Elizabeth Boleyn’s eyes seemed glazed, her mind a little confused.
“It is me, Thomasin Marwood, my lady. Do you remember?”
Elizabeth’s dark eyes looked into her face. Slowly, recognition dawned. “Ah, I had thought it was my own Anne, but I see now. What a fool I am; you must think me blind.”
“Not at all, my lady.”
“It is good to see you again, Thomasin. Are you going riding?”
Thomasin looked up at the dark sky, spread with stars, and a huge creamy moon. “My lady, it is time to retire for bed. Where are your apartments?”
“My apartments? I wish I was in my own bed at Hever.”
“You should retire, my lady. Are your family near to hand?”
It was then that Thomasin saw Jane Boleyn hurrying up, as if she had been searching for her mother-in-law.
“There you are,” she said, red-faced and panting. “Come, let us return.” She laced her arm through that of Lady Boleyn, who went quite willingly with her, smiling at the stars. “Thank you,” mouthed Jane, turning back as they were departing.
Thomasin watched them go, wondering what had led Lady Boleyn to seem so confused. Perhaps she had been lost in the huge palace, but then she must have been there plenty of times. There was no time to stand and consider the point: the queen needed Thomasin’s nimble fingers to unlace her bodice, and no doubt the princess would summon her to brush one hundred strokes through her hair again.
SEVENTEEN
Snow fell in soft drifts from a dark sky, blanketing the turrets of Greenwich Palace. Exhausted by the feasting and dancing, Princess Mary lay fast asleep between her soft sheets, fringed with gold. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted, one arm flung above her head. Lady Salisbury lay dozing in a smaller bed to the side, her narrow form heaped with piles of furs, for she felt the cold deeply in her old bones.
Bishop Mendoza laid his hand upon Catherine’s head in a blessing, before departing for his chamber. He moved slowly, as if wading through ice, dragging his feet along the cold stone. Thomasin and Ellen helped the queen into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Tonight was their turn to share her chamber on the uncomfortable truckles, but at least her room had the best fire. The knotted ropes creaked under their weight as the two young women settled down for the night. Ellen blew out the final candle, and Thomasin was so tired that she had forgotten to ask where her cousin had got to earlier, when she had brought up the spiced cake and marzipan. Her eyes closed and she was asleep at once.
Throughout the night, grey clouds continued to bank above Greenwich Palace. There were no stars to be seen, and the moon may just as well have not been there for all the light it shone upon the earth. Snow fell thickly upon the palace roof, lying in the guttering and across the ledges and sills. It carpeted the courts and pathways, dotted and dusted the carved wooden beasts in the gardens, dressed bushes and trees with white hats and capes. The ponds and the palace wells were covered by layers of ice, and the Thames turned a shade of silver-grey as it fought to resist the cold.
It seemed a very long, dark time before the first pink fingers of light appeared in the east. The world awoke slowly, reluctantly, before there was a sudden burst of life: a robin flew through the snow, landed upon the main gate and opened its lungs in song, then the chapel bells began to peal to mark the birth of the Christ child.
Thomasin jolted awake at the sound of the bells. The flames in the hearth had died down and the chill of the room pressed in painfully all around her, so she was unwilling to move. However, at that moment, the chamber door opened a fraction, and a maid crept inside with a coal bucket.
“I am so glad to see you!” Thomasin whispered.
The girl smiled. “It’s wicked cold, so we’re lighting up early.”
“Thank you.”
The girl proceeded to pile the hearth high with lumps of coal, working as quietly as she could, so as not to wake the queen. Then she slipped away and returned with a burning taper, to set the hearth ablaze. Soon, the welcome flames were licking up the chimney in shades of gold and orange.
“Is it time?” Ellen whispered, stirring and rubbing her eyes.
“Time enough, if we are to get to first Mass.”
Thomasin slipped out from between her sheets and hurriedly pulled on her kirtle, cloak and boots. While Ellen dressed, she tiptoed to the queen’s side. Catherine was sleeping deeply for once, her face relaxed in peace. Knowing her troubles with insomnia, Thomasin was loath to wake her.
The chapel bells, which had fallen silent, then sent out a second peal. Catherine’s eyes flickered open, sparing Thomasin her task.
“God be praised,” whispered the queen, “Christmas morning. Fetch my grey velvet and the black cloak with the ermine trim.”
Fortunately, there was no need to leave the palace to reach the chapel. Henry had recently rebuilt what had been a smallish place of worship into a larger site, so he no longer had to rely upon the old Friars’ church in the grounds whenever the occasion required a considerable assembly. Thomasin was grateful for the move, wrapping herself in the fox fur gown that Catherine had given her and pulling on her gloves. Yet the air outside the queen’s chambers rushed up to surround them as soon as they stepped outside the doors, nipping at her exposed face.
In a line behind Catherine, they processed through the corridor to the king’s and queen’s closets, side by side, overlooking the altar below. The stained-glass windows behind the burning candles were not as bright as usual, their colours dimmed by the snow and clouds outside. The congregation gathered on the ground floor below them, speaking in subdued but happy tones. Thomasin peered down at the carved wooden pews and the black and white tiles on the floor, recognising those below by their hats and headdresses.
Cardinal Wolsey was preparing to officiate, beaming with pride. Campeggio, Fisher and Mendoza were seated at the side, dressed in their full white and gold Christmas robes. The altar was draped in gold, set with candlesticks holding dozens of lights, and in the centre sat a carved icon of the Virgin Mary with the baby Jesus in her arms. The warmth of candles lapped around them, dazzling amid the gloom.
The bells pealed out again, as the final guests filed into the pews below. Eventually, the shuffling and whispering subsided and Wolsey stepped forward to welcome them all.
