To the king’s court? Or Hampton Court!
Ellen was behind Thomasin, so they could not talk, but Thomasin managed to turn and catch her cousin’s eye. The awe she saw written there matched her own. Before long, they had reached the wide, red brick entrance gates and turned into the long approach, drawing them straight down towards the front of the palace. It seemed even larger as they rode close, sprawling more like a small village than a palace, with the tiltyard towers, tennis courts and gardens that Gertrude had described on the way.
A deep moat spread along the front, crossed by a stone bridge guarded at each corner by carved heraldic beasts. Servants in Wolsey’s livery were lined up in welcome as they entered, bowing their heads as the horses clattered upon the cobbles. Inside the vast courtyard, they dismounted, Thomasin and Ellen helping lift the tiny queen down onto her feet.
Mountjoy was looking around impatiently. “Where is Wolsey?”
It appeared that the castle owner, their host, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, to her annoyance, Thomasin saw the cardinal’s man, Thomas Cromwell, approaching them with his decisive, neat walk.
He was wrapped in a fur cloak, gold chains about his neck. As he drew close, he bowed low, but brought himself up a little too quickly and surveyed the group with his small, scrupulous eyes. Thomasin had not forgotten the pressure he had attempted to exert upon her father last autumn, trying to recruit him to the Boleyns’ cause, and the news that he had been with her father recently. She could not help but read the welcome in his red, pock-marked face as disingenuous.
“Most honourable lady,” he addressed Catherine, “you are welcome at Hampton Court, as a haven from this terrible pestilence. The cardinal is currently meeting with the king but extends his welcome. If you would please follow me.” He turned smartly on his heel and strode away towards the far gateway.
Catherine paused, aghast. Her face was white. “He did not greet me as queen. Honourable lady! As if I am nothing and nobody, and not the daughter of Spain and Aragon, nor queen of this realm in which this miserable wretch dwells!”
Mountjoy came to the rescue, stepping forward and offering Catherine his arm. “I will ensure his master hears of it and that the man is spoken to.”
“Blacksmith’s son,” muttered Maria Willoughby behind them, in her Spanish tones, “upstart, blacksmith’s son, rodent!”
Walking behind them, Thomasin also felt Catherine’s pain. The queen could only walk slowly, tired by the exertions of the day, while Cromwell strode ahead, neglecting to look back and check upon her progress. They found him waiting under the archway ahead, with a look of something almost like impatience on his face.
“Thank you, Cromwell,” snapped Mountjoy, barely able to contain his anger. “I know the way to the queen’s chambers. I will take it from here.”
“Oh, my sincere apologies, but you are not being housed in those chambers,” the red-faced man replied. “They have not been fully cleaned, so could not be prepared in time. You are placed in those rooms usually reserved for the Duchess of Suffolk. This way, if you please.”
“The Duchess of Suffolk’s rooms?” asked Mountjoy. “Are they suitable for the queen?”
Cromwell turned, his eyes wide in feigned innocence. “Would you prefer unswept rooms, where the beds are not made?”
“Don’t be absurd, man; we have been a good few hours on the road. Why have the beds not been made?”
“You may have been hours on the road, my Lord,” Cromwell replied, “but your messenger only arrived this hour since, a little ahead of the king himself.”
“See to it that the rooms are prepared for the morrow. The queen is tired and needs to rest. Take us to the prepared chambers at once.”
“As I was, my Lord,” replied Cromwell, determined to have the final say before he headed through into the second courtyard and up a flight of stairs.
Thomasin followed, quite sickened by the man’s disrespectful tone.
They met their host at dinner. Wolsey was waiting at the top of a flight of steps to welcome Catherine and her party as they approached. The cardinal was in his mid-fifties and wore his full red robes around his corpulent body and the soft, four-cornered hat upon his grey hair. He had the air of a great statesman, wise beyond his years and birth. However, as he laced his fingers together, dazzling with gems, Thomasin suddenly saw that he was uncertain. At first, Henry had chosen not to confide in him about Anne. Wolsey had been one of the last to know, and that had shaken him.
“Most reverent lady.” Wolsey bowed low and deep, in a far better show of deference than Cromwell had mustered.
Thomasin looked at the stitching on the top of his cap, wondering how long he would remain in that position.
Catherine released him. “Arise.”
He did so slowly, with a hint of age and pain. “Most reverent lady, it is my pleasure to put my palace at your disposal. Please, make it your own. Whatever you wish, shall be my pleasure to provide.”
Thomasin saw Catherine and Mountjoy exchange glances. So did Wolsey.
“Is there something, My Lady? May I be of service?”
“There appears to have been some confusion over our apartments,” braved Mountjoy. “The queen has been lodged in the rooms of the Duchess of Suffolk. Quite insufficient for her needs and wholly unsuitable for her station. Also, we were met at the gates by your minion, Cromwell, whose manner of greeting was not appropriate for one of Her Majesty’s rank. I am sure,” he added, to make the point, “the king would be most displeased to hear it.”
Mixed impulses struggled across Wolsey’s face. He appeared to choose the path of least resistance, his features resolving into a smile. “My most profound apologies for any slight that was felt. I am sure it was not the intention. I will see to it that the royal apartments are made ready at once and that you are settled as soon as possible. Will you come in to dine? It is only such humble fare as could be found at short notice.”
Catherine held up a hand. “Cardinal. Can you give me your assurance that all are heathy and wholesome in your employ? You have had no reported cases of illness, no fainting or sweating? I am most anxious to take no risks and I know the king, my husband, is also most anxious for the same.”
