Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set

12

The king kept his word. He made Will Parr Earl of Essex. He also put him in charge of the gentlemen pensioners, the fifty gently born men assigned to guard His Grace’s person at court. Will’s new duties kept him busy throughout January and into February. I spent far more time with Harry Dudley, but it was Will who was most often in my thoughts.

Life at court continued to offer a wide variety of activities. Women did not play at tennis or bowls, but we were welcome as spectators. And everyone turned out to witness spectacles. On a Sunday in mid-February, Queen Kathryn entertained her first important foreign guest, Don Juan Estaban Manriquez de Lara, third Duke of Najera. I joined the other courtiers crowded into the queen’s watching chamber, eager to see what amusements Her Grace would provide.

Soft music played in the background, provided by the Bassano brothers. When I glanced his way, Jasper Bassano winked at me. I hid a smile. If I were to choose a suitor purely by his appearance, I decided, I’d have to add Jasper to my list of candidates. His exotic looks had an undeniable allure.

The Spanish duke was escorted by two English earls. One was Will, looking very fine in black velvet embroidered in silver and sparkling with jewels. The other was Henry Howard, the poetry-writing Earl of Surrey. I had heard that he had regained the king’s favor, but this was the first time I had seen him at court.

I studied him with interest, remembering that Will had told me they had been educated together in the late Duke of Richmond’s household. I remembered something else, too—that Surrey had led my cousin, Tom Wyatt, into a drunken rampage that had led to a lengthy imprisonment for poor Tom.

Surrey had a pleasing appearance. His hair and beard were auburn, his eyes hazel. His face, a perfect oval, was dominated by full, sensuous lips, but there was an arrogance about him, a certain air of self-importance, that I could not like. I wondered that others were not put off by that superior manner, but perhaps they had grown accustomed to his attitude. Or else they accepted without question his innate superiority. Surrey’s father was the Duke of Norfolk, one of the most powerful noblemen in the land. No doubt he had been raised from the cradle to think that the Howards were second only to the Tudors.

The queen advanced, smile radiant, to greet her noble guests. She wore heavily brocaded crimson. Two crosses and a brooch, all studded with diamonds, caught the light. Her robe was cloth-of-gold and had a train more than two yards long. She was flanked by the two highest-ranking ladies in the land, her stepdaughter, Princess Mary, and King Henry’s niece, Lady Margaret Douglas, the daughter of his older sister.

I had glimpsed both royal ladies before but had paid little attention to either. Now I noticed only that both bore a strong resemblance to the king in his younger days—the king of the portrait at Cowling Castle. Their Graces were much smaller physically, but the Tudor features, from reddish hair to piercing stare, bred true. Like the queen, they glittered with jewels.

Looking dazzled, the Duke of Najera kissed Queen Kathryn’s hand.

After the initial greetings were over, the queen led the company into her presence chamber. She seated herself in a brocade-covered chair beneath a canopy of brocade and bade the duke sit, too, that they might enjoy an evening of music and dancing. Although Queen Kathryn did not speak Spanish and the duke’s command of English was poor, they managed to converse in French and Latin, with the occasional assistance of the Earl of Surrey, who was, it appeared, fluent in Spanish.

I shifted my attention to the Earl of Essex—to Will. His gaze swept over the gathered courtiers, stopping when he found me. At his first opportunity, he slipped away from queen, duke, and earl and made his way to my side.

“It has been too long,” he said. “I have missed you, Bess.”

“You knew where to find me,” I reminded him, painfully aware that every word we spoke could be overheard.

“The king has kept me too busy to do anything but follow his commands. And for the last five days, I have been almost constantly in the Duke of Najera’s company. Surrey and I met him upon his arrival and have been providing diversions for him ever since.”

“What entertainments did you produce?” I asked, once again recalling that Surrey had a penchant for breaking merchants’ windows and rioting through the streets.

“We visited the menagerie in the Tower of London.”

“I did not know there was such a place.”

“It is scarce worth the time to see four lions and two leopards. The poor beasts are confined behind wooden railings, but they do not look very fierce. We also took the duke to Paris Garden for the bear baiting.”

I wondered if they had made any other stops in Southwark, an area notorious for its whorehouses.

“Then today,” Will continued, “we dined with Najera and brought him to court. He had a brief interview with the king before we came here.”

Applause interrupted us. The queen had called upon Jasper Bassano to dance. As always, he was a marvel of agility, executing the steps in what the Spaniards called the gallarda so lightly that he seemed to have wings on his feet.

I sighed in appreciation. “What a beautiful man.”

“He is a musician.”

“Jealous?” I sent him a teasing look. “I think you are beautiful, too.”

Before he could respond, Queen Kathryn called to him to lead her out for the first pavane.

I did not lack for partners when the general dancing began. Harry Dudley was the first of many. Midway through the evening, I even danced with that august personage, the Earl of Surrey, but he seemed less interested in me than in watching Lady Hertford. I had to admit that she was an attractive woman, and an excellent dancer, but she was somewhat older than Surrey and she did have that reputation as a shrew. I could not imagine what it was about her that so fascinated him. When she noticed him staring, she shot back a look of pure loathing.

“Does Lady Hertford’s husband disapprove of Surrey’s antics?” I asked Davy Seymour when he requested the next dance, “Or is it the lady herself who dislikes him?”

Davy was kin to Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford. He gave a bark of laughter. “She despises both the man and his poetry. On another evening such as this, she refused his invitation to dance. He retaliated in verse, a poem wherein a wolf acts ‘with spite and disdain’ to a lion, although she is an interloper of the most common sort and the lion’s antecedents are far superior.”

“An allegory, I presume?” The music began and I curtsied.

Davy bowed deeply in response. “And not a very subtle one. The Seymour family seat is called Wulf Hall, while a white lion is one of the Howard family’s emblems.”

I stole another glance at the Earl of Surrey as I danced. He chatted with the Duke of Najera and Queen Kathryn. Although he stood a step below them, as was proper, everything about him shouted that he considered himself their equal, perhaps even their better. I thought him very foolish to be so bold.

The evening ended when the queen ordered that gifts be brought forth to present to the duke. After accepting them, Najera kissed Queen Kathryn’s hand in parting and asked if he might be permitted to also kiss Princess Mary’s hand. The king’s daughter laughed and offered him her lips instead.

Mary Tudor was no beauty, but she had a pleasing appearance, with a clear complexion, regular features, dark red-gold hair, and a slender build. Najera was happy to comply. Then he declared that he must bid farewell in the same manner to every other lady present. Amid much laughter and goodwill he made his way around the presence chamber.

I was awaiting my turn when Will suddenly reappeared at my side. Without a by-your-leave, he hauled me into a nearby alcove. “You’ll kiss no man but me,” he whispered, and caught my lips with his.

This was no gentle wooing but rather a full-scale assault on my senses. His hands swept down my back to caress my bottom and pull me tight against his hardness. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth until I let him in. Thrilled, I reveled in his masterful lovemaking. The feel and smell of him surrounded me, wrapping me in a cocoon that blocked out everything else. I wanted that wickedly wonderful moment to last forever, but it was not to be.

Will released me. “I must go,” he whispered.

Leaving me dazed and shaken, he rejoined the Spaniard’s party. I touched trembling fingers to my lips. With that display of possessiveness and need, Will had stolen much more than a kiss. I’d lost my heart to him . . . and perhaps my soul.