Turning to the side, he beckoned forward the chapel choir, the boys dressed in silver, and they stepped into a semi-circle. Their voices were sweet and high, drawing in the notes of lutes which took over from the shawm and drum.
From the back of the hall, eight men in black velvet came forwards. Their costumes sparkled in the light, sewn all over with silver stars. Upon their heads they wore gold and silver turbans, while their faces were covered in gold Venetian masks.
Despite their best efforts, the masquers were instantly recognisable. Henry stood at the front, in the centre, flanked by Norris and Wyatt, and Thomasin recognised Charles Brandon and the stance of George Boleyn among the others. Between them came an old man, dressed in white and bent double over a stick, walking slowly. Will Somers, the jester, moved as if he was indeed the embodiment of the old year, about to die and give way to the new, a babe, who was carried in the arms of a nursemaid. As all appeared solemn, with the masquers entering the ship, the babe wriggled free, revealing itself as Mischief the dog, wrapped in a blanket and yelping to be released. He leapt to the ground and rushed about the room, to the delight of the princess, before being lured away by a piece of meat.
The masquers manned the ship, unfurling golden sails and heading towards the future, represented by a silver horizon. Allaround them, sea monsters roamed the silken waves, in green and brown costumes made with overlapping scales.
The music changed. Servants entered carrying branches of wax, illuminating a fair island, painted in green and studded with gemstones for flowers. Here, eight ladies in flowing white robes awaited them, beckoning them towards the new land, where hope and joy waited. Anne was prominent among them, her dark hair bound in a gold coronet, with diamonds sparkling about her throat. Thomasin also recognised Mary Boleyn, along with Lady Page, Lady Bryan and others of Anne’s circle. But there was no Nan Gainsford, and no George Zouche.
Catherine stiffened in her seat upon seeing Anne again in such a prominent position. But, after all, it was she who was seated in the queen’s chair, while the Boleyn woman was performing before her. She flinched slightly as Henry took Anne’s hand, and let her lead him onto the island and into the future. The symbolism of it could hardly be lost, as Anne showed him a brave new land, covered in flowers and fruits, symbolic of fertility.
Suddenly, above the music, Princess Mary’s voice could be heard. “Mother, is that the woman?”
The question took Catherine by surprise. The masquers stalled for a second, but as the music continued, they had to persist in their planned routine. Henry did not turn, but continued to parade round the island, before taking his place for the dance.
The court held its breath to hear how the queen would respond to the broken taboo.
Catherine looked levelly at Anne, her gaze so sharp it could cut through her. “Yes,” said the queen, equally as clearly, without turning to her daughter, “that is the woman.”
The masquers had no choice but to proceed, unable to break out of their roles, but the tension was thick about them. Henry’smovements became stiff and angry, and Anne overcompensated by exaggerating her dancing.
Thomasin was surprised that the king had not reacted, but she wondered what he could have said. It could easily have been an innocent question, about any female performer in the masque, although the entire court had heard it, and no one was in any doubt about to whom the princess alluded. Henry would not have expected it to have come from his daughter.
It was Princess Mary who Thomasin felt for. She took a step closer to her and offered her a bowl of rose comfits, but the girl waved them away, her eyes fixed on the final stages of the dance.
Presently the masque came to an end with the arrival of a gold chariot, bearing gifts of gold coins and Venetian lace, which the masquers distributed among the audience. Henry and Anne, though, remained at the front.
Removing his mask, Henry revealed his face, flushed with his exertions, and called for more light. Those bearing branches of wax moved closer, covering the king with gold.
“Where is our new friend Monsieur Campeggio?” he called out into the crowd.
Thomasin thought that he meant the cardinal, but it was his son Allessandro whom the king sought, returning with his hands full of coins, and removing his golden mask.
“To mark this occasion,” beamed Henry, determined to reclaim the moment, “it is my greatest pleasure to knight you, my friend. Be kneeling, if you will.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. Someone produced a sword.
“Upon this, the final day of the year of our Lord 1528, I honour you with this ennobling.” He touched Allessandro lightly upon each shoulder. “Arise, Sir Allessandro Campeggio.”
Charles Brandon led the cheer, and all in the hall rose to applaud.
“That was a surprise,” said Sir Richard.
“To Allessandro too, I think,” Thomasin replied.
Henry turned to the crowd. “Let us have good cheer upon this eve of the New Year. We will dance further, before we feast, and all men will be merry. And,” he added, turning to the crowd with a twinkle in his eye, “I have been absent these past three days, hunting, and in contemplation, and reading the most useful and interesting of books. A book that provides many answers to the questions I have been seeking.”
“My lord,” said Wolsey, piping up bravely, “does this mean that William Tyndale’s book is no longer banned?”
Henry looked surprised, but replied quickly. “It does, my Lord Wolsey, it does indeed. Tyndale’sObedience of a Christian Manis a book for all princes to read!”
The impact of this upon the crowd was varied. Thomasin looked around and saw that some seemed to be swallowing down their surprise or disapproval in the face of the king’s glowing recommendation. Some seemed to be listening in satisfaction, while others looked bemused, apparently unaware of the complexities of the book or the scandal that could potentially have erupted.
Henry did not wait to see their responses. He turned to Anne, who beamed with delight, and offered her his hand. They formed the first pairing for the new dance and other couples hurried to join them. The musicians struck up a chord.
Thomasin’s eyes found Catherine. The queen sat still, as if unable to move. No doubt this development had struck her to the core. Henry’s acceptance of heresy, the threat to his soul, and those of his subjects, was an unparalleled shock. And she had to accept it in public. Thomasin saw in her face that Henry’s reaction gave her physical pain. It was a thorn in her soul, a poison that she was fighting to prevent seeping through her bones.
Very slowly and deliberately, Catherine rose to her feet. The dancing had begun, so the king and Anne had their backs to her, but others paused to bow or curtsey. Lightly, she touched her daughter upon the sleeve and Princess Mary rose also, beginning to understand the change in her mother.
