Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (99 page)

My voice went high and breathy. “How do I get out?” He had only been teasing me about spending the night in the maze . . . hadn’t he?

“I’ll tell you,” Harry said, “for a kiss.” His hands slid up from my waist to cup my breasts.

“I’d rather kiss a frog!” Furious with him, I brought one heel down on his foot. It did little damage. I wore soft leather slippers. He had on sturdy boots. But at the same time, I rammed my fist into his stomach.

“Oof!” he cried, and released me.

I backed up as far as I could and stood with both hands fisted. I was so angry with Harry that I momentarily forgot my fear of being trapped in the maze. I began to think more clearly. Our absence would soon be noticed, if it had not been already. Questions would be asked. Jasper Bassano must know we planned to explore the maze. Surely he’d tell Lady Lisle. Even if Harry did not show me the way out, I would soon be rescued.

I glared at Harry. He could not meet my eyes. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked embarrassed, as well he should!

“You and Jack told me you knew the way out,” I said. “I want to leave now.”

“As you wish.” He placed his right palm flat against the nearest section of evergreen. “The trick to navigating a maze is to walk so that the face of the hedge is always on the same side. Left or right, it does not matter, so long as you choose one. That will lead you to the center.”

“I do not want to go to the heart of the maze. I want to leave it entirely.”

“You have to go to the middle first, then use the same method to take you to the exit.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He looked offended. “I am not so desperate for a kiss that I’d imprison you here.” Keeping his right hand on the wall, he started walking again.

I had to scurry to match his rapid pace. I caught hold of his arm to make him slow down, afraid of losing my guide. “I believe you, Harry. It was just that, for a moment, you reminded me of my brothers when they play tricks on me. George or Thomas would strand me in this maze without a second thought.”

“I’d never do such a thing.”

“I know that,” I said in my most soothing voice, although secretly I had my doubts.

Harmony restored, we made half a dozen more turns before, without warning, we encountered the others in our party coming back. The stricken expression on Jack Dudley’s face alarmed me, as did the fact that Mary Woodhull had tears in her eyes. Alys just looked mad enough to spit.

“The maze is separated into islands,” she said. “It is impossible to find the center by the usual means.”

Taken aback, Harry blurted out, “That cannot be!”

“What does she mean?” I asked. “What are islands?”

It was Jack who answered. “Parts of the hedge have been removed to
create sections that go nowhere. When the walls of a maze are all of a piece, no matter how many branches it has, it is always possible to find the center by keeping a hand on the wall. But with this kind of hedge, that will not work.”

I glared at him. “I thought you said you knew this maze.”

“I’ve been in mazes before,” he mumbled.

“But not
this
one.” I did not trouble to hide my exasperation.

“It may be difficult, but surely it will not be impossible to find our way back.” Davy Seymour slung a comforting arm around Mary’s shoulders and looked gratified when she buried her face in the front of his doublet.

“We could cut our way out,” I suggested. “You gentlemen have daggers. We all have our eating knives. Why not just hack a hole in the hedge?”

Everyone stared at me.

“It is a simple and straightforward solution,” I said.

But Alys shook her head. “This is a
royal
maze.”

“I am certain His Grace will understand.”

“His Grace is just as likely to chop off our heads,” Harry muttered.

There had to be a means of escape. I thought for a moment. “What if two of you lift a third onto your shoulders? Harry, you are the tallest. If Jack and Davy hoist you high enough, you should be able to see the way we must go to get out.”

With Mary acting as spotter, the three gentlemen did a fair imitation of the king’s tumblers preparing to fling one of their number into the air. Alys and I stood back to give them room. It was only then that I realized two of our number were missing.

“Where are Ned and Dorothy?”

“Perhaps they found their way to Rosamund’s Bower.” Alys’s smirk told me she was certain they had, and that she had a good idea of what they were doing there to pass the time.

So much, I thought, for my young aunt’s devotion to Will Parr.

A cheer went up as Harry, from the top of the pyramid, reported that
he had a clear view of the pattern of the maze and could see the shortest way to the exit. A few minutes later, the six of us burst out into the open air, laughing in relief. Jubilant, Harry swung me around and kissed me soundly on the lips.

It was a very nice kiss, and I did not scold him for stealing it. Neither did I permit him to take his celebration any further.

7

A
t court there was always something to do and always someone to do it with. I flirted with Harry Dudley, and with his brother, and with Davy Seymour, too. Alys and Mary and I spent long hours together in the garden and the gallery and in the queen’s presence chamber. From them I learned what persons had influence at court and why some of them were best avoided.

“Be wary of Lady Hertford,” Mary warned, pointing out a slender woman in earnest conversation with the queen. “She’s the wife of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, elder brother of the late Queen Jane. She likes to get her own way and will trample anyone in her path.”

Queen Kathryn was a slightly built woman in crimson velvet worked with gold. Lady Hertford was also small in stature, but she had an arrogant manner that the queen, who might have been expected to put on airs, did not. I studied Lady Hertford’s face, what I could see of it from that distance, taking note of a broad forehead, a sharp nose, and a negligible chin. Her form was fine boned and dainty looking.

“She looks too frail to have such a dangerous reputation.”

“Do not be deceived by appearances.”

“Seymour,” I mused, turning away from Lady Hertford so she would not think we were talking about her. “Is Davy kin to the earl?”

“Only a very distant connection. A poor relation, as I am to Her Grace.” Mary hid her smile behind plump fingers. “Davy does his best to avoid the countess. He says the earl’s first wife was far more pleasant, but she was put aside and her children declared illegitimate.”

“A divorce?”

Mary nodded. “And then she died, so he was allowed to remarry.”

“The queen is coming this way,” Alys whispered, and dropped into a curtsy.

I turned too quickly and almost lost my balance. Her Grace strode toward us between two rows of male courtiers sweeping off their hats and bowing. I hastened to follow Alys’s example, as did Mary, and remained in that position until a crimson velvet skirt appeared at eye level.

“Mistress Brooke, I presume?” The queen’s voice was soft and melodious and instantly put me at ease.

“Yes, Your Grace.” I looked up into luminous hazel eyes. She was queen of England now, but only a few months earlier she’d been just another country-bred gentlewoman like myself.

Queen Kathryn had been blessed with a clear complexion. What I could see of her hair beneath her French hood was a bright reddish gold. She was several inches shorter than I was and just slightly taller than Lady Hertford, who stood next to her, staring at me with unnerving intensity.

“My dear,” the queen said, “I hope you are enjoying the pleasures of Woodstock.”

“She has already discovered the maze.” Lady Hertford’s dry voice sent a flutter of alarm coursing through me. How had she known that? And what more did she know?

“I hope you had a guide who knew the way to the center.” Queen Kathryn sounded amused. “I was most fortunate in that regard. My lord the king escorted me to Rosamund’s Bower.”

A sudden image came into my mind—old, infirm King Henry in the legendary lovers’ trysting place, forcing his attentions on his bride. I swallowed convulsively and prayed my revulsion was not obvious. “Lady Lisle’s sons kindly offered to show me the way, Your Grace. And, as it turned out, my aunt, Mistress Bray, already knew the secret of the maze.”

She and Ned Brydges had emerged a full hour after the rest of us made good our escape. Grinning, Ned had assured everyone that they had not been lost. Dorothy had said nothing, but one of the points holding her bodice to her skirt had been broken.

Queen Kathryn evidently knew Dorothy well. Her laugh was a light, musical sound. “I am certain it was a grand adventure,” she said before moving on to speak with one of her gentlewomen of the privy chamber. They were distinguished by their livery, gowns of black, double-jean velvet and with the queen’s badge pinned to their caps.

A few days later, I encountered the king in the garden. I had seen him several times since arriving at Woodstock, but only from a distance. Most often he’d been sitting next to Queen Kathryn, his heavily bandaged leg resting in her lap.

Alys was walking Rig again, while I kept her company. His Grace entered the gardens, moving slowly, leaning on his staff. He appeared to be debating some weighty issue with one of his courtiers. A half dozen more trailed after them.

“Rig was sick last night,” Alys said, pulling my attention back to the spaniel dancing at our feet. “The queen was most distressed.”

I looked at the little dog, happily padding along the graveled path, head swiveling left and right at every new sound and scent. “It cannot have been anything serious.”

“The greedy little pig ate the king’s game pie. All of it.”

I smothered a laugh. “I trust His Grace pardoned Rig, else there’d have been a beheading on the spot.”

“The queen pleaded for clemency, and His Grace, being still a newlywed, graciously granted it.”

Poor queen, I thought, having to bed that fat old man. I glanced
toward King Henry and his entourage and was wise enough not to say such a thing aloud, not even in a whisper. It would doubtless be accounted treason. Instead I opened my mouth to ask Alys about the masque planned for that evening. Before I could get a word out, Rig started to bark. That attracted the king’s attention. He made his ponderous way over to us to glare down at the hapless spaniel.

“Take that nasty little beast away,” he ordered.

Tugging on Rig’s leash, Alys hastened to obey, but when I would have followed, the king laid a heavy hand on my forearm.

“Stay a moment, Mistress Brooke. It has been some time since you last graced our court. You were a beauty then, but now you have surpassed all our expectations.”

“Your Grace is too kind.” I felt my cheeks heat but my hands went cold as ice. The king might be safely married, but I still did not want him paying too much attention to me.

“Does your brother still study in Italy?” he asked.

I was surprised he remembered that William was in Padua, until I recalled that peers, and their sons, needed the Crown’s permission to travel abroad. I recounted what little I knew of William’s travels and then, to my great relief, His Grace left me where he’d found me.

8

W
hen the progress ended in late October, the court settled in at Whitehall Palace. Distinguished by its rose-colored brick walls, Whitehall stood at Thamesside just at the curve of that great river. To the east lay London. The old palace of Westminster was a short distance to the south. It had been heavily damaged by fire early in King Henry’s reign. Only the Great Hall remained intact and Westminster was no longer used as a royal residence. The two land entrances to Whitehall were towers that straddled the narrow, cobbled road that ran from Charing Cross to Westminster Abbey. Farther to the west was the Palace of St. James, King Henry’s “house in the fields,” built when Anne Boleyn was queen.

The interior of Whitehall was as great a rabbit warren as I remembered, but I soon learned my way around. I was particularly fond of the queen’s gallery, which overlooked the Thames. There was always traffic on the river, an ever-changing panorama of wherries and tilt boats, rowing barges and sailing ships. On clear days, I could see all the way from
Lambeth Palace, just opposite Whitehall on the other side of the river, to London Bridge.

A week after our arrival, I was walking in the gallery with Mary Woodhull when I overheard one of the queen’s ladies tell another that Will Parr had returned from the north.

His sudden appearance set tongues wagging. It was customary to wait to be recalled by the king.

“Will he be reprimanded?” I asked Mary.

“With his sister so newly married to the king?” Her eyes danced with merriment. “Cousin Will would have to go out and lead a rebellion before anyone would accuse
him
of putting a foot wrong.”

I hoped Mary was correct. The king’s temper was uncertain, especially when his leg pained him. Even the queen knew to be wary of His Grace when he was out of sorts.

By the next day, wagering favored Lord Parr remaining in royal favor. It went against the resumption of his courtship of Dorothy Bray.

I’d barely spoken to Dorothy since our sojourn in the maze. I tried to tell myself I did not care if she won Will Parr back or not, but it was a lie. She did not deserve to keep him when she’d been carrying on with another man in his absence.

Two days after Lord Parr’s return, Mary and I were again in the queen’s gallery. This time Alys was with us. We could not walk for exercise in the garden. Rain fell in cold torrents outside the windows.

“I believe I am going to win my bet with Jack Dudley,” Alys said.

“What happened?” Mary asked. Alys had bet Jack a half angel that Dorothy Bray would not be able to entrap Will Parr again.

“I saw Lord Parr’s face when Dorothy made so bold as to attempt to drag him behind an arras. He broke free, scowling, and would have naught to do with her.”

“Foolish creature,” Mary said. “When a man decides he’s had enough of a woman, it is pointless to try to change his mind.”