Lady Salisbury leaned in, knowing her duty. “There are no signs of her menses commencing yet, but she has put on weight and filled out this year, so it cannot be too far distant.”
“You will keep me informed first, of course. A mother should know these things.”
“Of course, my lady.”
The princess laughed, throwing back her head, as her friend made the doll parade up and down before them.
Thomasin had a flash of memory. Ten years ago, she and her sister had played with poppets on the floor of an upstairs chamber in their old country house. She and Cecilia had been similar ages to Mary and Catherine, but as Cecilia was older, she always led their games. The differences in their characters had often led to disagreements, even tears, and still did so, but there had been happy times, she recalled: Christmas feasts and dancing, with holly and ivy decorating the great hall and the neighbouring landlords bringing their families to share in the cheer. And moments like this: two little girls sharing a game, escaping from the world outside.
Thomasin could not help smiling to see the princess so absorbed, but she knew she could not let down her guard. Mary had already learned of the existence of Anne, and she was an intelligent, curious child. It was only a matter of time before one or the other of them provoked a meeting. If Thomasin could be in the right place at the right time, she might manage to make it less painful for the princess. She could only pray that, in his wisdom, God would allow it.
EIGHTEEN
A dragon with red and green scales appeared from behind the painted mountain. It rippled, catching the light, looking around with jewelled eyes. Those seated at the front drew back as it stalked forwards on wide, flat feet, and opened its great jaws to let out a roar. At the same time, the fire eaters breathed flames into the air, and ladies in costumes of white and gold ran to hide behind the wooden frontage of a castle.
Wolsey’s masque had been set out at the end of the great hall. Its preparation had been a great secret, worked on day and night by a host of carpenters, painters and seamstresses, with members of court disappearing at intervals to rehearse, or learn their songs, or be fitted with a costume.
Thomasin had been grateful not to take part in it. Those days were over. Neither she nor Ellen had been approached by Wolsey or his servants, which she took as an indication that it was a project into which Anne Boleyn had thrown herself. And, just as she had predicted, one of the women depicting the Virtues was visibly Anne, concealed behind her heart-shaped mask and its extravagant plume of feathers. Poised between her sister Mary and Nan Gainsford, she raised her arms above her head and pretended to quake in fear at the fearsome dragon, who as far as Thomasin could see, looked remarkably like Thomas Wyatt.
The queen’s chair had been brought forward and set close to the action, beside that of the king. Both had their entourages on each side: Charles Brandon was beside Henry, with Wolsey and Cromwell to the right, followed by the Boleyn group and du Bellay. Catherine had her ladies, Princess Mary and Lady Salisbury and her good friends among the bishops. The other guests sat behind. Wolsey was delighted with the way hisentertainment was going, often rising to his feet in anticipation and clapping at the performance of certain scenes and effects, whilst keeping his eyes on the king to check that he was reacting favourably.
It was convenient, thought Thomasin, that Anne was placed in the dance, masked with the other women, so that although eyes were upon her, she must needs follow the script. For now, at least, she was contained by her role. Thomasin’s eyes were drawn more to the pretty Nan Gainsford, who was making her debut in the role of Charity, blessing the dancers with her smiles and grace.
Anne, who had been cast as Hope, was climbing the steps to the top of the little castle, where she was to reach up to the Heavens and silently implore them for help. Wyatt, as the dragon, continued to threaten them, with roars and steps forward, and more flames from the fire-throwers. The shadowy forms of devils — figures in black, sewn all over with red and gold sequins — swarmed in the background, crying out in the agonies of their pretended torment.
Princess Mary clapped her hands in delight. “May I perform in a masque?” Thomasin heard her ask her mother, but Catherine only patted her hand and smiled.
“When I am queen,” said the princess, “we shall always have masques!”
Upon the announcement of the trumpets, the men entered: half a dozen dressed in clothes in the Turkish style, with purple and yellow striped turbans, from which long ribbons sewn with gold spangles hung down, as they crept slowly towards the dragon in silver slippers. It was easy to recognise George Boleyn and Henry Norris among them, and Thomasin recognised the tall figure at the back as Rafe Danvers. Dressed up in this accustomed finery, out of his habitual black, he drew her eye ina way that made her feel a little self-conscious, and she fought to pull her attention away to the unfolding action.
The minstrels struck up a chord and the masquers moved into a formation. Watching the dance unfold, Thomasin was disappointed to spot the fair-haired William Hatton among them, continuing to be favoured despite his moral shortcomings. Beside him stood another young man she did not recognise, of middling height, with mid-brown hair and a strong, square jaw visible beneath his mask. He was well made and moved with considerable grace.
“Who is that in the middle?” she whispered to Ellen curiously.
Her cousin shrugged. “Never seen him before. Another Boleyn favourite, no doubt.”
The young men then formed themselves into a circle, and began to pelt the dragon with rose water and petals. Wyatt, inside the costume, pretended to recoil, and the recorders played out his high-pitched squeals of grief. The women in the castle cheered and clapped in encouragement as the danger was overthrown, then came down to bestow kisses upon their rescuers. Anne did so provocatively, walking straight up to Henry Norris and pressing her lips to his cheek right before the king, but it was the new young man to whom Nan Gainsford headed, giggling as she bestowed her favour upon him.
The audience showed their appreciation with applause, and Wolsey was persuaded to head to the front and take his bow. “It is but a trifle, a mere trifle for your amusement,” he said, watching the king.
“A magnificent entertainment,” said Henry, a little stiffly, still keeping his eyes upon Anne, “most strange and novel in its characters and costumes.”
Wolsey beamed in delight, feeling the praise wash over him.
“And now,” called Henry, “dancing!”
Servants hurried in to wheel away the sets, dragging out the mountain and castle with chains and sweeping away the flower petals. Musicians struck up a song and the performers, still dressed in their glittering costumes, mingled among the guests. Predictably, Anne made her way straight to Henry and offered him her hand. For a moment he paused, but then seized it in his and rose to his feet.
“My Lady Salisbury,” said the queen, “I think the princess requires some rest, so that she does not become overtired. Please take her to her chamber.”
“But can’t I watch the dancing?” Princess Mary asked, bristling with suspicions about the real reason she was being diverted.
“You do not want to be overtired for the great feast tonight, do you?” her mother asked, without expecting a reply. “So go now, rest, and rise again ready for that.”
The princess had no choice but to accept this in favour of the deferred pleasure of the feast, and allowed herself to be led away.
“You did not wish to accompany them, to avoid witnessing any unpleasant display?” Maria Willoughby asked.
