“For that which you are yet to do,” said More softly, once the servants had departed. “The king anticipates getting his way over the divorce.”
“Perhaps he knows something we don’t,” added John Dudley, “for it appears by no means to be a clear-cut case, not to a man such as myself, with even my limited knowledge of the law.”
“It is definitely not, John. The king can be sure of Wolsey’s support, no doubt,” added More, “but Campeggio is another matter. He will have received secret instructions from the Pope, no doubt, which I cannot imagine he intends to share.”
“He was most kind to the queen,” added Thomasin. “He believes her dispensation holds the key. The one she receivedupon their marriage, nineteen years ago. He said the Pope would not rule against a marriage that had already been dispensated against.”
“Then the king is chasing after nothing, or a stalemate at least,” More confirmed.
“Except he is saying something different to the king, as I hear. Encouraging him and giving him hope, quite the opposite to what he told my mistress.”
And they turned to look up at the dais, where Henry was beaming as Campeggio’s glass was filled with wine.
“I fear,” said Margaret, with a wistful tone, “this is yet another masque put on for the entertainment of the court. Everyone else knows it, except the king.”
At that point, Henry laughed out loud at something Campeggio had said, his rippling voice resounding up to the rafters.
As if the news had drawn her, a figure in scarlet rose from the side and made her way to the top table.
Bold as brass, Anne Boleyn knelt before the king and cardinals, with diamonds and rubies sparkling in her headdress. The hue of her dress matched the bright red of Wolsey and Campeggio, and the draped hangings and chairs, aligning her with them.
“Is there a third cardinal now?” asked More.
Thomasin could barely contain her anger. “The queen will be furious. She was content to retire on the condition that Anne was not present, taking her place. It is a deliberate attempt to push her aside!”
“Has Anne ignored instructions to stay away?” Margaret wondered. “Or did she not receive any?”
Thomasin glared at the woman in red. “The queen has been played most falsely!”
Henry did not seem surprised. He gestured for Anne to join him on the dais, making room between himself and Wolsey, whoshuffled over reluctantly to fit the third scarlet figure into the limited space.
“The cheek of her!” said Jane Dudley, her mouth agape in horror. “She sits on the dais in the queen’s usual position.”
Thomasin nodded. “I am glad the queen and princess are not here to see this, although if they were, she would not be acting so.”
“He parades her as if she were already queen,” added John, “for all to see, on such an occasion as this.”
“It is not the Cardinal’s Feast anymore,” said Thomasin’s father, “it is Anne’s.”
More snorted. “And so much for the Holy Innocents!”
The feast proceeded, with more dishes and songs, more laughter and merriment, but Thomasin could not keep her eyes off the top table, returning in disbelief to view the spectacle.
“You are glaring,” said her father, nudging her. “They will notice!”
“I can’t help it. The queen has been deceived, and now she is dishonoured, through a falsehood. I should leave and go to her.”
“And tell her? So she comes down, in anger, and there is a scene?”
“No.” Sir Richard’s words settled Thomasin. “I suppose not.”
“Then just let it be for now. We will speak of other things, and you can decide how best to deal with this when you return upstairs.”
Thomasin stared down at her plate, having suddenly lost her appetite.
“Come now, you must eat. Your mother does not mind missing the feast; she is quite tired after the past few days, and welcomes the chance to rest. Your sister, though — I cannot imagine what she was thinking. What possessed her to travelhere alone, unchaperoned save for a stableman? It is all most inappropriate.”
“I suppose there was no one to stop her.”
