He smiled again, with bulging eyes, and spread his hands wide. “There would be no need to trouble her with it, as she already has so much on her mind.”
“I am sure it would be no bother to Her Majesty at all. I will ask her after the banquet.”
“Oh, no, no, there is no need. Let it be a little arrangement between ourselves, Mistress.”
Thomasin inclined her head. “If you will excuse me, I have much to do.”
“Of course, dear Lady, of course. Please think on it. Remember, my name is Matteo, Matteo Vitruvio of Venice. Remember it.”
Pondering his suspicious request, Thomasin returned to the table, but as she picked out the delicacies before her, she watched the ambassadors with new eyes. Vernier kept his attention wholly for the queen, but she soon noticed that his gentlemen had scattered and each, alone, had singled out one Catherine’s ladies. There was an earnestness about them, a particular drive in their friendliness that went beyond mere diplomacy. It was, perhaps, more of a concerted policy being put into action, a pattern of attack. She looked back at Vernier, with his slick manner and knowledgeable dark eyes. Watching him in action, she felt sure that his elegant show towards the queen was a veneer to conceal something else.
“They are very attentive,” said Ellen, appearing at her side.
“Too much so,” Thomasin whispered back. “I do not quite trust it.”
“And very keen to give away gifts. The tall one offered me silks and laces.”
Thomasin turned to her. “Oh, really? Did he ask you to do anything in return?”
“He asked me to write a few letters, about…”
“The queen and court? Where she goes? Who she sees?”
Ellen’s pretty eyes widened. “Why, yes! You too?”
“I had the same.”
“Mine was named Enrico.”
“Mine was Matteo.”
They both looked towards Catherine, listening intently as Vernier recounted a story.
“There is something more to this visit,” Thomasin went on, nodding towards them. “More than I can see. We just do not know what it is yet.”
“You think there is something sinister, pertaining to the queen?”
“We cannot say yet. It may be entirely innocent, but we must be watchful.”
“Indeed.” Ellen fixed her dark eyes upon Vernier. “Watchful. Let watchful be the watchword.”
THREE
Windsor’s upper courtyard had been transformed. Red and gold pavilions formed a rippling semi-circle, ready to shelter the queen and her guests against the wind. Their bright embroidery featured the royal arms, with lions and fleur-de-lys, unicorns and dragons, while lines of colourful flags strung between them fluttered in the breeze. Braziers burned around the outside, filling the gloomy day with bright flames and the spicy tang of the perfumed pastilles that had been placed amid the hot coals.
Catherine paused on the castle steps and clasped her jewelled hands together. “Oh, that scent in the air!” She turned to Vernier at her side. “You smell it? Cedar wood and musk.”
The Venetian paused and turned his face to the wind. He made an elaborate gesture of breathing in through his long nose, slow and deep. “Ah, it comes back to me. As if I was sitting in St Mark’s Square. The scent of home.”
“The same for me, like walking through the Alhambra, the scent of home. Shall we?”
He offered his gloved hand, and she took it.
Thomasin followed Catherine as she processed across the grass, the ladies in a tight-knit train behind their mistress. Their skirts made a colourful line, with different shades of blues, greens and browns, each displaying touches of white at the sleeves or wrists, tawny or yellow details and a string of pearls or a jewelled pendant about their throats.
Even from far back in the line, Thomasin could see Vernier walking at the front, still engaging Catherine in conversation, with his sharp, witty quips that made her smile. The other Venetians strutted along behind him, a snake of silver and gold that ran alongside the ladies. They were a tall, proud company, slick and elegant, and used to receiving attention. Among them, Thomasin spotted the wide-eyed Matteo, who had attempted to win her over before with his proposition. Even now, as her face was turned his way, he tried to catch her eye again and flashed her a smile, but she only inclined her head politely and looked away.
Chairs and cushions awaited them under the canopies. Thomasin and Ellen were seated to the left of Catherine and Vernier — close, but not close enough to hear any of their conversation.
