The Taming of the Queen

‘Kitty’s maids left in the days before she was arrested,’ Nan says levelly, not responding to my anger. ‘Not because she was light, but because she was doomed. Nobody wants to be in the court of a falling queen.’

‘A falling queen?’ I repeat. I hear the words: it sounds like a comet, like something in the night sky. ‘A falling queen.’

‘William told me that you opened the window and let your birds fly away,’ she remarks.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll go and close it again, and call them back if I can. There’s no point in showing that we are afraid.’

‘I’m not afraid!’ I lie.

‘You should be.’

As I lead my ladies in to dinner I look around as if I fear that the court too will be slipping away. But I cannot see any absences. Everyone is there, in their accustomed places. Those who believe in reform do not feel they are newly endangered, it is only those of my household, those who are close to me. Everyone bows respectfully and deeply as I go by. It seems as if nothing is changed from every other night. The king’s place is laid, the cloth of state hangs over his great reinforced chair, the servers bow as they come into the room and present the finest dishes to his empty throne as ritual demands. He will dine in his own rooms with his new circle of favourites: Bishop Stephen Gardiner, the Lord Chancellor Thomas Wriothesley, Sir Richard Rich, Sir Anthony Denny, William Paget. When dinner is over I may leave the great hall to sit with the king in his rooms, but until then there must be someone at the head table. The court needs a monarch, the princesses need a parent to dine with them.

My gaze goes across the room and I note that the Seymour household has an empty place laid at the head of the table. I glance at Anne. ‘Is Edward coming home?’ I ask.

‘I wish to God he was here,’ she says bluntly. ‘But I don’t expect him. He doesn’t dare leave Boulogne: the place would fall in a moment.’ She follows my gaze. ‘That place will be for Thomas.’

‘Oh?’

‘He has come to see the king. They can’t raise the Mary Rose. They’re trying some new way, pumping her out as she lies on the ocean bed.’

‘Really?’

Thomas comes into the great hall, bows to the empty throne and then bows to me and to the princesses. He winks at Elizabeth and takes his place at the head of the Seymour table. I send out dishes to him, to the Duke of Norfolk, and to Lord Lisle, without favouritism. Without looking directly towards Thomas, I can see that he is tanned like a peasant, the skin at his temples lined from smiling into the sun. He looks well. He has a new jacket in velvet – deep red, my favourite colour. Dozens of dishes come from the kitchen, the trumpeters announce each fresh course with a scream of sound. I take a small portion from everything that is presented to me, and I wonder what the time is now, and if he will come to me after dinner.

It takes forever for the feast to be over, and then the court rises from the tables and the men stroll about and talk to one another, and approach the ladies. Some people settle to cards or games, the musicians play and a few people start to dance. There is no formal entertainment this evening, and I step down from the dais to make my way slowly towards the king’s rooms, pausing to talk to people as I go.

Thomas appears at my side and bows. ‘Good evening, Your Majesty.’

‘Good evening, Sir Thomas. Your sister-in-law tells me that you have spoken with the king about the Mary Rose.’

He nods. ‘I had to tell His Majesty that we made an attempt to raise her but that she was stuck fast on the seabed. We’re going to try again with more ships and more ropes. I will send swimmers down to try to make her watertight below decks and pump her out. I think it can be done.’

‘I hope so. It was a terrible loss.’

‘Are you going to see the king?’ he asks, his voice very low.

‘I go every evening.’

‘He seems very displeased.’

‘I know.’

‘I told him that since my marriage to Mary Howard is not to go ahead, I am still looking for a wife.’

Carefully, I don’t look up at him. He extends his arm. I rest my fingers on it. I sense but I do not grip the strength of his forearm. I walk beside him, our paces matching. If I stepped a little closer my cheek would touch his shoulder. I don’t step any closer.

‘Did you say that you hope for Princess Elizabeth?’

‘I did not. He was not in the mood for conversation.’

I nod.

‘You know, there was something in Mary Howard’s refusal that I still don’t understand,’ he says quietly. ‘The Norfolks all agreed, Henry Howard the oldest son, and the old duke himself. It was Lady Mary herself who refused.’

‘I can’t imagine her father allowing a daughter to have her own way.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘That’s true. She would have had to fight like a wild cat to oppose her father and her brother, acting together. She would have had to defy them openly. It makes no sense. I know that she doesn’t dislike me, and it was a good match. There must have been something about the terms of the marriage that were completely unacceptable to her.’

‘How unacceptable?’