“Yes, at Ludlow. You know it, then?”
“I have occasion to visit it often. Two months back, I saw the princess attending church. I can confirm she was in good health and spirits.”
A flush spread over Catherine’s cheeks and, for a moment, she appeared incapable of responding. Cotton drew his bow and loosed the arrow. They all watched as it sailed in an arc through the air before striking the black, outermost circle.
“Do not worry, I will permit you another attempt,” smiled Catherine.
Cotton drew again, and this time, his arrow flew home to the mark.
“There!” Catherine clapped her hands. “A perfect shot. Two perfect archers.”
“Might I take my turn?” asked Hatton, bounding forward with the sun in his hair.
“No thank you, William Hatton,” Catherine replied in a chilly voice. “We all know you do not play by the rules.”
Thomasin saw the smile transform Ellen’s lips and turned away to conceal her own. A flush of pride and loyalty to her mistress bloomed in her chest.
“Come, ladies,” Catherine called, rising to her feet. “The hour will soon be upon us.”
As she turned to follow, Thomasin caught the glinting amber eyes of Hugh Truegood resting upon her. They left a warm feeling upon her skin that the weak sunshine could not explain.
Henry appeared to have forgotten the unpleasantness of the previous evening. It had melted like snow on his boots before the fireside. He strode into the great hall in his hunting coat just as Catherine was speaking with Maria. Thomasin, Ellen and Gertrude had been relegated to a corner, where they waited to be seated at their low trestle table.
Henry had a glow on him from the ride back. He leapt up onto the dais. “By God’s wounds, a splendid morning, a most invigorating hunt and three stags delivered to the kitchens.”
The women bowed low at once.
“You should have seen how I killed the last stag,” he continued. “It outran us for near on five miles before tiring. Then it stopped, in the middle of a glade, and turned its head back to look at us, as if to surrender. If it could talk, it would have said that the game was up, and we should take it there and then.”
“It was a noble creature indeed,” added Brandon, throwing off his green cloak. “Worthy of the sport.”
“Elevating it almost to an art!” added Henry. “And when I dispatched it with my dagger, it looked into my eyes with an expression that I cannot describe. It quite moved me, the noble beast.”
Their words turned Thomasin’s stomach: the relish in killing, the creature’s death lauded as noble. In truth, it was nothing more than slaughter for the fun of it, or for the sake of eating, and she loathed the way they dressed it up, although such a thought would never pass her lips. And, no doubt, she would partake of the venison pies in a day or two, with a hearty appetite. Yet she had no stomach for the kill, certainly not as the king described it.
Catherine rose quietly. “You have had a fulfilling hunt, My Lord?”
“Less fulfilling than jubilant, God be praised. Utterly glorious. The sun filled the valley as we rode back with such golden light, it almost seemed heavenly.”
Thomasin saw Catherine’s eyebrows twitch a little. The king’s good mood filled them all with relief.
“My Lord.” Wolsey was approaching, with the quiet serenity of owning the place.
“Thomas!” cried Henry. “The hunting here is magnificent. We have supplied your kitchens for the coming week.”
“I am pleased that it was to your liking.”
“More than to my liking; I shall hunt again tomorrow, and the next day, if your woods can bear it.”
“I am certain you will find more to your taste.”
“Speaking of taste, we are to eat. I have a burning hunger on me now that must be sated. Come, all, be seated, swift as you can. Bring out the food, give the order.”
But as Wolsey was about to instruct the servant, Henry caught the man’s eye and delivered a firm nod, sending him off to the kitchens. Outranked in his own home, the cardinal blushed the same colour as his robes.
Catherine and Henry took their places side by side, with Wolsey invited to sit a little apart on the same table, as their host. The queen’s ladies had their own trestle, which Thomasin was pleased to occupy, between Gertrude and Ellen. Brandon, Mountjoy and Compton, along with Truegood and Cotton, Carey and Hatton, occupied the third. Steaming plates of pork with stewed apples appeared, along with chicken with prunes, egg and herb tarts, dainty quails in sauce, a side of beef and sallets of spring flowers. Servants filled glasses from goblets of sweetened wine.
“He has eyes for you,” said Ellen softly, at Thomasin’s side.
