‘I am married, sire,’ she said. ‘This is flattering but inappropriate.’
He tilted his head. ‘Is beauty inappropriate? Or desire. These are creations over which we have no control, yet they enrich our lives.’
Elizabeth’s fingers trembled as she returned the whistle to its pouch. She held it out to the king, but he shook his head, moving his horse back a few steps, refusing to take it.
‘It’s wrong for me to accept this token,’ she said. ‘I can’t accept what is not freely given.’
He leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek. ‘It is freely given, Elizabeth. It’s a gift, a thank you for the time you were kind to a small boy. However, I believe you will one day find a way to repay my generosity, especially as you are now in my debt.’
‘Your debt?’
‘Cerensthorpe Abbey,’ he said. ‘We have struck a deal, you and I. One day, you shall blow your whistle, and I shall answer your call.’
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his horse and cantered down the hill, his falcon soaring above him.
Elizabeth’s merlin screeched from above, a magpie hanging from its beak, and as Wainwright called the bird to him, Elizabeth tucked the whistle in her saddlebag and cantered away, her heart pounding in confusion.
22
WESTMINSTER PALACE, LONDON – JANUARY 1510
Laughter filled the great hall as the men in Lincoln Green cloth danced with the women of Maid Marian’s court. For the past twenty minutes, they had been laying siege to an elaborately constructed castle containing the queen, as Maid Marian, and a number of women from her chambers. When Thomas had seized Elizabeth around the waist to ‘rescue’ her, they had giggled like children. Now, the Lord of Misrule, William Wynesbury, who had presided over the mayhem of Henry VIII’s first Christmas and New Year, sat on a large chair, not quite a throne, demanding the king, his cousin, Henry Stafford, Thomas Boleyn, Charles Brandon and Elizabeth’s brother, Edward, partake in a hopping race around the hall. Elizabeth wondered at the wildness of the behaviour.
‘Lizzie, there you are, I’ve been searching for you.’ She turned and her sister Anne embraced her. ‘You danced beautifully in the masque.’
‘Thank you,’ said Elizabeth.
There was a roar of delight as the king won the race, and the two women joined in with the clapping and cheering.
‘Where is your husband?’ asked Elizabeth, searching the crowd of men waiting to be instructed on their next game by the Lord of Misrule.
‘He’s retired early,’ said Anne with a roll of her eyes. ‘He hurt his back earlier when he was in the tiltyard.’
‘Was he jousting?’
‘No, he’d been for a ride to try to clear his headache. He lost his balance when he dismounted and tripped over a bucket, the fool,’ she said, but her tone was affectionate.
‘Poor Tommy,’ said Elizabeth with a sympathetic laugh.
‘Between us, he was relieved to have an excuse for an early night. The Christmas and New Year revels have exhausted us both,’ said Anne.
‘I shall be leaving on the morrow,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Thomas and I have agreed it would be wise for me to return to Kent.’
‘You surprise me,’ said Anne.
‘Younger has told Thomas he requests a favour from me, but as these usually involve helping to advance our brother, I am disinclined to acquiesce. My husband would prefer me safe at home.’
Anne laughed. Elizabeth knew her sister had not noticed her pinched expression in the candlelight. ‘Younger grows more pompous every day,’ Anne said.
Music filled the air and there was a cheer, followed by a rush to the dancefloor. Elizabeth glanced over at her husband, who was dancing with his sister, Lady Shelton. The king was scrutinising the masked women, then, with reluctance, took the hand of Elizabeth Scrope, Countess of Oxford. When he glanced in their direction, Elizabeth stepped behind Anne.
‘Lizzie, what are you doing?’ asked Anne.
‘The king,’ she said, ‘I wish to avoid him too. He found me this morning when I was hawking with Wainwright. My instincttells me whatever Younger desires from me will involve the king.’
‘Why do you say this?’
‘The king gave me a gift and I am concerned Younger may insist I show my gratitude.’
