“He will go gladly, my lady. Thank you for your kindness.”
“We must keep our old friends close in these difficult times. Whatever the outcome of the court, I will never forget those who have stood beside me throughout it. Never.”
TWENTY-ONE
Bishop Mendoza leaned in towards the queen, the rings upon his fingers sparkling in the candlelight.
“I shall pray for you every day, asking God to show his mercy upon your situation and advancing years.”
Catherine’s face did not betray a flicker at the mention of her age: she was then halfway through her forty-third year. She placed her own hand lightly on top of the bishop’s furred cap.
“I give you my blessing for your voyage. May your final years be easy among your family and friends.”
“We shall correspond,” he said. “I shall not forget my English friends and their suffering. Many have been good to me here, amid my own travails.”
“I have more salve for your legs.” Catherine gestured to Maria, who brought forward a pot of the ointment that Thomasin had once applied to the old bishop’s painful limbs.
“You are too gracious, my lady.”
“You have been a good friend to me, Inigo, at a time when I have learned who my real friends are.”
“I only wish I could have done more, and I regret that I must leave before the court has made its final decision.”
“Is there any news of your replacement?”
“A Savoyard by the name of Eustace Chapuys has been appointed. I know little of him, but his recommendations are good. I understand he will be a great friend to your cause.”
“I shall anticipate his arrival. What time do you depart?”
“I am taking ship at Dartford and will alight on the coast north of Canterbury, for the ride down to Dover. The progress on water is far better for my legs than on the land.”
“God go with you, my friend.” Catherine handed over a letter, folded and sealed in her distinctive gold wax. “Keep this for theeyes of the Emperor, my nephew, only. Let no other man read its contents.”
Mendoza tucked the letter into his sleeve. “I shall guard it with my life and pass it to him in person on my journey through Italy. I hope to see him crowned there before I return to Spain.”
The bishop bowed again and then slowly straightened up his aged frame. He ran his eyes over the line of the queen’s ladies, where Thomasin and Ellen waited.
“You are well attended. Ladies, I commend you for your diligence and loyalty.”
Taking out a purse, he placed a gold coin in the hands of each woman in the line, adding his own personal blessing. Reaching Thomasin last, he folded his hands over hers.
“I have not forgotten your kindnesses to me, Mistress Marwood. May God bless you and grant you many long, peaceful years ahead.”
“Thank you, your Grace. I wish you a safe and speedy journey.”
“Look out for this Chapuys when he comes. He may need you to show him the ropes.”
Thomasin nodded.
“Well.” Mendoza stood back and surveyed them all. “This is my farewell to England — a nasty, wet country it is, lacking in good wine and overrun by meat-eaters. I wish you all joy of it!”
Thomasin smiled as the old man waved his farewell and disappeared through the doors. Just as he left, though, a servant appeared, carrying a letter. He knelt before the queen.
“For Mistress Marwood, my lady, just brought to the castle by a boy.”
Catherine looked up. “Thomasin? Are you expecting a letter?”
“I am not, my lady.”
