Thomasin’s heart soared with pride at this reception, noting the smiles of the guests and their obvious affection for the queen. Catherine walked slowly, with the princess beside her, drinking in their respect. The king’s note had been misguided, Thomasin thought: these people loved the queen and would not stand to see her set aside.
Catherine reached the dais, where two magnificent gold chairs had been set under an embroidered canopy, within reach of the fire’s warmth. Henry already occupied the one on the right, in a purple and green velvet doublet, embroidered all over withhearts and roses entwined with vines and grapes. Diamonds sparkled at his wrists, throat and chest. His jewelled cap bore a great ruby like the one he had given Princess Mary, who had been permitted to wear hers for the first time today by her mother. His face was set in an expectant mask.
Catherine curtseyed low. She betrayed nothing of her earlier fury at the content of her husband’s letter. Her wide skirts were spread about her in deep green waves. Her daughter, dressed in her new gown of mustard velvet, followed her lead, with Lady Salisbury behind them in her habitual black and white. Thomasin and Ellen joined the entourage in curtseying too, steadying themselves amid the glare of interested eyes. They had never felt so much on display as they did now.
“Arise, most worthy ladies, and welcome on this joyous occasion.”
If Henry noticed the message embroidered on Catherine’s bodice, he did not comment, but indicated the seat beside him. A second golden chair, carved with a crown, stood empty: the natural place of a queen.
Catherine stepped up and lowered herself regally down into its plump cushions, while the princess placed herself on a similar chair to the side. Baron Mountjoy hovered protectively at her side. Her ladies hurried to arrange themselves decorously to the side, in the space between the dais and window.
For the first time, Thomasin was able to turn and survey the crowd: so many faces, some she recognised, others new, but all had made their way here through the snow, and all waited to honour the king and queen. This was the ceremony of welcome and gift declaration: the formal start to the Christmas period.
The duke and duchess of Suffolk came forward first, as befitted their years and status as members of the king’s family. Thomasin was grateful to see friends appear before the queen, makingher feel welcome. Charles Brandon was handsome and a little austere. With his broad, magnificent frame, he was renowned for his prowess in the saddle, to be demonstrated in the jousts and tournaments planned for the coming week. Of all the men in the land, only he was the physical equal of the king; no doubt their old rivalry would be played out again against the Greenwich snow. Beside him, his royal wife, Mary Tudor, stunning in sapphire blue, looked a little tired about the eyes. She had lately been plagued with pains in her side and was short of energy, and although she was still only thirty-two, she moved with the caution of an older woman, anticipating pain.
“My good lord,” boomed Charles Brandon, sweeping a bow, “my dear lady and sister, we are delighted to accept your invitation for the season, at this most pleasant place and hour. We bring gifts: barrels of burgundy wine and venison from our Suffolk estates, to furnish the table and bring good cheer to all.”
“Welcome, brother,” said Henry, coming forward to clap Brandon upon the shoulder and to kiss his sister on the cheek. “Your chambers are to your liking?”
“The best, as ever,” said Brandon, “with a view of the park, where we will pass many happy hours.”
“My thanks, dear lady, queen and sister,” said Mary Tudor, directly addressing Catherine. “It gives me great pleasure to think of the time ahead in your good company, and in our worshipful celebrations.”
“As it does me, dearest sister,” beamed Catherine, as if this Christmas were no different from any other, and the threat of Anne Boleyn did not exist. “Such treasured times we have ahead.”
“Dearest princess and niece,” Mary Tudor continued, turning to the girl seated on the queen’s left, who bore her name. “My blessings and prayers for your good health. It is a pleasure to see you here to worship and celebrate with us.”
Princess Mary sprung up from her chair unbidden and threw herself into her aunt’s arms, knocking her off balance a little, although the duchess quickly righted herself.
“Such warmth and affection.” She smiled. “Such a lovely child.”
“Our treasure and joy,” added Catherine, beaming to see her daughter’s happiness, then gesturing for her to resume her seat.
As the Suffolks swept away, Thomasin’s heart sank to see the duke and duchess of Norfolk approach, as the most senior figures in the land outside the family. Their greeting was very different from that which had just passed.
“My gracious lord.” Thomas Howard bowed stiffly. “I offer our humble thanks for your invitation and our wishes of peace and good cheer for the blessed season ahead.”
“Thank you, my good lord…” echoed Lady Norfolk, without making further comment. Thomasin thought she looked a little pinched and red about the eyes, recalling rumours of the volatile state of their marriage.
“Norfolk, and Lady Norfolk, you are welcome to Greenwich,” said Henry. “I hope you have good cheer amongst us this season.”
“I have sent a newly killed brace of pheasants down to the kitchens for your table, and a pair of hunting hounds, the swiftest I ever had.”
Henry inclined his head. “You are generous, as ever.”
“And my good lady,” said Lady Norfolk, turning to Catherine, her face unreadable. “I bring you a bottle of rose water, distilled by my ladies, and a dozen jars of Spanish marmalade, disembarked from a ship newly arrived from Cadiz only last week.”
Catherine smiled faintly, but her dislike of Lady Norfolk only allowed her to utter the smallest “thank you, kindly” that she could muster.
Behind the Norfolks came Wolsey in his red cardinal’s robes, pressing the king’s hand under its cluster of jewels and making the sign of the cross before him.
“You are blessed, my lord; our Lord and Saviour protect and preserve you for another glorious year.”
“We will have good cheer, Thomas,” Henry offered, “will we not?”
The informality seemed to light up Wolsey’s eyes, and allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. The old man was looking sad and uncertain, Thomasin noted. She recalled his fears at Bridewell and felt a pang of sympathy for him.
“My masque proceeds with great success, and I have brought powdered unicorn’s horn and pearls, for your lordship’s good health,” Wolsey explained. His gifts were intimate and personal; they would be mixed into potions and poultices. Thomasin wondered which ailments Henry would use them to treat.
