Chapter 18 #2
“A little boy, I believe,” said Lady Elizabeth, looking out at the lines of guards on either side, four men deep. “We are well protected here. I hope she will see that.”
Turning round, Thomasin was relieved to see the king’s own guard riding behind them, mounted on horseback.
Then the carriage beneath them slowly rumbled into life and the procession begun.
Ahead, she could see the golden canopy carried over Anne, sheltering her in case of sun or rain, but also to fend off anything thrown down at her, and the backs of the guards filing out through the gateway ahead.
As was customary, there was no sign of Henry, whose presence would eclipse Anne’s, so he was to travel by barge to Westminster and join them there for the feast that night.
Thomasin’s thoughts struggled for dominance as she clung to the side, her knuckles turning white.
A dour-looking countess seated opposite gave her a grave look, so Thomasin forced a smile in response.
Like Anne, she must also play her part today, no matter how she was feeling.
Giles should be outside, waiting on Tower Hill with Lettice and some sign to show he had been successful in finding young Mariot, whom she prayed was unharmed.
Then there were the streets ahead. Thomasin had no fear of them for herself, but Barton’s bitter preaching yesterday had unsettled her.
It would be impossible for any malcontents to come close to those in the carriages, but their words might carry above them.
She realised she had absorbed Anne’s fears and tried to shake them off, but then she saw the blue eyes of Isabel Danvers.
A little boy, Lady Elizabeth had said — Rafe had a son!
Thomasin took a deep breath and relaxed her grip on the carriage framework. If Anne could do this, she could too. Trumpeters sounded at the front, and she felt Lady Elizabeth stiffen and draw herself up straight, just as she had advised her daughter to.
The carriage passed out of the Tower, through the gate and over the bridge onto Tower Hill.
Thomasin had not imagined how many people would be crammed in here, shoulder to shoulder, twenty deep, rising up the incline behind, all craning to see the queen and her followers.
Many were cheering, clapping and waving, some calling out “God Save the Queen” or similar blessings, as Anne’s carriage trundled past.
“Oh, this is a good start,” said Lady Elizabeth, without taking her eyes off the crowd. “A very good start.”
Thomasin looked desperately for Giles, scanning the crowds on both sides, but there were so many faces that his did not jump out at her.
A lone hand was waving at the back as the carriage pulled away, and she told herself that it must have been him.
That had been his signal. All was well. But she trembled as the carriage rolled past All Hallow’s Church and into Tower Street.
The way was narrower here. People lined the street and hung from the upstairs windows of the buildings on each side, looking down upon them.
Ahead, they could see Anne had started to wave to the crowd, first on one side, then on the other. Thomasin thought it was a good sign.
The trumpeters blasted again. The leaders swung right into Marke Lane, where the houses were even more tightly packed, and up towards Fenchurch Street.
“This isn’t the same route they took Catherine,” muttered Lady Elizabeth, and Thomasin realised that like own her mother, her companion had been present on that occasion too.
The reason for the change of direction appeared at the junction ahead: a pageant of children dressed as merchants, singing songs of welcome.
Thomasin watched one small boy, his head a halo of golden curls, his blue robes far too long, his mouth wide open as he let out beatific notes.
Rafe had a son. A son. Something made her turn round and scan the faces of the men riding and walking behind. Surely he was among them somewhere?
“Sit still,” instructed Lady Elizabeth, bringing her back to her senses.
The carriage pulled forward again amid a blaze of faces and colour.
They moved past churches and shops, hospitals and guildhalls, houses and inns, up to Gracechurch Street, where more people were packed in, waving and cheering.
On the corner, a miniature mountain had been built from white marble, running with golden wine, and the nine muses, swathed in white robes, sung songs of greeting and praise.
From here, they headed under a triumphal arch, past the Leadenhall, where Anne’s badge of the falcon was displayed and a woman dressed as St Anne extended her arms to her namesake, speaking verses about her fruitfulness.
Thomasin sighed and sat back in her seat.
They were almost halfway round by now, and all was well.
It had been Giles waving in the crowd earlier, it had to have been, and they would arrive at Westminster safe and sound, heartened by the city’s welcome.
All was well. But still the fluttering sensation in her stomach would not settle down.
She looked ahead to Anne, seeing the back of her long dark hair, and her waving right hand.
To all the world she looked as poised as a queen should be.
Knowing how she had appeared a short while before, Thomasin felt a grudging admiration for her.
She had never before appreciated how difficult such performances might be, when Anne had not been raised to them.
They passed along Cornhill, where more crowds and pageantry awaited them, and then up into Cheapside, which Thomasin recognised.
The freshly gilded Standard gleamed in the daylight, on the spot where they had seen Elizabeth Barton arrested only days before.
Banners were strewn across the streets and the painted images of kings and queens were set up in a row.
This was right in the heart of the city, and the spire of St Paul’s rose ahead of them, the location chosen for the planned attack upon Anne.
Thomasin held her breath and felt her body become very still.
“What? What is it?” asked Lady Elizabeth. “You’ve tensed up.”
“Nothing,” she replied, trying to force a smile.
“What? Do you know something?”
“No, no, it was merely a report from a stranger, but Giles took it straight to the king.”
“Took what?”
“Some plans to disrupt the ceremony ahead at St Paul’s.”
Lady Elizabeth’s face creased into a frown. “And you knew of this?”
“A stranger told us in the street. Giles went to the king at once. It has been dealt with, never fear. Any protest will have been prevented.”
The old lady still did not look certain.
“See?” said Thomasin. “There is a double layer of guards here. More in the houses and down the side streets.”
The procession headed through Goldsmith’s Row and out the other side, where a temporary archway had been erected across the way they must take towards the cathedral. Due to the displays, it was impossible to see Anne ahead.
“Why did you not mention this?”
“I thought Anne was quite alarmed enough. You did not need this additional concern.”
The moment they passed under the arch, something cracked.
The sound of gunfire filled the air. Lady Elizabeth flinched at once, but managed to stay still, but Thomasin almost jumped out of her skin.
Then something was raining down upon them from a great height, filling the carriage.
Something struck Thomasin on the top of her headdress and something else hit her arm.
Fear shot through her limbs. Had they not done enough? Was this it? An attack upon Anne?
“Wafers,” said Lady Elizabeth, her mouth pursed tightly. “Sit up, they are only showering us with wafers.”