Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It was several days before Blaze was able to obtain an audience with the queen. Seeing her back at Greenwich, alone and without her husband, and living in her royal apartments, confused the members of the court. Her presence gave rise to much gossip, particularly when Mistress Boleyn was seen to sulk within her own little room, avoiding the king. Blaze, however, said nothing that either stemmed the rumors or confirmed them. As for Henry, he seemed glad to have the lovely Countess of Langford about once more, joking openly with her, and insisting she sit by his side one evening during a musical. No one could understand what was happening, although there was a great deal of speculation. Had Lady Wyndham been recalled to her former place? Was Mistress Boleyn already being replaced in the king's fickle affections?

Finally the queen's chamberlain set the time for Blaze's private audience with Catherine. It was to be the following morning in the hour immediately after the queen had heard the Mass.

"Good!" Blaze said to Heartha. "We can leave afterward, and still have practically a full day for travel. With all this sun the last two days, the roads have surely dried. We will certainly get home quicker than we came. I doubt that it will take me very long to report on my interview to the king."

Blaze chose with much care the clothing that she would wear. Although she was not a noblewoman of great family, she must still show Catherine that her coming on the king's behalf was not meant as an insult, but rather an honor. Her gown was made of a golden-brown velvet, its bodice very heavily embroidered with a design of gold and pearls, its upper sleeves slashed to show cloth of gold beneath. The fitted lower sleeves were also heavily embroidered, and from beneath them emerged soft cream lace which fell over her wrists. The underskirt of the gown was made of cream-colored silk brocade, its plainness a severe contrast to the overskirt despite the rich material.

The neckline of the dress was square and very low, as the fashion dictated. About her neck Blaze wore a gold necklace that lay flat at the base of her throat, and from which hung an oval-shaped jeweled medallion. Her second necklace was a long strand of matched pearls that hung gracefully below her bosom. In her ears were fat baroque pearls, and upon her hands she sported several fine rings in addition to her wedding band.

Her hair had been parted in the center, and drawn back over her ears to be fixed in a French knot at the back of her neck, and held neatly within a golden caul that was decorated with pearls. From the dainty gold cordelière attached to her girdle hung a delicate, small round gold mirror studded with pearls. Blaze stared at herself in the pier glass and was satisfied. The gown was one she had never gotten to wear when she had been at court last as the king's mistress. Thank God the fashions had not changed.

"Is everything all packed, Heartha?" she asked her tiring woman for the tenth time since she had arisen that morning. "The coach is ready, and the escort also?"

"Aye, m'lady. All is in readiness. We'll be on our way as soon as you've completed your business here. I'm just as anxious as you are to be home again."

Home. RiversEdge. God, yes, she was anxious to be home! Anxious to tell Anthony that she did love him. That she loved him with all her heart, and that she never wanted to be separated from him again. How could she have been so damned blind? How could he be so incredibly patient? Even after Philip had been born she had not been able to admit the truth to herself. She had not been able to say the words to him that he so desperately wanted to hear. How her callousness must have hurt him. She did not deserve him! He was the dearest and best man in the whole world, and she was going to spend the rest of her life making it up to him. All that she need do was speak with the queen, speak with the king, and then she was free. Free to go home to RiversEdge and her wonderful husband!

Shortly before the appointed hour the queen's page came to fetch her, and brought her to the queen's apartments. The antechamber in which she was left to wait was a lovely room with windows looking over the green lawns that fell away to the river. She was alone in the room, and very uncomfortable. Then at last one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, Lady Essex, came to fetch her. Her smile of greeting was a pleasant one, but there was no cordiality about it.

"You are to come with me, Lady Wyndham," she said.

Blaze followed her into the queen's dayroom, where the other of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, ladies of the bedchamber, and the maids of honor were clustered. Some were sewing while others worked upon a tapestry depicting the coronation of the Blessed Virgin. One woman read to the group from a book of pious meditations, while another girl played softly upon the virginals. Several of the women were simply talking, but they all looked up with curious eyes as Blaze was escorted into their midst.

These were women she did not know. Most she had only seen at a distance, and all knew of her past relationship to the king. A few nodded politely to her, for they understood that she was not the queen's enemy. Others stared in a hostile manner, for they were extremely loyal to the queen, and suspicious of her presence. The younger maids of honor in the group looked at her, openly curious, for a king's mistress, though honored by the king's friends, was considered a bad woman by the queen's adherents. The maids of honor could not remember ever having seen a really bad woman before. Secretly they considered Blaze a great disappointment for she did not look wicked at all.

"The queen will see you in her privy chamber, Lady Wyndham," said Lady Essex, and she opened a door for Blaze to go through. Blaze took a deep breath and walked through into the small room. It was a square chamber whose walls were prettily paneled. A small bow window looked out upon the river, and in the fireplace a large fire burned, for the queen was always cold at Greenwich.

Catherine sat now by that fireplace in a high-backed tapestried oak chair with beautifully carved arms that was not unlike a throne. She wore a gown of black velvet whose low, squared neckline was heavily encrusted with a band of pearls, and jet and gold beads. The sleeves of her gown were full to the wrist and not slashed, but whereas the upper half of the sleeve was of black velvet, the lower part of the sleeve was of a rich gold brocade from which peeped fine lace at the wrist. She wore no jewelry upon her hands but her marriage ring, but about her neck were magnificent pearls and a second gold necklace from which hung a crucifix of rubies and pearls. Centered upon her bodice was a beautiful brooch of gold and rubies. Her hair was hidden beneath a richly adorned architectural headdress resembling a diamond that was studded with rubies and pearls, and to which was attached a black silk veil that flowed down the queen's back.

Blaze curtsied low to Catherine.

"You may arise, Lady Wyndham," came a deep male voice.

Startled, she stood, to see a tall, thin man in priest's garb standing next to the queen. He had a narrow ascetic face and black eyes that seemed to bore right into her.

"I am Father Jorge de Atheca, the queen's confessor, Lady Wyndham. Before you speak with the queen I must know whether you have made your confession regarding your previous adultery with the king, and if you have paid the full penance for your sin."

"Aye, Father, I have," Blaze answered, feeling very uncomfortable, which was, she thought, exactly how she was expected to feel. "I could not wed with my husband with the weight of my guilt upon me," she finished, knowing it was just the sort of thing the priest wanted to hear.

He nodded, a small frosty smile touching his lips. "Now, madam, I ask you to swear upon this relic of the true cross," and he held out a silver crucifix to her into which was embedded a splinter of dark wood, "that the answers you will give me to my next questions are the truth. Do you swear?"

Blaze kissed the crucifix, wondering what was so important that she must swear such an oath, yet she could not refuse.

"I swear," she said.

"Is your son the king's bastard?" the priest demanded bluntly.

The look on Blaze's face was first shock, which was quickly followed by outrage. "No!" she snapped, and then her temper spilled over. Priest or no, he had no right to insult her. "How dare you ask me such a question, Father? Both my husbands have been earls of Langford, and I have too much love and respect for them to foist a bastard upon the Wyndhams."

"Even a royal bastard?" the priest inquired slyly.

"Especially a royal bastard!" she shot back.

"Your son's birthdate?" he demanded.

"All Hallows' Eve of last year, and he was christened the following afternoon upon All Saints' Day. You have but to look in the parish records. Do you think a priest would falsify such records? If you think that Philip is the king's son, which he is not, then I carried him at least twelve months. Have you ever heard of a woman who carried her unborn child for that length of time?" Blaze was furious now. "I did not even sleep with my husband for three months after our marriage, to be certain that there would be no doubts to our child's legitimacy when we were finally blest with an heir!" she blurted out.

"Enough!" The queen had finally spoken.

The priest bowed, and stepped back into the shadows by her side once more, but Blaze could see his eyes glowing with the light of a fanatic as he looked at her.

"You may be seated, Lady Wyndham," the queen said, motioning her to a high-backed stool opposite her. "So your son's name is Philip? I have a nephew named Philip. Is he your first child?"

"Nay, madam. I have a daughter by my first husband. Her name is Nyssa Catherine Mary Wyndham."

"How is it that you came to marry two earls of Langford?" asked the queen.

"Anthony, who is my second husband, was the nephew of Edmund, my first husband. Just before Edmund died he requested that Anthony wed me to protect me and our daughter. As my second husband had no other match arranged, he agreed to his uncle's dying request. A dispensation was arranged by our priest through Cardinal Wolsey, my lady."

"Was your first husband very old? I expect he was, that his nephew was old enough to become your husband."

"There were but four years between the two men. They were more like brothers, madam."

"Where is your home?"

"In Herefordshire, madam, on the banks of the Wye River. It is very peaceful and very beautiful."

"Do you love your husband, Lady Wyndham?" the queen said.

"Oh, yes, madam!" Blaze answered with feeling.

"Then I am curious as to why you have left a husband that you love, your two children, and your beautiful and peaceful home upon the banks of the River Wye. I am curious as to why my husband, the king, should have insisted that I speak with you; and certainly as to why you have returned to court," said Catherine.

"I returned to court, madam, at the king's specific request. I should not have come otherwise."

The queen nodded. "Say on then, Lady Wyndham," she said.

"The king has asked me to intercede for him with you, though I have told him that it is not my place, madam. He said that he thought you liked me, for during my time I was not forward in my behavior. He believes that you will at least hear me out, that perhaps my woman's words will move you."

Catherine's lips had compressed themselves into a narrow, tight line. For a moment she closed her eyes, and Blaze thought she saw a spasm of pain cross the queen's features.

"You do not have to hear this, majesty," hissed the priest from his place at her side. "Send the bold creature away. Her presumption is not to be tolerated."

"Where is your charity, Father Jorge?" asked thè queen, who had reopened her eyes. "Lady Wyndham has been practically dragged from her home and family to be thrust into the midst of something that does not concern her. Yet if I do not hear her out, my husband will complain loudly and publicly about my unreasonableness. Lady Wyndham, I give you leave to plead your case for the king, though it will do you little good. This country's greatest lords have come to me on bended knee to plead the king's case. I have listened to them also with courtesy. What harm is there in hearing one more plea, although I doubt you can bring anything new to this matter."

"Madam," began Blaze, "you know better than any other that the king must have an heir." She was beginning to see how Catherine's obdurate behavior was driving Hal to his wits' end.

"I have given the king an heir in the person of our daughter, the princess Mary," replied Catherine serenely. Her whole attitude was that of a woman who believed in the rightness of her cause.

"The king must have a son, madam. Can you give him a son?"

"I gave him three sons, and two other daughters," the queen said. "Is it my fault that God took them from us? I am but a humble servant of God. As such, I cannot interpret his motives!"

"Nevertheless, the king has no legitimate son, and he must. The princess Mary cannot rule England alone. She must have a husband, and of necessity, that husband must come from another land. Our people will not accept a foreign prince as their king. They will not, madam. Therefore, the king must have a legitimate son to follow him as England's ruler. How can you deny him that if you truly love him as you say you do?" Blaze said gently.

"My mother was Queen of Castile in her own right!" cried Catherine.

"Yet she wed with the King of Aragon, and together they strove to forge Spain into one land, madam. Neither was truly foreign to the other. It is different here in England. England is one land which is ruled by King Henry Tudor, who has no son to follow him. What will become of my country, madam, if that happens? The people, the high lords, they will not accept a foreign prince as their king, even if he is wed to your daughter. There will be civil war again, as there was in the time of my parents' parents. This is the legacy your daughter will bring to England. Is that what you truly desire, madam?"

"What would you have me do, Lady Wyndham? I cannot deny my marriage to the king."

"But you could step aside, madam, even as St. Joan of Valois stepped aside for Anne of Brittany in the reign of the twelfth Louis of France. That childless queen made a great sacrifice, for she loved her lord even as I know you love the king. Yet, madam, she put aside her own feelings, her own desires that France might have an heir, for the widowed Duchess of Brittany was a proven breeder of healthy children."

The queen was rather fascinated by Blaze's knowledge, for she knew the young Countess of Langford to be, as indeed the king had called her, a little country girl. Catherine would have been surprised if there were even many amongst her own women who had such a grasp of history, particularly the history of another land. "How came you by your knowledge of these facts?" she asked Blaze.

"My first husband, Edmund Wyndham, may God assoil his dear soul, found it amusing to teach me. I knew little but how to cipher, read, and do simple mathematics when I became his wife. We had an elderly cousin at Ashby, my childhood home, who had taught at Oxford. He felt that he repaid my father's kindness in giving him a home in his old age by pounding some learning into us. When I wed with Edmund he taught me further, madam."

"What?" asked the queen.

"Latin, for I knew only church Latin. Greek. Higher mathematics, philosophy, French, history."

"And you liked your lessons?"

"Aye, madam! There is so much to know, and so little time in which to learn it," replied Blaze.

"Poor Henry," said the queen. "He knew you not at all, did he, Lady Wyndham? He saw only your youth, your lovely body, and your honey-colored hair. Henry is most fond of honey-colored hair. If I were ever to step aside from my place, it would only be for someone like you. You are not an ambitious woman, rather you are gentle and good. Aye, despite your adultery with my husband, I do believe you to be a good woman. Alas, you have not the family to be a king's wife; but had you, you would have made a good mate for the king. You have charm, wit, and intelligence. These are the things that Henry values.

"It cannot, however, be. You are a happily married woman, and I do not intend stepping aside, Lady Wyndham. I am no Saint Joan of Valois. She had no children, nor was she ever with child. I have borne my lord six children, though only my Mary has lived. First the king would divorce me, and now he says our marriage is no marriage. That he has sinned in taking his brother's wife as his wife, and that is why our children died. Yet he knows that though I was wed with Prince Arthur, our marriage was never consummated. He knows that I came to him a maid. My marriage to Arthur Tudor was a marriage in name only. That poor boy was far too sickly to do naught but brag about that which he could not accomplish. He died shortly after our marriage.

"What will happen to my daughter, Lady Wyndham, if I step aside, or if the king is successful in his attempt to annul our marriage? Will she still be the princess Mary, or perhaps only the lady Mary? What will her chances for a decent marriage be under the cloud of a suspicious birth? You are the mother of a daughter, Lady Wyndham. Would you want this kind of fate for your child?"

"Madam, your daughter's fate rests not in my hands. These are things that you must speak with the king about. It is not my concern," Blaze told the queen.

"And neither is what they now refer to as ‘The King's Great Matter,' yet here you are before me, Lady Wyndham."

"Only because the king asked it of me, majesty. I would not presume otherwise, and I think you know that."

"You care for my husband," the queen said. It was a statement of fact, and not a question.

"Aye, I do, madam. You know I did not aspire to the position to which I was raised. You know that I never used my short term of power to enrich myself or my family. I will not grieve your delicate sensibilities with a pure rendition of the truth, but I sought to avoid the honor foisted upon me. I fought against it so hard that the first time your husband took me it was by force."

The queen went pale.

"Still, madam, I quickly grew to understand the man we call our king. I found that I actually liked him, for though he be stubborn, there is much goodness in him. The people love him, madam. We all love him. Though what he has asked of me is foolish, I understand his deep and growing desperation. Surely you do too? The king must have an heir. You are past your childbearing. Oh, dear madam, you must step aside so the king can take a young wife."

"Never, as long as there is breath in my body, will I give way my place to that strumpet Nan Boleyn!" the queen suddenly snarled, her fine dark eyes flashing; and Blaze saw that though Catherine be worn with her many years of unsuccessful childbearing and royal intrigues, she was yet the daughter of Isabella, the warrior queen of Castile. There was still much fight left within her.

"Surely the king will not wed the daughter of a mere Kentish knight, madam. He merely seeks to make her his mistress, as her elder sister was his mistress. It is the kind of perversity that occasionally appeals to the king. She is a little more clever and able to hold him off longer, because of her maiden state, but he will soon tire of her games and look elsewhere for easier prey should she not yield herself to him."

"So think you, madam, but I do not," the queen replied.

"So thinks the cardinal, madam," Blaze said.

"Ahh, yes, I had heard that you had seen that wily old fox," Catherine remarked.

"The cardinal says that he does not believe for a minute that the king seriously contemplates marrying Mistress Boleyn. Any other marriage would be with a French princess or possibly a German princess. The people would not allow the king, despite their love for him, to marry with that girl."

"Lady Wyndham," the queen said, "you know my husband. You have said yourself that he is a stubborn man. There is little in this court that I do not know about. My husband has worked himself into a fine froth with the thought that a good English wife is the answer to his problems. The cardinal grows old. He is sickly. He has made enough enemies during his tenure in office to assure that he will not die a peaceful death. He has soothed my husband's vanity by giving him Hampton Court when Henry grew disquieted with John Skelton's little ditty. Surely you remember it?"

Blaze smiled, for she did indeed. Henry had been furious, and as a consequence the cardinal had had no choice but to give the king the beautiful home that he had built for himself.

Why come ye not to court?To which court?To the king's court,Or to Hampton CourtNay, to the king's court.The King's courtShould have the excellence;But Hampton CourtHath the eminence.

"Aye," Blaze said, "I remember that little ditty well. I had just come to court myself."

"The cardinal's days are numbered, Lady Wyndham, which is sad, for though he be a proud prelate, he has always and ever been a loyal and hardworking servant of the king. His judgment now, however, is clouded by his desire for a French marriage. I stand in his way, and will, therefore, eventually be responsible for his downfall."

"You know this, and yet you will do nothing to help him, madam?"

"If I step aside, if I admit that my marriage to the king is not a true marriage, Henry will marry with Mistress Boleyn at the first opportunity, even as he married with me in secret six weeks after his ascension to England's throne. Even then there was talk of sending me back to Spain, and wedding Henry to a French princess. He, however, took it in his head that he must make good the betrothal vows made between us when he was but a lad of twelve and I a maid of eighteen. He loved me then, even as I have always loved him. I will not give way my place as queen of this land, as mother of its heiress, the Princess of Wales, so that Nan Boleyn may rule in my place. So that Nan Boleyn's sons follow Henry! Never! Never! Never!"

"Madam, what will happen to you if you do not give way to the king's wishes? What will happen to the princess Mary? I know only too well the folly of refusing the king," Blaze said softly.

"I can only keep to my position, and pray that the king's eyes will be opened to the follies that he commits. If God answers my prayers, then the king will be turned from his wickedness. I will put my trust in God as I have always put my trust in him," replied the queen.

"Alas, madam, all your prayers will not give England the prince it needs. Only another wife for the king can do that," answered Blaze sadly. There was to be no turning the queen, but then she had known that before she had even entered this room. She thought now that perhaps the king had known it too, but he had tried just once more.

"Your daughter, Lady Wyndham, how old is she?" the queen said.

"She will be five on the last day of the year, madam," Blaze replied.

The queen drew a small ring from her finger and handed it to Blaze. It was a gold ring with an oval-shaped ruby surrounded by little pearls. "This is for your daughter, madam. A child who bears both my name and that of my daughter should have something to remember us by," she said.

The interview was over. Blaze slipped from the high-backed stool onto her knees and kissed the queen's outstretched hand. It was soft, and white and plump. "Thank you, madam. My child will cherish this token of your favor." Then she rose to her feet. "And I thank you for so graciously hearing me out."

The queen nodded. "Father Jorge," she said, "have Mistress Jane show Lady Wyndham back to her apartments."

"Aye, my lady," the priest said, and Blaze followed him back out into the queen's dayroom. "Mistress Jane! You are to show Lady Wyndham back to her own apartments."

A young lady-in-waiting came forward. She was of middling height and modest demeanor. "If you will follow me, Lady Wyndham," she said in a gentle voice. She had large dark eyes, and her best feature, Blaze considered, was her soft brown hair, for she was certainly no great beauty with her prim little mouth, receding chin, and somewhat large nose. Someone's sister, or niece, or a northern heiress with nothing but her wealth to recommend her, Blaze thought, who had been endorsed for her honored position by an important relative here at court. Yet, there was something familiar about her, although Blaze knew she had never seen the girl ever before. Of whom did she remind her?

They reached Blaze's apartments, and the girl curtsied to her politely.

"Thank you, Mistress... ?" Blaze looked to the girl.

"Seymour, Lady Wyndham. My name is Jane Seymour."

"You are Tom Seymour's sister."

The girl smiled almost mischievously. "You remember him? He will be so pleased!"

"Pray do not say so," Blaze importuned Mistress Seymour.

Now Jane Seymour laughed. "You were the first girl who ever refused my brother's advances. He thinks himself quite the fine fellow, Lady Wyndham. When you hit him several years ago he had to consider that perhaps he was not the fine fellow he thought he was. I believe you did him a favor, my lady." Jane Seymour curtsied prettily to Blaze, and turning, moved back down the corridor away from her.

"You were gone so long I thought you had been clapped into the dungeons of the Tower, m'lady," said Heartha. "The king has twice sent a messenger, and I expect another will be arriving shortly. I hope you will not be as long with him as you were with the queen. I am anxious to depart this place."

"Is the coach loaded and ready?"

"Aye, m'lady, it is!"

Blaze washed her face and hands in a basin of warmed water that Heartha placed out for her, and carefully replaced several tendrils of her hair that had escaped her caul. She daubed her favorite violet fragrance at her pulse points, and then stared at herself in the pier glass. She was a beautiful woman. More beautiful than the queen, and certainly more beautiful than Mistress Boleyn, although she had to admit that the Boleyn girl had an exotic fascination to her that would have intrigued the king, whose tastes usually ran to women more blond than brunette. Both Bessie Blount and Mary Boleyn Carey were blonds.

"The king's page is here," said Heartha, and the boy stepped into the bedchamber.

"We are to go by means of the inner passage, madam," the lad told her.

Blaze nodded, and silently opened the hidden door in the paneling. With the lad lighting her way, they descended the narrow staircase and entered the king's privy chamber. The boy immediately passed through the room and out of it, leaving Blaze with the king. She curtsied, and then looked curiously, for the king's fool, Will Somers, was also in the room.

"You may speak, my little country girl. Will is my good friend, and privy to all that happens to me."

"Hal, I am sorry," Blaze said, "but the queen will not give way her place to another. I sat with her for almost an hour. I pleaded with her, citing Joan of Valois's sacrifice, but she said that she is no saint, and that Joan was a maid without children, whereas she has given you six children."

"Of whom but one lives, and that a puling girl!" the king spat. "God has taken my sons from me for the sin of my union with my brother's wife. Why will Catherine not understand that?"

"She says she is God's servant, and is incapable of interpreting his will."

"Aurrgh!" the king cried as if in pain. "She understands! She understands too well! She but plays the fool, but she is not a fool. She does it to annoy me! Oh, Blaze! What am I to do? I must have a legitimate son! I must! Catherine does this from her own bitterness. She knows I am able to sire sons who live on the bodies of other women. She is angered that she cannot bear me sons that live, and this is her revenge upon me, but it is not my fault that she has this weakness of body. It is not!"

"Oh, Hal," she said, and took him in her arms to comfort him. "Whenever you have wanted something, you have wanted it immediately. This will take some time, and you must accept that. You, better than I, should know that the wheels of power grind slowly."

"But what if I die, Blaze?" he asked her in a tone of voice she had never heard him use before. It was an almost fearful tone.

"You will not die, my lord," she said, speaking to him firmly, as she spoke to Nyssa when she had terrorized herself with some imagined fear. "You will live to father sons for England upon a new young queen, Hal. The Tudors will not die with you. Oh, no, Hal! Not with you."

"Until now," said Will Somers from his stool by the fire, "I had thought myself to be your only true friend, my lord. I see now that you have two real friends upon whom you can count."

??Can I count upon you, my little country girl?"the king queried her anxiously.

"Always, my lord!" she answered him. "I will always be your majesty's most loyal servant."

"Provided," the king, now recovering, teased her, "that I do not tempt you to overcome your principles."

"Exactly, sire!" she answered him quickly. "You see, you are my friend also, for you understand me, Hal."

The king smiled down at her. "You will want to go home now, my little country girl. I can see it in those wonderful violet-blue eyes of yours. You are anxious to shake the dust of Greenwich from your heels, and hurry back to your Anthony."

"And to my babies too, Hal," she said, returning his smile.

"Kiss me good-bye then, Blaze Wyndham," he said quietly.

She tipped her head up to his, placing her arms about his neck as she did so. His mouth, warm and, as always, sensuous, closed over hers, evoking memories she had thought long forgotten. He drew her against him, prolonging the embrace, and it was just at that minute the door to the king's privy chamber slammed open and closed.

A scream of pure outrage pierced her consciousness, and she heard the half-hysterical voice of Anne Boleyn. "Villain! Oh, you are such a great villain!"

The king released Blaze and roared, "How dare you enter this room without my permission, Nan!"

Blaze turned about to see Anne Boleyn in her favorite pale yellow, her young face a mask of jealous fury.

"Aye, I dare, Henry! I should dare anything to keep you for myself, for I love you, and well you know it! Still, you cannot be at peace with yourself unless you are fondling some low strumpet! Can you not wait until we are wed? Must you recall your past amours to court, and parade them before me until I am half-mad with my pain?"

"Nan! For shame that you should think such things. Lady Wyndham came to court at my request to intercede with the queen for me, for Catherine has always liked her. I hoped that perhaps if another woman spoke with Catherine she could be made to see reason. Lady Wyndham has done us a favor in coming, even if Catherine will not listen to her any more than she will to me, and to all the others who have spoken to her."

"I know the kind of favors Lady Wyndham does for you, Henry," Anne Boleyn hissed. "The kind my sister, Mary, did for you both before and after her marriage to poor hapless Will Carey. The kind of favors Bessie Blount did before and after her marriage to Gilbert Tailboys, mad old Lord Kyme's son! She spreads her legs and takes your cock into her! Do not think to mislead me, for I am not a fool!"

Before the king might remonstrate further with Mistress Boleyn, Blaze stepped forward, and with her small open palm slapped the hysterical girl across the face.

Anne gasped, and sputtered, and then screamed at the king, "She has slapped me! Your whore has slapped me!"

Blaze slapped Anne Boleyn a second time. "If you continue to call me names, Mistress Boleyn, I shall continue to slap you. How dare you speak of me in such terms. I am the Countess of Langford, and as such, your superior in rank. I am loyal to my king, but faithful to my husband, Mistress Boleyn. All is precisely as the king has told you. Do you dare to doubt the king's words?"

"Come, sweetheart," the king said, opening his arms to Mistress Boleyn, and she flung herself into them, sobbing. "There, lovey, there. You have no cause to be jealous. I could have no better nor truer friend than Blaze Wyndham, and neither could you." He stroked her long dark hair.

"I th-thought you had brought h-her back to court to b-be your mistress, Henry," wept Anne Boleyn. "She as much as said so the other n-night."

"The other night?" The king looked curiously to Blaze.

"Mistress Boleyn paid me a visit while I was in my bath," responded the Countess of Langford. "She obviously misunderstood all that I said, putting her own interpretation upon my words." Blaze's eyes were twinkling, and the king could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

"I would know about this visit you paid Lady Wyndham, Nan," the king said, releasing her from his embrace.

Anne Boleyn did not tell the king that she had rudely sent for Blaze, who had refused to come. Instead she said, "I visited Lady Wyndham when she was in her bath. She said you had sent for her."

"I did," replied the king.

"But she did not tell me why," protested Mistress Boleyn.

"You did not ask me," answered Blaze. "You were too busy, my dear, accusing me of all sorts of naughtiness. I decided that you must have a lesson in good manners."

"Good manners?" Mistress Boleyn was outraged. "You stood naked before me and asked me whether I could give the king what you could give him!"

Henry Tudor burst into laughter, and his great guffaws rumbled all about his privy chamber. The picture Anne's words evoked were deliciously provocative, and his eyes misted with remembrance. "For shame, my little country girl," he scolded her. Then he said, "I did not know you had such deviltry in you, Blaze."

"I but thought what my sister Bliss would do, sire."

He nodded. "Lady FitzHugh was always one for high spirits, as I remember."

For a moment there was a short silence between them. Anne Boleyn had slipped back into the king's embrace, and stood, his arm about her, half-turned toward Blaze. There was a more contented expression on her face now, and the small light of triumph in her eyes.

"If your majesty has no further need for me then," said Blaze, breaking the stillness, "I will retire. I am anxious, as you know, to be on my way home to Herefordshire."

The king held out his hand to her, and taking it, Blaze kissed it. Then she swept him a graceful curtsy.

"Farewell, my little country girl," the king said, "and God speed you safely home to RiversEdge."

"Farewell, Hal," Blaze said, and then she withdrew from the king's privy chamber, exiting through the private staircase, to the amazement of Mistress Boleyn, who had not known that such an exit existed.

When the door had closed behind her, Anne Boleyn said, "I want those apartments for myself, Henry."

"Not yet, my dear," he told her. "You have not earned them. Do you know where the door opens above? It opens out into the bedchamber. You are not ready for that yet, Nan, or are you?"

"Your mistress I will never be, Henry," Anne Boleyn said boldly, "and your wife I cannot be until you have freed yourself from the Spaniard."

"Then," replied the king, "those apartments above my own cannot be yours, can they, Nan?"

With a hiss of annoyance she pulled out of his embrace and ran from the room.

"Methinks you will not win over the lady Anne without a band of gold," Will Somers said thoughtfully. "Are you willing to pay the price, sire?"

"Good English stock, Will! She is good English stock, and I need her to get sons for England!" the king answered.

"Perhaps it is the wrong mare you have set out into another stallion's pasture, my lord," observed Will, "but what is done is done. God save England!"

"He will," said the king. "Of that I am most assuredly certain, my good friend and confidant. Has God not finally opened my eyes to my great sin with the Princess of Aragon? Time, Will! My little country girl is sensible and wise. It will take time to unravel this coil, but in the end I will have my way, and England will have its princes at long last! God will indeed save England!