“Your parents, Mistress Marwood?”
“Both in good health, thank you.”
Catherine nodded, as if she was processing a new thought. “I will rest here for a while. Maria, read to me from the Scriptures. Bring wine, bread. Someone send a message to Bishop Fisher, to dine with me later.” She closed her eyes.
Feet scurried in all directions, obeying her commands.
Thomasin and Ellen took their places on the window seat, where the sewing basket sat, while Maria’s gentle tones filled the room. As she threaded her needle, Thomasin felt that the Papal Court could not open soon enough, in order to lift this mood of gloom and pain. Clouds passed over the sun outside, and the room was plunged into shadow.
FOUR
At the dinner hour, servants arrived in Catherine’s apartments, bringing plates of food from her private kitchens below.
“Now leave us.” The queen dismissed them with a wave, even those who were supposed to serve her, waiting until the door closed.
Thomasin watched as Maria and Mary came forward, each with a spoon or knife, to carefully taste each dish. A slice of meat or pie, a sip of sauce, a mouthful of pastry. The women chewed slowly, with caution in their eyes. Catherine watched them intently for any signs of illness that might rapidly take hold. This was serious, Thomasin realised. The queen really was afraid of losing her life to poison.
And then another thought dawned upon her. Would she, Thomasin, also be expected to take a turn in this macabre new ritual? Perhaps the next morning, she may be called upon to taste the bread or cheese, or the potted marmalade from Seville with which Catherine liked to break her fast. There may be no foundation whatsoever for her fears, but if she was cautious enough to test each dish in this manner, she believed a plot possible. Maria and Mary might, at any moment, be thrown into convulsions, or seized by racking pains. Devoted she might be, but was Thomasin prepared to risk her own life in the queen’s service?
Thomasin looked up at Ellen, who was standing demurely on the other side of the table. But her cousin gave no indication that the same idea had occurred to her, appearing lost in her own thoughts.
Finally, the queen nodded. Then she slowly rose from her chair and came to take her seat at the table, where Mary and Maria spooned the safe food onto her plate. Thomasin joinedthe others warily, watching as they began to eat from the plain, simple fare that the queen favoured, wondering how mealtimes had changed so dramatically in her few days of absence.
Presently, Bishop John Fisher was admitted to the chamber. Thomasin rose, along with the other waiting women, out of respect for the senior clergyman. Thomasin had also met Fisher on several occasions at court before, and found him to be wise, intelligent and sharp of wit, which was belied by his austere appearance. Tonight, his face looked more careworn than ever as he approached the table. Almost sixty, he wore a simple black robe and hat, without the kind of jewelled adornment that other clergymen like Cardinal Wolsey wore.
“My dear Bishop, do join us.” Catherine gestured for him to take a seat close by her.
“You are most kind, my good lady.”
Fisher eased himself slowly into a chair.
“Will you eat?”
“Perhaps a little. My appetite is not what it once was.”
Catherine nodded. “This matter is enough to turn any man’s stomach.”
“How do you fare, madam?”
“Passing well. I seek God’s guidance daily and remind myself that this is a trial sent from him, in order that I may prove my devotion.”
A cloud darkened Fisher’s brow. “I think there can be no doubt about the depths of your devotion, my lady.”
“Well, as it may be. How fares the king?”
“He was out riding this morning, but since his return, he has been closeted away in his chambers.”
“Taking advice, no doubt?”
“I believe so, madam.”
“Would that he would turn to the Lord for advice, for there is no better guide for us humble mortals.”
“Indeed so.” Fisher drank from his wine cup. “I must add, though, most respectfully, that there are reports reaching the king’s ears which cannot help your cause.”
The queen sat up. “What reports are these?”
“His advisors are calling it extreme behaviour: your refusal to leave your chamber, dining in secret, having all your food tasted. I understand your reasons, and the importance of protecting your person, but I think it better to present yourself as if all were well. Be seen about the palace. Dine in public.”
