “The queen was most distressed.”

I looked at the little dog, happily padding along the graveled path, head swiveling left and right at every new sound and scent. “It cannot have been anything serious.”

“The greedy little pig ate the king’s game pie. All of it.”

I smothered a laugh. “I trust His Grace pardoned Rig, else there’d have been a beheading on the spot.”

“The queen pleaded for clemency, and His Grace, being still a newlywed, graciously granted it.”

Poor queen, I thought, having to bed that fat old man. I glanced toward King Henry and his entourage and was wise enough not to say such a thing aloud, not even in a whisper. It would doubtless be accounted treason. Instead I opened my mouth to ask Alys about the masque planned for that evening. Before I could get a word out, Rig started to bark. That attracted the king’s attention. He made his ponderous way over to us to glare down at the hapless spaniel.

“Take that nasty little beast away,” he ordered.

Tugging on Rig’s leash, Alys hastened to obey, but when I would have followed, the king laid a heavy hand on my forearm.

“Stay a moment, Mistress Brooke. It has been some time since you last graced our court. You were a beauty then, but now you have surpassed all our expectations.”

“Your Grace is too kind.” I felt my cheeks heat but my hands went cold as ice. The king might be safely married, but I still did not want him paying too much attention to me.

“Does your brother still study in Italy?” he asked.

I was surprised he remembered that William was in Padua, until I recalled that peers, and their sons, needed the Crown’s permission to travel abroad. I recounted what little I knew of William’s travels and then, to my great relief, His Grace left me where he’d found me.