Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (106 page)

But the more he barked orders at me, the more determined I became to go my own way. “I will follow my heart. And I will never agree to a loveless marriage.”

Father’s face worked as he struggled for self-control. He turned away from me, staring at Lambeth Palace, the archbishop of Canterbury’s great house on the opposite side of the Thames, until he could speak calmly again. As stone faced as a gargoyle, he asked if I was Will Parr’s mistress.

“No, I am not,” I said and added, pride in my voice, “we agreed to wait until we are married to couple.”

“You will have a long wait!”

With that, Father stalked off. I did not see him again before he returned to his duties in Calais.

20

S
oon after my confrontation with my father, rumors surfaced of an impending French invasion. By midsummer, everyone was on the lookout for strangers who might turn out to be French agents, and Lord Lisle, as lord admiral, attempted a daring plan that involved sending fireships against the French in their own port at the mouth of the Seine. It failed, but he redeemed himself in a battle with twenty-one French galleys in which the French were put to flight. In July he sailed his fleet to Portsmouth Harbor. There some sixty-three warships soon gathered for provisioning and repair. The king, leaving most of the court behind, joined Lisle there to oversee the preparations for war.

I knew all this from my old mistress, Jane Lisle. I knew, too, that Jane was once again with child. I envied her. I had begun to wonder if I was ever to know the joy of coupling with Will, let alone the fulfillment of bearing his children.

I envied Anne Bourchier.
She
had children. She might live in strained circumstances at the manor of Little Wakering in Essex, but she lived
there with her own choice of a mate. As far as I knew, she had not even been made to endure the usual punishment doled out by the church for adultery—public penance while barefoot and wearing nothing but a shift.

On the nineteenth day of July, a ship called the
Hedgehog
blew up on the Thames, at Westminster. No one knew if it was an accident or a case of enemy sabotage but the event made everyone nervous. We did not learn until later that the
Hedgehog
met its fate on the very same day that the French fleet appeared off Portsmouth. Lord Lisle succeeded in driving them away, but there were many losses, not the least of which was the king’s great warship the
Mary Rose
. While attempts were still under way to try to salvage her, especially her ordnance, the king returned to court. He was in remarkably high spirits for having lost so many men.

“The French ran off like whipped curs with their tails between their legs,” His Grace declared.

Along with the other maids of honor, I sat on a cushion on the floor. We formed a half circle around the king and queen. I studied King Henry as he regaled us with stories of his activities with the fleet in Portsmouth Harbor. Renewed hostilities with France seemed to agree with him.

Seizing the chance to take advantage of his good mood, I took every opportunity to flatter His Grace. I asked questions that allowed him to recount more of his own exploits. I praised the decisions he’d made, even though I had no idea whether they were good ones or not. I hoped that if he looked upon me with particular favor he might be willing to grant me a boon.

The next day the entire court embarked on a hunting progress. Our first stop was Nonsuch, where we would stay for three nights. The palace was an astonishing sight, with many towers and turrets. It was situated in an enormous hunting park stocked with over a thousand head of deer. But when Will and I rode into the outer court, some of the magic disappeared.

“It is unfinished,” I said.

“It is a miracle there is as much here as there is. Building began fewer than ten years ago, when the king ordered an entire village razed.”

I wondered what had happened to the people who had lived there, but I did not have time to ask. Will and I were among the select few, along with the queen, Lady Lisle, Lady Hertford, and Lady Suffolk, who were to be given a guided tour by the king himself.

His Grace was like a small boy showing off a new toy, escorting us into the royal lodgings by means of an elaborate staircase that led from the inner court to the first floor. In other palaces, we’d have entered the watching chamber first. Here we went directly into the king’s presence chamber.

“The guard chamber is below us, on the ground floor,” King Henry explained. “And we have done away with the great hall entirely. Nonsuch is a privy palace. The entire court will not be invited here again.”

Furniture and hangings sent ahead from Whitehall were already in place. The king led us through the presence chamber and into the short gallery that connected it to His Grace’s privy chamber. From there doors opened onto a privy gallery, the privy lodgings—two chambers with the king’s bedchamber beyond—and a small tower room. From the king’s bedchamber, another small room behind a stair turret gave access to the queen’s bedchamber.

“How delightful!” Queen Kathryn exclaimed, even though her apartments were much smaller than the king’s and there was only one chamber in her privy lodgings.

“Do you see the roundels?” King Henry asked, indicating the linen-fold paneling decorating the walls of the queen’s privy chamber. I peered at one of the small round carvings and saw a maiden issuing from a Tudor rose—a variation of the queen’s personal emblem.

It was all very luxurious, but I was not to enjoy it. The maids of honor were housed in a tent. A forest of them had sprung up on the grounds. Few courtiers were pleased by the prospect of living rough, but they were given no choice in the matter. To add to their discontent, it rained all night.

In the morning, I stepped out into bright sunlight and a sea of mud. My sturdy riding boots sank in it with every step and made disgusting sucking sounds each time I lifted one out of the mire. I did not care. I was to join the hunt at the king’s express invitation. If His Grace had a successful day—as surely he would, with the help of his huntsmen—then I intended to keep him sweet with flattery and flirtation. When the right moment came, I could broach the subject of a royal decree. Will had not yet found an opportunity to do so, not for lack of desire on his part, but because the king was so often distracted by affairs of state.

Some years before, the king had suffered a serious fall while coursing. Since then he had, for the most part, given up hunting with dogs. Instead, he shot at game from a platform called a standing. Timber framed and plastered, it stood two stories high.

The huntsmen flushed a hart and chased it past the standing. Using nets on poles, they forced the deer to flee directly toward the spot where the king waited. Not surprisingly, His Grace made the kill, putting him in a jovial mood. The queen made her shot just as cleanly.

Halfway through the day’s hunt, we adjourned to a banqueting house atop a little hill. After the king dined, he ascended to a viewing platform on the roof. While His Grace chatted amiably with Will, I positioned myself as close as I dared and waited for the king to notice me. It did not take long.

“What do you think of our park, Mistress Brooke?” His Grace asked.

“It is the best I have ever seen, Your Grace. And the palace is magnificent.”

“Have you had time to explore the gardens?”

“Not yet, Your Grace, but I look forward to doing so.”

All the while we spoke together, the king edged closer to me, until he stood only inches away. I tried to ignore his mottled skin and the thick rolls of fat around his neck and the pouches beneath his eyes, but he had become grossly obese in the last year. His back was humped like an old woman’s. I repressed a shudder, smiled, and flattered His Grace for all I
was worth. At least the ulcers on his leg were not giving off that putrid smell I still remembered with nightmare clarity.

After the hunt, Will took me on a tour of the gardens. Nonsuch boasted a wonderland of groves, rockeries, aviaries, and trellis walks. Eventually, there was to be a maze in the privy garden, but it was still in the planning stages. We stopped in a picturesque hollow.

“This is called the Grove of Diana,” Will said.

“Why?”

He pointed to one of two statues—a woman in her bath. “Diana the huntress, a goddess.”

I was unfamiliar with the legend. “The other statue is grotesque.”

“Actaeon being turned into a stag,” Will said, and related the entire legend.

“I am glad mere mortal kings do not have such powers. Beheading is a terrible fate, but at least it is quick.”

Will ran a finger beneath the edge of his collar. “Do not jest about such matters, Bess. And have a care what you say to the king.” He fixed me with a stern look. “You have gone out of your way to bring yourself to his attention.”

“If His Grace is well disposed toward me, then he will be inclined to grant a request.”

“I feared that was your plan.”

“What harm in trying? At worst, he will refuse.”

“Can you still be such an innocent?” He put his hands on my shoulders, his expression full of concern. “Choose the wrong moment and you could ruin everything. Or, worse, lead him to think you are prepared to offer him more than smiles in return for his largesse.”

I took a step toward him, so that our bodies were lightly touching from chest to thigh. “How much longer must we wait, Will?”

“God’s teeth, Bess!” The strain in his voice reassured me. “Now more than ever we must be circumspect.”

“We’ve waited so long,” I whispered. “I am tired of being patient.” I had to bite my lip to hold back tears. “Perhaps I can convince the king—”

“Bess, no.” He held me tenderly. “It is not worth the risk. If you force His Grace’s hand and he refuses to allow our marriage, he can no longer ignore our desire to wed. He will feel obliged to keep us apart. What if he sends you back to Cowling Castle? Or marries you off to someone else?”

The tears did come then, but even as I cried, my resolution hardened. If I could not marry Will, then I would live with him unwed. Neither father nor king would part us.

21

A
fter Nonsuch, the court moved on to Petworth. There reports reached the king of a tempest that had caused widespread destruction in Derbyshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire. Then experts in such matters determined that the
Mary Rose
could not be salvaged.

“There is a great dearth of corn and victuals in some parts of England,” Will told me, “and fears that it may lead to famine. And the bloody flux is raging among sailors on the king’s ships, incapacitating entire crews.” He heard these things at the daily meetings of the Privy Council and shared them with me to discourage me from approaching King Henry.

“And yet His Grace continues to be in excellent humor.” Council business dispensed with, he spent the remainder of each day killing defenseless deer from a standing or mounted his horse, with the help of a purpose-built flight of steps, and set off with his favorite hawk on one gauntleted hand.

“King Henry’s temper is uncertain. Do not speak to him out of turn lest his anger be unleashed on you.”

I ignored Will’s warnings and continued to flirt with His Grace. The queen looked on with mild amusement, knowing full well what I was about. Her Grace did not speak to me of Will, but I was certain she would give us her blessing if only the king could be persuaded to agree to our marriage.

On the eighteenth day of August, the court left Petworth for Guildford. In spite of its name, Guildford did not belong to Lady Lisle’s family but to Will, a gift to him from the king. Will had received many gifts from King Henry, both large and small. His Grace had even parted with one of his own walking staffs when Will fell while playing tennis and twisted his ankle. It was an ornate creation decorated with silver and gilt and boasting a little shipman’s compass set into the top.

Guildford was a moated hunting lodge in a park that contained a rabbit warren and a horse-breeding operation as well as a herd of the king’s deer. Once again, tents had to be set up to house most of the court. The king continued in a jovial mood.

I decided that there would be no better place to plead our case to the king than here in Will’s own house. I spent the next two days alert for an opening to speak to the king of what was in my heart. I had not yet found one by the third morning when, as had become our habit, I met with Will following the daily meeting of the Privy Council.

“Good news, Bess,” he said when he’d greeted me with a brief kiss—the kind no one could take exception to. “The French fleet is no longer a threat. Their remaining ships have retreated all the way back to their own ports.”

“Oh, excellent! His Grace must be delighted.” This could be the moment I had been waiting for. The king would be in an excellent mood. He would be inclined to be generous.

“He is so well pleased that to celebrate he means to move on to Woking this very day.”

“He cannot!” The protest burst out of me before I could stop it. I clapped both hands over my mouth.

Will sighed and shook his head. “I was afraid you had not given up.
Well, you must perforce abandon such foolishness now. The king will leave Guildford within the hour.”

“I will speak to him at Woking, then.” I started to return to the house. We had walked, as was our wont, toward the ruins of an old castle on the grounds. Only the Great Tower still stood, and behind it was a secluded, overgrown garden where we had stolen a few minutes of privacy.

Will caught my arm. “You will not be going with him. His Grace is taking only a small number of courtiers, all male. Everyone else is to remain here for another day or two.”

“Will you go or stay?”

“The Privy Council meets tomorrow at Woking. I will be expected to attend.”

“Make some excuse and remain here with me.”

“Since the Duke of Suffolk has already begged leave to stay behind, I do not think it would be wise for me to do so.”

My scheme to ask a favor of the king had been thwarted, at least temporarily. Frustration sparked a sudden, overwhelming need in me to exert control over something in my life. Desire, so long repressed, broke free.