“Tom, I must speak privily with you,” Rosamund said quietly.
He heard the serious tone in her voice, and said as quietly, “Let us walk in my gardens, cousin. The day is fair, and I have not yet taken the air. Nor am I apt to unless I am in your company.”
On a stone bench overlooking the river she told him of her adventure earlier that morning. Thomas Bolton listened, not in the least shocked, for he had suspected that sooner rather than later the king would approach his cousin with seduction in mind. The tenor of her voice told him that she was both distressed by her behavior and yet tempted by Henry Tudor’s handsome looks and power.
“What am I to do, Tom?” she said to him despairingly.
“He will not resort to rape,” Lord Cambridge said slowly. “That has never been his style. Not only would it violate his personal code of chivalry, but his sense of self as well, for the king thinks most highly of himself and his honor. Yet despite his marriage vows he would not think his honor compromised by bedding a woman other than his wife. The queen is there to breed up heirs for England. That is her raison d’être, dear girl. That he is fond of her, that her pedigree is flawless, that she knows how to conduct herself as a queen of England, these things are all of benefit to him and to his realm. Queen Katherine serves her purpose. Other women, however, are another thing entirely, Rosamund. Other women are there to be pursued, to be courted, to be bedded. They are for the king’s pleasure, but certainly nothing more. He will not force you, but he will seduce you, cousin.”
“I remember the boy,” she said. “I know much more about him than he would suspect, for Margaret Tudor spoke of him all the time. He is not a man to accept rejection gracefully, Tom. So what am I to do? I have my honor as well, and I serve the queen.”
“You have two choices open to you. You could ask the queen this day for her permission to return home to Friarsgate, but if she refused you, what would you do? You risk offending herandthe king without solving your dilemma. Or you can surrender yourself to the king should he require it, but if you do, you must confide in no one about your relationship, and you must be more discreet than a nun visiting the pope’s bed in Lent. While a king is expected to take his mistresses, notoriety is not a good thing for those ladies, my dear. We are not, after all, French,” he finished with a disdainful sniff.
“Do the French kings then brag on their mistresses?” Rosamund asked him, surprised. “What lady of decent moral character would want it known that she serviced her king like a ewe sheep services a ram?”
“My dear girl, the French consider it an honor toservice,as you so quaintly put it, their king. Why, even sisters have been known to share a monarch’s favor,” Lord Cambridge replied. “And their allies, our neighbors to the north, are as bad. The Stuart kings are considered the most loving men in all of the known world. There is scarcely a family in Scotland that they have not mingled their blood with, I am told. Why, the current King James could not be brought to wed with our own Princess Margaret until someone in his court, with more sense than the king himself, poisoned his longtime mistress, Maggie Drummond. Only after Mistress Drummond and her sisters who were at breakfast together were murdered, did James Stuart honor his contract with England. But he is known to have several other ladies in his favor as well, although it was the Drummond girl who had his heart, they say. No. Kings have mistresses the world over, but here in England we attempt to keep it as circumspect as we possibly can.”
“For a man who doesn’t love women you have a great understanding of them and of human nature, cousin. Perhaps I should be better off going home to my brazen Scot,” Rosamund said with a small smile.
He smiled back at her, then replied, “The die is now cast, cousin. Aye, you can refuse the king, but you will suffer the consequences if you do. You must try to see his advances in another light, dear girl. If you are very discreet and beg the king to be doubly so, it is unlikely anyone will find out about your naughtiness. Who would believe that the king would approach you, a widow of an unimportant family, and no connections? And given the debacle of last spring, the king will certainly be looking to be very,verydiscreet.” Lord Cambridge chuckled. “So it is unlikely that anyone will learn of your misstep along the road of virtue. The king is young, and he is handsome. He is known to be both passionate and kind. He can be generous, and you have three daughters you will need respectable husbands for one day, my dear. You are a widow and will bring no shame on your husband or his family name, unlike the Duke of Buckingham’s bawdy sisters. And in his whole life Henry Tudor has never been known to forget a favor done him.”
“You reason like a whoremaster, cousin,” Rosamund told him.
Thomas Bolton laughed. “You are not a virgin, Rosamund,” he reminded her with a rather wicked grin.
“You are shameless, Tom!” she scolded, but she was smiling.
“And would you like to be?” he teased her back.
“Aye,” she said, surprising him. “I think I would. My whole life I have done exactly what was expected of me, even when I didn’t want to, cousin. Still, my conscience is troubled, for I love the queen.”
“Your conscience will always trouble you in this matter, my dear girl,” he said wisely, “but there is no help for it, I fear. Henry Tudor should not have married Katherine of Aragon. He should have taken a little more time, but she was convenient, she was there, and he has always been an impatient man. His father meant him for the church until poor Arthur died. Henry would have never made a good priest.”
“Not with his passion for women,” Rosamund observed. “Is it just Katherine, or would he have been unfaithful with another wife, Tom? I don’t understand it.”
“It is his nature to take whatever he desires, be it a sweetmeat or a woman,” Lord Cambridge replied. “Now, dear girl, I have had enough of this subject. You know what you will do, must do. What I want to know is what you have chosen to wear today?”
“The Tudor-green silk,” she responded. “Somehow it now seems even more appropriate now than when I first chose it.”
He nodded. “Go along then and prepare yourself,” he advised her, but Lord Cambridge remained seated upon the bench overlooking the river Thames considering all he had heard. He knew, if Rosamund didn’t, that the king, having approached her this morning, would of course seek to have her as soon as possible. And wishing to be cautious he would probably visit her here at Bolton Greenwich. And soon. And the king’s nature being what it was, the affair would last no longer than summer’s end, if then. Aye, he would encourage Rosamund to beg the queen’s leave to go home to Friarsgate in late summer, to leave the progress somewhere in the midlands and travel south to Cumbria. It would be better for all concerned.
I shall go with her,Lord Cambridge decided. While Friarsgate was primitive by his standards, it was nonetheless a comfortable house. He would remain through the autumn and return home to Bolton House for the Christmas festivities. Having settled his calendar for the remainder of the year, Tom Bolton got up and returned to the house where he prepared to escort his cousin back to the palace in the afternoon.
Several hours later, ready to depart, the cousins admired each other’s costumes. Rosamund’s gown was of Tudor-green silk with a split skirt showing an embroidered and quilted underskirt of a deeper green and white brocade. The low square neckline of her dress was embroidered with gold thread and tiny pearls. Her deep cuffs on the sleeves of the gown were also embroidered in gold and pearls. Her chemise was so sheer that it was almost invisible above her bodice but for its delicate round neckline which was sewn with small pearls. The banded cuffs of the chemise’s full sleeves which showed beneath her gown sleeves were also decorated with pearls. A simple veil, held with a wreath of flowers, topped her auburn head.
“It is perfect,” Lord Cambridge said, delighted with her costume.
“You also, cousin,” Rosamund replied as she considered his dress this day. His white silk hose were decorated with embroidered gold leaves and vines. He wore a short, full, pleated coat of Tudor-green silk damask with full puffed embroidered and slashed sleeves. The high stand collar of his shirt was pleated and showed above his coat just enough to be admired. The exaggerated codpiece he wore was decorated with multicolored jewels and pearls. His gloves were gold velvet with pearl embroidery on the cuffs. His square-toed shoes were of a fine soft black leather, and on his head he wore a hat with a silk taffeta crown and a stiff flat brim. It was green and sported a white ostrich plume.
Sir Thomas preened for Rosamund, posing and displaying his rather handsome legs. “Well?” he demanded.
“I am at a loss for words, Tom, for I have never seen you so decked out,” she told him.
“It is May Day, and the king’s favorite holiday,” was his answer. Then he smiled. “Shall we go, dear cousin?”
Because it was more convenient, they decided to walk from Bolton Greenwich through its garden and into the king’s park to the palace. The hunt was over. It had been successful, and several deer were now being butchered and hung for future meals. The king and his companions had decided to stage a small tournament with jousting for everyone’s amusement. The winner of the tourney would choose the queen of the May. Rosamund and her cousin took their places in the stands with the rest of the court, Rosamund positioning herself among the queen’s women while Lord Cambridge joined some friends.
The knights were brave and bold. One by one they found themselves unhorsed until only the king and Charles Brandon were remaining. Brandon was a worthy opponent for the king. Time and time again they clashed, their lances ringing loudly against their shields. But finally the king’s horse stumbled slightly, and Brandon’s lance sent Henry Tudor from his mount. A cry went up from the stands, and Brandon was immediately off his horse and running to the king’s side.
