Chapter 20
TWENTY
There was music coming from Henry’s rooms. Thomasin frowned at the jaunty tune that was being played on a lute and recorder, with the rhythm struck up on a tabor.
The king himself was not there, of course; he remained where Thomasin had left him, still seated before the Papal Court, listening to the advice of his legal experts.
But then realisation dawned: there was only one other person who might command music to be played in his chamber, just like she commanded every other aspect of his life, laughing at every sorrow that her behaviour had caused.
Thomasin paused outside the doors and turned to Cecilia, mindful of the last unpleasant encounter they had had with Anne, who had been jealous over Henry’s divided attention.
“You really want Anne Boleyn to see you like this?”
Her sister did not care for the shame of it. “I am a married woman. It might make her realise there are other women more than capable of providing the king with the heir he desires.”
“Very well, then.” Thomasin took a deep breath and went to knock on the door.
“Wait. Perhaps it is best to draw him out. If I wait somewhere nearby, then the shock for him will be less.”
“I think that is wise.”
“I will return to the courtyard, by the rose bower. Bring him to me there.”
“If he is within, I will do so.”
Thomasin waited for her sister to disappear, then knocked on the door. A guard answered and let her in.
All Anne’s favourites were gathered. Anne Gainsford and Bess Holland, with George Boleyn and Henry Norris, made up the closest group to her.
Thomasin could see the swish of skirts as they danced, laughing and moving in rhythm, as if the queen’s future had already been decided in their favour.
Anne’s distinctive tones rose above the music as she conducted her friends: “More swiftly now, quicker of foot. Be ready to turn, less like a dullard, please!”
Thomasin would have turned away had she not committed herself to helping her sister.
“Who is it?” called Anne, above the heads of the guards.
She came to a halt behind them. She wore a startling gown of tawny and gold, her face flushed and her eyes glittering.
“Thomasin Marwood, I can scarcely believe it. This day gets better and better. It must be a sign.” She threw back her head and roared with laughter.
Thomasin wanted to pull her hair, but she gritted her teeth and remained calm. “I have no wish to intrude on your frivolities. I am here to enquire whether William Hatton is within.”
“Hatton?” Anne smiled. “What, is he to have a turn with you, too? Now the elder sister is married, the younger one comes begging.”
Anne had gone too far. Thomasin’s rage began to boil at the insult, but she stood her ground. “I am here on business. Is Hatton within?” She tried to see past Anne into the room.
“Do you hear this, Rafe?” Anne called back, presumably to where Rafe was enjoying himself in the dance. “Your beloved is here seeking Will Hatton. What do you think of that? Replaced so soon.”
Thomasin turned, fuming with rage. She knew that Anne had deliberately said the most provocative things she could think of, but she could not bear to stand and be insulted.
“Wait, wait,” Anne called in conciliatory tones. “No need for that. Hatton is here.”
Hatton appeared in the doorway, his fair hair tousled, his face full of questions.
“I will leave you to your … business,” said Anne. “Thomasin, what a delicious pleasure it was to see you. Sadly so brief.”
The door closed sharply behind them.
“How can I help you?” said Hatton.
“I am here about your own business, as you will discover shortly. Come with me.”
Thomasin started walking and Hatton hurried behind. She felt no inclination to speak to him or make the situation less awkward, and he was not prepared to make the effort either. Soon they emerged from the corridor into the courtyard. Thomasin caught a flash of her sister’s dress among the roses.
“Your business lies over there, among the roses. If you speak so much as a single unkind word, you will have me to deal with!”
Giving him a little shove in the right direction, Thomasin was satisfied to see him walk towards Cecilia, then turned away to find herself a spot for repose.
She felt tired now, with all the strains of the past weeks creeping up on her, and settled down on one of the benches on the far side, out of sight and earshot of the lovers.
The sun fell heavy and warm upon her skirts and she settled back, hoping for a decent stretch of rest while Cecilia’s predicament was resolved.
Soon, the judgement of the court would be pronounced and there would be a path laid out before her, either with Catherine victorious as queen or, Heaven forbid, discarded and banished somewhere.
Would the queen need her ladies in a nunnery or a remote house of retirement?
Once Sir Richard was freed and Cecilia’s baby born, Thomasin imagined her parents would wish to retire to Suffolk.
There would always be a place for her there, but what a life it would be in comparison to that which she enjoyed now.
What kind of marriage would she make there — the son of some local landowner, perhaps?
And Cecilia? What would become of her, now that Hugh wished to have no more to do with her?
She might return to Suffolk too, unless a different future was being decided for her right now.
Thomasin closed her eyes. It was warm for May. Maria had told her how this used to be Catherine and Henry’s favourite month, dressing up in Lincoln green and riding out into the fields for feasts and hunting. There had been such happiness between them, which had lasted for so long.
Thomasin woke with a start. John Dudley was shaking her arm.
“Thomasin? Are you well?”
She rubbed her eyes and looked around, dazed. The sun had shifted position behind the chimney pots. “I … yes. Oh, John, I think I fell asleep. What hour is it?”
“Close upon dinner. How long have you slept?”
“Longer than I should.”
She got to her feet, looking over towards the rose bower. There was no sign of either Cecilia or Hatton.
“God’s blood! You’ve not seen my sister, have you?”
“I just came in through that door. I saw no one.”
Thomasin sighed. “Very well, forgive me.”
“I have come from the court. It has concluded for the day, with no resolution to speak of. Henry is sour enough about it. Look out, he comes this way!”
They both sprang back as the royal guards appeared, at the head of a procession snaking its way towards the royal apartments. Thomasin wondered if Anne was still dancing there, and whether the king would be in the mood to join her. And where had Cecilia disappeared to?
When Henry appeared, resplendent in his furs and gold chains, she decided at once that there would be no music and dancing, given the severity of his frown.
“And so another day is required,” said John, as the line faded from sight. “They have been at loggerheads for so many years, I do not suppose a few days will matter, although it is more likely to be weeks at this rate.”
“That long?”
“I fear so. Campeggio is so determined to draw the proceedings out, I am starting to believe he has secret instructions to delay. Will you dine in the hall here tonight?”
“No, I must make my way to the queen. She has repaired to Baynard’s Castle and is expecting me.”
“Then it would be my pleasure to escort you. It is but a moment’s walk, but I should not wish to see you go unaccompanied.”
“That is most kind of you, if you can spare the time.”
“I can, and the pleasure of your company is fair recompense. You can tell me if you prefer rose water or lavender to perfume gloves with, because I wish to buy some for Jane, but I am sure she had both!”
Thomasin laughed. “I am sure she would like either.”
“She is with child again, we have just discovered. We are blessed by it, but it comes round again so soon.”
“You are fortunate indeed. My congratulations to you both.”
They crossed the bridge to Blackfriars and passed through the palace, along a short street of tall houses and out into St Andrew’s Hill, which led down to the river.
John pointed out the site of the old mill from years past, and talked about the ownership of the buildings on each side, along with their histories and former residents.
On the left was a gate, giving into the precincts of Baynard’s Castle.
“Here I will leave you and take a boat home to Jane,” said John, with a short bow.
“Thank you. I appreciate the escort.”
“It is always a pleasure. I intend to visit your father tomorrow, if you have any message for him.”
“Only my love and prayers, as ever. I saw him earlier and he was in fair spirits, but I do not know how he fares when I am not present.”
John nodded, understanding her request. “I will report back his true state, if he will show it to me. I will join my prayers with yours for a speedy resolution to his situation.”
“Thank you, dear John.”
Now that her dear Thomas More had been sent to Cambrai, she appreciated having John’s friendship.
Baynard’s Castle was solid, grey and unforgiving, even in the late afternoon sunshine.
It felt more like a fort than a palace or townhouse such as the great lords occupied.
Thomasin entered with trepidation, shown by the guards to the rooms that Catherine occupied.
It was dark, with few torches, but the lingering smell of food that had passed along this corridor recently offered a little comfort.
She was shown into a high-ceilinged room, still chilly despite the fires being lit. Ellen rose from a window seat, where she had been darning with Mary. Thomasin noticed that the windows were small and deep-set, letting in very little light.
“Here you are, at last! We were getting worried about you.”
“I am here now. John Dudley escorted me.”
“Did you remain in court all this time?”
“Not quite all. I had some business of my own to attend to as well.”
“The queen asked after you. She is at prayer now, but she wishes to hear about all the proceedings.”
“I will do all I can, but Bishop Fisher promised to pay a visit, and he understands the legal matters far better than I.”
“Have you eaten?”
Thomasin realised she had not done so since the morning, and her stomach was growling with hunger.
“There, some of our meal remains. You are lucky to have arrived before the servants could remove it.” Ellen pointed to a round table where dishes remained uncleared: a venison pasty, wings of chicken, a game pie, spices and pancakes with cream. Thomasin quickly sated her appetite.
“Is the queen well?” she asked.
“She has spent most of the time since our arrival in prayer, so I cannot really tell you. This morning she was in a state of anxiety, expecting the court’s verdict at any time,” Ellen replied.
Thomasin recalled what John had told her. “It will not be yet, certainly. There is far more to come. She should expect nothing for a good few days yet.”
“Perhaps you can tell her that,” said Mary, “as she has us all on edge.”
“I will, as soon as she emerges. I hope her spirits are not too affected by being in this place. Must we stay here long?”
Ellen shook her head. “Only until our chambers at Bridewell have been cleaned, then we may return, although she speaks of going to Windsor for the summer with Princess Mary. She is lifted by hope at the moment, although it is depressing enough for the rest of us.”
“Oh, I do hope we’ll go to Windsor and have a merry summer.”
After an hour, when the candles were burning low, there came a knock upon the door. Catherine had still not emerged from her private prayers, so Thomasin went to enquire who was there. She found Bishop Fisher upon the threshold, looking tired.
“My dear, I have come to make full report to the queen, as I promised I would. Is she receiving visitors?”
“I am sure she would like to hear from you. Please step inside and come close to the fire.”
“Goodness,” he said, looking around as he entered. “It is gloomy in here, is it not?”
The women nodded their agreement.
“This must be a stop of convenience, nothing more,” he continued. “This place will be no good for your health, any of you. It is so dark and damp that you might as well be…” He paused, suddenly realising where his words were leading.
“In the Tower?” asked Thomasin, grasping his meaning.
“Forgive me, it was a careless comment.”
“And fortunately not reflective of my father’s treatment, as his room is dry and light enough, and his meals are solid.”
Fisher looked uneasy. “I am pleased to hear that is the case. I had feared otherwise, given its history. No doubt the king will come to his senses soon.”
The women were silent, wondering what was meant by the Tower’s history, but none wished to ask.
At that moment, Catherine emerged from her inner chamber, dressed in sombre black.
“Ah, Thomasin and Bishop Fisher, I am glad to see you both. Tell me, what tidings of the day?”
“Little of comfort, my lady,” offered the bishop. “All legal knots and loops and biblical verses; it was most tedious.”
“And no resolution?”
“None yet, but I am to address the court myself in a few days and will leave them in no doubt about my convictions on the matter.”
“That is good to hear. And More, will he speak?”
“My lady, I regret to inform you that our friend More has been dispatched to Cambrai for the summit between the French and the Emperor. He came into the court especially to tell us, for he had just received instructions himself, much against his inclination.”
“Another friend lost. My husband is determined to reduce my support in whatever way he can.”
“I am sorry for it, my lady. I will give my speech the equivalent force of three men.”
“I believe you will, dear John. I believe you will.” The queen turned to Thomasin.
“This afternoon, I have dispatched more supplies and books to your father, God preserve and keep him. I have also written a letter to the king, asking for his release, although it may be upon the condition that he is to return to Suffolk at once.”
“He will go gladly, my lady. Thank you for your kindness.”
“We must keep our old friends close in these difficult times. Whatever the outcome of the court, I will never forget those who have stood beside me throughout it. Never.”