“Is the queen awake?”
“She has been awake since dawn,” said Ellen, pulling on her slippers. “She passed a difficult night, tossing and turning, and messages have just been delivered from the king, so I do not like to guess what those might be.”
“Let’s hope for the best. It’s Christmas, the season of goodwill and cheer.”
“Maria is putting her in a fur-lined petticoat today, because of the snow outside.” Ellen shivered. “What I wouldn’t give for a fur-lined petticoat!”
“Well, you are a wealthy woman now. You can buy yourself such a thing if you wish.”
“I’m not sure the queen would approve. Should I have a silver one too, and pearls and gold chains?”
Thomasin smiled. It was pleasant to be back at Greenwich, such a beautiful and spacious palace, with sweeping grounds.The chambers and walks were familiar, with a sense of home. She recalled her favourite places, the shortcuts, the quietest spots. Seeing the palace transformed for Christmas had taken her breath away: she had never dreamed it could look so beautiful.
Yet there were ghosts here. Faces and events from the summer reappeared when she least expected it. Here, Thomasin had lain here ill with the sweating sickness, close to death, wondering whether or not she would recover. Without Ellen’s gentle care, through day and night, she may not have survived. And in these gardens, now lying under a blanket of snow, she had walked with her dear friend Will Carey, now lost to the world. In this hall, they had danced and laughed together. Down these long corridors, she almost thought she heard him whisper her name. How cold his bones must be now, lying in the frozen earth. Thomasin shivered.
Ellen moved to look out of the window, drawing Thomasin’s gaze with her. Outside the sky was a rosy, but chilly, pink. Soft white clouds moved slowly through it, promising more snowfall.
“Do you think this weather will prevent more arrivals today?” Thomasin asked, knowing that it was the date that the Christmas guests were expected at Greenwich.
“Definitely. They will have already sent out servants to shovel the roads clear.”
“Perhaps some will not get through?”
Ellen laughed. “I know who you think of! But we are not too far from Hever, here. I am sure the Boleyns will fight their way through any blizzard to be by the king’s side. One of them in particular.”
Thomasin screwed up her nose. “I wish them all snowed in.”
“And your family are with Matthew Russell at Monks’ House, so if the snow in London is bad, they could abandon their carriages and take barges down the river.”
“I can’t see Mother agreeing to that,” said Thomasin, thinking of the aches and pains that Lady Elizabeth Marwood suffered. “Yet she will be determined to spend Christmas at court, even if it kills her!”
The door opened and servants brought in plates of food, setting hot bread, cheese, sliced meats, dishes of spices, baked pears and warm claret wine upon the table.
“I’m starving!” groaned Thomasin, feeling her stomach respond.
“Then go and let the queen know, so that she may break her fast. We must not touch it before she does!”
But at that moment, Catherine’s chamber door flew open and the queen emerged, swathed in green velvet and ermine. Her face, though, was far from composed, with frustration and annoyance written all over it. “How dare he!” she began. “How dare he instruct me thus!”
She paced about the room in fury. A while passed before she was able to compose herself and explain. She brandished a letter, written in the king’s hand, bearing the hard red fruit of his seal.
“By this letter, he tells me to take my turn, to step aside, to share his presence, to alternate my role! I must keep to my chamber on some occasions, so as not to eclipse that woman!” Catherine’s face had turned red and blotchy. “I am queen here and she, she is nothing! I am the hostess of the celebrations in this palace, which has been home to me since I was first queen, first his wife. I was married here, in the queen’s chapel, and he expects me to stand aside and bear this insult, while that woman, that upstart whore, takes my place before my family and friends, before the whole court!”
Thomasin had never seen the queen so angry and so forthcoming with her grievance.
Baron Mountjoy, who had the misfortune of having delivered the letter, was wringing his hands. “It cannot be thus! He would not so openly breach protocol. It must be in error!”
“It is not!”
“Today? Surely not today, when you receive our guests as queen?”
“No,” Catherine replied, “he allows me that role, at least. He means in the coming days, at dances, jousts, feasts.”
“I am sure it was not his intention,” said Maria, hurrying after her with placating hands. “Perhaps it was poorly worded.”
“Poorly worded and poorly done!” Catherine raged. “To be less present, he asks! Was ever a queen treated thus? Degraded thus?” She looked around at the surprised faces before her as her ladies tried to appear sympathetic, and composed herself. “I have received instructions from the king,” she began. “God’s blood! I can hardly contain myself!”
“Peace, my lady, peace, calm yourself,” attempted Maria.
