“Which as you state, is easier said than done. But it does not mean it is impossible. If she is bold enough to talk about the book so openly at dinner, will she be so careful to conceal it within her own rooms?”
“Let’s hope you are right,” said Margaret.
A banquet had been laid out in one of the king’s chambers. Long trestle tables hung with white cloth were spread with silver plates, bearing at least twenty dishes, sweet mixed with savoury: pies and patties, bread and fritters, jelly and almond cream, eel and venison, rabbits and pheasants, custards and tarts.
Thomasin followed Henry, More and Margaret into the room to find it already busy. Familiar faces were present: Cardinal Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell, from whom Thomasin turned away with a surge of rage, Bishops John Fisher and Cuthbert Tunstall, courtiers such as Henry Norris, Francis Bryan, Thomas Wyatt, George Carew and others. Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk and Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, were seatedby the fire, but Thomasin had not yet forgiven Brandon for arranging her sister’s marriage to Hugh Truegood. Brandon’s wife, King Henry’s sister, Mary Tudor, stood beside her husband, looking a little pale, Thomasin thought. There were two more formal faces: Bishops Foxe and Gardiner, previously ambassadors to the Pope in Rome. The Boleyn faction was present, clustered around the viscount, George and Jane on one side, Anne and her sister Mary on the other, with Nan Gainsford behind them. In the centre of them all was the French ambassador, Jean du Bellay, in an azure doublet embroidered with silver, drawing all eyes.
He bowed low before the king.
“De Bellay, we saw your barge earlier. So you have survived the Channel once more!”
The ambassador was a swarthy, rat-faced fellow, with an upturned nose that he liked to look down. “My gracious lord, I am overwhelmed once more at your warmth and generosity.”
Henry dismissed his flattery with a wave of his hand. “A man must eat. How fares your master, the French king?”
“Very well, my lord, I thank you. He sends his warmest greetings, along with a letter and the gift of two greyhounds, knowing your enjoyment of the hunt.”
“Ha, he knows me well enough. How are the negotiations for his marriage coming along?”
“Very well, my lord. He anticipates that his agreement with the emperor will be concluded before the year is out.”
“So he will become the emperor’s brother-in-law.”
“By his marriage to Eleanor of Austria.”
“But he has not put aside his mistress, in the meantime, so I hear?”
A titter of laughter ran round the room. The ambassador blushed but quickly recovered himself. “The king of France has many beautiful ladies at his court.”
“Surely not as fair as the beauties that England can offer?” asked Henry, throwing out a hand towards the Boleyn sisters and their circle.
De Bellay inclined his head politely.
Thomas More came to stand beside Thomasin and Margaret. Both were pleased to feel his gentle presence.
“You two have been whispering most conspiratorially today. It cannot be the weather, which is neither too hot nor too cold. It might be the new arrival at court, although as you can see, he is a mere cypher of the French king, not worth your time. Or it could be the tournament the king is hosting this week, or his plan to spend the Christmas season at Greenwich. But I know you two; your heads are full of greater things, so I assume you are plotting the overthrow of the Western world and the necessary, overdue introduction of a system of matriarchal rule.”
“How did you guess, Father?” asked Margaret, playing along. “Thomasin and I are to rule jointly as sister queens. All wars will cease and the poor and hungry will be fed and housed. How have you gleaned all this merely from our expressions?”
More shrugged his thin shoulders. “I knew it was just a matter of time.”
Thomasin laughed. She had missed this kind of intellectual banter that the More family enjoyed. “And I personally intend to clear most of London and plant flowers in its place.”
“And orchards,” agreed Margaret. “We must replant the streets with apples, to replace that which Adam and Eve ate.”
“You had better do so quickly,” said More, with a subtle nod to Anne, “as I fear the serpent has returned to tempt him with her charms. Venison pie, anyone?”
Later, while Margaret was conversing with the bishop of London, Thomasin took a welcome seat beside More.
“Ah,” he smiled, “my learned friend. How do you advance in your studies of human nature?”
Their conversations had always been interesting, and Thomasin had previously explored the idea of free will with More, especially what it meant for women and how one might follow their heart, despite the outward pressure not to do so.
“I remain hopeful, despite recent setbacks,” she confessed.
“Setbacks?”
“You heard of my sister’s marriage?”
