Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1 (208 page)

It feels like a long time before she gives a little murmur and stirs. Culpepper lets her go and she rises from the seat, dropping the hem of her nightgown and smiling back at him as she goes to the fire. He rises from the chair and ties his laces again, then he reaches for her, wraps his arms around her from behind, nuzzles at her neck, her hair. Like a young girl in love for the first time, she turns in his arms and gives him her mouth, she kisses him as if she adores him, she kisses him as if this is a love that will last forever.

In the morning I go to find my lord duke. The court is preparing to go hunting and the queen is being lifted into the saddle by one of the king's friends. The king himself, hauled to the back of his hunter, is in a merry mood, laughing at Culpepper's new bridle of red leather, and calling up his hounds. The duke is not riding today,
he stands at the doorway, watching the horses and the hounds in the cool of the morning. I pause beside him as I go to my horse.

‘It is done,' I say. ‘Last night.'

He nods as if I am telling him of the cost of the blacksmith. ‘Culpepper?' he asks.

‘Yes.'

‘Will she have him again?'

‘As often as she can. She is besotted.'

‘Keep her discreet,' he says. ‘And tell me the moment she is with child.'

I nod. ‘And my own affair?' I ask boldly.

‘Your affair?' he repeats, pretending he has forgotten.

‘My marriage,' I say. ‘I … I need to be married.'

He raises his eyebrow. ‘Better to be married than to burn, my dear Lady Rochford?' he asks. ‘But your marriage to George did not prevent you from burning up.'

‘That was not my fault,' I say quickly. ‘It was her.'

He smiles, he does not have to ask whose shadow fell on my marriage and set the fire that burned us all up.

‘What news of my new marriage?' I press him.

‘I am exchanging letters now,' he says. ‘When you tell me that the queen is with child, I shall confirm it.'

‘And the nobleman?' I ask urgently. ‘Who is he?'

‘Monsignor le Compte?' he asks. ‘Wait and see, my dear Lady Rochford. But believe me, he is wealthy, and he is young, handsome and – let me think – no more than three, perhaps four, steps from the throne of France. Will that satisfy you?'

‘Completely.' I can hardly speak for excitement. ‘I shall not fail you, my lord.'

I have a letter from the Lord Chamberlain to invite me to go on progress with the court this summer. The king is to go to his northern lands, which were so recently in revolt against him for his attack on the old religion. He is going to punish and reward, he has sent the hangman ahead of him and he will follow safely behind. I sit for a long time with this letter in my hand.

I am trying to weigh up the dangers. If I am at court with the king and he enjoys my company and I am high in his favour then I secure my safety for perhaps another year. But equally, the hard-faced men of his court will see that he likes me again and they will put their minds to how to keep me from him. Katherine's uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, will be anxious to keep his niece in high favour, and he will not like any comparison that is made between her and me. He will have kept the documents that prove that I was part of a Papist plot to destroy the king. He may have created evidence of worse: adultery or witchcraft, heresy or treason. Who knows what solemnly sworn statements he gathered when they thought they would put me to death? He will not have thrown them away when the king decided to divorce me. He will have kept them. He will keep them forever in case one day he wants to destroy me.

But if I do not go, then I am not there to defend myself. If anyone says anything against me, links me with the northern conspirators,
or with poor Margaret Pole the countess, with the disgraced Thomas Cromwell, with anything my brother may do or say, then there is no-one to speak in my favour.

I tuck the letter in the pocket of my gown and walk to the window to look out at the bobbing branches in the orchards beyond the garden. I like it here, I like being my own mistress, I like being in command of my own fortune. The thought of going into the bear pit which is the English court and having to face the monstrous old terror which is the king is too much for me to dare. I think, pray God I am right, that I shall not go on progress with the king, I shall stay here and take the risk that they may speak against me. Better that, than travel with him in constant danger of attracting envy. Better anything than travel with him and see those piggy eyes turn on me and realise that by some act – nothing I even know that I have done – I have fired his enmity and I am in danger.

He is a danger, he is a danger, he is a danger to everyone who is near him. I shall stay at Richmond and hope that the danger that is Henry passes me by and that I can live here in safety and peace.

I shall stay free of the frightened flock that is the court, I shall be alone like a gyrfalcon, solitary in the arching silence of the sky. I have reason to be fearful but I will not live in fear. I shall take my chance. I shall have this summer to myself.

The duke has come to pay a visit to his niece before the start of the summer progress, and realises, very quickly, that he could not have chosen a worse time. The queen's rooms are in chaos. Not even the most experienced servants, not even the queen's sister and stepmother, can make any sense of the orders, as Katherine swears she cannot go without her new gowns, and then remembers that she has had them packed and sent ahead, demands to see her jewel box, accuses a maid of stealing a silver ring, and then finds it again, almost bursts into tears at the quandary of whether or not to take her sables to York, and then finally pitches face down on her bed and swears she will not go at all since the king hardly pays any attention to her anyway, and what pleasure will she have at York when her life is hardly worth living?

‘What the devil is going on?' the duke hisses at me, as if it were my fault.

‘It has been like this all day,' I say wearily. ‘But yesterday was worse.'

‘Why do her servants not take care of all this?'

‘Because she interrupts them, and orders one thing and then another. We have had her chest of gowns packed and corded and ready for the wagon twice already. Her wardrobe mistress cannot be blamed, it is Katherine who pulls everything out for a pair of gloves that she cannot do without.'

‘It is impossible that the queen's rooms should be so disorderly,' he exclaims, and I see that for once he is genuinely disturbed. ‘These are the queen's rooms,' he repeats. ‘They should be gracious. She should have dignity. Queen Katherine of Aragon would never –'

‘She was born and bred a queen, but these are a girl's rooms,' I say. ‘And a spoiled, wilful girl at that. She doesn't behave like a queen, she behaves like a girl. And if she wants to turn the place upside down for a ribbon, she will do so, and no-one can tell her to behave.'

‘You should command her.'

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Your Grace, she is the queen. You made this child Queen of England. Between her upbringing in your houses and the king's indulgence she has been taught no sense whatsoever. I shall wait until she goes to dinner and then I shall have everything set to rights, and tomorrow all this will be forgotten and she will go on progress and everything she needs will be packed, and anything she has left behind she will buy new.'

The duke shrugs and turns from the room. ‘Anyway, it's you I wanted to see,' he says. ‘Come out into the hall. I cannot stand this women's noise.'

He takes my hand and leads me out of the room. The sentry stands to one side of the door and we move away so he cannot listen.

‘She is discreet with Culpepper at least,' he says bluntly. ‘No-one has any idea. How many times has he bedded her?'

‘Half a dozen,' I say. ‘And I am glad that there is no talk of her in the court. But here in her rooms at least two of her women know that she loves him. She looks for him, her face lights up when she sees him. She has gone missing at least once in the last week. But the king comes to her rooms at night and in the day there is someone always with her. Nobody could prove anything against them.'

‘You will have to find a way for them when they are on progress,' he says. ‘Travelling from one house to another, there must be opportunities.
It is no good for us if they can meet only seldom. We need a son from this girl, she has to be serviced until she is in pup.'

I raise my eyebrows at his vulgarity but I nod in agreement. ‘I will help her,' I say. ‘She can plan no better than a kitten.'

‘Let her plan like a bitch in heat,' he says. ‘As long as he beds her.'

‘And my affair?' I remind him. ‘You said that you were thinking of a husband for me?'

The duke smiles. ‘I have written to the French count. How would you like to be Madame la Comtesse?'

‘Oh,' I breathe. ‘He has replied?'

‘He has indicated an interest. There will be your dowry to be considered and any settlement on your children. But I can promise you this, if you can get that girl with child by the end of the summer then I shall kiss your hand as Madame la Comtesse by winter.'

I am almost panting in my eagerness. ‘And is he a young man?'

‘He is about your age, and with a good fortune. But he would not insist on you living in France, I have already asked. He would be happy that you remain as lady in waiting to the queen and would only ask that you have a house in both England and France.'

‘He has a chateau?'

‘All but a palace.'

‘Have I met him? Do I know him? Oh, who is he?'

He pats my hand. ‘Be patient, my most useful of all the Boleyn girls. Do your work and you shall have your reward. We have an agreement, do we not?'

‘Yes,' I say. ‘We do. I shall keep my side of the bargain.' I look at him expectantly.

‘And I shall keep mine, of course.'

I had feared it would be terribly dull, travelling round the country while people turn out to stare and offer us loyal addresses at every market cross, and the king sits in state in every town hall in the country and I grit my teeth to stop myself yawning while fat aldermen in gowns address him in Latin – at least I suppose it's Latin, Thomas is very naughty and swears it is Ethiopian because we have got lost and are in Africa – but actually, it's tremendous fun. The speeches are very dull indeed, but as soon as they are over there's a masque or a dance or an entertainment or a picnic or something of the sort, and it is much more fun being the queen on progress than being the queen at court because every few days we move to another castle or house, and I have no time to get bored.

Here at Lincoln the king commanded that I and all my ladies should dress in Lincoln green and it was like a masque when we entered the town. The king himself was in dark green with a bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder and a rakish bonnet with a feather.

‘Is he Robin Hood, or is he Sherwood Forest?' Thomas Culpepper whispered to me and I had to put my gloves to my mouth to smother a laugh.

Everywhere we have gone there has been Tom Culpepper, catching my eye and making me giggle so even the most tedious loyal address
is a moment when I can feel his eyes on me. And the king is much better in both health and temper, which is a relief for all of us. He was very irritated by the rebellion in the North, but that seems to be defeated now, and of course he beheaded the poor Countess of Salisbury, which upset me very much at the time, but now all the wicked people are defeated or dead and we can sleep easily in our beds again, he tells me. He has made an alliance with the emperor against the King of France that will defend us from France, he tells me – they are our enemies now,
voilà!
– and this is a good thing too.

I should not waste my time grieving for the countess for she was very old, after all, as old as my grandmother. But best of all, when we get to York we are going to meet with the Scots court and with the king's nephew King James of Scotland. The king is looking forward to this, and I am too, for there will be a great meeting of the two countries and jousting and tournaments and the English knights are certain to win for we have the bravest men and the best fighters. Tom Culpepper will wear his new suit of armour and I will be Queen of the Joust, with my new curtains on the royal box, and I cannot wait to see it.

I have practised everything. I have practised walking down the steps into the box and looking round to smile. I have practised sitting in the box and I have practised my gracious queen face, one that I shall put on when people cheer for me. And I have practised how I shall lean over the box and hand out the prizes.

‘You might as well practise how to breathe,' Joan Bulmer says rudely.

‘I like to get things right,' I say. ‘Everyone will be looking at me. I like to do it right.'

There will be more than a hundred English knights jousting and I believe every single one of them has asked to carry my favour. Thomas Culpepper took the opportunity to come to my presence chamber at Lincoln Castle, and kneel to me and ask if he could be my knight.

‘Has the king ordered you to ask me?' I say, knowing very well that he has not.

He has the grace to look down, as if embarrassed. ‘This is my own suit from my own beating heart,' he says.

‘You are not always so humble,' I say. I am thinking of a very hard kiss and his hand clutching at my buttocks as if he would lift me on to his cock then and there in the gallery before we left Hampton Court.

He glances up at me, one quick, dark glance, and I know that he is thinking of that too. ‘Sometimes I dare to hope.'

‘You certainly act like a hopeful man,' I say.

He giggles and ducks his head. I put my gloves to my lips to bite them so I don't laugh aloud.

‘I know my mistress and my queen,' he says seriously. ‘My heart beats faster when she just walks past me.'

‘Oh, Thomas,' I whisper.

This is so delightful that I wish it could go on all day. One of my ladies comes towards us and I think she is going to interrupt but Lady Rochford says something to her and she is distracted, and pauses.

‘I always have to walk past,' I say. ‘I can never pause for as long as I would wish.'

‘I know,' he says, and under the caressing, flirtatious tone there is real regret. I can hear it. ‘I know. But I have to see you tonight, I have to touch you.'

I really don't dare to reply to this, it is too passionate, and though there are only the ladies of my chamber around us, I know that my desire for him must just blaze out of my face.

‘Ask Lady Rochford,' I whisper. ‘She will find a way.' Aloud, I say: ‘Anyway, I cannot give you my favour. I shall have to ask the king who he favours.'

‘You can keep your favour if you will only give me a smile as I ride out,' he says. ‘They say the Scots are formidable fighters, big
men with strong horses. Say you will be watching me and hoping that I don't fall beneath a Scots lance.'

This is so poignant I could almost cry. ‘I always watch you, you know I do. I have always watched you joust, and I have always prayed for your safety.'

‘And I watch you,' he says, so quietly that I can hardly hear him. ‘I watch you with such desire, Katherine, my love.'

I can see that they are all looking at me. I rise, a little unsteadily, to my feet and he gets to his. ‘You can ride with me tomorrow,' I say, as if I don't much care either way. ‘We are going hunting in the morning before Mass.'

He bows and steps back, and as he turns away I give a little gasp of shock for there in the doorway, like a ghost, so like a ghost that for a moment I almost think he is a ghost – is Francis Dereham. My Francis, my first love, turned up on my doorstep in a smart cloak and a good jacket and a handsome hat, as if he were doing very well indeed, and as handsome as he was all those days ago when we played at husband and wife in my bed at Lambeth.

‘Mr Dereham,' I say very clearly, so that he shall make no mistake that we are not on first name terms any more.

He understands it well enough for he drops to one knee. ‘Your Grace,' he says. He has a letter in his hand and he holds it out. ‘Your respected grandmother, the duchess, bid me to come to you and bring you this letter.'

I nod to my page and I let Francis see that I don't bestir myself to go three paces for my own letters. The lad takes it from Francis and hands it to me, for I am far too important to lean. Without looking towards him I can see Thomas Culpepper, as stiff as a heron, standing by and glaring at Francis.

I open the duchess's letter. It is a terrible scrawl for she can hardly write, and since I can barely read we are very poor correspondents. I look for Lady Rochford and she is at my side in a moment. ‘What does she say?' I pass it over.

She reads it quickly and since I am watching her face and not the page I see an expression flicker across her eyes. It is as if she is playing cards and she has just seen a very good suit come up in her partner's hand, she is almost amused.

‘She writes to remind you of this gentleman, Francis Dereham, who served in her household when you were there.'

I have to admire the mask of her face, which is now absolutely without expression, given that she knows what Francis was to me and I to him, for I told her all about him when I was nothing more than a maid in waiting and she a far grander lady in waiting to Queen Anne. And, now I come to think of it, since half my ladies in waiting were my friends and companions in those days too they all know that Francis and I, facing each other so politely, used to be naked bedmates on every night he could sneak into the girls' bedchamber. Agnes Restwold gives a smothered little giggle and I shoot her a look which tells her to keep her stupid mouth shut. Joan Bulmer, who had him before I did, is utterly transfixed.

‘Oh, yes,' I say, taking my cue from Lady Rochford, and I turn and smile at Francis as if we were long-standing acquaintances. I can feel Thomas Culpepper's eyes flicking on me and around at the others and I think that I'm going to have to explain this to him later, and he won't like it.

‘She recommends him to your service and asks you to take him as a private secretary.'

‘Yes,' I say, I can't think what to do. ‘Of course.'

I turn to Francis. ‘My lady grandmother recommends you to me.' I really cannot think why she would interest herself in putting him into my household. And I can't understand why she would put him in a position so close to me, when she herself boxed my ears and called me a lustful slut for letting him into the bedchamber when I was a girl in her household. ‘You are indebted to her.'

‘I am,' he says.

I lean towards Lady Rochford. ‘Appoint him,' she says briefly in my ear. ‘Your grandmother says so.'

‘So to oblige my grandmother, I am pleased to welcome you to my court,' I finish.

He rises to his feet. He is such a handsome young man. I really cannot blame myself for loving him when I was a girl. He turns his head and smiles at me as if he were shy of me now. ‘I thank you, Your Grace,' he says. ‘I will serve you loyally. Heart and soul.'

I give him my hand to kiss and when he comes close I can smell the scent of his skin, that familiar, sexy smell that I once knew so well. That was the scent of my first lover, he meant everything to me. Why, I kept his shirt under my pillow so that I could bury my face in it when I went to sleep and dream of him. I adored Francis Dereham then, I only wish to God I didn't have to meet him again now.

He bends over my hand and his lips on my fingertips are as soft and as yielding as I remember them on my mouth. I lean forwards. ‘You will have to be very discreet in my service,' I say. ‘I am the queen now and there must be no gossip about me, not about now, and not about the old days.'

‘I am yours heart and soul,' he says, and I feel that disloyal, betraying, irresistible flicker of desire. He loves me still, he must love me still, otherwise why would he come to serve me? And though we parted on bad terms, I remember his touch and the utter breathtaking excitement of his kisses, and the slide of his naked thigh between mine when he first came to my bed, and the insistent pressing of his lust, which was never resisted.

‘Take heed what words you speak,' I say, and he smiles at me as if he knows as well as I do what I am thinking.

‘Take heed what you remember,' he says.