The tiring woman brushed her mistress’ long auburn hair free of tangles. It shone with rich color. Lucy thought it a shame that Rosamund’s hair must be hidden beneath a cap and a veil, but that was the custom of the court. She parted the hair in the middle, gave it a final brush, and then set a green silk French hood trimmed with pearls on Rosamund’s head back just enough so that some of her beautiful hair would show. A sheer white silk veil was attached to the French hood. “I don’t like these caps and veils,” Lucy said. “You have such beautiful hair, my lady.”
“ ’Tis the fashion, and we must follow it,” Rosamund replied.
Lucy set a shakefold on the floor for her mistress to step into and then drew the hooplike contraption up. She then carefully lowered Rosamund’s brocade skirts over her head, careful not to jostle the French hood. They settled over the hooplike shakefold, giving the garment a graceful look. The tiring woman quickly fastened the skirts. “There,” she said. “You look most proper, my lady. Let me get your jewelry case.”
Rosamund chose a heavy gold chain of square links from which hung a gold and pearl crucifix. She also slipped a long rope of pearls about her slender neck and several rings upon the fingers of both hands. Thanks to her cousin she had a fine collection of jewelry now. She was no longer the little girl who had first come to court. She was the lady of Friarsgate, a woman of property and some small wealth.
“You’ll need no cape, my lady,” Lucy informed her. “The day promises to be warm and fair.”
“Mama?” Philippa stood in the doorway to her little chamber. “Are you going to court now? Oh, how beautiful you look! I have never seen you in so fine a gown.”
“I was going to wake you before I left,” Rosamund told the little girl. “You slept most soundly.”
“Aye. I was tired. I did not know London was so very far from Friarsgate. Edinburgh is not as far,” Philippa said.
Rosamund laughed. “I remember making the trip the first time when I was thirteen. I thought we would never get here. Your father had been sent to escort me, and he was very entertaining, so I did not get discouraged or bored. Especially as it was the first time I had ever been away from my home overnight.”
“Papa was always a great deal of fun,” Philippa agreed. “I do miss him.”
Rosamund nodded, thinking how much more simple her life would have been if Owein had not died. But then she should never have known her cousin Tom, or Patrick Leslie. Everything, she was beginning to realize, happened for a reason. “Although the queen has sent word that I am welcome and she wishes to see me, Philippa, her day is always a busy one. I may not be recognized until late in the day, and so I might not be home until long after dark. Lucy will be with you, and you know your uncle’s servants, as they have come from Otterly,” Rosamund explained to her daughter. “I want you to rest and enjoy the garden.”
“Yes, mama,” Philippa said dutifully.
Rosamund bent and kissed her daughter’s brow. “Tomorrow I hope to bring you to court to meet the queen and mayhap even the king.” Then she turned and hurried from the room and downstairs, where she found her cousin awaiting her.
“Come, dear girl, or we shall be late!” he admonished her.
“Shall we each take our own barge?” she asked him.
“Of course,” he agreed. “We are back at court, and who knows when either of us shall be willing to come home.” Then he chuckled mischievously as he escorted her from the house and down to where the two little vessels waited, bobbing in the morning sun.
“Wait for me if you get there first,” she implored him. “I would go in on your arm, cousin.”
“Of course, dear girl!” he assured her, helping her down into her own watercraft.
Rosamund settled herself, bidding her two rowers a good morning. They returned her greeting and then, loosing the little vessel from the quay, they maneuvered out into the broad channel of the river and began their trip downstream to Westminster Palace. Both barges moved in tandem so that they arrived at the king’s current residence together. Lord Cambridge was on the royal quay in time to help his cousin from her transport. Together they entered the palace, and as both had been there before, there was no need to ask for directions to the queen’s apartments.
Upon reaching it, Lord Cambridge said to one of the guardsmen at the door, “Lady Rosamund Bolton is expected by the queen.” Then, kissing his cousin on the cheek, he told her, “I’m off to find some of my former playmates, dear girl. You can seek me if you truly desire to find me.” Then, with a wink, he was gone.
The guardsman opened one of the tall double doors for Rosamund, and she stepped through into the queen’s apartments. It was, as usual, filled with chattering women. At first Rosamund saw no one with whom she was familiar. Then a woman servant of the queen’s, a Mistress Drum, hurried over to her.
“Lady Rosamund of Friarsgate, is it?” she said.
“Yes,” Rosamund replied. “How nice to see you once again, Mistress Drum. Will you tell the queen I have come?”
“Yes, my lady. You may wait here among the magpies.” Mistress Drum bustled off across the chamber.
Rosamund chuckled. It was an apt description for all the women gathered in the queen’s antechamber. She waited for some minutes and then Mistress Drum returned.
“Her highness cannot see you now, my lady, but she says you are to remain here awaiting her pleasure,” Mistress Drum reported.
“Here in the palace?” Rosamund queried politely.
“Nay. Here in her antechamber,” Mistress Drum said apologetically. She glanced about the room. “Ah,” she said, “I see a comfortable chair there for you, my lady,” and she led Rosamund over to it. Then, with a sympathetic smile, she hurried off.
Rosamund sat down. She had no other choice. And then she waited. And she waited. The hour for the main meal of the day came, and the queen and her ladies glided through the antechamber on their way to the Great Hall. Rosamund stood up as the queen came into the room, but passing her by, Katherine of Aragon gave no indication that she even saw her old friend waiting. She exited her apartments. Rosamund sat back down. She had not been invited to the meal and therefore could not go. The antechamber was empty now even of maidservants, and it remained empty for the next few hours while Rosamund continued to wait. Once, she got up and went to the necessary, returning quickly lest she be found gone. She could see the progress of the day into early evening through the windows of the queen’s antechamber. The long twilight deepened into night, and Rosamund remained seated. Finally the door to the room opened, and Mistress Drum came back in, the look on her face a surprised one, for she had not expected to see Rosamund still there.
“You are still here, my lady?”
“I think perhaps the queen has forgotten me,” Rosamund replied quietly.
“I shall find her at once and tell her you are still here,” the servant said, obviously distressed that Rosamund had waited all day. She departed the chamber, and when she returned she wore an even more distressed look upon her face. “I am sorry, my lady. The queen says you are to go home and return tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mistress Drum. Please tell her highness that I shall return and wait upon her pleasure tomorrow,” Rosamund said, rising, shaking her skirts, and leaving the antechamber of the queen’s apartments. She could feel her anger rising, and she needed to leave the palace as quickly as possible. What was the matter with Kate that she had been treated in such an unkind fashion? She had been sitting all day, alone most of the time. No one had spoken to her. She had been offered no refreshment, and then she had been summarily dismissed. Well, tomorrow she would find out what it was all about.
But when Rosamund returned the next day, and the next, she was treated in the same fashion. She was made to wait the day alone, without so much as a cup of water. Then she was sent home without any apology.
On the fourth morning when she arrived at Westminster, Mistress Drum greeted her with an encouraging smile. “She has said she will see you today, my lady,” the servant informed Rosamund.
Then she lowered her voice. “I’ve been with her for years, and I’ve never seen her be so unkind to an old friend.”
“It’s all right, Mistress Drum,” Rosamund replied softly. “It isn’t always easy being a queen.”
Mistress Drum nodded her head in agreement. “ ’Tis the lack of a child that troubles her muchly. And her so devout and faithful, too.”
“God will work his miracles in his own time,” Rosamund said.
“Amen!” The servant crossed herself, then she said, “You’ll have to wait again, but it will be sometime today. I promise.”
So Rosamund sat down in her chair to wonder again why the queen was being so rude. It was not like Kate. As loyal as she was to her queen, Rosamund considered that she could be home now doing many other things. It was a long and arduous journey from Friarsgate. And then, too, there was Logan whom she had promised to allow to court her. Did she really want him do so? Why was everyone so determined she remarry? How could she give herself to any man after Patrick Leslie? She let her mind wander back to their sojourn in San Lorenzo. It had been the most perfect time in her life, and she doubted anything could ever be as wonderful as those months she had had with him there and at Friarsgate. It had been a perfect dream.
The morning passed. The queen and her ladies departed for the main meal of the day. Rosamund continued to wait. And then, in late afternoon, the door to the queen’s antechamber opened, and Katherine of Aragon entered the room. She looked directly at Rosamund and said, “Come!” Rosamund jumped up and followed her old friend into her privy chamber.
The queen whirled about and said in a cold voice, “How dare you ignore my summons of a year ago, Rosamund Bolton!”
“I did not, your highness,” Rosamund protested. “I was not at Friarsgate when your invitation came. I was in Edinburgh, where I had gone to be married.”
“And did you marry?” the queen asked. Her dark eyes were unreadable.
“Nay,” Rosamund said softly.
“Why not?” The question was snapped like a whip crack.
“When I arrived, Lord Leslie had suffered a seizure of the brain. I spent over a month nursing him, but his memory only partly returned. He recalled nothing of the past two years. He did not remember me. We could hardly wed under the circumstances.”
“Perhaps he had just changed his mind, and the illness was his excuse to avoid marriage with you,” the queen said cruelly. It seemed she wanted to hurt Rosamund.
Tears, unbidden, slid down Rosamund’s pale cheeks. “If you had seen him, Kate, if you knew him, you would understand why such a thing was not possible.”
“I have not given you permission to use my Christian name,” the queen said.
“I beg your highness’ pardon,” Rosamund responded.
“Was this the same man with whom you whored in San Lorenzo?” the queen queried.
“Yes,” Rosamund said without hesitation. There could be no convincing the queen of their love. Katherine was too devout a woman to comprehend that kind of passion.
“You have no shame, do you?” the queen said. “I should have never thought that you had the soul of a born whore when we knew each other as girls, Rosamund Bolton.”
Rosamund did not answer. Even though they were alone, it would do no good. She quietly accepted the insult. The queen would not remain angry forever.
“Did you enjoy whoring with my husband?” the queen suddenly demanded.
“What?” Rosamund was staggered by the queen’s accusation, but no matter what happened she would never admit to Katherine of Aragon of her brief affair with the king. It had been a private matter, and few knew of it.
“Do you deny that you were my husband’s whore when you last came to court?” the queen said furiously.
“Yes!” Rosamund cried. “I most certainly do deny it! How could you even think such a thing of me, K—your highness?”
“I have it on the best authority,” the queen replied stonily.
“Whoever has told you this lied,” Rosamund declared indignantly. But she knew who had told the queen, and the bitch would regret it.
“Why would a friend to me since my childhood, a countrywoman, lie to me, Rosamund Bolton?” Katherine said.
There was nothing for it, Rosamund thought. She must take the bull by its horns now and reassure the queen, regain her friendship for Philippa’s sake. “I think I know who has told you this terrible untruth, your highness. I know she believed what she thought she saw, and though I swore on the Blessed Virgin it was not so, she said she would tell you. I begged her not to, for your sake, your highness.”
“Inez would not lie to me,” the queen responded, now sounding a bit unsure. Inez was an old friend, but then Rosamund had helped her in her darkest hour. “Why would she lie to me?”
“Because Inez thought it was the king with me that night. It wasn’t. It was Charles Brandon. We had had a harmless little flirtation, and I was departing the next day. We met to kiss and cuddle. That was all. There was nothing more serious than that, your highness. In the darkness of the hallway Inez mistook Charles Brandon for the king. I could not convince her otherwise, though I certainly tried. You know yourself that they are often mistaken for each other at a distance. I begged Inez not to distress you with her groundless suspicions. She was insulting to me and now attempts to embarrass me publicly with her evil and slanderous tongue!” Rosamund sounded properly indignant.
“I want to believe you,” Katherine said slowly.
“Madame, I would have you believe me, but whether you do or not, my conscience is clear,” Rosamund swore, thinking as she did, I am surely damned now.
“I thought you ignored my summons last year because you were ashamed to face me,” the queen told her.
“I returned from Edinburgh brokenhearted, your highness. I threw myself back into Friarsgate and its care. I nurtured my daughters and oversaw their education. I prayed for Lord Leslie. I could not face the world. And then the Scots marched into England, and we were at war. I dared not leave Friarsgate then. I had to remain to defend my home from the ravages of the intruders. But we were, thank the Blessed Mother, kept safe.” She crossed herself.