“Usually,” he continued, “it runs more … smoothly.”
This was an allusion to the shouted interruption which they all caught at once.
“What will happen to him?” asked Mary, boldly.
“Never you mind about a lunatic.” Henry looked at Catherine. “You should be setting out for Bridewell before darkness falls.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Wrap her up warm and dine quietly in your chambers tonight. She has had enough excitement for one day.” Henry headed back into his tent, and the flaps of fabric closed behind him.
Thomasin wondered what the king had planned for himself that evening.
The river was calm as they returned, but darkness was swiftly falling. It was a harder, longer trip, but they reached the steps of Bridewell in good time and disembarked.
Princess Mary lingered on the steps, looking up at the palace.
“Come along,” barked Lady Salisbury. “Don’t dawdle here of all places — you’ll catch a chill. You know how delicate your chest can be, not to mention your teeth!”
Mary pulled her cloak closer around her, but still did not hurry. When Lady Salisbury had passed under the archway, she turned to Thomasin. “My father has a mistress, doesn’t he? That’s what the madman meant?”
“Oh, such people get all sorts of things in their minds. I heard of one the other day claiming to be the incarnation of John the Baptist, and another was arrested in the streets for pretending to be the emperor. It is best not to give mind to such things.”
Mary looked at her sternly, summoning all the gravitas her twelve years could muster. “Mistress Marwood, does my father have a mistress? Please tell me the truth.”
Thomasin sighed, caught in a trap. “I believe kings sometimes do.”
“My father has before. That is how the boy Henry Fitzroy was born. My half-brother.”
“Ah, you know of him already?”
Mary nodded. “And there is another one? I am asking you because I trust you. It is better that I hear it from you, rather than from the rumours at court and the madmen in the streets.”
Thomasin could not fault this logic. “Yes, my lady, I believe it is so, but it is nothing that need touch you.”
“Boleyn? Is that Mary?”
“Anne, now, I think. It is over with Mary.”
The princess gave a curt nod.
“I would not have told you for the world. It is the way of men, especially powerful ones; they are bound by different rules than us.” Thomasin hated the words as soon as she had spoken them, but she did not know how to soften the blow. “It is best not to speak of it,” she added. “Forget about it; it is of no consequence and may soon be over. But we have Christmas to look forward to, don’t we?”
“Why do people do things to hurt others?” asked Mary, her face pale.
“Oh, my lady, that is not a question I have an answer for. I can only say that you must trust in God and His plan for you, and serve Him as best you can. Leave the rest to Him.”
“Yes,” Mary replied woodenly. “I must trust in God’s plan.”
Once they had reached the fireside, and Catherine’s ladies were removing her outergarments, Thomasin puzzled over whether or not to pass on her conversation with Princess Mary to the queen. Had she done wrong, confirming the princess’s question? How much worse might it have been if she had denied it all, pretended all was well, only for Mary to discover the truth later? Surely after that the princess would not have trusted her again? It was better this way; she could be better protected, as she now understood the need. But should she make the queen aware of Mary’s new knowledge?
She looked across at Catherine’s tired face. Perhaps she would raise it if the situation demanded, but for now, the queen did not need any further grief. Thomasin would try to contain this herself.
ELEVEN
Following a mild day, the wind was rising and a storm was brewing. Thomasin could smell it in the air as she crossed the courtyard. The tops of the trees were starting to whip and sway, and the temperature was dropping.
The rooms usually used by Thomas Cromwell were off the side of the court, up a narrow staircase. Thomasin hoped that at this time of the evening, the man would either be dining with the king or else have returned to his house in the Austin Friars.
