“I will do so whenever you require it, with gladness.”
Campeggio rose slowly. “Then let us proceed to your closet at once and I will hear your confession.”
Catherine looked around the room, her eyes more triumphant than Thomasin had seen in past days. “Maria will remain; the rest of you will leave us.”
“So the queen spoke well?” asked Ellen, as she and Thomasin stepped out into the gardens. There was limited space outside the palace in the centre of the city, but land had been enclosed to the west of the main buildings, abutting Water Lane. It was carefully tended, with pathways and plants, giving out to a section of pollarded trees.
“Yes, she regained something of her old fire, which we have not seen for a while. I wonder how much good it will do her, though.”
“You fear she is heading for another disappointment?”
They turned into the long walk.
“How can it be anything else?” Thomasin replied. “Whatever the king wants, the king is determined to get, even if it goes against the wishes of the queen.”
“I hope it does not happen too brutally, with the princess here to witness it.”
“No,” agreed Thomasin, “we must be on our guard to protect her whenever we can.”
“She sees nothing yet, although she is observant.”
“Yes, she is perceptive and has opinions of her own, but it is only a matter of time before she becomes aware of Anne and her power. Speaking of which — hush!”
Ahead, a group was passing beneath the shade of the fig trees. They emerged onto the path, heading away at right angles from the direction that Thomasin and Ellen had taken.
A number of the men were instantly recognisable as the young bloods of the court: there was George Boleyn with his feathered cap and tilted nose, the poetic glide of Thomas Wyatt, the sturdy handsomeness of Henry Norris, Francis Bryan with his eye-patch and among them, of course, Rafe Danvers’ saturnine looks. In their midst, surrounded by small, yapping dogs, were the colourful figures of Anne Boleyn and her new friend, the dark-haired young woman Thomasin had seen arrive yesterday. Jane Boleyn and her sister-in-law Mary followed behind. Theyseemed in high spirits, laughing together. Anne’s friend seemed especially diverted and happy.
“Oh, I cannot face them,” said Thomasin, unwilling to encounter such a group and be obliged into politeness.
“Me neither,” said Ellen. “Let us take this path to the right, and hopefully we will pass out of sight.”
They headed down a path that led towards the golden painted statues, but the lively group showed no signs of moving on; in fact, the little dogs among them began to yelp and run free, chasing each other down the paths. Thomasin kept her eyes on the path, the plants, the railing, anything to avoid making eye contact.
One among them, perhaps Wyatt, had pulled out a whistle and began to play a tune.
“Ah, more fair ladies,” called Norris, spying them across the bushes. “Who have we here?”
He half danced along the path towards them, with a spaniel at his heels.
“Ladies, lovely ladies,” he called.
Norris had been Thomasin’s dance partner on several occasions; he bore no malice towards her, and came forward now out of genuine friendship. But Thomasin’s mood soured to see the group follow his gaze.
“It is her again,” she muttered, “that new woman, who seems so close to Anne.”
The pair were walking arm in arm now, speaking closely with each other. Of course, Anne needed distraction whilst Henry was out riding with his daughter.
“Good day to you,” boomed Norris in his loud, genial voice. “We are well met among these dying flowers and gilded beasts. How fare you both?”
Thomasin turned, keeping her smile brief. “Good day Mr Norris. We are well, thank you.”
It was not enough to appease him.
“What are you doing this fine morning? Do you wish to join our company?”
Thomasin looked over. Anne was making a fuss over one of the dogs, almost certainly to avoid having to be polite. It was difficult not to notice that Rafe was close by them, speaking to the new arrival, who was tossing her head and laughing prettily at his words. He could have taken the chance to pay attention to her instead, thought Thomasin, instead of sidling along with the newcomer, but she wasn’t sure she wished for that either.
“Forgive us, we are on the queen’s business.”
