The king struggled to his feet, laughing as he pulled off his helmet. “Well played, Charles,” he said, graciously acknowledging his defeat. Then he looked around and said, “It would appear that my horse threw his shoe, but then that is the luck of the joust.” He waved a groom forward and instructed him to see the horse was cared for, the shoe restored, and to make certain that the beast had not been injured in the accident. Turning again, he announced, “I declare Charles Brandon the winner of this May Day Tourney, and say it is his duty to choose the queen of the May for us now.”
Charles Brandon stood before the royal box. “Your majesty,” he said to Katherine, “it would not be seemly for me to ask you, already a queen, to be this festival’s queen. I ask your royal permission to choose from among the ladies with you.”
“You have my permission,” the queen replied, smiling.
“Then I would choose the Princess Mary,” Brandon answered without a moment’s hesitation.
The king’s fifteen-year-old sister stepped forward and received the delicate silver and gold wreath of the May Queen from Charles Brandon. “I am honored to be your queen, Charles Brandon,” she said.
The king’s eyes narrowed speculatively. Mary was young, and she was a romantic little fool. He had other plans for her, and he did not think he wanted Charles Brandon, for all their friendship, interfering with those plans or meddling with his sister. But the king looked benevolently on this scene as his sister smiled at his opponent. He must see that from now on they did not spend any time together. Then, as he looked briefly at the ladies surrounding his wife, he saw the fair Rosamund. How beautiful she looked, he thought. She was the perfect English rose. Then he smiled and bowed to his wife and her ladies. Aye, the fair Rosamund was a delicate treat, and he intended to have her.
She had felt his eyes lingering on her but the briefest moment. She had not looked at him, nor appeared to notice. Whatever happened she must never give hurt to the queen. And once again, as she had so often these past months, she wished that she were safe at home at Friarsgate. Edmund kept her informed on a regular basis with his letters. Everything was fine, he assured. Her daughters thrived, and other than Philippa, gave little indication that they missed her. The ewes had birthed an unusual number of lambs this season with more double births than he had seen in many a year, Edmund reported. The planting was done. Henry had not visited. All was exactly as it should be. It was somewhat unsettling to think that everything was all right at Friarsgate and she was not a part of it.
They had left the stands, and the ladies chosen to dance about the maypole now went to take their places. The music played, and the dance began. Each lady held a different-colored ribbon silk. The colors were red, deep blue, green, yellow, violet, pink, sky blue, lavender, gold, and silver. The ten women danced a seemingly simple step as they moved about the pole, weaving their ribbons into an intricate design as they sang about the month of May and all its beauties. Finally the dance came to an end. The pole was decorated, the ribbon ends fluttering in the gentle late-afternoon breeze.
A feast was now held. In keeping with the beautiful spring day, tables had been set up on the lawns of the palace, and as the guests found their seats the servants were already running back and forth from the kitchens with platters and bowls. Pits had been dug where sides of beef packed in rock salt were being roasted slowly on enormous iron spits. Each side had four young lads serving as turnspits. There were barrels of oysters that were cracked open and served raw. Platters of trout, salmon, and prawns were offered. There were any number of roasted birds, ducks, capons, and swans. There were meat pies filled with rabbit, small game birds, and venison. There were stuffed piglings, lamprey eels in a spicy sauce; black-manger, which was a chicken dish made with rice, almonds, and sugar; artichokes that had been steamed in white wine; braised lettuces; new peas; breads and butter and several varieties of cheeses.
By tradition all the food should have been green in honor of the day, but the queen had put her foot down though the king protested. Only the trenchers of bread that were used had been dyed green. Since the trenchers were hollowed out to serve as dishes it didn’t make a great deal of difference as they simply looked like green pottery. To the delight of many, old-fashioned mead was served on this holiday, along with the wine and ale. The court ate, and it ate, yet when the subtleties were finally served they were as eagerly devoured as if the guests had eaten nothing before them.
Archery butts had been set up on the lawns. The men competed at shooting, the king winning the competition. They played at bowls until the twilight made it difficult to see the pins and the balls. Torches were set out. The musicians played as the court danced in line, or in a circle. Eventually the king danced for them all, leaping high, twirling his sister Mary about, as she laughed, both encouraging and taunting him to even greater jumps. No one, it was honestly said, could dance as well as King Henry Tudor. Finally the queen withdrew, taking her women with her. She was tired, and she knew that the king would visit her bed again tonight, for he had already made his intentions known to her earlier. She was not yet pregnant, and while the little prince was yet mourned, a live heir was desperately needed.
“Will you remain here tonight, Rosamund?” Inez asked.
“Nay, I am not required,” Rosamund replied, “and one of the benefits of coming to Greenwich is that my cousin’s house is next door to the palace. I have my chamber there. If you need a sleeping place, Inez, I could accommodate you.”
“Nay,” Inez replied, “but I thank you for the offer. Maria has a little room of her very own, and I sleep with my sister.”
“Then I will bid you good night,” Rosamund told her, and departed the queen’s apartments. She saw Tom speaking with the king’s friend, Will Compton, and he waved at her. She waved back, and continued on her way into the darkening park and through the trees to the brick garden wall that separated Tom’s house from the king’s palace. Finding the latch in the almost dark she hurried through into the gardens of Bolton Greenwich, thinking suddenly how convenient it was that this garden was identical to the one at Bolton House. She had no need of light for she knew exactly where she was going.
Within the house again, and upstairs, she found Annie, but the house had been deserted otherwise as Tom had given his servants the evening off. Annie, however, had declined to go with Doll.
“She’s a bit fast, and I wouldn’t want the men thinking I was like her,” Annie explained to her mistress.
A bath had been set up in the dayroom before the fire at the very last before the servants had left. It was still warm, though not as hot as Rosamund liked it. Still, divested of her clothing and in the tub, she decided that the warm, scented water felt good. She did not linger, however, climbing out, drying herself, and putting on a clean smock. Annie undid her elegant hairdo and brushed the long auburn hair out.
“Leave it loose,” Rosamund instructed her.
“You do have such lovely tresses,” Annie admired, giving the hair a final swipe with the pearwood brush.
Rosamund climbed into her bed as Annie added a bit more fuel to the bedroom fire, saying as she did so, “Master says Doll and me is to sleep in the attics with the other servants for now, m’lady.”
“It would be best,” Rosamund agreed quietly.
“If I do, everyone will know you have taken a lover, m’lady,” the servant told her mistress bluntly. “At least that is what Doll says, m’lady.”
“Doll says too much,” Rosamund responded sharply. She tied the pink ribbons on her nightcap with a snap. “And what do you say, Annie, in reply to Doll’s slander?”
“I says you ain’t hardly got time for yourself when you are in the queen’s service, so how would you have time to lure a man and make him your lover? Doll laughs and says all women have time for a lover. That men will be like dogs, sniffing around, and that a bitch will always wag and then lift her tail for him.”
Rosamund sighed. “Doll is too worldly for her own good,” she said. “Where is she now? Do you know, Annie?”
“Aye,” Annie said slowly. “She be celebrating the May with menservants from Greenwich Palace. She’ll not be back till the sunrise. At least that’s what she told me, m’lady.”
Rosamund nodded. “I want you to wait up for Lord Cambridge, Annie. Then you are to tell him what you have told me.”
“Oh, m’lady, I couldn’t! I only told you because we are both Friarsgate folk. I would not have your reputation tarnished by the likes of Doll. Her heart is sometimes good, but her tongue is very bad. She would scratch out my eyes if she knew I told on her.”
“Which is precisely why you must tell my cousin. Doll is one of his people from his home estate of Bolton Park. I’m sure the Bolton Park folk are like those at Friarsgate. Doll is young and has been in London with his lordship’s household perhaps a bit too long. She needs to be back home where she will regain her values. I want you to tell his lordship that I told you to report her behavior to him, and suggest that she be sent home so she will not get into trouble over her behavior.”
