Chapter 17 #2
“Very wise, my lady.” She offered Lady Elizabeth her arm and between them, they walked slowly out to take their seats.
The distance was short, but it took longer than usual, as certain streets were blocked off to be cleared and cleaned ahead of tomorrow’s procession.
Sections were being railed off, while court officials knocked on every door lining the route to take the names of those within.
At one checkpoint they had to stop, and a man in livery opened the carriage door with many apologies, in order to ensure those within were entitled to be there.
“My crest is upon the carriage!” Lady Elizabeth insisted indignantly.
“Apologies, my lady,” he said. “It’s in the interests of security. The carriage might have been stolen.”
“Indeed it is not! Now let us pass!”
Thomasin was relieved to see the additional measure that had been put in place.
However, as they approached the Tower itself, she could not help but remember the last time she had visited, four years ago, when the actions of Thomas Cromwell had led to her father’s arrest. Sir Richard had been warned off attending the Legatine Court but had decided to feign ignorance and turn up anyway, in order to give evidence on Catherine’s behalf.
Small help it had been, though, when the king had been intent upon getting his own way regardless.
All that seemed a long time ago, and the wave of time had moved them all forward.
They clattered over the bridge that led into the Tower compound.
Anne’s new apartments sat on the southeast corner of the inner ward, part of a courtyard that contained the White Tower and the great hall.
Servants hurried to assist them, unloading the chests and leading them up a flight of stairs into the room that had been prepared for them, with a large fireplace, a four-poster bed draped with yellow satin and velvet, and a smaller single bed, which Thomasin suspected had been added at the last moment, after she had accepted Sir Thomas’s commission.
The place smelled of chalk and lavender, which had been liberally hung in bunches about the walls.
“This will do,” Lady Elizabeth said, nodding as Thomasin began to unpack her chest, with its rich, heavy garments folded in tissue and packed with herbs.
Refreshments arrived: Rhenish wine, spices, wafers and tarts — all rich, delicate flavours befitting the occasion.
“I shall rest a little,” said Lady Elizabeth, after they had eaten. “Tell me, do you play chess?”
“I do.” Thomasin did not mention the times she used to play with Princess Mary.
“Very good. The we shall be quite entertained until the barges arrive.”
It was a strange time. The atmosphere at the Tower was one of expectation, a place waiting to burst into life, while the hours ticked past in anticipation of Anne.
Lady Elizabeth lay down upon the bed, and soon her breathing became heavier.
Thomasin sat in the window, watching the scurry of activity below as flags and banners were erected, walkways swept and the final checks made.
The afternoon passed agonisingly slowly.
Thomasin could not stop her mind from wandering back to Mariot and the terrifying note that had arrived just before her departure.
It had all happened so quickly she’d not had enough time to consider exactly what Giles would do, and whether he might be putting himself in danger.
She clung to the memory that he had spoken of involving the sheriff and that he would give her a sign tomorrow at Tower Hill, trying as best she could to put the matter from her mind.
Instead, she imagined herself walking around the gardens at Green Hollow, listening to the birdsong as the roses bloomed under the summer sun and the little stream babbled away and the hills rose to the trees beyond.
Without warning, a tremendous boom ripped through the stone wall, rattling Thomasin’s bones. Lady Elizabeth sat up in bed with a gasp. A second and third shot followed soon after. The cannon. The Tower was firing its cannon to salute the approaching barge.
“My lady?” A servant was at the door. “The barges have been sighted. Would you please come down to the steps to welcome the queen?”
Thomasin helped Lady Elizabeth up gently, then straightened her dress and put her headdress back on her greying hair.
“They might have given us some warning. My poor old heart!”
“Yes, they might!”
“I suppose it is time,” she said, looking closely at Thomasin.
“Yes, this is where it begins.”
“I pray she can enjoy it. That the crowds are welcoming.”
“I am sure all will go smoothly,” Thomasin lied.
It felt fresher as they headed outside. People were already gathering along the route from riverside to apartments: castle servants, but also lords and ladies and city officials.
As they approached the steps, their noses alert to the presence of the river nearby, Thomasin spotted Sir William Kingston, the Constable of the Tower, whom she had met four years earlier, alongside his wife.
She also saw Bishop Fisher, her old friend, standing among the other men of the cloth, along with the new Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. No Thomas More, though, of course.
A flotilla of ships was visible, swarming across the Thames in their dozens.
Thomasin estimated there were perhaps fifty vessels in total grouped around the royal barge, the largest craft at the front.
As it drew closer, they could see the white falcon carved on top of it, surrounded by roses, and the young women accompanying Anne, who sat centrally, while the barge fired its guns into the river in answer to the Tower’s cannons.
Other ships around her blasted out the sounds of trumpets, shawms and tinkling bells, and were draped with flags and streamers, each painted and prepared by the city’s many guilds.
Slowly, the ships inched closer, the rowers pulling heavily against the tide, and Anne’s came to rest against the steps.
Kingston sprang forward to offer his arm and she climbed carefully out of the barge, adorned with jewels, to the applause of the crowd.
Climbing the steps, she passed the spot where Thomasin stood with Lady Elizabeth, and briefly touched her mother’s hand before she was borne along in the procession.
Sir Thomas, Mary, George and Jane followed soon after, each disappearing among the crowd.
At the far end, Thomasin turned to catch sight of the king, heaped in gold chains, waiting to welcome his wife.
That evening, while Anne and Henry feasted together, the women of her household dined in a private chamber.
The room was long and low, with newly whited walls and fresh matting and herbs underfoot.
Thomasin drank gladly from the jugs of wine circulating, although she found she had little appetite and only picked at the rich dishes laid before her.
It seemed a long time before they were permitted to retire for the night, but even then, she lay awake, chewing on the last of Lettice’s mint leaves, unable to sleep for the fears racing through her mind.