Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (45 page)

Her Grace made grant to have one of your daughters; and the matter is thus concluded that your ladyship shall send them both over, for Her Grace will first see them and know their manners, fashions and conditions, and take which of them shall like Her Grace best; and they must be sent over about six weeks hence, and your ladyship shall not need too much cost on them till time you know which of them Her Grace will have. But two honest changes they must have, the one of satin, the other of damask. And at their coming the one shall be in my Lady of Rutland’s chamber and the other in my Lady Sussex’s chamber; and once known which the Queen will have, the other to be with the Duchess of Suffolk, and then to be apparelled according to their degrees. But madam, the Queen will be at no more cost with her but wages and livery, and so I am commanded to write unto your ladyship.

—John Husee to Lady Lisle, 17 July 1537

1

The distance across the Narrow Seas between Calais, the last English outpost on the coast of France, and the town of Dover, in Kent, was less than twenty-five miles. On a clear day, with the wind in the right direction, the journey could be made in a matter of hours. If a storm came up, the crossing could take days. On this particular morning in early September 1537, a cold wind gusted and ominously dark clouds scudded across a bleak sky. The three people huddled together on the deck of the fishing boat regarded the choppy water that surrounded them with varying degrees of dismay.

Edward Corbett, known to his friends as Ned, was in charge of the party. He was a young man, just turned twenty-two, and one of the
gentlemen servitors in the household of Arthur Plantagenet, Viscount Lisle, lord Deputy of Calais, and uncle to King Henry VIII. Dogsbody would be a better name for what he was. He served at the beck and call of his master, performing whatever menial task Lord Lisle set for him. But the post was not all bad, and it would sustain him until there was an opening in the elite guard known as the Calais Spears. In the interim, his main duty was to take letters back and forth between Calais and England and deliver gifts—or more accurately, bribes—to those with influence at the court of King Henry VIII. On this journey he had been put in charge of the most precious gift of all. He was to escort two of the lord deputy’s stepdaughters to be interviewed by Queen Jane, Henry’s third wife. Her Majesty had a vacancy among the maids of honor.

The older sister, Catherine Bassett, called Cat by her family, was twenty and prodigiously plain in appearance. Her face was as pale as new-fallen snow, and her eyes, a blue so washed out as to look gray, had dark shadows beneath them. Even tightly wrapped in her heavy wool cloak, she shivered violently. “We will sink,” Cat whispered in a voice that trembled. “I know it. We will not live long enough to see England again.”

Her younger sister, Anne Bassett, whom everyone called Nan, was just sixteen and the acknowledged beauty of the family. Nan shot a contemptuous look in Cat’s direction. She showed no fear and no sign of succumbing to seasickness. A lass after his own heart, Ned thought, bold and perhaps just a trifle foolhardy.

“Do stop whining, Cat,” Nan said. “Master Nele’s boat has made this trip across the Narrow Seas hundreds of times. We are perfectly safe.”

“If the sight of the waves disturbs you, Mistress Bassett, there is a cabin in the stern,” Ned suggested. “You might feel better out of the wind and weather.” Salt spray coated their clothing, making everything feel damp and clammy.

Cat sent him a look of such gratitude that Ned felt guilty for not thinking to send her indoors earlier. But Nan’s glare took him aback.

“If she goes in, I will have to go with her,” Nan announced, “and I wish to remain where I am.”

Ned frowned, torn between sending Cat off alone and leaving Nan by herself at the rail. In good conscience he could abandon neither of the sisters. They were his responsibility until he delivered them to the London house of John Husee, the lord deputy’s man of business.

Cat heaved a great sigh. “The stink will be worse inside,” she said, “and Nan is much affected by strong smells.”

On a vessel of only thirteen tons, nowhere was free of the stench of tar and the strong odor of brine. But until Cat brought it to his attention, Ned had barely noticed. Master Nele’s fishing boat was sweet smelling compared to most, used as often to carry passengers and cargoes of wine as it was for its original purpose.

Nan looked pleased by her easy victory, but Cat cast a wary glance at the sky. “Do you think we will reach Dover ahead of the storm?”

“Let us consult the frog.” Ned led the way to a barrel secured near the beakhead. A frog was kept in a wooden cage nearby. Ned extracted it and dropped it into the barrel, which was filled with water. “Frogs always swim toward land,” he explained, ignoring the fact that at this point the vessel was probably equidistant from France and England. “If a storm is coming, the frog will swim near the bottom of the barrel. If good weather is on the way, it will swim near the top.”

Ned grinned as the two sisters leaned closer to stare at the frog. The peaks of their French hoods nearly touched midway over the barrel. At the front of each headdress a narrow strip of hair showed. Nan’s was light brown dusted with gold, while Cat’s more closely resembled the color of spring mud.

Nan turned her head, fixing eyes of a vivid popinjay blue on Ned’s face. She pouted. “This frog is swimming in the middle of the water in the barrel.”

“Then our fate is in God’s hands. If the winds favor us, we will arrive before the weather worsens.”

A bit of color had come back into Cat’s cheeks. “Do you believe in signs and portents, Master Corbett? Nan and I are undecided on the subject.”

He laughed. “Only when it suits me. Some superstitions are merely foolish. Do you know why most mariners refuse to learn to swim?”

Both sisters shook their heads. Cat looked genuinely curious. Nan’s pretty face was a study in skepticism.

“They believe that once the sea gets a taste of you, it will come back for more. Those who willingly go into the water to swim are therefore more likely to drown.”

“But ships do sink and men do drown, whether they can swim or not,” Cat said, her expression solemn.

Ned herded the two young women back to the rail. The sky overhead had grown lighter in the last few moments. “Look there,” he said, pointing. “If you squint, you can just see the cliffs at Dover.”

“Look there,” Nan shot back, as a wave broke against the side of the boat and cold mist sprayed over the rail. “We are not out of danger yet.”

“I vow I will rescue you both if we sink,” he promised. “I will turn myself into a dolphin and, like the old legend, carry you on my back to safety on the nearest shore.”

“You can swim, then?” Nan asked.

“I can.”

“Could you teach me how to stay afloat on my own?”

Wicked thoughts coursed through his mind as his admiring gaze slid over her. He could see very little of her shape beneath her cloak, but he had caught glimpses of her often enough in Calais to know she had a trim figure. He lowered his voice. “You would have to take lessons wearing nothing but your shift. Otherwise the weight of your clothing would pull you under the sea.”

She turned a pretty shade of pink, but he saw in her eyes that she was not truly offended. “And you, sir? What would you wear?”

“That, mistress, I leave to your imagination.”

“You are wicked, sir.” More embarrassed than her sister, Cat avoided meeting his eyes. After a moment, she turned away, ostensibly to go back to the barrel for another look at the frog.

Nan’s gaze remained fixed on Ned. “I would like to learn to swim,
but I suppose I will have no time for such things when I become a maid of honor.”

“Are you so certain you will be chosen? The queen sent for both of you.”

“I should already have had a place among the maids.” Nan could not hide her frustration. Her words tumbled out in a rush. “It was all arranged. More than a year ago, when I was fifteen, all the appropriate bribes had been paid, all the courtiers courted. My stepfather had sufficient rank as Viscount Lisle to entitle me to the position. Under Queen Catherine of Aragon, or even Queen Anne Boleyn, my age would not have been a drawback, but Queen Jane Seymour decided that I was too young. Only then did anyone suggest that Cat apply to enter royal service.”

Ned made sympathetic noises and waited, leaning casually against the rail. His manner invited further confidences.

“It is most unfair that I should have to compete with my own sister for the single opening in the ranks of the queen’s damsels, but I have one advantage.” She lowered her voice and leaned a little closer. “I have been trained in a noble French household. I understand the ways of powerful and wealthy people. My sister was educated solely by our mother and has never left Calais once in the four years our stepfather has been in charge there.”

Cat Bassett had stayed well in the background even in Lord Lisle’s household. Ned had rarely been aware of her presence. Then again, it was hard to notice anyone else when Lady Lisle was in the vicinity. She was an altogether formidable woman.

Born plain Honor Grenville, a gentleman’s daughter, Lady Lisle had been wed first to a simple West Country knight named Bassett, who’d died when her children were very young. Only by her second marriage had she become a viscountess and the wife of the lord deputy of Calais. She’d done well by the match. Not only had she pushed her new spouse into seeking advancement, but she had vastly improved her first family’s fortunes. She took full advantage of the fact that her husband was King Henry’s uncle.

Ned smiled to himself. That sounded much grander than it was. It was true that Arthur Plantagenet had been sired by King Edward IV, but he’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket. For decades he’d lived at court and been virtually ignored, just another royal bastard. Only during the last few years had he achieved any rank or position worth noting, and that had doubtless been due to the machinations of his ambitious second wife.

“Cat is shown favor simply because she is older.” Nan’s comment and the heartfelt sigh that accompanied it instantly reclaimed Ned’s attention.

“What sort of favor?” he asked.

“While we wait for the queen to summon us, she is to be in the keeping of Eleanor, Countess of Rutland. I must stay with the Countess of Sussex.”

“As they are both countesses, where is the difference?”

“Lady Rutland is more experienced. She has more influence at court. Lady Sussex is our cousin and only a few years older than I am. She was plain Mary Arundell less than a year ago, one of the maids of honor herself.”

“Then perhaps she is the best person you could find to teach you how to succeed at court.”

Nan considered that for a moment before nodding slowly. “Mayhap you have the right of it. I do hope so. A place at court has been my dream from the moment I was old enough to realize that royal service could open the gates to even greater things.”

“Greater?” Ned already knew the answer, but he was enjoying this conversation with Nan. Even when she complained, her voice had a pleasant, musical lilt.

“Maids of honor are on display to make a colorful background for the queen. Sooner or later every maid of honor comes to the attention of all the important and wealthy noblemen in the land.” Nan had a dreamy look in her eyes, clearly imagining herself being showered with gifts and proposals of marriage.

Ned grinned. He could find no fault with her goal. He’d be at the royal court himself if he had anyone to sponsor him. A courtier’s advancement was limited only by his or her ambition. Win the queen’s affection—or, better yet, the king’s—and a word in the royal ear became a marketable commodity. The maids of honor were wont to make good marriages. Indeed, two previous members of that elite group—Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour—had gone on to marry the king himself.

Nan Bassett’s combination of beauty and ambition would take her far, Ned thought. A pity the position of queen was already filled.

O
N
S
ATURDAY, THE
fifteenth day of September, Queen Jane summoned the Bassett sisters to her privy chamber at Hampton Court, the grandest of King Henry’s palaces. She kept them before her on their knees for what seemed like hours. It took every ounce of self-control Nan possessed not to fidget.