CHAPTER 3

THEsix English maids of honor had finally all been chosen. They included the Bassett sisters, Anne and Katherine; Katherine Carey, the daughter of William Carey, and his wife, Mary Boleyn; Catherine Howard, the niece of Thomas, Duke of Norfolk; Elizabeth FitzGerald, called the Orphan of Kildare, the late Earl of Kildare”s child; and Nyssa Wyndham. To Lady Browne”s pleasure, the king had ordered her to fill the other six places.

”We will send the maidens from Cleves packing in short order,” he told her. ”If my bride is to be Queen of England, then she should be served by English women, should she not, Lady Margaret?”

”Yes, Your Grace,” the smiling lady replied, her good humor restored. Lady Browne no longer minded that the king had chosen the first six maids. She would profit handsomely from the other appointments.

Nyssa and the Bassetts were the eldest of the maids chosen, but the sisters were clannish, and enormously proud of the fact that their father was the royal governor of Calais. Anne, the elder of the two, had been the cause of gossip when the king had presented her with a horse and saddle in early summer. There was nothing to the chatter, but the talk had erupted anyway. The sisters, however, had always been a part of court life in one way or another, and Nyssa found their superior airs very annoying.

”Pay no attention to them,” little Catherine Howard said, and she laughed. ”They”re naught but a pair of babbling magpies.”

”It”s easy for you,” Nyssa told her. ”You”re a Howard. I”m just a Wyndham of Langford, and am yet ignorant of court ways.”

”Fiddlesticks!” Elizabeth FitzGerald said. ”I”ve been practically raised here at court, and your manners are impeccable, Nyssa.”

”Indeed they are,” Katherine Carey agreed. ”No one would guess you are newly come to court. Honestly!”

They were friendly girls, fifteen and sixteen years of age, and each of them prettier than the other. Catherine Howard had auburn curls and beautiful cerulean-blue eyes. Katherine Carey was a black-eyed blond. Elizabeth FitzGerald was black-haired and blue-eyed. They were also, Nyssa discovered, mischievous and full of high spirits. The gentlemen of the court were eager to be with them. Lady Browne had her hands full keeping her charges in order.

The Princess of Cleves finally arrived in Calais on the eleventh of December, but could come no farther. The weather simply refused to cooperate. The Channel was ferociously stormy for the next two weeks. It was soon apparent that there would be no gala Christmas wedding. The court, however, was at a fever pitch of excitement. Each day, more and more of the nobility arrived at Hampton Court, summoned by their king to pay their respects to the new queen, who remained stranded in Calais.

Then on December twenty-sixth the weather lifted briefly, and the Lord Admiral decided that if he did not sail immediately, another winter storm would roar down the Channel, making a crossing impossible until spring. They sailed at midnight. The crossing was fair and pleasant. At five o”clock in the morning the ships carrying the wedding party disembarked at Deal, where the Duchess of Suffolk, the Bishop of Chicester, and others were waiting to meet the new queen. Anne was lodged at Dover Castle, and almost immediately the weather turned foul once more. It began as sleet and quickly turned into a late December snowstorm. The winds were icy and blew without ceasing. It was colder than most remembered a winter being in many years.

Anne, however, insisted on pressing forward to London. On Monday the twenty-ninth she arrived at Canterbury, where Archbishop Cranmer greeted her, escorted by three hundred men in scarlet silks and cloth-of-gold. There Anne was housed in the guest house of St. Augustine”s Monastery. On Tuesday the thirtieth of December, Anne departed Canterbury and rode as far as Sittingbourne. On New Year”s Eve day she pressed on to Rochester. She was met on Reynham Down by the Duke of Norfolk and a hundred horsemen in green velvet coats decorated with gold chains. They escorted her to the Bishop”s Palace, where she would remain for the next two nights.

It was there that Lady Margaret Browne and fifty of the new queen”s ladies, including the six maids of honor, awaited Anne. Brought before the bride-to-be, Lady Browne attempted to conceal her astonishment and dismay. The woman before her was but barely recognizable as the woman in the Holbein painting that the king so admired. Lady Browne curtsied low, remembering as she did the scurrilous rhyme that had recently been making the rounds at court.

If that be your picture, then shall weSoon see how you and your picture agree!

The gentle-visaged lady in the painting appeared to be one of medium stature, but the original was a tall woman with extremely sharp features. Why, she would be able to look the king directly in the eye! Her complexion was not pale, but rather sallow-hued. Her eyes were her best feature, Lady Browne decided; a bright blue, nicely shaped, and well-spaced. As Lady Browne arose from her curtsey, the lady Anne smiled. It was a kindly, sweet smile, but the Englishwoman knew in her heart that this woman would absolutely hold no appeal for the king. She was not at all the sort of woman Henry Tudor favored.

Margaret Browne and her husband had been part of the court for many years. She knew that the king, although a large man himself, preferred dainty, feminine women with clinging natures. This was a Valkyrie! A Rhine maiden! There was nothing helpless about her. And worse, her clothes were horrible. Totally unfashionable. Ugly! She wore an enormous elephant-eared headdress that hid her hair and gave the illusion of even greater height. It would have to go.

”Welcome to England, madame,” Lady Browne said, remembering her manners. ”I am Lady Margaret Browne, appointed by his grace, the queen”s mistress of her maids. I have brought six of them with me, and would present them with your gracious permission.” She curtsied again.

Young Baron von Grafsteen translated for the princess. He had now been assigned to her service by his uncle. When he had finished speaking, she nodded her head vigorously, the headdress swaying dangerously as she did so.

”Ya! Ya!”

Lady Browne signaled to another page by the door. Opening it, Philip Wyndham beckoned to the six English maids of honor to enter. The young girls, in their finest gowns, came tripping gaily into the chamber. They stopped at the first sight of Anne of Cleves, and both Bassett sisters gasped noisily. Lady Browne glared furiously at them, saying as she did, ”Make your curtsies, maidens!”

The six young girls curtsied quickly.

”You will come forward as I present each of you to her grace,” Lady Browne instructed them. Then she turned to Hans von Grafsteen and said, ”I shall introduce these maids to the lady Anne, sir.”

”Bring the lady Nyssa forward last, my lady,” the young man requested. ”Her highness vill be excited that Lady Wyndham can speak her tongue, even slightly. She vill vant to question her about England.”

”Of course, sir,” Lady Browne told the young boy, and then she introduced each girl to her future queen, pleased that in spite of their obvious shock, they had regained their equilibrium and displayed excellent manners. She presented Katherine Carey first, as the girl was a niece of the king. Catherine Howard was next. She was not particularly important of herself, but her uncle, the duke, was. Then came Elizabeth FitzGerald and the Bassett sisters.

Finally Nyssa made her curtsey to the Princess of Cleves. ”I welcome you to England, Your Highness,” she said slowly and carefully in the High Dutch that Hans had taught her.

A broad smile split the princess”s face, and she burst forth into a stream of words of which Nyssa could only identify a few.

Hans von Grafsteen grinned, delighted with his creation, and said to the lady Anne, ”She cannot understand you, Highness. She is just learning our tongue. I am teaching her. She thought that perhaps it would be difficult for you in a new country, with no one to understand you. If you speak slowly, and distinctly, the lady Nyssa vill comprehend.”

The Princess of Cleves nodded at the boy, and then turning back to Nyssa, said carefully, ”You are kind, my lady, to have thought of how I might feel. Do you understand me now?”

”Yes, madame,” Nyssa said, curtseying again.

The princess turned to the page. ”Who is she, Hans? Her family, I mean.”

”Lady Wyndham is the daughter of the Earl of Langford. They are not an important family by any means, but many years ago her mother was the king”s mistress. She was, I am told, a gentle lady of kind disposition and modest demeanor. She was known as the ”Quiet Mistress.” ”

” Ahhhh,” the Princess of Cleves exhaled. ”Is it possible that this girl is his daughter, Hans?”

”Nay, madame, she is not. Nyssa was born before her mother ever came to court. She is not the king”s bastard, but trueborn.”

”Tell me, Hans,” the princess said, ”why do these ladies look at me so strangely? This Lady Browne”s jaw dropped when she first entered my presence. What is it? My clothing, I know, is not English, and must seem strange to her, but it is more than that, I can tell.”

”It was the painter, Holbein, Your Highness. He flattered you when he painted your portrait,” Hans said frankly. ”He made you seem smaller, and perhaps a bit softer than your features actually are. The king is most enamored of that portrait, I must warn you, my gracious lady.”

”Is he,” Anne of Cleves replied. ”Well, he will have to take me like I am, I fear; and after all, he is no longer in the glory of his youth, Hans, is he?” She chuckled. ”He is lucky to get a royal bride at all. He has not the best reputation as a husband.” She chuckled. ”I shall, however, be as meek and modest as I can, for I have never in my life been more relieved to be away from a place as I am to be away from Cleves. My brother, the duke, has been insufferable since our father died.”

Nyssa listened wide-eyed. She could not understand most of the conversation, for the princess and the page chattered too quickly for her to follow, but here and there a snatch of sentence or a word penetrated her brain. The princess, she realized, was a woman of humor, and she was not at all stupid. ”I will help you to learn English, my gracious lady,” she said boldly.

”Good!” the princess said with a smile. ”Hans, tell Lady Browne I am most pleased by all the maids, but Lady Wyndham”s kindness in attempting our tongue bodes well for my happiness.”

The boy repeated his mistress”s words, and almost laughed aloud to see the look of relief that passed over the older woman”s face.

”Her highness is most gracious,” she said. Gracious, yes, but a pretty young woman who would delight the king, no. Heaven help us all, Lady Browne thought. What will he do when he finds out? With another low curtsey to the Princess of Cleves, she shepherded her charges from the room. They followed after her like chicks after a hen.

”God”s blood, she is appalling,” Anne Bassett declared when they were safely back in their assigned chamber. ”Gross and unfashionable!”

”The king will take one look and send her back,” Katherine Bassett agreed in superior tones. ”She is a great tall stork of a creature, and nothing at all like our gentle Queen Jane.”

”Queen Jane is dead, and buried these two years past,” Cat Howard said in practical tones. ”Her greatest accomplishment in life was producing our darling Prince Edward. The king would have become bored with her eventually, and her Seymour relations are intolerable, my uncle, Duke Thomas, says. The king needs a new wife, and more sons.”

” ”Tis true,” Katherine Carey agreed, ”but this princess, I think, will not suit him at all. Poor lady to have come so far.”

”The king is hardly in the flower of his youth, and cannot expect a perfect young beauty,” Elizabeth FitzGerald spoke up in her soft, lilting voice. ”It is true that the lady Anne is not quite like her portrait, but she seems a good lady. I think her eyes are kind.”

”It will take more than kind eyes to win over Henry Tudor,” Lady Browne told them. ”What do you think, Lady Wyndham? You spoke with her. What did she say?”

”I merely welcomed her to England, and she thanked me,” Nyssa told them. ”I offered to help her with her English. She appears willing and eager to learn, madame. I like her. I hope the king will too.”

They were shortly to find out, for the king, eager to meet his bride, had galloped all the way from Hampton Court in order to, as he had told Cromwell, ”nourish love” between himself and the lady he would shortly marry. He burst boldly into the presence chamber of the Bishop”s Palace unannounced, clad in a great cloak, a hood obscuring his identity, clutching in his hand a dozen sable skins he intended gifting the lady with. But she, seeing the enormous, bulky figure in the long, swirling cloak, screamed with fright, and grabbing up a pillow, began to beat the intruder about the head. The king fended her off, backing away; it was not an auspicious beginning.

Hans von Grafsteen bowed to the king and apologized. ”She does not know it to be you, Your Grace. Allow me to explain.”

Henry nodded impatiently. ”Be about it, lad! I have patiently awaited this lady”s arrival, and am now anxious to make her acquaintance.” He strove to make out the features of her visage.

The young page moved to the princess”s side. ”Your Highness, do not be frightened. It is the king himself come to surprise you.”

”This great wild boar of a man is the king?” the princess said, the pillow dropping from her hands. She stared at Henry Tudor, then looked away, saying, ”Gott in Himmel, what have I pledged myself in marriage to, Hans?”

”You must greet him, my lady,” the boy told her nervously.

”If I must then I must,” she answered him, and made him a deep curtsey, her head lowered.

How sweetly modest she is, the king thought, his good mood restored. Frightened by a strange man, and so brave, but then charmingly polite. What delicacy of manners, what. . . what. . . what a big woman! This was not the woman in the portrait! Henry Tudor was shocked when she arose to smile at him, meeting his gaze most directly. ”Welcome to England, madame,” he managed to say, manfully concealing his horror.

Hans von Grafsteen conveyed the king”s greeting to the princess.

”Thank him for me, Hans,” Anne of Cleves replied, distressed to see on closer inspection that her bridegroom was as fat as a well-fed hog ready for butchering. His clothing was magnificent, she could see when he tossed his cloak aside. Far more fashionable than anything she had ever imagined. Her own wardrobe would be most inadequate despite all the expense and preparations. It was certainly old-fashioned compared to her own attendants. She would have to remedy that, but as Queen of England that would be no problem.

His initial surprise over with, the king said, ”Ask the princess if her trip was a pleasant one, Hans.” The woman was too damned tall, and her nose was pointed to boot.

The page relayed the king”s words.

”Tell him my welcome at Calais was more magnificent than anything I have ever encountered,” she answered. ”I am appreciative of the warm greetings of the English people. I have been well-treated.” He is not happy with me, she thought silently, all the while smiling at him. I shall have to tread lightly with him else I end up without my head. Perhaps I can win him over, but do I really want to?

”I am touched by the princess”s eagerness to reach me,” the king said. Of course she was eager to get here, so she could bind herself to me in marriage. They have lied to me. They have all lied to me. Cromwell. He wanted this match to the exclusion of all others. He shall pay! And if there is a way I can extricate myself from this nightmare, by God”s bloody bones I shall find it! I will not be shackled to this creature, though I cannot blame Holbein. He is an artist, and sees with his heart.

”Ask the king if he would like to sit, Hans. I can see he is favoring his leg, but do not say that. He will be sensitive about it. Old men are always sensitive about such things. Just say I would be honored if he would take a cup of wine with me, and if he accedes, then pour us some. He has ridden many long, cold miles, and as we can both see, he is not exactly delighted by my person, I fear.”

”Courage, madame,” the boy said, and then turning to the king, said, ”The princess asks if you will take a cup of wine with her, Your Grace. She worries that you might catch a chill after your long, wet ride this day. She is a most thoughtful lady.”

”Aye aye,” Henry Tudor agreed. ”A cup of wine would be good, lad. Thank the princess for her solicitude.” Well, the creature had a kind heart. That was something, but not enough, damnit!

The princess beckoned him to a comfortable chair by the roaring fire, and took her place opposite him. Her clothing was appalling. Her accent was thick. Ohh, they were all going to pay for this debacle; Cromwell in particular. Certainly he had lied when he said that Mary of Guise and Christina of Denmark had refused his overtures. What woman in her right mind would not want to be Queen of England? Cromwell obviously had some hidden agenda, but his plans would not come to fruition. I will not marry this woman! I will not!

The young page brought silver cups of wine for the king and the princess. He stood respectfully, translating the careful small talk between the two until finally the king arose stiffly and turned to him.

”Tell the lady Anne I must now go. I thank her for her very gracious hospitality. I will see her soon.” But not too soon, I hope, he thought. Then he waited while the boy spoke in his own tongue to the princess.

”He can scarce conceal his eagerness to go, can he,” Anne said wryly, but her face was devoid of emotion. ”Tell his grace my heart is full with his warm welcome, and if you laugh, Hans, I shall smack you. The situation is serious.”

Hans von Grafsteen gravely told the king, ”The princess says her heart is full with your warm and loving welcome, Your Grace.”

”Humph,” the king grunted, and with a sketchy bow to his bride-to-be, he hurried from the room. Stamping out into the corridor, he found Sir Anthony Browne awaiting him. His temper overflowed at last, and he snarled, ”I have been ill handled, my lord! There is nothing in this woman as has been reported to me. I like her not!” Then realizing that he was still clutching the sables he had brought with him, he thrust them at Sir Anthony. ”Give them to the creature!”

”You do not like the Princess of Cleves?” Sir Anthony”s voice quavered.

”Have I not said it,” the king thundered. ”I like her not! There is a story of a swan who came down the Rhine to impregnate two Princesses of Cleves. Her line is said to spring from those maidens. I expected the silver swan of Cleves. What I have been sent is a great Flanders mare! I like her not!”

Nyssa, coming into hearing range, paled as she heard the king”s words, and gasped. Both men turned to her, and she shrank back frightened, somehow remembering her curtsey to the king. His face softened when he saw her, and he held out his hand to her.

”Do not let my righteous anger make you afraid, my lady,” he told her. ”Ahh, Nyssa, be glad you are but an earl”s child and not a king”s. Kings may not marry where they please, but rather they must please their people.” He sighed dramatically.

”Ohh, my lord, she is a good lady, the Princess of Cleves,” Nyssa said earnestly. ”I will soon teach her our tongue.”

”Anthony! Anthony! Is she not sweet, the daughter of my little country girl? Her heart is a gentle and good one, as her mother”s heart has always been.” The king patted Nyssa”s slender hand, and then to her horror he drew her against his massive gold-embroidered velvet chest, stroking her hair as he did so. ”Dearest little Nyssa, may you never know the anguish of being forced to the altar, but nay! That shall not be your fate, my child. You will marry for love. I, your king, command it!” Then gently he set her back from him, and turning away from her, walked slowly off down the corridor.

”You will hold your tongue, girl,” Sir Anthony warned Nyssa grimly. ”This is more than a disappointed bridegroom.”

”I am aware of the political ramifications involved, my lord,” she replied seriously. ”Though I be young, and new to the court, I have been educated, and understand that the marriage of a king is no simple thing. Besides, I would not hurt the lady Anne. I like her.”

”So,” the seasoned courtier said slowly, ”you are not quite the little country mouse the king believes you are.”

”Nor was my mother, sir,” Nyssa said boldly. ”She survived the court, and so I intend doing as well.” She curtsied and then hurried into the bishop”s presence chamber, where the princess still sat.

”She knows he does not like her,” Hans von Grafsteen burst out as Nyssa closed the door behind her.

”Hush!” she warned him. ”Sir Anthony Browne is outside.”

”What will happen?” the boy asked her. ”Will he kill her?”

”For what cause?” Nyssa demanded. ”Because he is disappointed that she is not quite as Holbein portrayed her? ”Tis not her fault. She is a pawn on the political chessboard of Europe.”

”Then what will happen to her?” Hans said, lowering his voice.

”He is the king, so I do not know; but a simple man would try to find a way to void the betrothal. I suppose it will be the same for the king. He will want Cromwell and his council to give him a means of escape; but he will not want to appear at fault, you understand. Henry Tudor is not a man to easily admit a fault. My mother warned me of that lest I inadvertently offend him. Is there anything that could be used against the princess, Hans?”

”There was talk of a betrothal with the son of the Duke of Lorraine when the princess was a child, but it came to nothing. No contracts were drawn, or signed. She was completely free to contract this marriage.”

”What are you saying?” the princess asked Hans.

He quickly told her, saying, ”Lady Nyssa is sympathetic to your cause, my princess. She would help if she could, but has no power to do so.”

”You must tell the princess to behave with dignity and composure,” Nyssa interrupted him. ”She must behave as if everything is perfectly all right and she has not the least suspicion that the king is disappointed in her. She must go out of her way to please him both publicly and privately. The king is not a man to hide his feelings, and once the different factions that people the court learn of his dissatisfaction, your mistress will become a hunted animal. She must pretend she is unaware of her position, Hans. That will be the key to her survival.”

The page translated her words to the princess, who nodded most vigorously. ”Ya! Ya! She is right, my liebling. She may be unfamiliar with the court, but she is a clever little girl. Do you think the king will keep his pledge, and marry me?”

Hans asked the questions of Nyssa, who said, ”Unless the council can find a legitimate reason to void the marriage contract, the king will have no other choice than to marry the princess. I do not think they will find such a reason, and that is why I advise her to do everything in her power to please the king. She must begin music lessons immediately. Mistress Howard is a very fine musician. Have the princess ask her to teach her to play the lute, and the virginals. And she must learn to dance, Hans. We can all teach her to dance. The king loves to dance.”

Hans relayed Nyssa”s advice to his mistress.

”That great hulk of a man dances?” Anne of Cleves said, astounded. ”I cannot imagine it. Why, the very floor must shake when he prances about in his elegant finery.” She chuckled at the thought.

”He is a fine dancer, and very graceful despite his size,” Nyssa said when Hans had told her the princess”s words.

”Ya? So, I must learn to be as facile and as graceful, then. Ya! I shall be the very model of a wife for King Henry.”

Nyssa giggled when Hans told her what the princess had said. Then she grew serious again. ”The princess must defer to the king at all times, and in all things, but she must not be so weak-kneed as to be thought spineless, or taken advantage of by others. He is not afraid of women with intellect. He just prefers to be superior to them.”

Anne of Cleves burst out laughing as Hans translated the girl”s words. ”Ya! ”Tis true of all men. My brother and King Henry would get on most famously, I think. Still, cannot one consider that the Lord God, having created man first, possibly acknowledged an error, and created woman? It is something to ponder, eh, my friends?”

The princess and her retinue moved on to Dartford while the court departed for Greenwich on the second day of January. I like her not! became a catch phrase among witty courtiers who quickly learned of the king”s unhappiness with the Princess of Cleves. As expected, however, the painter, Holbein, escaped the royal wrath. His New Year”s gift to his outraged master, a portrait of the two-year-old heir apparent in a red satin gown and bonnet, gained him instant pardon, particularly as the little boy”s resemblance to his father was most pronounced.

To almost everyone”s delight, the king was furious with his chief minister, Thomas Cromwell. Back in London”s Whitehall Palace, before the council, the king roared, ”You deceived me, you wily devil, and I would know why! I might have had a French or Danish wife, but no! Only the match with Cleves would suit you. Why? Her skin is sallow, and her features are sharp. She is tall, and though not fat, she is big. A Flanders mare! Well, ”tis one mare this royal stallion will not mount, sir!”

The council snickered as Thomas Cromwell paled. Still, he was not yet beaten. He turned to the Lord Admiral and demanded angrily, ”You saw her, my lord, and yet you did not warn the king of her unsuitability. I could but rely on the reports of her. You were the first Englishman to see her, and you did not tell us that she would not do.”

”It was not my place to do so, my lord,” the admiral said indignantly. ”The match was made. I assumed this woman was to be my queen. It was not my place to criticize her. Perhaps she is not quite the lady Master Holbein portrayed her as, but she is pleasant and good-hearted. It was not my place to find fault in her.”

The king rounded on Cromwell. ”He is correct, Crum! You did not investigate this woman thoroughly enough, and now I am left to be wed and bedded with her. I like her not! I like her not!”

”It is an advantageous match for Your Grace,” Cromwell took another tack. ”This marriage you have so wisely contracted to balances the alliance between France and The Holy Roman Empire.”

”Surely there must be another remedy for Your Grace,” the Duke of Norfolk said softly.

”There is no remedy,” Cromwell said bluntly. ”There is absolutely no excuse the king can offer for crying off of this match. There is no precontract with any other. There is no consanguinity. She is not a Lutheran, but rather like Your Grace follows the doctrine whereby the Church yields its authority to the state.”

”I have not been well-handled,” muttered the king dourly. ”She is nothing as was reported to me; and had I known it, she would not have come to England, my lords. Now I must needs put my neck in this noose you have fashioned for me. Nay, I have not been well-handled!” He glared around the table at them, but his hardest look was reserved for Thomas Cromwell, and the Lord Chancellor”s enemies knew then and there that his days were numbered. The butcher”s son had finally made a mistake.

Cromwell arose and said, ”On what day will you be pleased to have the queen crowned, Your Grace? Will it still be Candlemas as we discussed?”

The king glowered at him. ”We will talk on it when I have made her my queen,” he said grimly.

Cromwell winced, but continued. ”We will have to leave soon to welcome the princess to London, Your Grace.”

Without another word Henry Tudor arose and departed the room.

”Your time grows short, Crum,” the Duke of Norfolk said boldly.

”I am a more loyal servant of the king”s majesty than you are, Duke Thomas,” Cromwell replied. ”I am not gone yet.”

The king left London for Greenwich with a great party of nobles in his retinue. They would meet Anne of Cleves and her escort at Shooter”s Hill near Blackheath, and the king would accompany his bride into London. Henry Tudor came down the Thames from London by barge. All the vessels accompanying him were decorated gaily with bright silk streamers that fluttered in the cold light breeze. The Lord Mayor of London and his aldermen had their own barge, and they traveled behind the king”s royal barge.

Anne rode from Dartford, where she had been resting for the past few days. Only a hundred of her people from Cleves remained with her for the present. Two of her native maids of honor spoke English. They were Hans”s elder sister, Helga von Grafsteen, who was thirteen, and her cousin, Maria von Hesseldorf, who was twelve. Although ignored by the Bassetts, they were welcomed into the group of younger English maids. Both girls easily picked up the lute, which delighted Cat Howard. She had been most discouraged in her efforts to teach her new mistress.

”She has no ear for music,” Cat said, shaking her auburn curls. ”If the king hears her efforts, he will be even more displeased with her than he already is, I fear.”

”But she is quickly learning to dance,” Nyssa said with a smile. ”She is very graceful. And her English has been improving in just these past few days. I think the king will be pleased with her.”

”She tries so hard,” Kate Carey said. ”It should not matter that she is not quite what her portrait made her seem.”

”God”s blood!” Cat Howard swore softly. ”What kind of a ninny are you, Kate, that you have not realized that men will be taken by a woman”s looks before all? For many of them nothing else matters.”

”Surely all men are not like that,” Nyssa said.

”You will not have to worry about it,” Cat replied. ”You are the most beautiful of us all. Do you look like your mother?”

”I have her eyes,” Nyssa answered.

”They say the king was mad for her in her day,” Cat continued.

”You know more than I do,” Nyssa said quietly. ”I was but an infant, and not even at court then.”

They had brought their finest gowns with them for the official reception of Anne of Cleves into London. Nyssa had chosen to wear her burgundy velvet. The underskirt was a brocade of gold on wine velvet. Her gown was trimmed with rich marten at its hem and sleeves. Her cape matched her gown, and both the hood and the hem were richly furred, but she did not wear the hood. Her long dark chestnut-colored hair was neatly gathered in a gold caul. Her hands, sheathed in soft kid riding gloves, rested lightly on the reins of her gray mare. The other girls were as richly garbed, remembering the late Queen Jane, who had once sent Anne Bassett home until her bodice had more pearls sewn upon it. A queen”s maid of honor must reflect her royal mistress”s station. She could not appear shabby.

The Princess of Cleves was conveyed down Shooter”s Hill to the cloth-of-gold pavilion that had been set up to receive her. About it several smaller pavilions were clustered. She arrived at the foot of the hill at precisely noon, and was received by her Lord Chamberlain, her chancellor, her almoner, and the other officials of her household. Dr. Kaye addressed the assemblage in Latin. He then formally presented Anne to all those who had been sworn to serve her. The ambassador from Cleves replied to Dr. Kaye”s speech on behalf of the princess.

The ladies of the new queen”s household were now officially presented. Each stepped forward to appear before the princess, curtsied, and then moved on. The maids were last, and Anne smiled warmly at them all. She was greatly appreciative of their efforts to help her adjust to her new life. It was cold, and the princess was frankly relieved when she was able to alight from her decorated chariot and retire to the pavilion with her ladies, where they might warm themselves by the braziers with their scented fires.

”Ach du lieber, mein girls,” the good lady exclaimed, pulling off her gloves and handing them to Elizabeth FitzGerald, ”is it cold!”

”It is cold, Your Grace,” Nyssa gently corrected her mistress.

”Ya, Lady Nyssa,” Anne replied with a smile, nodding. ”It is cold, ya? Is better?”

”Much better, madame,” Nyssa said, smiling back.

”Bring a chair for the princess,” Cat Howard said aloud, and it was instantly done.

Anne of Cleves sat down before the brazier, holding out her hands and sighing gustily. ”Hans! Vhere are you?”

The page hurried forward and bowed. ”I am here, madame,” he answered her in their native tongue.

”Stay close by me, Hans. Nyssa is willing, bless the girl, but she is not as facile in our language as she desires to be. I will need you. Where is the king?”

”He is on his way from Greenwich now, madame,” the boy said.

Young Viscount Wyndham slipped next to his sister. ”You”re getting on well with her, aren”t you?” he said. ”She”s not really quite like her portrait, is she? The king is furious, I hear.”

”More the fool he, then, little brother,” Nyssa said sharply. ”The lady Anne has both charm and dignity. She will make a good queen if our sovereign liege lord will but remember he is nearing fifty and is no prize catch himself. He must give her a chance. He will find she is a good companion, and will make a good mother.”

”For God”s sweet sake, sister, do not say such as you have said to me to others,” Viscount Wyndham murmured low. ”If it is not treason, it is near treason; although,” he amended with a mischievous smile, ”you should probably not lose your head, but just be sent home in deep disgrace. Then who should want to marry you, my lady Nyssa?”

”I shall not marry but for love, Philip,” she told him.

”I am much too young for love,” he said, ”and I thank God for it. Master Culpeper, who is Mistress Howard”s cousin, is most smitten with her. When the king was being fitted for his wedding clothes, he offered Culpeper some velvet for a doublet, and he begged another piece for Mistress Howard, I am told. She had the very gown she wears today made from it. The fool has next to nothing, and would have done better to keep the extra material for himself for another doublet. Love. Pah!”

”I think it most romantic of him,” Nyssa said with a smile, and then turned at the sound of the princess calling her younger brother”s name. Giles came forward with a goblet of hot spiced wine for his mistress. ”She is very fond of Giles,” Nyssa noted.

”Aye,” Philip concurred. ”The little turniphead seems to have a knack for being a courtier without being arrogant.”

Brother and sister both watched amused as the princess fondly pinched their little brother”s rosy cheeks. Giles was the only one of their siblings who was a blond, and with his light blue eyes he looked like a cherub. It was obvious that the Princess of Cleves doted on him, much to his embarrassment, but Giles was far too clever a boy to show anything but his good side to his mistress. Still he squirmed under the lady Anne”s fingers, murmuring, ”Madame!”

It needed no translation, and she laughed, saying to Hans in her own tongue, ”He is a little angel, and I cannot resist him.”

Hans translated, and Giles flushed at the giggles that erupted from the maids of honor. Cat Howard blew him a kiss, and the pretty Elizabeth FitzGerald winked at him. He was saved from further teasing by Dr. Kaye, the queen”s almoner, who came to announce that the king was near.

”Her highness must change into the dress she is to officially greet the king in,” Lady Browne said. ”Come, maids, you are far too idle. Fetch the princess”s gown and jewels.”

The dress was of red taffeta embroidered with raised cloth-of-gold. It was made in a Dutch fashion with a round skirt and no train, but it was nonetheless pretty and elegant. A serving woman sponged Anne”s arms, chest, and back with warm rose water. It had already been noted that the Princess of Cleves had a slightly stronger than usual body odor, and her women, knowing how fastidious the king was, sought to overcome her unfortunate difficulty as best they could. Once the gown was settled upon her, Nyssa brought forth a beautiful parure of rubies and diamonds. There was a necklace and pendant ear bobs. A caul held her thick blond hair in place, and on her head she wore a velvet cap encrusted with magnificent pearls.

”The king is in sight, madame,” Kate Carey said.

The princess was escorted outside, and she blinked at the sunlight after the dimness of her pavilion. She was helped onto a snow-white palfrey which was richly caparisoned with a cloth-of-gold and diamond coverlet, and a saddle of finely tooled white leather. Her own personal footmen were mounted, and liveried in rich clothing embroidered with the Black Lion of Cleves. Young Hans von Grafsteen led them, carrying a banner with that same lion on it.

Anne rode to meet her future husband, and the king, seeing her approach, stopped and waited for her arrival. When she had reached him, he doffed his bonnet gallantly to her with a brilliant smile, and for a moment Anne of Cleves saw him as he once was: the handsomest prince in Christendom. She smiled back at him as Hans translated his official words of welcome. Some of those words, she realized to her surprise, she had actually understood.

”I will greet his majesty first in English, Hans, and then you may act the part of translator,” she said.

”Yes, madame,” the boy replied.

”I thank his majesty for his goot velcome,” Anne said. ”I vill try to be a goot vife to him, and a goot mutter to his kinder.”

The king raised an eyebrow slightly at her thick but understandable speech. ”I was told the Princess of Cleves did not speak any language but her own,” he said to no one in particular.

”Her highness is trying hard to learn your tongue, Your Grace,” Hans explained. ”Lady Nyssa Wyndham is teaching her, and the other maids of honor as well. The princess is eager to please Your Grace.”

”Is she?” the king said dryly, and then remembering the cheering crowds about them, he leaned forward and embraced his bride, to the delight of the people. Together they smiled and waved as they returned to the magnificent pavilion, the trumpeters going before them; the Privy Council, the archbishop, and all the great lords both English and from Cleves, following them. ”A Flanders mare,” the king murmured beneath his breath. ”I am to be mated to a Flanders mare.”

The royal couple shared a loving cup before the pavilion, and then the princess was transferred into a carved and gilded chariot for her processional journey to Greenwich. With her sat Mother Lowe, Anna”s old nurse and now appointed mistress of her Clevion maids, and the Countess Overstein, the ambassador”s wife. The ducal arms and the Black Lion of Cleves were carved upon the sides of the chariot. Behind Anne came less ornate open chariots carrying the ladies of the future queen”s household and all of her personal servants. An empty litter draped in crimson velvet and cloth-of-gold was also carried in the procession. It was a gift from Henry to his new queen. Bringing up the parade were the Princess of Cleves”s serving men, all in black velvet and silver, riding identical large bay horses.

The citizens of London crowded their route, and where it wound along the river, the Thames was filled with barges and small boats of every description, some seeming unfit to float, and all filled to overflowing with people anxious to get a look at their new queen. All the London guilds had barges, newly painted, and decorated with the royal arms of England and the ducal arms of Cleves. The guild barges carried minstrels and choirs of young children singing the royal praises and welcoming Princess Anne to England. The king and his bride stopped to listen and praised the performers greatly.

When Anne alighted in the inner courtyard of Greenwich Palace, the guns of the tower sounded a salute. The king kissed his bride and welcomed her to her new home. In the Great Hall the king”s guard all stood at attention as the royal couple entered, and they tipped their lances in greeting as they passed by. Henry then led Anne to her own apartments, where she was to rest until the banquet that night.

Anne, though she appeared serene and regal to those watching her, had been astounded by the warm and spontaneous welcome she had received from the English. ”They are good people, Hans, are they not?” she said for the third or fourth time. ”Still, for all the king”s outward good manners and apparent affection toward me, he does not like me.”

”How can you be certain, madame?” the boy asked her.

Anne smiled sadly. ”I have no experience with a lover, Hans, but I know men well enough to be certain that when they cannot look you directly in the eye, there is something wrong. The painter Holbein has made me something I am not. The king fell in love with Holbein”s portrait, but me, nein, he does not like. He marries me for political reasons, and nothing more. Were it not that he wished to tweak the noses of the French king and the Holy Roman Emperor, I should not be Queen of England.”

Henry Tudor would have been very surprised to know Anne of Cleves”s thoughts. He was miserable over his impending marriage. The princess was not at all what he had imagined, and he did not see himself as others saw him. In his heart and mind he was still young, handsome, and vital. After the banquet that night he again sought out Cromwell, but Cromwell just sighed and sought to put a good face upon the matter.

”She is most regal, Your Grace. The people like her,” he said.

”The lawyers have found nothing?” the king demanded, ignoring Cromwell”s attempt to ameliorate the situation.

Cromwell shook his head. He was becoming more and more anxious about his personal safety and that of everything he had built up over his years of service to England. He remembered his former master, Cardinal Wolsey. Wolsey”s failure to obtain the Princess of Aragon”s cooperation in the king”s Great Matter had cost him his life. He would have been executed had he not died on the road to London, summoned from exile in York.

Wolsey had tried hard to placate Henry Tudor, but even his gift of Hampton Court Palace had not soothed the royal ire. Now Henry once again had that same look in his eyes, but this time his wrath was directed at Thomas Cromwell, and for the first time in his life Cromwell did not know what to do. Henry was a man capable of patience where revenge was concerned. A quick execution would be preferable, Cromwell decided.

The king went to his bedchamber and angrily sent his gentlemen fleeing for safety. Pouring himself a large goblet of red wine, he sat himself down in a chair and sipped slowly, glowering fiercely.

”You are like a lion with a thorn in its paw, Hal,” his fool, Will Somers, said quietly, coming to sit at the king”s knee. Will”s wizen-faced little monkey, Margot, was cuddled in the crook of his arm. She was very old now, and bald. Her dark fur was streaked liberally with gray and white. She chittered softly, looking up at Will for reassurance.

”Keep that beast away from me,” the king growled.

”She has few teeth left, Hal,” Will said, stroking the monkey gently.

”If she had but one, it would still find my fingers,” the king grumbled. He sighed deeply. ”I have been badly handled, Will.”

Will Somers did not dissemble with his master. ”She is not like her portrait, Hal, I will admit. There is a slight resemblance, but that is all. Still, she seems a fine lady, and most royal.”

”If there was a way out of this marriage, I would take it, Will,” the king said. ”She is a damned gross Flanders mare!”

”The lady Anne is taller than you are used to, Hal, but perhaps being able to look a woman in the eye will prove a novelty you will enjoy. She is big-boned, aye, but she is not a fat woman. You must remember that you are not in the full flush of youth yourself, Hal. You are fortunate I think to have such a fine princess for a wife.”

”Were this charade not so far gone, I should send her home,” Henry Tudor said grimly.

”That would not be like you, Hal,” his fool chided. ”You have ever been the most elegant and genteel of knights. I have always been proud to serve you, but I should not be proud if you were unkind to this poor princess who has done you no harm. She is far from her homeland, and lonely of heart. If you send her away, who will have her to wife? The shame would be unbearable, and besides, her brother, Duke William, would be forced to declare war on you. France and the Empire would laugh themselves sick at your expense, Hal.”

”Will, Will,” the king said pitifully, ”you are the only one who speaks the truth to me. I should have sent you to Cleves, except that I could not get on without your company.” He sighed deeply, and draining his large goblet, arose heavily. ”Help me to my bed, fool, and then stay with me. We will talk on other, happier times. Do you remember Blaze Wyndham, Will? My sweet little country girl?”

”Aye, Hal, I remember her well. A gentle and good lady.” Will Somers allowed the king to use him as a crutch, and led him to his bed, where he lay down. The fool and his monkey sat at the foot of the royal bed.

”Her daughter is at court now, Will. A sweet girl, but not at all like her mother. Lady Nyssa Wyndham is a wild English rose. She is one of the Princess of Cleves”s maids of honor. Her mother asked me for her appointment.”

”Which girl is she?” the fool asked his master. ”I know little Kate Carey, Bessie FitzGerald, and the two Bassetts. There are two I do not know. Mistress Auburn Curls, and a beauteous dark-haired wench.”

”Nyssa is the dark-haired girl. Her eyes are her mother”s, though. The other little wench is Catherine Howard, Norfolk”s niece.” He chuckled. ”Mistress Auburn Curls. It is most apropos, Will. Mistress Howard does have rather charming curls. She is a very pretty girl, is she not? God”s foot! Any one of those maids would suit me far more than the Princess of Cleves! Why did I listen to Crum? I should have looked about my own court, and taken an English wife. Was not my own sweet Jane an English rose of good stock?”

”Ah, Hal, have you lost your taste for variety?” the fool gently teased the king. ”I do not believe you have ever had a German. At least not in my time with you. Did you have one before I came to serve you, Hal? Is it true what they say about German women?”

”What do they say?” the king demanded suspiciously.

”I do not know.” The fool chuckled. ”I have never had one.”

”Nor will I,” the king said. ”I do not think I can bring myself to couple with her, Will. God”s blood, I should have married Christina of Denmark or Marie of Guise instead of this Flanders mare!”

”Hal,” his fool admonished sternly, ”how convenient your memory is. Marie of Guise was so anxious to wed with you that she hastily pledged her troth to James of Scotland when she learned you were seeking a wife. I suppose she prefers the Scots summers to ours. As for the beauteous Christina, she told your ambassador that had she two heads, one would be at your disposal, but as she had not, she preferred to mourn her late husband another year or two. You are not as fine a catch as you once were, Hal. The ladies are wary of your treatment of your past wives. You are lucky to have the Princess of Cleves, although I am not so certain she is lucky to have you.”

”You tread dangerously, fool,” the king said in a low voice.

”I speak the truth to you, which is more than those about you will do, for they fear you, Henry Tudor.”

”And you do not?”

”Nay, Hal. I”ve seen you naked. You are but a man like I am. But for an accident of birth, Hal would be the fool and Will the king.”

”I think I am a fool,” Henry Tudor said, ”that I allowed others to choose a wife for me, but there is no help for it now, is there, Will?”

Will Somers shook his grizzled gray head. ”Make the best of it, Hal. The lady Anne may surprise you yet.” He slipped off the bed, Margot clinging to his neck, and pulled the fur coverlet up over his master. ”Go to sleep, Hal. You need your sleep, and I do too. Neither of us is as young as we once were, and the next few days will be full of pomp and circumstance, and too-rich food, and too much wine. You never do anything by halves, and so you will outeat and outdrink us all, and then you will suffer for it on a grandiose scale.”

The king chuckled sleepily. ”You are probably correct, Will,” he said, smiling, and then his eyes closed.

The fool sat quietly until the king began to snore. Then he crept from the room, telling the gentlemen of the bedchamber who awaited outside the door that Henry Tudor was finally, to everyone”s relief, asleep.