Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The summer progress had begun, and the court moved from Greenwich to nearby Eltham. Like Greenwich, Eltham was set within the green confines of a great parkland. Here their days were spent in hunting and hawking, playing at bowls upon the green, shooting at archery butts. The king amused himself by teaching Blaze to shoot, and to his amazement her eye was quite accurate.

"By God, sweetheart," he told her approvingly one warm summer's afternoon, "I shall enlist you in the ranks should ever war break out."

The weather was so lovely that they frequently stayed out-of-doors until long after dark. There were picnics, and dancing, and boating upon a lake that was situated within the royal park. The king often retired early those summer evenings, for he found he was not easily tiring of his new mistress, and he remained fascinated that her appetite for passion was as large as his. Yet there was nothing unwholesome in her attitude.

The Quiet Mistress. 'Twas a phrase that Cardinal Wolsey coined to describe Blaze, and the nickname stuck. Unlike her predecessors, Elizabeth Blount and Mary Boleyn, Blaze Wyndham did not use her place in the king's bed for a power base. There were those who thought her a fool not to gain every advantage she could during her tenure as the king's favorite. They could not understand a woman who would not take such a golden opportunity to help advance her family and friends, as was certainly only natural. A few, men like Thomas More, understood that the beautiful young widow had not sought the king's attention, and though she served the king in her sensual capacity, she preferred to do it with as much dignity and modesty as was possible for a lady in her position. It was certain that she made no enemies, and even those who thought her a fool for her apparent lack of ambition were won over by her sweetness, her good manners, her clever wit, and her charm.

The court moved again, this time to Richmond Palace in Surrey. Sheen Manor had once been located on the site of what was now Richmond Palace. When the king had been a lad of seven, Sheen had burned to the ground one Christmas season when the royal family had been in residence. King Henry VII had rebuilt it within two years, renaming it Richmond to remind him of the earldom which had been his title before he overcame King Richard III and took England's crown for himself.

Richmond was a large Gothic residence built about a paved court. The royal apartments were in the privy lodging, which was decorated with fourteen turrets and had more windows than Blaze had ever seen in one building. The court arrived at Richmond to find that Queen Catherine and Princess Mary were in residence.

Blaze was embarrassed. Henry's reassurances regarding his marital state had salved her conscience until now. The king could not ask the queen to leave lest he appear mean-spirited, and besides, he loved his daughter, whom he had not seen in some time now. Blaze's apartment at Richmond was therefore placed at a discreet distance from both the queen's and the king's.

Catherine of Aragon was forty years old, and the toll of her years of futile childbearing showed cruelly upon her once pretty face, which stared out upon the world from beneath her heavy architectural headdress. Though she wore the most rich-looking and elegant clothing that Blaze had ever seen, her small stature and her plumpness rendered them wretchedly unfashionable. She was sallow of complexion and dark-eyed, and Blaze noted that the king did not speak to her at all when they sat side by side at the high board.

Blaze now sat with her sister and brother-in-law at meals, and Bliss was not silent on the subject of what she considered the queen's interference. "The old crow," she muttered one evening as they ate. "Just look at her sitting so smugly by his side. It is only a matter of time until she is cast away entirely, and yet she sits there pretending that all is as it once was."

"Hush, Bliss, do not be cruel. The queen loves the king. Can you not see it?"

"You love the king too!" whispered Bliss.

"I have not the right to love him, whatever my feelings toward him may be," replied Blaze.

Love. No, she did not love him. At least not in the way in which she had loved Edmund Wyndham. Her adoring and gentle husband who had loved her with tenderness was nothing at all like this all-powerful monarch who loved her with such a wild and frenzied passion. His great and deep desire still frightened her a little.

She had grown to like him, however. Henry Tudor was a man for pillow talk, and she had learned all about the childhood in which he had been but second best to his favored elder brother, Arthur, Prince of Wales. He spoke of how, believing it was his dying father's wish, he had married the Princess of Aragon. He spoke of the pain they had both endured at the loss of their son, the six-week-old Prince of Wales, and the string of stillbirths and miscarriages that had followed. "All sons," the king lamented. It was then he realized, he told her, that God was displeased with him, and sure enough his bishops had shown him a biblical passage that said a man who took his brother's wife to wife did an unclean thing. Suddenly, he explained, he knew in his heart that his marriage was in reality no marriage.

Blaze had listened as he unburdened himself to her of these and other sundry thoughts. He had asked her in his turn many questions, and she had told him of her happy childhood at Ashby of her family with its eight daughters and three sons, her wonderful marriage to Edmund Wyndham, of Nyssa, and of the loss of her infant son when her husband had died.

"So your mother has borne eleven children, and lost not one," the king said admiringly. "What fine stock you come from, my little country girl! Would I could make you my wife, and we breed up a large family of sons and daughters."

"You must wed a princess, Hal," she told him, showing him that she truly understood her position in his life.

The summer progress moved on to Hampton Court. Built by Cardinal Wolsey, and furnished magnificently, it now belonged to the king. Though the cardinal struggled to resolve the king's marital difficulties, the bureaucracy of the papacy moved slowly, and in an effort to placate his king, and forestall his fall from favor, which was lobbied for by many, the cardinal had parted with his home just a month ago. They stayed but a week, and moved on to Windsor.

The king did not like Windsor but it fell along his route to Woodstock where he intended going to hunt. Woodstock was small and rustic, and there would not be room for the entire court, most of which along with the queen would be left behind at Windsor. The night before their departure from Windsor, for Blaze was to go with the king, the king's mistress was bearded by his daughter in a passageway. Blaze curtsied to the nine-year-old Princess Mary, and stepped aside, believing the child and her attendants wished to pass. The girl, like her mother, was of sallow complexion with dark eyes, but her auburn hair was lovely, Blaze thought.

The princess stared at Blaze with open hostility. "My governess says that you are a bad woman," the child said fiercely. "You have stolen my father's love from my mother, and you sleep in his bed, which is against God's law! For that you will burn in hellfire!"

Blaze gasped. There was nothing she could say to defend herself from the child, who then stalked past, her attendants smiling smugly at the blushing countess. In the banquet hall that night, however, a page came to tell Blaze that the queen desired her presence. Even Bliss whitened at the news. There was nothing the young widowed dowager Countess of Langford could do but follow the boy to where the queen sat with her ladies. Blaze curtsied low, her head bowed to hide her flaming cheeks.

"You may rise, Lady Wyndham," said the queen, and Blaze stood to look into the face of the scorned Catherine. The queen smiled a small smile. "I understand that my daughter, the Princess Mary, showed an extreme lack of good manners and want of delicacy toward you this afternoon, Lady Wyndham. For that she has been punished. I hope you will forgive her. Mary is young. She adores her father, and she does not understand him as we do."

"Forgive me, madam," said Blaze softly. "I mean you no harm."

"I know that," replied the queen. "You are not like the others, Lady Wyndham. I know all about you, in fact. I am not yet as helpless as some would believe. I know my husband, and the things he does to gain his way. Be careful. You are a good woman, I know. Do not let him hurt you, as he has so many others. You may go now."

Blaze curtsied once again, and made her way back to where Bliss was awaiting her.

"What did the old crow want?" demanded Bliss.

Blaze shook her head. "Poor lady," she said.

"What did the Princess of Aragon desire of you this evening, my little country girl?" the king demanded of her bluntly later on.

"If I tell you," replied Blaze, "you must not be angry, my Hal. 'Twas nothing serious, and my heart goes out to the poor lady, who has certainly behaved toward me with great generosity."

"I promise then," he said, putting an arm about her.

"Your daughter called me a ‘bad woman' early this afternoon. The queen apologized for her, and said that the princess had been punished for her behavior. She said that Mary's excuse was that she loves you."

"The little wench grows more like her mother every day. I should remove her from Catherine's influence, and the influence of her priests, lest they spoil the child if it has not already been done." He pulled her into his lap and kissed her, his hand fumbling with her plump breasts. "Put them both from your mind, Blaze," he told her. "I would make love to you. There is something special that I would teach you tonight."

"What is that, my lord?" she asked him.

They were naked within his chamber, and standing, he tipped her gently from his lap. "I would have you kneel before me, sweetheart," and when she had obediently complied, he said, "Now take my big boy in your pretty little hands, and place it within your mouth. Suckle upon it even as I suckle upon your beautiful breasts."

"Hal," she pleaded with him, "I dare not do such a thing! Surely 'tis not right!"

"Obey me!" he snapped. "Immediately!" His voice was hard and cruel, and grasping her by the hair with one hand, his other lifted his half-hardened manhood and forced it toward her reluctant lips.

Blaze knew she must obey him. Closing her eyes so she need not look upon her shame, she parted her lips and took him within her mouth.

The king groaned, but the sound was one of pleasure. "Suckle upon it," he said more gently. "Play with it, using your sweet tongue ... ahh, yes! Yes!"

She obeyed him, at first unwillingly, but then Blaze found there was a certain naughtiness about what they did that excited her greatly. When the king bid her cease, and laid her back upon the bed to repay her in kind, she gasped with her own pleasure. Never had she imagined that such a thing was possible. His flickering, probing tongue did for her even what his great manhood did. She was totally amazed.

In the morning it was raining, and it continued to rain for the next few days without ceasing. The king was irritated. "We will return to Greenwich," he finally decided. "Woodstock in the pouring rain is unbearable, for it is a simple lodge. We shall hunt there in the autumn instead."

The entire court gratefully returned to Greenwich, although the queen was sent to stay at Eltham. It was September, and Mistress Anne Boleyn came back to court. The sister of Mary Boleyn, she had been sent down from court to her home at Hever Castle in Kent the year before for her bad behavior. Anne Boleyn was nothing at all like her elder sister, for where Mary was round and plump, Anne was slender almost to the point of thinness. Mary was an English rose with fair skin, warm brown eyes, and chestnut-blond hair. Anne's complexion was somewhat sallow, her long straight hair black as a raven's wing, her eyes like onyx. Mary Boleyn was sweet of face, but her younger sister had the sharp features of a little cat. Mary Boleyn was liked for her charming, almost childish good nature. Anne was not well-liked, for she was thought to be overproud, and she had a nasty temper.

"An ugly crow! A nightbird," Cardinal Wolsey called her, and Anne Boleyn marked him down as an enemy upon whom she would have her eventual revenge.

The Duke of Norfolk looked upon his young relative, and considered best how he might use her to his own advantage. Then he decided it was better to watch and wait before making that critical decision, or before allying himself openly with the wench.

Henry Tudor found himself quite unwillingly fascinated by Mistress Boleyn. She was no beauty, but she was quick of wit, which he counted an equal virtue. The king contemplated the possibility of bedding his former mistress's little sister, and found that the sheer peversity of the idea appealed to him. What if he could get a son on her as well? It was an amusing thought, but alas Mistress Boleyn had a suitor in the presence of young Lord Percy. The church was being very difficult in the matter of the Princess of Aragon, and he had a lovely mistress of whom he was still quite fond.

Yet as he watched Mistress Boleyn making her way through his court, always gowned in the most elegant fashions, and surrounded by a group of amusing young people including Henry Norris, Henry Percy, and her brother, George Boleyn, he was more drawn to her than he would have liked to be. More drawn than he had ever been to any woman, and this caused the king to feel guilt about Blaze, and guilt was not a feeling Henry Tudor enjoyed. Still, he could not be angry at Blaze, for his little country girl was not simply a perfect mistress—the most perfect he had ever had—but she had become his friend and confidante as well. How could he be so mean-spirited as to cast her off so he might pursue Mistress Anne Boleyn? Then it came to the king that what he needed was to find a husband for Blaze so she would not be left helpless to the lechers and roués of his court. He put his mind to it, but he could think of no one worthy enough.

"What am I to do, Will Somers?" he asked his fool, who was no fool at all, but the only other real confidant in his life.

"You must cage your lust, Hal," replied Will, "lest it devour you alive. Lady Wyndham deserves only the kindest treatment from you, and to do otherwise would bring shame upon your name."

"But I can find none I consider good enough to be her husband, Will. I would not have her unhappy because my fancy turns elsewhere," the king replied.

"Perhaps you should look to someone closer rather than farther from the lady in question," the fool said.

"What kind of a riddle do you riddle me now?" laughed the king, cuffing Will Somers a playful blow.

"I hear on the autumn breezes that the Earl of Langford has come to court this day."

"The Earl of Langford?"

"Aye, Hal! The nephew and heir of your little country girl's late husband. He seeks an appointment with you, but being of no import, your secretary has put him off, and so he must wait. 'Tis said he has no wife, nor any contract to wed a wife. Could this not be the answer to your very difficult dilemma?" The fool cocked his head to one side, bright-eyed.

"Are you suggesting, Will, that I should wed her to the Earl of Langford?" said the king.

"It is a possible solution to your problem, Hal," Will Somers replied.

"She detests Anthony Wyndham, my friend."

"Why, Hal? Can you tell me why?"

"She holds him responsible for the death of her husband, who was the earl's uncle. Then, too, the shock of her husband's sudden demise caused her to miscarry of their son and heir. She bears Anthony Wyndham a great grudge, Will."

"What is the truth of the matter, Hal? Is her complaint a just one, or merely the desperation of a grief-stricken woman?" the fool asked.

"From the facts I have gathered, and I have sought the truth of the matter, for I will have no murderer, even a highborn one, go unpunished in my kingdom, Blaze's charges stem from her anger and her sorrow. There is no merit in what she says."

"Then," said the fool wisely, "is it possible her antipathy toward Lord Anthony is in reality an unknown passion toward the gentleman? Hate, they say, is but one side of the coin. Love, Hal, is, however, the other."

The king pondered his fool's words for several long minutes, and then he said, "Most marriages are those that are arranged between two people by others. The bride and the groom do not always begin as lovers, but living together teaches people the value of compromise, does it not, Will? If I wed Lady Wyndham to the Earl of Langford, she would return to a home she loves, and to her daughter. The child's fortune would be well-managed, for the earl is not just known to Blaze, he is a blood relation to her little girl."

"You can also offer her an alternative that is no real alternative. Tell her you would have her do this, but if she is truly opposed to it, that you will choose another husband for her. She dislikes young Thomas Seymour greatly, I believe," chuckled the fool. "I do not think she could choose him over even Lord Wyndham."

The king smiled admiringly at Will Somers. "I think, Will, that you have missed your calling. You are clever enough to be a man of the government."

"Nay, Hal," came the dry reply, "I am not, thank God, enough of a fool for that!"

The king roared with laughter. "You are right, my Will! You are far too wise, I fear!"

"Then you will see Lord Wyndham, my lord Henry?"

"Aye, but we shall not make it an official meeting. Do you know where he is staying at Greenwich?"

"Nay, Hal, but I can find him."

"Do so then, and fetch him to me as quickly as you can. We will see what the earl wants of me, and whether in exchange for it he can be persuaded to marry my sweet and lovely Blaze so that I may be free to pursue the fascinating Mistress Anne Boleyn."

"If that be your desire, Hal, then perhaps I do you a disservice in helping you to dispose of Lady Wyndham," said Will Somers seriously.

"Ahh, Will, not you too? What is it about Mistress Anne that turns people so quickly against her?"

"I am but a fool, my lord," replied Will Somers, "but have eyes. The lady is not as simple a creature as she would have you believe. She will not succumb as her sister did, for I can see in her character that she is a woman of determination who desires far more from life. There has been no gossip from France about her lack of morals as there was with Mistress Mary, whom King Francis called his hackney. This lady is surely a virgin, and even you cannot force a wellborn virgin, Hal. Her price will be high indeed, and you may find that you are not ready or able to pay it, my good lord."

"I mean to have her, Will," said the king. "Whatever it takes to gain Mistress Anne Boleyn for my own, I will gladly pay the price!"

Will Somers shook his head. He was extremely fond of the king, but sometimes Henry thought more with his cock than he did his very facile brain. Women were his greatest weakness, and if he were not careful, they would surely be his downfall. He bowed himself from the king's presence, and went to find the Earl of Langford.

After an hour he finally located Anthony Wyndham, who sat dicing and drinking with a group of young courtiers in a remote alcove. "My lord earl?"

Anthony Wyndham looked up. He did not recognize Will Somers, for the young man had only come to court at Twelfth Night, as had Blaze. "Aye, I am Lord Wyndham," Anthony replied.

"I am Will Somers, my lord, the king's fool. It has come to his majesty's ears that you sought to gain an audience with him, and knowing that you have come from so far, the king grants you his time. If you will come with me, I will take you to him."

"But the king's secretary said—" began Tony.

"The king's secretary is a greater fool than even I am, my lord. I hope you are not." And turning, he began to walk quickly away.

Anthony Wyndham grabbed up his winnings and followed after Will Somers, who led him through the corridors of Greenwich Palace and into the king's privy chamber by means of a secret entrance, thereby avoiding the royal antechamber with all its gentlemen and its sharp-eyed gossips.

The king turned at the sound of their entry, and smiling, held out his hand. "Anthony Wyndham, it is good to see you back with us once more. You sought to see me, I have learned. What is it that you would have of me, my lord earl? Will, pour us some Rhenish! Come, Tony, let us sit down."

"My lord, I find myself in a rather delicate position, for since arriving at court this morning, and requesting an audience of you, I have learned things that could render my quest useless, and I certainly have no desire to offend you, my lord," Anthony said carefully.

Will Somers handed the wine goblets to the two men, and settled himself upon his stool by the king's knee. The king was not quick enough to pick it up, for Hal, God bless him, was too self-involved, but he would wager a gold rose noble that the Earl of Langford's business had to do with Blaze Wyndham.

"Your tact and your candor do you credit, my lord," replied the king.

"Tell me why you have come, and I shall promise you not to be offended by your honesty."

"How can we be offended by that which we hardly recognize, Hal?" teased Will in an effort to lighten the situation, and help the earl.

The king's laughter rumbled good-naturedly about the chamber, and he took a deep sip of his wine. "True, fool," he said, and turning to Anthony ordered him, "Say on, my lord earl!"

"You must surely know, my lord," began Anthony, "that I inherited my title from my dearly beloved uncle, Edmund Wyndham. Edmund and I were but four years apart in age, and as he was orphaned of a mother at his birth, he was raised by his half-sister, my own mother. After my birth we were raised together, and were more like brothers than an uncle and his nephew.

"Last autumn I left the court to see to my own lands, which border on Edmund's. I stayed with him and his wife at their home, RiversEdge. My uncle and I spent several days hunting, and then the day before I was to leave Edmund suggested that, it being a dank and cold day, we stay at home. I, foolishly, teased him into hunting. As we returned home late that afternoon we were deep in conversation, and totally unprepared for the stag that leapt forth without warning from the forest. The dogs went berserk, and both of our mounts reared, but Edmund could not regain control of his horse quickly enough. He was thrown from its back. I jumped from my own beast and went to my cousin. He was dying, my lord, but by some incredible strength of will he lived a few minutes longer.

"I knelt by his side, my lord, hating myself as I saw the very life ebbing away in his eyes, and remembering my taunts of the morning that had brought us to this pass. Edmund's lips moved, and putting my ear to them, I heard him say, Marry my widow, Tony. Protect her, and my children. Then he was gone, my lord.

"We brought his body home to RiversEdge, and the ensuing shock of losing her husband caused his wife to miscarry of their son. After the funeral she begged my leave to take her daughter and visit her parents for several months to recover from her sorrow. I had not been able to bring myself to tell her of her husband's dying words, for in her grief she rightly held me accountable for Edmund's death, and it seemed an indelicate thing to do. I felt that when she returned to RiversEdge would be the proper time to tell her.

"A week after Easter I traveled to Ashby to escort my uncle's widow and daughter home. You can imagine my surprise when I found little Nyssa in her grandparents' care, and her mother gone those four months past to court. Lady Morgan persuaded me, however, that her eldest daughter was better off at court easing her sorrow than she was in Hereford. I told her of Edmund's words, and she then begged me to leave her daughter at court until the autumn, when Blaze's period of mourning would be fully satisfied.

"I thought to come up to court now to reacquaint myself with the lady, to tell her of Edmund's wishes, and to court her preparatory to our marriage, which can take place after the thirty-first of October, which is the first anniversary of Edmund's death. I arrived at court but this morning to quickly learn that my uncle's widow, whom I promised to make my wife, is, ahhh, greatly in your majesty's favor, and hence my dilemma, sire, as you can surely see," Anthony finished.

The king appeared to be lost in thought, and then he said, "Perhaps'tis not such a dilemma, Lord Wyndham. We are two gentlemen, and so I will not mince words with you, or leave you in doubt as to the position Blaze holds in my life. Since the first of May she has been my mistress. Her loyalty to me is without question, and she is well-liked here at court. Nonetheless, I am not a man to deny the dying wishes of one of my subjects. How could I face my God with so large a sin upon my soul? Then, too," and here the king smiled a smile that said, this is just between us men, "I am not like ordinary men, and my kingly appetite cannot be satisfied by even so charming a lady as Blaze Wyndham.

"You will keep your promise to your late uncle, and you will please me greatly by marrying the lady when her period of mourning is finished. Let me assure you that her character is of the finest, for in her early months here at court her reputation for chastity was legend. She even needed a bit of persuading to see her duty toward her king. Like my mother, and my grandmother, Blaze Wyndham is a good woman. She will make you a fine wife, and if you will but give me the time to tell her, you will have my leave to court her. I will speak with her tonight, but until that time I would prefer that you remained out of sight. Will will take you to a comfortable room, and everything you need will be provided. That room will be yours until you wed the lady. Your wedding I will shortly decree, and you will be married here at Greenwich, lest the lady escape you again."

Anthony Wyndham was astounded by this turn of events. He could think of nothing to say, and so rising from his chair he stammered his thanks, and followed Will Somers from the king's privy chamber. The king's fool led him to a small, comfortably furnished chamber with a view of the Fountain Court, and a little fireplace that was already blazing merrily. There was but a small bed within the room, several chairs, and a table upon which were set a decanter of wine and two goblets.

"No one will disturb you here, my lord Wyndham," said Will Somers. "You will be brought food, and I shall come when the king has given me his permission to release you." The fool bowed politely, and departed the room.

Tony laughed softly to himself. What an incredible day it had been, he thought, and laughed again. Going to the table, he poured himself out some wine, and drinking it half down, sat himself by the fire. He had to be stark raving mad. He had just told the king the most incredible lie, and Henry Tudor had accepted it without so much as a query. He had lied to his king, and for what? For a woman with whom he had been in love from the day he had first seen her. For a woman who hated him, and took the first opportunity to run from him. For a woman who had used her body to gain power and position. For a woman whose purported grief had lasted no more than six months, if that!

His uncle had died the moment his body had hit the ground on that terrible day almost a year ago. There was no dying request made, nor a promise given. Yet he had said it with such conviction that the king had accepted it as truth. He almost had himself. He was amazed at what he had done. Amazed that even after knowing the kind of woman Blaze Wyndham really was, that he had still lied in order to gain her for himself. And he had succeeded! Dear God, he had certainly succeeded. Now he must wed with her even if he did not want her.

Did he still want her? He wasn't really certain. The thought of Blaze in the arms of another man, even if that man be his king, was an extremely unsettling thought. The thought of Blaze in the king's bed was a worse one. It did not disturb him that she had been Edmund's wife so much as it disturbed him that she was Henry Tudor's mistress. He had no intention of turning a blind eye like Lord Tailboys or Master Carey so that the king might swive his wife once he was wed to her. Nay! Marry her he would here at Greenwich, and with the king's blessing, but they would start for RiversEdge that same day! That permission he would gain from the king before the match was officially struck.

He laughed once more. There is no room for bargaining left, Tony, he told himself. The match is already officially struck, and 'tis you who did it, not Henry Tudor! Rising, he walked across the room, and pulling his boots off, lay down upon the bed. In his eagerness to see Blaze once again he had ridden hard from Hereford over the last several days, and he was now suddenly very, very tired. He slept so soundly that he did not even hear the young serving girl who tiptoed into the chamber to place a tray of cold meats, bread, and cheese upon the table.

It rained that night, and the king, sitting back upon his hips atop his beautiful mistress, fondled her breasts thoughtfully. His hardness throbbed its lustful message within her warm body, and he knew that he would miss her. Blaze Wyndham was a strangely wise and loving woman. He had never been more content than when he was with her. She was not a wickedly clever or seriously complex woman as he sensed Mistress Anne Boleyn was. Blaze had given him no pain, nor, he believed, had their relationship continued, would she ever have given him pain. It was a great pity that with her family's reputation for healthy babies he could not wed with her himself. She would have made him a good queen, a good mother for his unborn sons. God's will was often puzzling.

She sensed his detachment from her, and considered what it could mean. She had seen him casting what he believed to be secret glances in the direction of Mistress Anne Boleyn. She did not mind if he grew tired of her, she thought, but dear heaven, not that cat-faced bitch with her wicked tongue! It had already come to Blaze's ears that Mistress Anne upon hearing Blaze referred to as The Quiet Mistress had said, "She is not so much quiet perhaps as she is dull, my lords." Nay, Mistress Boleyn was not the kind of woman that Hal needed.

"What is it, my lord?" she asked him, looking straight at him.

He immediately focused upon her, and bending forward, kissed her lips. "Let us finish this sweet business first, my little country girl," he said, "and then we shall talk." For a few moments he teased her nipples, knowing how their delightful sensitivity roused her. Then he began to pump her fiercely as he had never done before, hammering into her soft core with an almost maddened frenzy of rising passion. Leaning even farther forward upon her, he pinioned her arms above her head, and his mouth ground down almost cruelly upon hers.

He was the most wonderful lover, she thought, knowing precisely how to arouse her to meet his own desires. He had taught her things between a man and a woman that she had never believed possible in her wildest imagination; and though he had always been strong, and maintained a mastery over her, never since that first day had he been cruel to her. Tonight she seemed to soar beneath his tutelage until finally they were both sated, and lay companionably together catching their breaths.

He took her hand in his, and turning it, placed a kiss upon the soft palm. "I have arranged for you to be married," he said bluntly, and she gasped at the thunderbolt he had just hurled at her.

"Who?" She managed to force the word from between her lips.

"Anthony Wyndham," he said, and braced himself for the storm he knew would follow.

"Anthony Wyndham?" She pulled her hand from his, and sitting up upon her haunches, she looked into his face. "Dear God, what have I done to displease you that you would wed me to the man who murdered Edmund?" The tears began to slip down her rosy cheeks, and he felt guilty, for he hated to make a woman weep.

"Anthony Wyndham did not murder his uncle, Blaze. I have personally overseen to the investigation into that matter. Surely you are still not angry with him?"

"Angry with him? I despise him!"

"Nonetheless he promised your husband, who died within his arms, that he would wed you and protect your children," said the king. "He has arrived at court this day, and told me all. How can I deny your husband's dying request? How can you?"

"I have never heard this before," Blaze said suspiciously. "I do not believe him!"

"Why would he lie about such a thing, Blaze? He told me that he could not bring himself to tell you of his promise to your husband because of your great grief with your double loss. He planned to tell you in the spring, but when he came to Ashby you were not there, and your mother persuaded him to let you stay here at court until the autumn, when your mourning would officially be over."

"It is September sixteenth, my lord," Blaze said, and then she cried out, "Ohh, how heartless he is! He has come on September sixteenth! Do you know what this day is? It would have been the fourth anniversary of my wedding to Edmund Wyndham!"

"I do not think he even considered it, Blaze," said the king gently.

"Edmund will be dead a year on All Hallows' Eve," she said sadly.

"You will be married in my own chapel on the fifth of November," the king said quietly. "I will give the bride away myself. I promised Anthony Wyndham that I would tell you this evening, which, sweetheart, must be our last together. Tomorrow you will receive the Earl of Langford as your intended husband and your devoted suitor. I shall not make him a cuckold, for he is, I know, a proud man."

"I will not wed him," Blaze said stubbornly. "I will not!"

"Then," said Henry Tudor, "you will wed Thomas Seymour, but you will wed someone on the fifth of November, my little country girl," and the king's voice was equally stubborn.

"You would not give me to Thomas Seymour? That cockscomb who will brag all about the court of his prowess over you each time he fucks me!"

The king had not considered that, and so he decided that to continue the threat of Thomas Seymour would be both unbelievable and foolish. "I had not considered that, lovey," he admitted. "However, I will accept no disobedience from you, Blaze. You will wed Anthony Wyndham! Now, come," he said, pulling her back into his arms, "let us make the most of the time we have left together."

"I do not believe it!"shrieked Bliss upon learning her sister's news the following morning. "The king has cast you off? It is that Boleyn bitch! I know it! They say she is a damn witch, and this surely smacks of witchcraft!"

"God's foot, Bliss! Watch your waspish tongue!" Owen FitzHugh warned his beautiful wife.

"We are in our own chambers!" Bliss snapped back. "Am I not allowed to speak my mind in private?"

"Not in the king's house!" returned her husband. "You have been at court long enough to know the walls have ears!" He turned to his sister-in-law. "This will be for the better, I know it, Blaze."

"I did not love him, Owen, and so my heart is not broken. I always knew that one day I would be pensioned in this fashion, but Anthony Wyndham? That is where the trouble lies for me. I still see Edmund's broken body in my dreams, and the blue face of my tiny swaddled son. Then, too, I worry for Hal's sake, for Bliss is right. My lord's thoughts stray toward Mistress Anne, and I fear no good will come of it for the king. You see, Owen, I know better than most that Hal is but a man like any other man. I will agree that he needs a wife to give him his desired sons, and although Mistress Anne will go the same way his sister and I have in the end, I fear she will hurt him before it is all over."

Owen nodded, suddenly seeing in Blaze what it was that had so pleased the king. There was a pure sweetness in her that existed in few women, and she was certainly not the fool that so many believed her to be. "He will miss you," the Earl of Marwood said. "In the dark of night he will awaken, and reach for you, and he will miss you."

"What of Anthony Wyndham?" demanded Bliss. "What if what he told the king is true? Surely he would not lie to the king!"

"That troubles me too," admitted Blaze. "What reason would he have for lying, and since I can think of none, then I must conclude therefore that he is telling the truth. I do not find it very flattering that he beards Hal and gets his permission to wed with me merely out of a sense of duty. Oh, damn the bastard!"

There was a knock upon the chamber door, and Betty, answering it, admitted Anthony Wyndham. Owen FitzHugh stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

"It is good to see you, Tony. I understand from Blaze that we are to be related by marriage."

Anthony Wyndham's eyes swept the room, finding her. For a moment he could not speak. He had forgotten how beautiful she was, but seeing her standing there in her mauve silk gown, her honey-colored curls loose about her plump shoulders, reminded him sharply. Her eyes, however, were icy with their disdain. So she was not happy about this turn of events. She obviously liked being the royal whore, he thought, and anger welled up within him.

"Greetings, madam," he said. "The king has obviously told you of our upcoming nuptials." His voice was cold, and Bliss found herself shivering openly.

"Last night as we sported ourselves," replied Blaze unkindly, seeing his look, and recognizing it as contempt. "The date has been set for November fifth, if you did not know." She glared at him defiantly. How dare he judge her! How could he know what it was like to be a woman, helpless before a king's power?

"So the king informed me this morning, madam. He also informed me that your intimate association is now finished. I assume that you remember how a Countess of Langford conducts herself?"

"As well as I remember how Edmund died," she replied in a deceptively sweet voice.

"Let us have some wine to toast this event," said Owen FitzHugh, and he valiantly attempted to ease what was obviously a tense situation, particularly seeing that his wife was totally nonplussed by the open warfare that had broken out between Blaze and Tony.

"There is nothing to celebrate," said Blaze angrily, and she swept past them out of the room.

Bliss, never at a loss for words, could only stare after her elder sister. Owen FitzHugh calmly poured three goblets of dark, rich wine and handed them around. Then raising his own cup he said, "You'll find that Morgan women are as hot-tempered as they are hot-blooded, Tony, but at no time are they ever dull to be wed to, my friend!"

"Owen!"Bliss had recovered, and glowered at her husband. "What a thing to say about my sister and me."

"I speak only the truth," teased the Earl of Marwood, and Anthony Wyndham found himself suddenly smiling.

"Do you beat Bliss often?" he inquired politely, but his blue eyes were warm and twinkling.

How very handsome he is, thought Bliss, seeing those eyes now in a different light.

"Nay," replied Owen. "I do not beat her at all, for I have a far sweeter way of moderating her behavior, do I not, my adorable one?"

"And I oversee his behavior the exact same way," said Bliss in honeyed tones, "do I not, my lord?"

Tony laughed now, and said ruefully, "I doubt that Blaze and I shall ever find the happiness that you two have."

"Then why do you claim her?" asked Owen FitzHugh.

"Because he loves her!" crowed Bliss. "Oh, you do, don't you, Tony?" In the space of a brief moment she had seen the vulnerability on his face when he spoke of Blaze.

"Aye, I love her. I always have," came the quiet reply.

"Which was why you could never see Delight," Bliss continued, and then, "Oh! poor Delight! She will be heartbroken when she learns that you are marrying Blaze, or does she already know?"

He shook his head in the negative, and Owen said, " 'Twill be the best thing that could happen to Delight. She has been mooning about Ashby for two years. Now, perhaps, she will look to some of the young men who have been trying without success to court her."

"Oh, Owen, you do not understand Delight! For men everything is so black-and-white," said Bliss in an exasperated tone. "You have surely been wed with me long enough to know that is not so."

"With you, my darling Bliss, nothing is ever certain," said Owen FitzHugh.

"Neither is it with Blaze," replied Bliss, looking to her future brother-in-law. "You will have to meet with her on some common ground, Tony. You cannot go battling to the altar."

At the mention of Blaze and their situation his eyes clouded once more. He was now publicly committed to her, and he wondered if he might not live to regret his impetuosity. He had deliberately pledged himself to a virago who obviously hated him. What hope could he have of their happiness under those circumstances? Still, he had to try to bring her to reason. In a few short weeks they would be condemned to spend the rest of their lives together. The thought was a most sobering one, and he recklessly drank his wine down in two gulps.

Life at court had not changed, he found. There were factions everywhere, and right now those factions were attempting to reassess the king's position in relation to Lady Blaze Wyndham, particularly since the king had that very day publicly announced the betrothal of Anthony Wyndham, the Earl of Langford, to his dearly beloved friend, Lady Blaze Wyndham. Was the king planning to use Tony Wyndham to father for an expected bastard? Lady Wyndham had but one servant, a stubborn red-cheeked countrywoman who could not be bribed, and so no one could be certain if the slender Blaze was or was not with child.

It was obvious that the king was not in any way angry with Blaze Wyndham, for his manner toward her was most jovial and kind. She was therefore not out of his favor, particularly as she remained in her apartments directly over the king's. That gave rise to additional rumors, these of a more salacious nature suggesting that the king and the earl were sharing Lady Wyndham's favors.

Then, of course, there was the possibility that the king had found another lady to pursue. It did not take the sharp eyes and the sharper tongues long to discover that Mistress Anne Boleyn was suddenly being singled out for royal favor as Lady Wyndham was being eased out of it with her upcoming marriage. It was truly a most exciting autumn! On one side of the coin was the king coyly attempting to court a new ladylove. On the other was his previous inamorata publicly squabbling with her betrothed husband, much to the delight of the court.

"Can you limit your shows of temper to our private times, my lord?" snapped Blaze when Anthony had escorted her to her apartments one evening.

"I will confine my shows of temper when you behave as you should, madam," he snapped at her.

"Lord Neville and I were but speaking. We were in public where we could be seen by all. What did you think he would do under such circumstances?"

"Lord Neville was openly staring down your gown," raged Tony. "In another minute his hand would have been on your breast, and he would have been tumbling you in the open for all to see!"

Blaze slapped him furiously. "How dare you!" she shrieked. "I have never behaved like a common drab in the past, and I am not behaving as such now. You, however, are behaving like a fool!"

"I see," he said coolly. "Playing the whore for a king is different from playing the whore for just a simple peer!"

Blaze whitened outwardly though inwardly fierce rage pumped through her veins. "You know nothing, my lord," she said. "Nothing! If, however, you think me such a whore, why do you even disturb yourself by wedding with me? Surely some whey-faced and unsullied virgin would suit you better!"

"Perhaps you are right," he shouted at her, "but I gave my promise to Edmund, and I have always been a man of my word! I will wed you, Blaze, and then I will take you home to RiversEdge where you will behave as my wife should behave, and bear my children so that the Wyndhams do not die out."

Furious, she backed away from him. "I bore a son for the Wyndhams once. You killed him!" Her hand found a porcelain bowl of potpourri, and grasping it she threw it at his head with all her might.

He ducked, and the bowl, spewing its contents of dried flower petals and fragrant spices, scattered all over the room. Threateningly he stepped toward her, his face a mask of black anger.

"Go ahead," she taunted him. "Beat me, if you dare! The king is still not so enamored of Mistress Anne that I cannot bring his wrath down on your damned head! Wherever you mark me I shall show him! He has always loved my fine white skin, and it distressed him whenever I sported a bruise. Touch me, and he will know of it, I swear it you!"

"You damned bitch!" he growled at her, and turning, flung himself from the room, hearing her mocking laughter, hearing her shout after him, "Coward!"

The king called her to him the next day, and seating her upon his lap within his privy chamber, he said, "You are causing a scandal with your constant battles, my little country girl. You cannot continue to openly disagree on every matter with our good Tony. There are those who say I am forcing you to this match, and such chatter hurts me, for you know I do this only so that you will be safe and content in your home with your little daughter once more. You are really not meant for the court, Blaze Wyndham, and once you are wed you are to go home again. Do you understand what I have told you?"

"I understand more than you believe I do, my Hal," she said, and her lower lip quivered as her eyes filled with hot tears.

"I have loved you, Blaze," the king said softly, "but you must never make the mistake of presuming upon that love. As I have warned you often enough before, I am not a simple man. I am the king! Do you now understand what it is I am saying, sweetheart?"

Mutely Blaze nodded, and was then sent from his presence. She understood. Oh, yes, she understood quite well. As Bliss had said those weeks before, the king had cast her off. He had seen her provided for with a suitable husband, and now he was washing his hands of her so he might concentrate his efforts upon his pursuit of Mistress Anne, the cat-faced bitch! As long as Blaze would behave herself she would have the king's friendship, but Henry Tudor had all but bluntly told her that if her public disagreements with Anthony Wyndham did not cease, she would have his enmity.

Fleeing to her apartments she locked herself in her bedchamber much to Heartha's distress. She needed to think. She needed to be alone. Really alone. For almost a year now the fires of her anger over Edmund's untimely death had burned hot within her. Though with the passing of time she had come to realize that Anthony Wyndham was not really to blame, she had not been able to openly release him from his culpability in the matter, but now she had to if there was to be any peace between them. Henry Tudor had virtually insisted that there must be.

She had loved Edmund Wyndham with the first love of an innocent girl. Had he lived she knew that she would have loved him for the rest of her life. He had given her everything she had ever wanted, and more. His devotion. A sweet love. His name. Little Nyssa. RiversEdge. She had never dreamed that such happiness could exist between two people as had existed between them, and then he was gone from her life as suddenly as he had entered it.

As for the king, she had not willingly sought to catch his attention, yet with Henry Tudor she had found a different sort of love. She quickly learned how his royal upbringing had molded him into the powerful, volatile, brilliant monarch that he was. Henry needed a gentle woman who would allow him to lead her, and with him she had found real passion. Few, if any—the Princess of Aragon, Will Somers, herself—saw the unsure and uncertain boy beneath Hal's bluff nature. The boy who needed the comfort and reassurance that only a soft-spoken woman could offer. Aye, the king had needed her, though he would never have admitted to it. She wondered who would minister to those particular needs now. Certainly not Mistress Anne Boleyn with her French manners and her grand pretensions.

What was left? What kind of love could Anthony Wyndham possibly offer her? Certainly she could not go back in time and give him what she had given Edmund. Nor could he be to her the man that Henry Tudor was, nor would she want him to be. She shook her head ruefully. Why was she even considering love where Tony was concerned? He did not love her, and she doubted that he ever would. He would marry her because of a promise that he had made a dying Edmund. She had come to believe that, because there was certainly no reason for him to have said such a thing if it wasn't so.

There would be no love between them; but then, what would there be between them? She was not so silly as not to realize that true love within a marriage was a rare thing. Most people married for other considerations, such as property, children, familial duties of some sort. How on earth did they manage to live in peace together, feeling nothing for one another? She had been so fortunate her entire life, for her own parents loved one another, and she had loved Edmund, and her sisters had found love with their mates. They were, she knew, all the exception to the rule.

Without love what was there? Friendship? Respect? A mere toleration of one's mate? He did not love her. Did he love any other woman? Did he have some rustic little mistress who had already borne him children? She did not know, for she had to admit to herself that she did not really know Anthony Wyndham. Still, if she could manage to forgive him Edmund's death, perhaps they might build something on that. She had to try. She couldn't go on being angry, wanting to stick a knife into his black heart! In just a few days' time he would be her husband, and they would leave Greenwich and the court. She would not have the king to run to anymore in her pique. She smiled ruefully. She did not have the king anymore at all now. He had told her so only a short while ago. She must make peace with herself. She must!

"M'lady! M'lady!" Heartha was rapping upon her bedchamber door. "M'lady! Betty says that Mistress Bliss needs you right away!"

Blaze unlocked the door to the room and hurried out. "Where is my sister?" she asked Bliss's tiring woman.

"She's in her apartments, and she's very sick, m'lady! Ohhh, she's very sick indeed, poor lady!"

Bliss was as white as a sheet. She had already vomited twice into a silver basin, and was looking dreadfully drained. "I feel awful!" she wailed. " 'Tis the second time this week that this has happened. What is the matter with me? No! Not that gown, you stupid girl! Did I not say it was too tight the last time I wore it? Ohh, Blaze! I feel wretched!"

"When was your last flux, Bliss?" demanded her sister.

"What has that got to do with anything? You know how irregular I have always been. It is the one great difference between Blythe and myself."

"When?"

"Three, four months ago. I don't remember!"

"You are breeding," said Blaze matter-of-factly.

"Oh, no!" shrieked Bliss. "I cannot be! Owen always said that we might stay at court as long as we had no children, but once the babies came, I must remain at home!"

"You are long overdue a child," said Blaze. "Blythe has two, and is expecting another. I bore Edmund two. It is time, Bliss. Besides, if you give Owen a few sons and daughters, I will wager he will let you return to your wonderful court. He doesn't like the quiet life in the country any more than you do, and you will not let him get away without you, of that I am quite certain," laughed Blaze.

"Indeed I will not," said Bliss firmly. "If I must stay in the country, then so will Owen FitzHugh stay too!"

"Why are we going to the country?" demanded Owen, who had entered his wife's chamber with Tony and heard but the last of the conversation.

"Because I am going to have a baby," said Bliss without any preamble.

"A baby!"The Earl of Marwood's face almost split with his delighted smile. "We are having a baby, madam? This is wonderful! This is marvelous!" Then he considered. "But why must I leave court if you are having a baby?"

"Because, sir, I shall not leave court unless you leave," said Bliss sweetly.

"The court is no place for a baby!" Owen insisted.

"I agree," replied his wife, "but I cannot be happy away from you, my lord, and if I am to successfully bear your son, then I must be happy, must I not? To be happy I must have you by my side at all times, and not playing the bachelor to all the lightskirts here at Greenwich while I, full of your seed, grow plump as a shoat deep in the country!"

"Now, Bliss, my darling . . ." began Owen FitzHugh.

"Now, Owen, my love . . ." returned Bliss.

Blaze moved silently across the chamber, and taking Tony by the hand, drew him from the room. "They are going to fight," she said softly, and then with some humor, "And we do not need lessons in fighting, my lord, do we?"

"Nay, madam, in that sport we are most proficient."

"I would say that in that sport we excel, sir," she replied. "Perhaps it is time we tried to mend our differences."

"And how do you propose, madam, that we do that?" he asked her.

"I am not certain, my lord, but I know we cannot bring our differences back to RiversEdge. I would not have Nyssa distressed by our anger with one another."

"You have thought little of your daughter since you left her those nine months ago," he taunted her.

"She is safe with my parents," Blaze said through gritted teeth. I will not fight with him, she silently vowed.

"Nyssa is at RiversEdge, where she belongs," he answered.

"You took my daughter? How dare you?" Blaze was furious, but mindful of the fact that they were on public view, she kept her voice low.

"Nyssa is a Wyndham, madam, and she belongs at RiversEdge. It is her home, and Edmund would want her there."

"I would have brought her back," Blaze said, keeping her voice even. "I, better than you, know what her father would want, my lord. She was content at Ashby with my baby brothers for companions. She was safe at Ashby with her grandmother, whose experience with children cannot be questioned."

"She is in her own home, and under my mother's care," he answered her, surprised that she was not shrieking at him by now.

"You had not the right to order Nyssa removed from my mother's care, my lord."

"I am the Earl of Langford, Blaze. The welfare of my predecessor's child is, of course, my concern."

"I will not argue further with you, sir," said Blaze. "Nyssa is safe, but in future remember that I am her parent, not you."

"I shall remember it, madam, as long as you do," he replied, and Blaze bit back an angry retort.

Over the next few days, as the date of their wedding drew nearer, Blaze concentrated upon keeping her temper where Anthony Wyndham was concerned. It was not easy. It seemed the more she attempted to find a common ground upon which they might build some sort of relationship, the harder he seemed to work at being deliberately aggravating. The king, however, was most pleased with her. He took her aside one afternoon to stroll with her in the picture gallery as he told her so.

"We are pleased, sweetheart, at your good behavior."

"I have always tried to please, your majesty," said Blaze demurely. Henry Tudor chuckled, and the sound held more meaning than anything he might have said. She had never not pleased him, he thought, even in the beginning when she attempted resisting him.

From a corner of the picture gallery Mistress Anne Boleyn bit her lip in vexation at the sight of Lady Wyndham, her little hand upon the king's arm, laughing up into his face. From another end of the gallery the Earl of Langford watched them come, and wondered if the king was already making him a cuckold. He felt his anger rising.

On November 5th, 1525, Lady Blaze Wyndham, widow, was married in the King's Chapel at Greenwich Palace by Cardinal Wolsey himself, to Anthony Wyndham, bachelor, the Earl of Langford. The bride wore a gown of rich tawny orange velvet that was heavily embroidered with gold, pearls, and topaz about the bodice, sleeves, and underskirt, which was of the same color. The ruffled cuffs and neckline ruffle of her chemise were of gold lace. Her honey-colored hair was parted in the center, drawn back over her ears, and set prettily into a soft French knot at the nape of her neck. It was looped with pearls, and there were pearls and a chain of topaz about her neck, and pearls in her ears. The bridegroom was more than her equal in his wedding suit of black velvet, its doublet heavy with pearls and gold, his heavy gold chain, each square section set with a fat baroque pearl, his knee-length velvet gown both lined and edged in sable.

The king gave the bride away, a fact which no one dared to laugh publicly about, but privately there were many wry jokes made. The Earl and Countess of Marwood attended the couple, which was only proper since they were related to the bride. The wedding was celebrated first thing in the morning, and afterward the king hosted a breakfast. There were many healths drunk to the couple, and then prior to their departure they were given a final blessing by Cardinal Wolsey.

"Let us hope their marriage lasts longer than the cardinal will," murmured Mistress Anne Boleyn to her brother, George.

"The king is not yours yet, petite soeur," George Boleyn whispered back.

Anne Boleyn smiled her little smile. "He will be," she said softly. "Oh, yes, brother George, he will be. Particularly now that I have rid him of the good and sweet Lady Wyndham."

"You need not have bothered with so elaborate a plot if you simply wished to follow in sister Mary's footsteps," mocked George Boleyn.

"I have not preserved my maidenhead all these years to play the whore like our sister," snapped Mistress Anne.

"You do not mean to be the king's mistress?" George Boleyn was surprised.

"His mistress?God's foot, nay! I most certainly do not mean to ever be any man's mistress!"

"What then, Anne?" demanded George Boleyn.

"I mean to be his wife, George," said Anne Boleyn. "I mean to be queen! It is for this that I have rid the king of Blaze Wyndham!"

George Boleyn threw back his head and laughed aloud. "By God, Annie, you are a rare one!" he chortled.

"Indeed, brother, I am," Mistress Anne agreed, and then without even seeming to look, she reached up and neatly caught the bride's bouquet that Blaze had just thrown. Coyly she cradled it in her hands, and pressed her face to it, inhaling its sweet fragrance of violets and late roses.

Unable to contain his mirth, George Boleyn laughed all the harder.