Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Will I really get to meet the king?" Blaze asked her younger sister for the third time.

Bliss laughed. It seemed strange to her, but she felt more like Blaze's elder sister at this moment than a younger one. "Owen is one of the king's best friends," she said once again, as she had said thrice before. "You will get to meet the king, but I shall tell him that you are in mourning lest he want you to take part in the gaiety. You really should not, you know."

"You sound like Mama," Blaze replied, and now it was her turn to laugh. "I do not want to involve myself in the court quite yet, Bliss. Perhaps I shall never involve myself in it, but I had nowhere else to go right now. You know that."

Bliss wisely held her tongue. For one so young she was amazingly knowledgeable of human nature. As great as her sister's pain was now, it would pass in time. Bliss did not mention another husband, but she knew the ways of the world well, and of course Blaze would have to remarry eventually. What better place than the court to find a husband, and Bliss was generous enough to concede that her sister was beautiful. Perhaps not as beautiful as she was, but nonetheless lovely enough to capture many hearts.

Despite three years of marriage, however, Blaze was an innocent, Bliss thought. She would have to steer her sister carefully through the shoals of this dangerous and fascinating place, but innocents like Blaze either learned to survive quickly, or they found themselves gobbled up like so many hapless lambs. The court was greedy for pretty little girls, but if one were wise, one could survive.

The room that Bliss had so kindly supplied her with was indeed small, and while her sister and brother-in-law hurried off to practice their parts in the masque to be given tomorrow night, Blaze and Heartha settled themselves.

"I know we're lucky to have the room," grumbled Heartha, "for that Betty of your sister's tells me so often enough, but Lady Bliss didn't tell no lies when she said it was small, m'lady." She looked with jaundiced eyes about the almost square, paneled room with its one lead-paned double window and small fireplace. There was nothing in the room except a large bed with a trundle, and a single straight-backed chair. There were no hangings upon the bed, which almost took up the entire space.

"It will be fine, Heartha. It is neither RiversEdge, with all its memories, nor Ashby, where I cannot be myself any longer. This little room is now my home and yours. Let us work to make it comfortable before nightfall."

Though the tiring woman fussed that Blaze should sit quietly while she made the room presentable, Blaze would have none of it. Surprisingly the room was quite clean, and freshly swept. Together the two women hung the bed hangings, which were green velvet on natural-colored linen. Blaze had beautiful linen sheets, which she brought from a trunk, placing her fine feather bed over the straw mattress first. The sheets were scented with her favorite fragrance, sweet violets, and the bed quickly looked comfortable and inviting. Working together, the two women had the chamber quite presentable by the time Bliss and Owen returned. There were draperies upon the window, a candlestand by one side of the bed, the small trunks holding Blaze's clothing had been placed strategically, and Blaze's gowns were already hung in a small section of her sister's dressing room which had been allotted her by Betty, who was Bliss's tiring woman.

At supper they sat with Lady Adela Marlowe and her husband, Sir John. John Marlowe had a small place as a gentleman of the bedchamber, and his wife had become Bliss's best friend since her arrival at court. Adela Marlowe was a pretty girl with coal-black curls and lively brown eyes.

"We are so sorry to hear of your loss, Lady Wyndham," she said, "but you were right to come to court. It is the best place to find another husband."

Bliss choked upon a mouthful of rabbit pie, but she managed to quickly say, "Dearest Adela, Blaze has not come to find another husband."

Adela Marlowe looked disbelieving, but seeing her best friend's pleading look, she stammered, "N-no? Oh? I ... I did not know."

"I do not plan on marrying again, Lady Marlowe," Blaze said softly. "No man could possibly take the place of my Edmund."

"N-no, no, certainly not," murmured Lady Marlowe, wondering if Lady Wyndham were mad, but Bliss later confided in her friend, much to that lady's relief.

The following day the two women showed Blaze about Greenwich. The palace had been built in the previous century and originally was called 'Bella Court. Over the years it had passed through various royal hands, becoming Pleasaunce under the ownership of Henry VI's queen, Margaret of Anjou, who paved the floors with terra-cotta tiles, and glazed all of the windows as well as adding a vestry to house her jewels, and a pier on the river for her barge. Henry VII changed the palace's name once again, this time to Greenwich Palace, and gave the stone buildings a new face of redbrick.

The palace was built around three quadrangles, which were called the Fountain, Cellar, and Tennis courts. Its main gateway stood directly opposite Queen Margaret's pier. On the land side of the palace were gardens and a hunting preserve that was enclosed. It was Henry's favorite residence, Bliss told her sister.

"How many does he have?" asked Blaze, curious, for it seemed odd to her that anyone would need more than one house, even a king.

"Well," said Bliss, "there is Westminster in the city, although since the great fire in 1512 the king has not lived there, although his bedchamber, the Painted Chamber, was untouched. There is The Tower, of course, and Baynards Castle on Thames Street, which is considered very beautiful, and is large and modern. There is Bridewell, also in London. The king built it just a few years ago, but we only sometimes stay there. Outside of the city there is Richmond, Eltham, Windsor, Woodstock in Oxfordshire, but that is just a tumbledown hunting lodge, and the court never goes there. And, of course, Greenwich."

"I still do not understand why it is necessary for him to have all those castles," said Blaze.

"He has them because he is the king, silly," laughed Bliss.

They had exchanged Twelfth Night gifts that morning, Blaze giving her brother-in-law a fine jeweled dagger with a gold hilt. For Bliss she had a pair of pearl-and-sapphire earbobs, which caused Bliss to squeal with delight, for she loved beautiful jewelry. In return she and her handsome husband gave Blaze a lovely gold-and-black enameled chain from which hung a large tear-drop pearl with a pinkish hue.

"Oh, how lovely," Blaze exclaimed. "I shall wear it tonight."

In the evening after the feasting, Bliss left her elder sister with Lady Marlowe while she hurried off to change into her costume. The king had been in the banqueting hall, but Blaze had only seen him from a distance, but he indeed seemed everything her sister said. It would be exciting to actually meet him, which she would do after the masque.

The masque was beautiful to the eye. Young pages in red velvet and cloth-of-gold suits rolled in a castle with four delicately soaring towers, all constructed of wood covered in paper of silver and gold gilt. Suddenly there was a dull boom and a puff of smoke, which, upon clearing, revealed a most fearsome dragon with green-gold scales and ruby-red eyes guarding the castle.

"Look," whispered Adela Marlowe, pointing to the four towers of the castle where had suddenly appeared within each window a beautiful woman. "They are Innocence, Charm, Wisdom, and Virtue," said Lady Marlowe. "The dragon is Gloom and Deceit."

Blaze could see that the women were clothed in beautiful glowing draped silks. Bliss in sky-blue and gold, the others in pink and silver, green and silver, and red and gold. Then from the dimness of the area set aside for the masque came four knights, each garbed in a single color. There was a gold knight that Adela murmured was the king, as well as a silver knight, a green knight and a red knight.

"They are Ardent Desire, Tender Passions, Worldly Wise, and Sweet Pleasures," said Blaze's companion, "and they must overcome Gloom and Deceit in order to gain their ladyloves."

Blaze's violet-blue eyes were wide with amazement. She had never seen any entertainment other than Morris dancers and mummers. She had not even imagined that such elegant amusement could exist. Fascinated, she watched as the mock battle was fought between the brave knights and their fearsome opponent. At one point the dragon belched flame and smoke, and she shrieked her surprise along with the rest of the audience. Finally however the great beast was overcome. From the castle emerged Innocence, Charm, Wisdom, and Virtue in their flowing garments to dance gracefully with Ardent Desire, Tender Passions, Worldly Wise, and Sweet Pleasures.

"What did you think?" demanded Lady Marlowe as the four couples danced their way off into the gloom.

"It was wonderful!" said Blaze, her face bright with her excitement. "Being in mourning, I feel almost guilty sitting here enjoying it."

"You have behaved properly," said Lady Marlowe. "You have not involved yourself, and you will not dance this evening, although from the looks that have been coming your way, I know that many gentlemen will be deeply disappointed."

"Why would gentlemen look at me?" Blaze said innocently.

Adela Marlowe laughed softly. "Dearest Blaze, I see that Bliss and I shall really have to keep an eye on you. For a widow you are most naive. The gentlemen of the court look at you for various and sundry reasons. For one, you are very beautiful. You are also a new face. Then, too, they are for the most part a randy bunch who see any newcomer as fair game."

Blaze blushed, understanding her new friend quite well. "I do not see the queen," she said, attempting to change the subject.

"And you will not," came the reply. "The king has sent her away, for he is angry with her, and the Princess Mary also." She lowered her voice. "The queen, you see, refuses to be reasonable regarding the king's great matter."

"I cannot help but feel sorry for her," said Blaze.

Adela Marlowe nodded. "She is a good and virtuous woman, but she is too prideful. She puts her own pride and her own interests above those of England, but what could we expect? She is, after all, a foreigner, no matter her many years in England."

Bliss rejoined them, now regowned in her dress of medium blue velvet with its pearl, silver, and rose-quartz embroidery. "Owen is bringing the king to meet you," she said excitedly, and then she adjusted Blaze's headdress. "Ohh, I wish your gown were more festive!"

"I mourn my husband, Bliss," Blaze reminded her sister. "My gown is quite suitable."

"Indeed it is," agreed Lady Marlowe.

"I wore your lovely chain," Blaze said, trying to cheer Bliss.

"It does help," she admitted, surveying her elder sister once more. Blaze's gown of rich black velvet was virtually unadorned but for some pearl-and-gold embroidery on the bodice. Even her underskirt was plain black silk brocade. Only the delicate lace of her cream-colored chemise top and its ruffled cuffs which showed from beneath her gown relieved the severity of her look. Bliss silently mourned that Blaze's beautiful honey-colored hair was almost totally hidden beneath her charming cap, but at least the cap was heavily adorned with gold and pearls, and its flowing black silk veil shot through with bits of gold thread.

"Here he comes!" hissed Adela Marlowe, and she swept her skirts into a graceful curtsy that was echoed by her two companions.

"Sire," said Owen FitzHugh, "may I present to you my sister-in-law, Lady Blaze Wyndham, the dowager Countess of Langford."

Henry Tudor looked down on the three women. Both Bliss and the pretty Lady Marlowe were smiling up at him from their obeisance. Reaching out his big hand, he cupped the face of the third woman and tipped it up so he might see it. "Such beauty, Lady Wyndham, should not be hidden from your king," he said in a smooth, deep voice.

Blaze's eyes widened noticeably, the pupils black against the violet blue of her irises. She could not speak for a moment, and beside her Bliss almost groaned aloud. Didn't her sister realize that the king's favor was important? Henry continued to stare for a moment longer, and Blaze's cheeks grew pink with a blush which caused the king to smile.

"You are even prettier with your pink cheeks," he noted. "It is rare I see so charming and genuinely innocent a blush here at court. Welcome, Blaze Wyndham."

She finally found her tongue. "Your majesty is most gracious, and I thank you," she said.

The king raised her up, which allowed the other two women to arise also. "Owen tells me you are newly widowed. I regret that such tragedy should bring you to us, but I cannot be sorry to have such a particularly lovely woman adding luster to my court."

"My lord was killed in an accident two months ago," said Blaze softly.

"Then I cannot ask you to dance, my lady, and that saddens me, for I suspect that you dance well. On May Day, however, I shall ask you to dance, for surely by then you will allow yourself that small pleasure." His blue eyes swept over her assessingly. She was very lovely, he thought. Her skin was so very white against the black velvet of her gown. He contemplated the delights of caressing that skin, which was surely as soft as it looked. As for the pearl which hung down from her chain to nestle between her breasts, he envied it its place. In time, he cautioned himself. He could see that despite her widowhood she was indeed an innocent, but with the experience born of his royalty he hid his lust well.

She spoke once more. "I believe that if your majesty should ask me to dance with him on May Day, I could not refuse. Indeed I should consider it the greatest honor I have ever had." Then she smiled up at him, and Henry Tudor realized she was not just pretty. She was startlingly beautiful!

He smiled back at her, and then without another word he moved off. So she would consider dancing with him an honor. The king's smile broadened. He had other, far sweeter honors in store for the beautiful widowed dowager Countess of Langford.

"You have pleased him!" chortled Bliss. "God's foot, I thought you would disgrace yourself and us too when you were at first so tongue-tied with him."

"Do not be so openly ambitious for your sister, Bliss," Lord FitzHugh chided his wife. "The king understands sorrow, for he mourned his mother and his brother, Arthur, deeply. Besides, he does not like bold women. Blaze was perfect." Perhaps too perfect, the Earl of Marwood worried silently. He had been with the king for many years, and he knew all of Henry's looks, though the king thought himself a master of deceit. The king was bored for feminine amusement. Bessie Blount was no longer his lover, but rather his good friend. Pretty little Mary Boleyn had slipped into domesticity. She had never been particularly witty and quick for all her bovine charms. No, Henry was bored, and looking for a new conquest. Owen FitzHugh knew his sovereign well. The king was patient when he truly desired something. Time would tell how serious his intentions were regarding Blaze.

The winter passed quietly enough, and with the Lenten season, many of the court took the opportunity to visit their holdings, for Lent at court was dull without all the usual amusements. The Earl and Countess of Marwood and Blaze were among those who remained, however, for the king could not be left devoid of companions. Owen FitzHugh was the king's favorite tennis opponent, for despite his sovereign's royal station, the young earl played to win, which pleased the king. Henry did not always triumph in his matches with Owen FitzHugh, but he won more than he lost, and when he won, he knew it was fairly. By mid-February the weather was beginning to grow slightly milder, and the king, when not hunting or shooting at the butts, played tennis.

Evenings were spent quietly talking, playing at word games, and listening to gentle music, for frivolity was forbidden in this penitential season. Lady Wyndham was now, amid the general dearth of pretty women, obvious to all the gentlemen, and her company eagerly sought out. To those who merely desired to repartee with her, or walk with her chatting through the picture gallery, she was charming and amusing. Unfortunately, far too many of the king's gentlemen, even those with wives, sought more than the pleasure of Blaze's company, and they found to their surprise that the gentle-looking widowed countess had a fierce temper. More than one gentleman had his face slapped in attempting a kiss, and this gave rise to the rumor by those of the more vindictive and disappointed gentlemen that Lady Wyndham was a coldhearted tease. Some, however, were more graphic in their failure to breach virtue's walls.

"The little bitch is no more than a cock-tease," grumbled Thomas Seymour one evening.

"What, Tom, and have you also failed with Lady Wyndham?" mocked Lord Arden. "You are in good company, my lad, for none of us has been able to skirt the lady's defenses."

"What you mean, gentlemen," laughed Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, who was both the king's brother-in-law and close friend, "is that none of you has been able to lift the lady's skirts!"

"Well punned, brother Charles," chuckled the king, "but I must reprimand you gentlemen who would seek to impugn a helpless young widow's honor."

"You would not think her so helpless had you been slapped by her, sire," complained Thomas Seymour. "By God, my ears are still ringing with the blow!"

"Cease your chatter, Seymour," hissed Lord Arden. "Have you not realized by now that the king means to have Lady Wyndham for himself?"

Seymour looked furtively to the king, but Henry Tudor had already turned away and was engaging another friend in conversation.

The weather grew milder until it seemed as if spring had simply burst suddenly upon the land. The court had moved twice over the winter, going into the city to stay first at Baynards Castle, and later moving on to Bridewell, which was but three years old. With Easter coming, however, the court returned to Henry's favorite home, Greenwich. There the grass was bright green with the season, and the lanes were lined with primroses.

With the coming of Easter, gaiety returned to court along with all those who had earlier left it. The king now took the opportunity to seek Blaze out more and more, insisting that she ride next to him in the hunt; that she walk with him in the picture gallery, where he introduced her to all of his ancestors; that she sit before the fire and play chess with him.

"My God," said Bliss excitedly to her husband one day as the king escorted Blaze off for a stroll in the palace gardens, "does this mean what I think it does?"

"Pray God it does not!" replied Owen FitzHugh fervently.

"Are you mad?" Bliss demanded of her husband. "Blaze has much more to her character than ever did Bessie Blount or that silly cow Mary Boleyn. She could be a true ma?tresse en titre, as is the French king's mistress. If she bore him a child, so much the better, particularly if it were a son. God knows the king has done well by both Lady Tailboys and Mistress Carey. If she could but engage his heart, our fortunes would all be made! It does not hurt to be related to a king's mistress, as you well know."

Owen FitzHugh shook his head. "What you are suggesting is not in your sister's nature. Now you, my darling ambitious Bliss, would indeed do well under your sister's circumstances. Blaze, however, is not that kind of woman."

"She cannot refuse the king," said Bliss.

"No," said the Earl of Marwood sadly to his wife, "she cannot, but should it come to that, then you and I must give her all the support she will need."

"Oh, pooh!" exclaimed Bliss. "Even Blaze for all of her naivete cannot fail to realize such a golden opportunity should it be offered to her."

The king had led Blaze into the middle of a boxwood maze in the gardens and now he teasingly asked, "Shall I leave you here, m'lady, to find your own way out?"

"I do not think I could," said Blaze with a smile. "Surely you tease me, sire."

"Knowledge has its price, m'lady, and you seek my knowledge in escaping this fair green prison. What price will you pay me?" He cocked his head, and in doing so rendered the feather in his flat velvet cap to an even jauntier angle.

She paused as if to consider his words. She had been at court long enough to know that the king was playing a game with her. She did not know whether to laugh, or whether to be frightened. Henry Tudor was very powerful. Better never to show fear, she thought, and laughed.

"Very well, my lord, what price would you put upon this great knowledge of yours, which will free me from this labyrinth?"

"An extravagant one, madam. I would have a kiss of you."

Dangerous ground, yet she could hardly refuse him. "I must pay," she said with a mock sigh, "but not until we have reached the outside, sire."

Now it was his turn to laugh. She was a clever little puss for all her virtue and modesty. "Done!" he said with a grin, and reaching out, took her small hand in his rather large paw so he might lead her from the maze. Finally he stopped and said, "Around this corner lies freedom. You must pay your tithe now, but here where we may be private and safe from prying eyes." Reaching out, he drew her into his arms.

Suddenly Blaze found she was afraid. She placed her hands upon his wide velvet-clad chest to hold him off saying as she did so, "My lord ... please . . . I ..."

"Hush, sweetheart," said the king gently. "I will not harm you. You have ne'er been kissed except by your late husband, I can see that; but for all your sweet virtue, madam, I mean to have your lips, so cease your useless chatter," and then the king clamped his mouth firmly over hers.

It was a passionate and demanding kiss, and far from being quickly over, as she had assumed, the king's lips lingered on hers, moving tenderly over the softness, coaxing a response from her that when it came surprised her so that she moaned low.

Cradling her with one strong arm as she fell back against him, the king loosened her laces with expert fingers and slipped his hand into her bodice to cup a breast. His thumb rubbed quickly and insistently over the sensitive little nipple which hardened beneath his sensual touch.

"No!" she cried, attempting to struggle. "Oh, please, no!"

"Shhhhhh, sweetheart, do not fight me," he begged her, and his head dipped so he might kiss the soft perfumed flesh of her breasts. "Ahhh, my beauty, you are so lovely. So very, very lovely!"

Using every ounce of her strength, and sobbing with defiant terror, Blaze pulled desperately away from the king, and clutching her open bodice to her heaving bosom, she turned and fled him around the last corner of the maze into the garden proper. Finding a distant spot, she quickly redid her laces as best she could, and then hurried back to Bliss's apartments. She was relieved to find herself completely alone, and slipping into her room, she sat down upon the bed and wept.

That the king would accost her surprised her totally. She was not so innocent any longer that she did not know he enjoyed dallying with the ladies, but she was not at all like Bessie Blount or Mary Boleyn. She had not sought to gain his attention, and she had believed that her virtuous demeanor, while not protecting her from other men whose behavior was apt to be gross, would have at least sent a signal to the king, who she believed must surely be the most chivalrous of gentlemen. How wrong she had been, and now what was she to do?

A knock sounded upon her door. Her heart leapt in her chest. Had he dared to follow her to her very bedchamber? Nay. Not even the king would do that. "Come in," she called, and a young page entered the room.

"His majesty requests that you attend upon him at once, my lady Wyndham," said the boy in his piping voice.

Blaze gasped. "I cannot!" The words were out before she even had the time to think.

The boy whitened, looking shocked. "Madame, for God's own mercy, do not send me back to the king with such a message. I shall be surely dismissed from my position, and I am a younger son. I can only make my way in life through my success at court!"

"Nay," said Blaze, rising. "I did not mean it. I will come with you." Poor lad, she thought. He was as much of a victim as she was. Following in his wake, she allowed him to lead her to the king's apartments, and through the royal antechamber, where half the men at court it seemed were there to witness her shame, and into the king's privy chamber. The boy, opening the door, bade her enter, and was then gone.

Turning from the windows, the king said, "Are you quite recovered now, madam?"

What could she say? He was the king. Mutely she nodded.

"I will try and go slowly for your sake, Blaze," the king said, using her name for the very first time, "but understand, madam, that I mean to have you for my own."

"Sire—" she began.

"Be silent! I have not given you my permission to speak. You have a child, do you not?"

"Aye, my lord. A daughter. Her name is Nyssa."

"Greek! Do you speak Greek, madam?"

"My husband was teaching me, sire."

"Your daughter, how old is she?" the king asked.

"She is two, sire."

"And who is the legal guardian of little Lady Nyssa and whatever fortune she may have?"

"I assume I am, sire," she answered him hesitantly.

"Nay, madam, a woman cannot hold such a position without my express permission, and for now you do not have that permission. What property does the child possess?"

"Nyssa was given a small estate with two villages and a fine house called Riverside."

"I shall have to think about a guardian, a proper guardian for this little heiress. She will, of course, be raised within her guardian's house as well. I am certain I can think of someone suitable."

Blaze could feel her heart hammering wildly in her chest. "Sire, you would surely not take my daughter from me?"

"A child with your daughter's value must have a suitable guardian," said the king. "A woman, particularly a disobedient woman who does not understand how she must behave with her sovereign, is certainly not a proper governor for an innocent child."

"Then appoint my parents, Lord and Lady Morgan of Ashby to be Nyssa's guardians. They have had eleven children, eight of whom are still home. My daughter is with them now!"

The king appeared to consider, and then he said, "Nay. A child with the kind of wealth your daughter possesses needs a more powerful person to oversee her upbringing. Someone with influence who has the king's favor and his ear. I must think upon it, madam, and my decision, of course, will rest upon your future behavior. Do you understand that, madam?"

"Aye, my lord, I understand," Blaze said low.

"Then come and kiss me, sweetheart, for it pains me to quarrel with you. There are far more pleasant things that we might do together, Blaze."

Slowly she walked across the room to him, and raising her head accepted his kiss.

"Open your mouth, Blaze, and receive my tongue," he ordered her, and his arms closed about her, imprisoning her within his embrace.

Obeying him, she shivered at the touch of his tongue on hers, though she sought to hide it. His tongue swept with unhurried grace about her mouth. His arm was tight about her waist, pressing her hard against him, and the scent of orris root assailed her nostrils. I am going to faint, she thought, feeling herself growing weaker in his embrace.

The king felt her sink against him, and with a swift single movement he picked her up in his arms, and seating himself in a chair by the fire which was lit to keep the damp of the river from the room, he said as he cradled her, "There, sweetheart, don't be afraid of me. I only want to love you a little."

Dear God, Blaze thought as she huddled in his lap, biting back her sobs, how mercurial he was. One moment he was threatening her, and the next he played the tender lover. Now she understood the meaning of real power, and it was a bitter lesson. Why had she not stayed safe in the country? Better to be surrounded by the pain of her happy memories than to be at Henry Tudor's mercy.

Undoing her laces, he slipped a large hand into her bodice and fondled her breasts. "How I long to see you as God fashioned you in your natural state," he said softly. "What sweet breasts you have, Blaze."

She made another effort at deterring his intent. "My lord, please, I beg of you, I am not like the others! I was raised to be chaste, and I have always been chaste."

"That, my little country girl, is more than obvious. You have been quite the talk of my gentlemen this winter for your persistent refusal to yield to their amorous intent. Tom Seymour says that you hit him so hard when he tried to steal a kiss that his head rang for days after with your blow. I, however, am not a simple gentleman of this realm. I am the first gentleman of this realm. Did your parents not teach you that your first duty was to your king?"

"I was taught that my first duty was to God, my lord, and what you hint at is against God's law," Blaze retorted with more spirit than she was actually feeling.

"Your first spiritual duty, madam, is indeed to God; but your first temporal duty is to me, your king," he replied, a bit surprised by the logic behind her quick reply.

There was a long period of silence between them, during which the king caressed the globes of her breasts and smoothed warm kisses upon the tender flesh of her throat. Then finally he spoke again. "Where do you reside within the palace, madam?"

"With the Earl and Countess of Marwood, sire," she answered him softly.

"I certainly cannot be seen stalking the palace corridors to seek your favors in Owen's apartments. There are those who would certainly leap to the wrong conclusions. You will be moved into your own apartments, Blaze. They are located directly above mine, and I may gain entry to them by using a small private inner staircase. People may speculate all they want, but no one will really know if or when I visit you."

"Oh, no, my lord, please! I will obey you in all things, but do not make my shame a public matter!" Blaze begged him.

"Why, sweetheart," Henry Tudor said in a kindly tone, "there is no shame in belonging to a king. I shall give orders that your apartments be refurbished at once. You shall move into them on May Day, when you will reign as Queen of Beauty and Love over all the court. Until that time I will remain a patient lover, only kissing and cuddling you, for there is a certain piquancy to abstinence."

He kept her in his lap for a few more minutes, taking his pleasure of her, and then lacing her bodice back up, he dismissed her with a gentle kiss. Blaze left the king's privy chamber, her head held high, despite her flaming cheeks, as she passed through the crowd of the king's gentlemen, who all smiled at her with knowing looks and winks.

Thomas Seymour stepped boldly before Blaze to block her way. "So, Lady Wyndham, you have saved your precious virtue for the king." He sneered.

"Better a king than a knave!" she snapped angrily, and pushing him aside, hurried from the royal apartments while behind her the room erupted into guffaws of delighted laughter.

Bliss knew!How could she know? Did everyone in the whole damned palace know of her humiliation? "Do not even speak to me," she warned her younger sister as she hurried into their apartments.

"Do not be a little fool, Blaze," replied Bliss, not one bit intimidated by her elder sibling. "My God, you have been singled out by the king!"

"I do not want to be singled out! And for what have I been singled out, Bliss? Are you aware that he seeks to bed me? Do you think I count it an honor to be the royal whore? Dear God, I wish I had never come to court! I wish I were safely home with my child! Why, oh why, did God take Edmund from me?" Then she burst into tears.

Bliss grasped her sister by her arms and shook her. "Stop it!" she commanded Blaze. "Stop it this instant! Would you rouse all of Greenwich? It would get back to the king, and he would be humiliated that the lady he has honored with his attentions finds them so odious! God's foot, Blaze! This is not some randy gentleman. This is the king we speak of, dearest."

"The king is the randiest gentleman of them all!" Blaze half-sobbed.

"You cannot refuse him, sister, and having been singled out by him, you must put on your prettiest face. No king's mistress ever wailed and wept publicly at her fate, and neither can you. Think, dearest, there are others involved in this too. If you offend the king, Blaze, his anger will not just fall upon you, but upon Owen and me as well. After all, you came to court under our protection," Bliss reasoned, leading her sister to the settle by the fire, where they sat down together. "Come, Blaze," she said more gently. "What is so terrible? The king wishes to make love to you, and he is, at least by reputation, an excellent lover. There is nothing so awful in that, is there?"

"The king is a married man, Bliss! Does that not distress you, for it certainly distresses me."

"The king has not cohabited with the queen in some time now, sister. Besides, it is not considered that a king is unfaithful to his queen if he but keeps a mistress. After all, he does not seek to set his mistress in his consort's place. The queen has politely turned a blind eye for many years to the king's pleasure. The only sins she found in Bessie Blount and Mary Boleyn were that they gave him living sons when she could not.

"The king means to do away with Catherine of Aragon one way or another, Blaze. He needs a wife who can give him sons, and he will have one. What a pity that you do not have a greater rank, sister, else you might aspire to Spanish Catherine's place."

"Bliss!"Blaze was horrified by her younger sister's statement.

Bliss shrugged prettily. "Well, at least you have stopped your weeping," she said practically.

"What am I to do, Bliss? Help me, sister, I beg of you!"

Bliss sighed. "Face the facts, Blaze. The king has made his intentions most clear. You have no real choice in the matter, except perhaps," she laughed, "in choosing the color of the draperies in your new apartments."

"How . . . ?" gasped Blaze.

"You are to be a king's mistress, little silly! This is not some hole-in-the-wall, havey-cavey affaire de coeur between a maid of honor and Sir Somebody of No Importance! Of course the king would install you in your own apartments, and quite near to him, I expect."

"Directly above him with a private inner staircase," said Blaze dryly. There was an almost macabre humor to the situation.

"Ohh," said Bliss, momentarily awed. "You will have a wonderful view of the river. We must engage you several more maidservants at once! When are you to move?"

"Do you think I want a gaggle of strange serving wenches gossiping my every kiss and sigh about the palace? Thank you, no! Heartha is all that I need," snapped Blaze.

"God's foot!" swore Bliss. "My Betty will be so envious. She has become quite ambitious since we came to court, and she has had high hopes for me, you know."

"Bliss! You would not be unfaithful to Owen surely?"

"Nay," laughed Bliss, shaking her head. "I could never be entirely unfaithful to my husband. Alas, I love the rogue! The king rarely considers happily married ladies anyway. He is too much the gentleman."

"What do you mean when you say you could not be entirely unfaithful to Owen?" demanded her elder sister.

"Welllll," allowed Bliss, "I do not object when a handsome gentleman steals a kiss or a cuddle. That is not really being unfaithful."

"Oh, Bliss," laughed Blaze helplessly, "I never realized until this moment how very different we really are. You are so much of the court, and I am as the king has duly noted, a little country girl."

"Has he kissed you?" Bliss was unfazed by her sister's words.

"Aye."

"Was it wonderful?"

"It was a kiss," said Blaze, trying not to remember how possessed she had really felt by his lips.

"God's foot, sister! Do not ever tell a man that he kissed you ‘just a kiss.' Pretend if you must, particularly with the king. Swooning is always a fine device. It seems to give men a greater feeling of power. Has he caressed you?"

"Aye."

"Aye? Just ‘aye'? Tell me all!" Bliss demanded.

"There is nothing to tell," said Blaze, rising from the settle. "Let me be, Bliss! I am exhausted, and I must rest. Even I, for all my country ways, know that I must appear at dinner this evening bright and smiling lest I cause more gossip than is already flying about Greenwich with regard to the king and me."

From that day onward Blaze was marked as royal property, and she was treated with sudden deference. It was that evening she noticed it first. People of great rank who had not deigned to admit her existence before were suddenly bowing, smiling, and nodding to her as she walked by. Invitations to card parties and picnics flowed into the Earl of Marwood's apartments. There was no more pretense on the king's part. His desire for Lady Wyndham was marked and quite obvious. Now she was bidden to sit by his side at the high board in the banqueting hall where he would offer her sips of wine from his own goblet, and feed her sweetmeats from his very plate.

Her behavior was perfect. Indeed, said Bliss, there had never been such an elegant royal mistress, for Blaze was charming to all, but carefully favored none. She was wise enough to know that it was unlikely the king's passion for her would last forever, and so she tried not to make enemies.

"I am not the king's mistress yet," Blaze protested to Bliss.

" 'Tis but a matter of time, and we both know it," said Bliss airily. "Do you think that after you move into your new apartments tomorrow, you will be able to so easily keep Henry Tudor at arm's length as you have been doing? He is more man than most, and I am surprised that you have kept him at bay this long. God's foot! Are you not excited? To be loved by a king! What heaven!"

What hell!thought Blaze silently. Bliss was right, of course, and after tomorrow she could not keep the king at arm's length. Tomorrow was May first and she would reign at the king's express command over the May Day festivities. Blaze Wyndham would be the royal court's Queen of Beauty and Love. Bliss had even brought her very own dressmaker down from London to fashion Blaze's gown. The woman was an artist in her own right, Blaze admitted to herself, but she detested her fawning manner. Why was it that everyone thought it such an honor to be a king's paramour? Was she wrong, and they right? Was there any wrong or right about the matter?

The first of May dawned bright and beautiful. Blaze and other young women of the court arose early according to custom to gather flowering branches and bright blossoms from the fields before the dew was off them. They would decorate Greenwich with their floral tribute. A royal-purple-and-gold-striped awninged pavilion with a raised dais had been set up upon the lawn where the Maypole had been erected. After the Mass, which everyone in the court was required to attend this morning, the festivities began.

The king was magnificently attired in a short, close-fitting doublet of spring-green silk brocade, heavily embroidered with gold threads, glittering orange citrines, and golden pearls. Should he remove his outer garment later in the afternoon, the sleeves of the doublet were slashed to show beneath the sleeves of his cream-colored silk shirt, which were all embroidered in tiny seed pearls. Over his doublet the king wore an open gown that came to his knee. It was of forest-green velvet, trimmed in a wide band of thick ermine that ran from the rounded neckline to its hem. It had wide puffed sleeves embroidered and banded in gold and pearls from beneath which the ruffled cuffs of his shirt showed. He wore haut-de-chausses of darker green, while his stockings, which accented his shapely calves, were spring green with narrow bands of gold thread for accent. His square-toed shoes were bejeweled.

His thinning red-gold hair was cut in the French fashion, straight across his forehead, and he wore a flat green bonnet upon his head that was decorated with three ostrich tips. His thick neck rose above his upper garments, and over them Henry wore several magnificent chains of gold, some with emerald squares, others studded with colored gemstones. Upon each of his fingers he wore a fine gold ring, some of which were bejeweled. His costume had been chosen to complement that of his ladylove.

Blaze's silk gown, which she wore over several silk petticoats, was of a bright spring green with a bell-shaped skirt. Its cream-colored underskirt was embroidered with daisies and primroses fashioned with gold thread, and studded with orange citrines. The entire underskirt was scattered over with small golden-hued pearls, and the sleeves of her gown were slashed even as the king's were. It was an extremely rich-looking garment and worthy of a queen. She wore a fine rope of pearls about her slender neck as well as the fine golden chain that Bliss had given her on Twelfth Night. At the king's request her hair was left long and flowing like a maiden's and unadorned but for a cream-colored silk ribbon embroidered entirely with seed pearls.

"That honey-colored hair of Lady Wyndham's is extraordinary," remarked Charles Brandon to the king. "What a pity that caps are the fashion."

Blaze danced with eleven other young women including Bliss and Lady Adela Marlowe, both of whom she had included in her party, her word being law in this matter, as she discovered to her surprise. So this was power, she thought, considering whether she enjoyed it or not. Perhaps the price was too high. Around and around the Maypole they went, weaving in and out of the intricate figure, their multicolored ribbons held high. When the Maypole was completely wrapped, each lady sought among the gentlemen for a partner with whom to dance upon the chamomile lawn. Blaze of necessity chose the king.

Together they danced first the elegant dances of the court, and then, remembering the day, the more lively country dances. The king was an excellent and tireless dancer and few could keep up with him, but Blaze easily did. For a moment she forgot her situation, and simply enjoyed the day. Soon her cheeks were flushed a delicate rose, and her laughter sounded amid the noise and music of the festivities as he lifted her high, and she laughed artlessly down into his face. Finally in fairness to the others who, at this point, could barely keep up with the king and Blaze, they ceased dancing and, taking goblets of wine from a passing servant, walked among members of the court.

Suddenly there were other men casting secretly envious glances at the lovely Lady Wyndham, despite Henry Tudor, and Blaze was chatting and laughing more easily than she ever had since coming to court. The king watched her, his lust for her growing. Her beautiful bosom was heaving as she now caught her breath. The others watched her too, some even daring to openly covet what Henry Tudor thought of as his, and it was then he realized that until he possessed her fully, she would not really be his. She was so beautiful and so innocent, his little country girl. He had to have her! He would wait no longer! God only knew he had been patient. Sometimes it was better to take command when a woman resisted. Blaze's laughter rose above the others as her sister recounted a particularly amusing anecdote, and the king's control snapped.

Grasping tightly at her hand, he pulled her away from the group, saying, "Come, madam! We have other business." He hurried her across the lawn, not caring about the surprised looks and stares of those about them. He hurried her into the palace, where he led her to his privy chamber.

"What is it, my lord?" Blaze cried, worried that she had offended him somehow, and fearful for those she loved.

Henry slammed the door to the room shut. "What is it, madam? I will tell you what it is. You haunt my hours both waking and sleeping! I offer you my love, and you demur! I desire you above all women, and you resist! I have been patient, madam, but I will be patient no longer! I want you for my own, and I shall have you! I shall have you here, and I shall have you now!" He yanked her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, his hard mouth bruising hers with his raging hunger.

Blaze put her hands up to fend him off once more, but the king would have none of it.

"Nay, madam! I will no more accept your reluctance! No more!" He half-dragged her across the room to where a long table of polished golden oak stood, and forcing her about so she faced it, he said, "Bend over, madam, and place the palms of your hands flat upon the tabletop."

"My lord, I beg of you—" she began, but he cut her abruptly off.

"Speak again without my permission, madam, except in passion, and I swear I shall give your child into Tom Seymour's keeping," he threatened. "Now do as I have bid you!"

Slowly she placed her palms upon the table, bending slightly from the waist as she did. I must not cry, she silently warned herself. Nyssa's very life may depend upon what I do. I cannot repulse him any longer, and if I displease him, my daughter will suffer.

The king reached out and lifted her heavy silk skirts with their petticoats up, and tucked them firmly into the waistband of the skirt. For what seemed an eternity there was silence as Henry contemplated her naked posterior, made all the more fetching by her tightly banded dark stockings against the creaminess of her fair skin. "Spread your legs," he ordered her. "Aye that's enough. Now bend your pretty neck, Blaze, to make your submission to your king more fully. Aye, sweetheart, very good."

She felt him unlacing her bodice, yanking roughly at the silk, then moving his hands around to her front to pull away the fabric so that her breasts tumbled forth from her gown. She muffled her gasp. The king fumbled to undo his heavily bejeweled codpiece, and his male organ, already engorged with his lust, burst forth.

Leaning over her slightly, Henry pushed her soft hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. "Do you know how very much your king desires you, sweetheart? You have made me wild with my hunger for you."

She felt him grasping her about the hips with his large hands, his fingers clutching at the soft flesh. She felt his manhood, hard and hot, probing, searching, seeking to find its way to her feminine passage, and finally successful, thrusting without preamble into her helpless flesh.

"Ahhhhhhh," groaned the king as he pushed deeply into her, "now has my bird truly found its way into your sweet little nest!" and he began to pump her vigorously with long, deliberate strokes for some minutes. When he had taken the edge from his hunger, he stopped, though he remained lodged deeply within her. Leaning over her so that his weight pressed her partly onto the table, he reached for and found her naked breasts. "How I have grown to love these little apples of yours, sweetheart," he told her playing with her nipples, pinching and pulling, and teasing until to her great shock Blaze found that her body was beginning to respond to the king's passionate lovemaking.

"Ohhhh," she whispered, surprised, feeling her hips, seemingly of their own accord, begin to press back and forth against him.

Henry chuckled, understanding her confusion. His little country girl had not known that even a chaste woman's body, skillfully loved, would respond to a man other than her husband. He began to work his own lower body in rhythm with hers, all the while continuing to play with her full breasts.

"Ohh, my lord," Blaze gasped, shamed, but unable to help herself. "Ohhh! What is this magic that you work upon me? Ohhhh!"

"Only the age-old magic of a man and a woman, sweetheart," he replied. "God's foot, you are sweet, and so very, very tight! I do not believe that my big boy has ever lodged himself in so sweet and tight a little sheath!" His movements became more furious as he worked her.

Oh, God, Blaze thought, this cannot be! It cannot! I am responding to him as I did to Edmund, yet I do not love him! I do not! Why can he make me feel this way? She was beginning to lose control of her very emotions as she had already lost control of her frail and female body. The king's huge hardness was probing her deeply, and she felt the pleasing languor of passion beginning to overtake her, catching her up in its whirling vortex. She did not even hear herself begin to whimper, nor did she realize that at her crisis she cried out the king's name.

Suddenly she found herself in his arms, weeping, and wondering if she would ever be able to understand this world which was so different in its morals and values than was hers. The king's hand soothed her loose soft hair, and he murmured softly against her ear, "There, my sweetheart, now the dreadful deed is done, and you will never be afraid of me again, will you?"

"How can this be?" Blaze asked. "How is it you can make me feel this way?" She hid her face against his broad chest, unable to look him directly in the eyes.

"My little country girl," the king explained gently, "a woman's body is like a fine instrument. Be her face fair or plain, her body is a delicate and sensitive thing. I am a skilled player of this female instrument. Perhaps the most skilled player in the world, although the French Fran?ois brags that he is, the pox-ridden coxcomb! Perhaps he must brag so, for he is a great, gawking, ugly man, unlike your king." Henry continued stroking her hair. "This has been just a foretaste of my passion for you, Blaze. Tonight I will come to you, and together we will find even greater pleasures, I promise you."

Greater pleasures?She almost swooned at his words. The dark passion she had felt with him frightened her, for it was so all-consuming. The wonderful passion she had felt with Edmund had left her feeling content and strong. With the king she felt drained, for she sensed that he wanted to possess not only her body, but her soul as well. Yet she could not flee him for her baby's sake.

"Are you recovered enough to stand straight so I may relace you, sweetheart?" the king asked her.

She nodded, and stood quietly while his fingers expertly redid her laces. Silently she walked to a small mirror framed in silver that sat upon another table, and looking in it, saw herself. She did not appear to have changed. Quickly she fluffed her hair, undoing her pearled ribbon, tying it back neatly. She caught a glimpse of him as he replaced his now flaccid male part within the confines of the bejeweled codpiece, but even now his manhood seemed extraordinarily large. She could only imagine what it had been like fully engorged. Tonight, she thought and shivered, she would learn the answer to that unsought mystery.

His hands dropped upon her shoulders, and he turned her about to face him. He was so very tall, she thought, and she felt so very small beside him. "Can you not smile a little at me, Blaze?" he asked, and for a moment she detected a small poignancy in his voice.

He is lonely, she thought, surprised. In the midst of all this great court of his, he is lonely and he is sad! This sudden new knowledge, despite his brutal treatment of her, made Blaze sympathetic toward the king. For a moment she had heard the echo of a boy in his voice. Making the effort, she smiled a little smile at him. "You must give me time to accustom myself to this new state of affairs, my lord," she said softly.

"Tell me I did not hurt you, sweetheart!" he cried, catching her to his great chest. "I could not help myself, Blaze! Suddenly I wanted you, and I could not wait! I am not a man who is cruel to his women. Nay, sweetheart, if I have any fault, it is that I am too softhearted towards the fair sex."

"You did not hurt me, my lord. Perhaps you frightened me at first, but you did not hurt me," she reassured him. He was vulnerable. As vulnerable as any mere man, despite his kinghood. How strange it had never occurred to her that a king for all his royalty was no more than a simple mortal. A powerful mortal, but a mortal nonetheless. It made what she had just endured, and would endure in the future, just a little bit easier to bear. "Should we not rejoin the court lest the lack of our presence be spoken about, my lord?"

"You will call me Henry in private," he said, taking her arm, and leading her forth, they rejoined the court.

"God's foot," swore Charles Brandon softly to the Duke of Norfolk as he saw them walking across the lawns, "so he's finally had a taste!"

"What makes you think it?" returned Lord Howard.

"He has suddenly become jovial, while the lady is sweetly subdued. Aye, he's had the first taste, and from the looks of him, 'twas not enough. He'll want more!"

"Now the question is," replied the Duke of Norfolk, "whether she will last as long as my lady Tailboys, or my niece Mary. And will she too give him a son? It is all to the good. Each time one of these pretty diversions gives him a boy, he becomes even more convinced of the rightness of his cause in ridding himself of his Spanish queen. If his holiness will just cooperate with us, we will soon have some nubile young princess wed to his grace, and spawning England healthy sons."

The May Day festivities continued under the benevolent rule of the court's fair Queen of Beauty and Love. There was a wrestling match, and the king challenged all comers, beating them handily. Blaze rewarded him with a laurel crown and a warm public kiss. There was a mock joust, the tips of the lances being couched carefully. Blaze and the king sat beneath the awninged pavilion sipping sweet golden wine while the combatants fought until only the Duke of Suffolk remained, emerging victorious from the fray to receive a jeweled cup from the May Queen as his reward.

"What, m'lady, no kiss to the champion?" teased the duke.

"Nay, my lord," Blaze answered quickly. "My kisses are reserved for my lord, the king, alone."

The butts were set up, and many of the men stripped their elegant gowns off so they might shoot in comfort. The king was an excellent archer, and very much enjoyed the sport. He proposed a contest, but his gentlemen laughingly declined, saying that no one could triumph over so fine an archer as Henry Tudor, and they preferred to shoot for the mere sport of it.

As afternoon slipped into evening tables were set up upon the great lawn at Greenwich, and a country-style banquet was held, to be followed by more dancing upon the green. Gradually, however, the guests began to slip away into the shadows in pairs, and the king leaning over said softly so that only Blaze might hear him, "Go now, and make yourself familiar with your new apartments, sweetheart. I will come to you soon."

She did not argue, knowing it futile, but instead arose, saying softly as she did, "Give me an hour, my lord. I would bathe first."

His nod was barely discernible, and she hurried off.

"Was she worth the wait?" murmured his brother-in-law, Charles Brandon, silkily, slipping into the seat that Blaze had just vacated.

A small smile touched the king's lips. "Aye!"

"And if, Hal, you compared her to Bessie or Mary, how would she fare?"

"She is better, brother Charles, for other than her husband she has known no man. She is as sweet as a virgin without being a virgin, yet her lack of experience holds great charm. I shall enjoy teaching her the things she obviously does not know."

"You are to be envied, Hal. Lady Wyndham is a rare little creature. I wonder how well you will like your creation, however, when you have schooled her to your satisfaction."

"She will be the closest thing to perfection as any woman can get then, Charles, and she will still be mine."

The Duke of Suffolk laughed, and affably raised his goblet to toast his monarch, half in admiration, half in envy. Henry accepted the toast with a boyish grin, but his mind was on his ladylove.

Despite her situation Blaze would have had to be a saint not to adore the beautiful apartment which was now hers. It was not overly large, but it was spacious and comfortable. There was a lovely Day Room with its oak-paneled walls, large leaded-paned windows that overlooked the River Thames, and a fireplace. The polished floors had wool carpets in dark blue and reds that had been given the king by a group of London merchants. The furniture was made of gracefully carved golden oak. There were porcelain bowls of fresh flowers and potpourri set about to freshen the air in the rooms, and the candles set within the silver candlesticks were of the purest beeswax.

Blaze also had a small paneled dining room with a table that could seat a dozen along with a fine sideboard. There would be times when the king would want to eat privately with her, or perhaps she or he might choose to entertain friends. There was a dressing room for Blaze's growing wardrobe, and a separate room for Heartha. Both the dining room and the tiring woman's sleeping chamber had their own fireplaces.

"Such luxury, m'lady! Never have I seen the like, even at RiversEdge," said Heartha, awed.

"Indeed, such luxury, Heartha, but at what price?" said Blaze sadly.

" 'Tis no shame to you, m'lady, that the king has chosen you for his pleasure," the tiring woman responded. "You are a widowed lady, and the queen is already put aside."

Blaze shook her head silently. Heartha had as quickly put away her country morality as had Bliss's servant, Betty. She looked about her lovely new bedchamber. The bed was extraordinarily big as it must be in order to accommodate as large a man as the king. Henry was not fat, but he was tall, and big-boned with a thick neck and limbs like tree trunks. The bed Was hung with crimson velvet draperies, and the linen sheets were scented with lavender. The bedchamber walls were of oak linenfold paneling, and there was a large fireplace opposite the bed whose bedposts were carved round with vines and flowers, and quite pretty. There were matching candlestands with silver tapersticks on either side of the bed, and there was a long table before the large leaded-paned windows that overlooked the river, as well as several chairs in the room. Despite the generosity of the furnishings, there was still more than enough room within the chamber to walk about.

A large oaken tub was set up within Blaze's dressing room, and with Heartha's help she bathed herself in warm violet-scented water. Heartha dried her mistress with towels that had been heated before the fire, and then dusted her with delicate powder. She then slipped over Blaze's head a diaphanous night garment of sheerest black silk whose long skirt was a mass of narrow little pleats. The gown had long sleeves that fell to points over her hands, and a V neckline that revealed more than it concealed.

"Where did this nightrail come from?" demanded Blaze. "It is certainly not one of mine."

"It is a gift from my lady FitzHugh, mistress," replied Heartha. "She sent it this afternoon with strict instructions that you were to wear it tonight. I ain't never seen one quite like it meself."

Blaze laughed at Heartha's words. How very like Bliss to send her such a thing. "Nay, Heartha," she answered her servant, "nor have I ever seen anything like it. It looks like something that a French courtesan would wear, but no matter. If my sister thinks it proper, then who am I to say, being but a country mouse to Bliss's court cat."

" 'Tis good to hear you laugh, m'lady," said Heartha. "I know you've not been happy these last weeks." She took up a brush, and seating her mistress, began to brush her hair.

"I have decided not to fight my fate, Heartha. How can I, under these particular circumstances?" responded Blaze.

Heartha brushed her lady's hair with long strokes until it shone with warm golden-brown lights. Suddenly a door hidden within the paneled wall of the bedroom opened, and the king, dressed in a quilted blue velvet chamber robe, stepped through into the chamber. Startled, Heartha dropped the hairbrush, which clattered to the floor.

"And whom have we here, sweetheart?" said the king with a smile. He was being his most charming.

Blaze arose and curtsied. "This is Heartha, my tiring woman, my lord king."

Heartha, regaining her wits, curtsied low before Henry.

"And have you been with your mistress long, Heartha?" asked the king.

"Since she was wed with my lord Edmund, sire," said Heartha. "I was born at RiversEdge."

The king drew a small gold ring from his little finger, and held it out to the servant. "Take this small token of my thanks for your loyal service to Lady Wyndham, Heartha. I know that you will continue to care well for her."

Heartha's mouth fell open with her surprise, and only when Blaze sharply poked her did she reach out, and curtsying once again, take the gold ring from the king. "Oh, thank you, your grace! Be sure I will continue my good care of my lady," she babbled as she backed from the room.

"You have quite taken her breath away." Blaze smiled. " 'Twas a kind thing to do, my lord. She will remember it always, and someday tell her grandchildren that the king actually spoke with her, and gave her the ring from his finger."

"She has children?" he asked.

"Several, but she is widowed, and they grown and serving the Wyndhams also."

"Let me look at you," said Henry, and set her back from him. Slowly his blue eyes moved over her form, and then he said, "The gown is most provocative, madam. Walk about the room for me," and when she did, he smiled broadly. "I can see your beautiful bare legs when you walk."

"The garment is a gift from my sister," said Blaze.

"The lovely Lady FitzHugh knows well how to gild the lily," the king remarked, "but I can see the gown does not please you."

"Perhaps, sire, I find the gown a bit too obvious," Blaze said quietly. She was no longer quite so afraid of the man before her. Only the feelings he engendered within her were frightening.

The king reached out, and with a deliberate motion tore the black silk gown from her, and flung the pieces into the fire, where they disappeared with a quick hisssss. Blaze, shocked, nonetheless moved not a muscle.

The king studied her for what seemed a long time, and then he said, "This was how I longed to see you, as God made you in nature's estate, and I am not disappointed." He drew her across the room to set her before the pier glass. Standing behind her, he slipped his arms about her so that he might cup her breasts within his hands. The weight of the warm flesh against his palms was almost unbearably sensuous.

"What magnificent tits you possess, madam," he murmured, and bending down, placed a kiss upon her rounded shoulder. His thumbs encircled her nipples in a leisurely fashion.

Blaze sighed deeply, and as she did so, she felt a familiar languor spreading through her limbs. What was it that he did to her to arouse such feelings within her body? She had no love for him. He was her king. He had threatened her child's welfare unless she yielded her body to him. He had forced her cruelly, and yet at his touch her body was afire. Did all women behave so? She leaned back against the king, and her round breasts pushed themselves forward within his tender grasp. Through half-closed eyes she saw him smile.

"So, sweetheart, you begin to feel desire already, do you?" His lips began an exploration of the curve of her slender throat, lingering at the soft junction between neck and shoulder. "Ah, lovey, you set my heart afire!" Turning her about, he lifted her up into his arms, and carrying her across the bedchamber, he laid her gently upon the large bed.

Blaze lay quietly watching the king as he first removed his quilted robe, and then his white silk nightshirt. Her eyes widened at his nudity. If her body was beautiful to his eyes, then his was magnificent in hers. His shoulders were wide and well-proportioned. His chest was broad, and covered in a mat of tight reddish-gold curls. It tapered down to a neat waist, and slim hips. His legs were long and very shapely. They, too, were covered in red-gold hair. At the junction of his belly and his thighs was a triangle of auburn-gold curls from which jutted his manhood. Seeing the weapon that had earlier probed her flesh, she was amazed at its size, and that he had been able to enter her at all.

He laughed at her look, amused by her silence. "Aye, sweetheart, here is the big boy that earlier played havoc within your sweet sheath! Look on him, and know that he is well-rested and once again hungry for the taste of your body. He'll not be so quick now, either, for his earlier bout with you has but whetted his prodigious appetite." The king flung himself down upon the bed, and pulled her atop him so that she was looking down into his face, the nipples of her sensitive breasts brushing against the stiff curls upon his chest. "Now kiss me, my little country girl," he begged her. "I long for your pretty lips."

She bent, her mouth closed over his in a shy kiss. She had never been atop a man, and her cheeks grew warm with the thoughts her position aroused in her. He kissed her back, his lips demanding, his tongue pressing into her mouth to tease her so she was assailed by feelings of both passion and of guilt. He felt her hesitation.

"Nay, sweetheart," he whispered against her mouth, "don't go away from me. Do you not know that I love you, Blaze?" Gently he rolled her over onto her back, and his eyes looked into hers. "Your king loves you, my pretty little country girl. He lays his heart at your feet. Would you scorn him, lovey? Could you be that cruel?"

"Sire, it is your poor wife I feel guilt over," Blaze said, not quite daring to believe the wonderfully romantic words he had just uttered. Did she dare believe him, or was it merely something a man said to coax a reluctant lover? Her lack of experience was so damned regrettable!

"Darling Blaze," the king said, "I have no wife. My own clerics assure me that the marriage performed between me and the Princess of Aragon all those years ago was not lawful in God's eyes because she had been wed to my brother, Arthur. That is why God has denied me living legitimate sons. My marriage has been a terrible sin, and in fact it was no real marriage. My sons by Bessie Blount and Mary Boleyn are but God's way of showing me that with a lawful wife I may have the sons I so deeply desire.

"You, my darling, are widowed, and I a bachelor whose legal rights will soon be confirmed by the pope. I know it! We may love each other freely, Blaze! Do not deny me your heart any longer, lovey, for you will break mine if you do!"

"Oh, Hal!" she cried, knowing that this was madness, but unable to resist him. "Love me, my lord king! Love me!" She would regret this, instinct warned her. He would betray her in the end, yet she had been so damnably lonely since Edmund's death, and she frankly admitted to herself that she had missed the pleasures of a man and a woman. The king was not to be denied. Why should she not enjoy it? No one in the court thought the worse of her for it. Indeed she was constantly being congratulated for her wonderful coup in gaining the king's attentions.

Realizing his victory, Henry Tudor covered her face with his excited kisses. His head moved to her breasts, where he tasted and loved first one round globe, and then the other. His teeth tenderly bit at the soft flesh, sending pins and needles of delight through her whole body. He sucked vigorously upon the nipples, causing her to sob with her pleasure. His knee pressed a message between her thighs, and they fell open before him. Fitting himself between her legs, he guided his great manhood to the mark, thrusting into her in one long, smooth movement that caused her to cry out in pleasured pain. Slowly he withdrew himself from her, and then even more slowly he reinserted himself. Each slow withdrawal became like an agony for her; and each time he drove back into her he seemed to push more deeply inside her.

A sound very like a whimper came from her throat, and her nails raked down his strong, broad back. Her hips thrust fiercely back up at him each time he filled her full of himself, and reaching her first crisis of passion, she cried aloud, digging her nails even more deeply into his muscled flesh.

"So," the king growled into her ear, pleased, "my little country kitten has sharp claws. Then she must like my fucking! Tell me, sweetheart! You do like it, don't you?"

"Aye! Aye!" she panted. "Ohh, my Hal! Do not cease this wondrous torture! Do not cease it, I beg of you!"

The more he gave, the more she seemed to desire. At last, he thought, he had found a woman whose passion matched his! He would not have believed it possible before tonight that this sweet little country innocent was, beneath her demure manner, a raging tigress. Fiercely he pumped her until finally with a gasp she swooned beneath him, and he poured himself into her parched garden.

The color had drained from her face, but as he lay panting his own exhaustion, it slowly returned. Rising from the bed, the king moved across the room to a table which held a decanter of strong red wine. Pouring out two gobletfuls, he returned to the warmth of the bed, drawing the covers over them both. Gently he drew her into his embrace, cradling her within the curve of an arm, putting a goblet to her lips, encouraging her to drink. Half-coughing, she swallowed the heady wine, finding it an excellent restorative. Sure of her comfort now, he quaffed his own wine down in three gulps.

"You have pleased me, Blaze," he said finally. "You have greatly pleased your king."

"You have pleased me also, my lord," she said.

He laughed, realizing that no woman had ever, ever said such a thing to him. He had always assumed of course that he had pleased his women, but none before this one had openly admitted to it. "You are a breath of fresh air in my life, Blaze Wyndham. I have never loved anyone quite like you in my whole life."

There it was again! That word. Love. How easily he used it, and yet did he really mean it? What difference did it make? She was his mistress for better or worse until he decided otherwise, and despite her country naivete, Blaze knew that he would eventually discard her. Even if the church did actually dissolve his marriage to the queen, Henry Tudor would not rewed with the daughter of a poor baronet from Herefordshire despite her fecundity. He would marry a princess.

The king dozed, his leonine head upon her shoulder. Beneath the kingly strength was a boy. She saw it now in his face, all naked and unguarded in sleep. She felt almost maternal toward him, and smiled to herself in the dimness of the firelit room. He did not make love like a boy, of that she was certain despite her previous lack of experience. It was a loyal subject's duty to serve the king, she thought, and so she would serve him with her body in her way as long as it pleased him.

He said that he loved her, and she supposed that in his own fashion he did, or at least he believed that he did. Henry Tudor was not a mean man, and so she knew that one day when he was through with her he would provide for her in some fashion. He would probably choose a husband for her, and unless the man were a beast, she would obediently remarry, for she understood now that a woman needed a man's protection to survive in this world. Until then she was safe in the king's arms, and more important, Nyssa was safe. At least in that she had not failed Edmund.