Cecily FitzHugh was gone. Even the detestable Millicent Langholme was gone. All of the younger girls had gone home now. Only Elizabeth Blount and Philippa Meredith remained. And in two days they would be moving with the queen to Woodstock. Dull, quiet, boring Woodstock for a dull, quiet and boring summer. The king and his remaining friends, for many had gone to their own estates now, would go on to Esher and Penhurst. They would spend their days hunting, and their nights in eating and laughter. The queen would spend her days in gentle pursuits and prayer. They would retire early. There would be few, if any, visitors. Oxfordshire was a pretty place, but without the company of a gay court it lacked interest for Philippa. But the queen loved its bucolic charms, and Woodstock’s five chapels where she might worship. She was particularly fond of the Round Chapel. Philippa despaired.
“Come,” said Bessie Blount the evening after Cecily’s departure. “We must have some amusement with the remaining gentlemen before we are off to the queen’s convent for the summer.” She handed Philippa a small goblet of wine.
“Where did you get this?” Philippa inquired.
“I stole it,” Bessie answered with a laugh. “It was some of that particularly fine Spanish Madeira wine Maria de Salinas left behind when she married last year. No one has used her rooms here at Richmond ever since. It was in a corner, on a shelf, in an alcove. It was obviously overlooked. I left it there until now. It would be a shame to waste it, and I think we need it considering the summer before us. God’s foot, I wish we were going with the king! Woodstock is so dull without him.”
Philippa downed the contents of the little goblet, and held it out for more. “ ’Tis good. I always wondered what this particular wine tasted like.” She sipped a bit more slowly on her second portion.
“Some of the lads are still here,” Bessie said. “I’m going to join them.’Tis probably the last time we’ll have the company of young men for a while. Would you like to come with me?”
“Who is here yet?” Philippa wanted to know.
“Roger Mildmay, Robert Parker, and Henry Standish,” Bessie said.
“Why not,” Philippa agreed. “I am already bored by the lack of lively company. I never thought I should miss even Millicent Langholme.”
Bessie laughed. “I know,” she said. “Come on then, and bring your goblet, for I am bringing the wine.” She stood and started out the door of the empty Maidens’ Chamber, turning to make certain that Philippa was behind her.
“Where are we going?” the younger girl wanted to know.
“To the top of the Canted Tower. No one will find us there,” Bessie said mischievously. “We don’t want to be caught dicing and drinking now, do we?”
“Nay,” Philippa agreed. She sipped from her goblet as they hurried along. The Spanish wine was so very good. It felt like sweet silk on her tongue.
They walked across the Middle Court, joined by the three young men as they went. The summer twilight lasted for hours, but they still carried a small lamp. The Canted Tower was four stories high. It was one hundred and twenty steps to the top. They made the climb, stopping now and again to giggle as the wine began to take its effect upon the two young women. The roof of the tower gave a fine view of the river and the countryside to the southwest of London. The roof was filled with azure and gold weather vanes adorned with the king’s arms. The men knelt, and began to dice. Soon both Bessie and Philippa joined them. The wine jug was passed around.
“I have no more money,” Philippa complained after a time. The dice had not been favorable to her this evening.
“Then let us bet with items of our clothing,” Henry Standish suggested, mischievously grinning.
“I’ll bet a slipper,” Philippa said, taking off her left shoe and tossing it into the center of their playing field. But soon she had lost her shoes, her stockings, and two sleeves. “Unlace my bodice for me, Bessie! My luck must turn soon,” she said. Bessie did not hesitate, and the bodice was shortly lost as well. Philippa began to struggle with the tapes holding her skirt up, but she was drunk now; and her fingers were clumsy.
Just as tipsy but a little more experienced, Bessie decided it might be wise to stop the younger girl from her rash action. The three young men were laughing uproariously. They, too, were half-undressed at this point. Only Elizabeth Blount seemed to be blessed with good fortune this evening. She had lost but two slippers.
Philippa began to sing a bawdy song she had heard in the stables one day, and her gentlemen companions joined in.
The cowherd cuddled the milkmaid. He cuddled her in the hay.
He kissed her in the hedgerows, for that is where they lay.
And then he swived her merrily, for it was the month of May!
With a hey nonny nonny, and a hey, hey, hey!
They collapsed laughing in a heap, delighted with their own drunken humor. Even Bessie was laughing, her hair undone and about her face.
“Hush, hush,” she said to them. “We shall be found out!”
“By whom?” Philippa demanded to know. “Everyone who might be fun except us has gone home to their own estates.”
“And why have you not gone home, my pretty maid?” Lord Robert Parker leered at her, his eyes going to her chemise, which was now open and revealing her breasts.
“To Cumbria? With naught but the company of sheep?” Philippa responded. “Even being closeted with the queen at Woodstock is better than that.”
“Cum-cum-Cumbria,” Lord Robert singsonged. “Poor Mistress Philippa! Who wants a lass with a Cumbrian estate and flocks of sheep?”
“Let’s have another drink!” Roger Mildmay said, taking a swig from the jug, and passing it around to his companions.
