Chapter 37

Evil May Day

"Eleanor? Are you ready to take your place in the Royal Box" Henry's voice broke into my concentration and I started as my maid tried to put a simple silver necklace around my throat. Before she could drop it, I took the chain into my own hands and shut the clasp myself, for the trinket was precious to me, being a gift Henry had given me to mark George's baptism.

"Almost." Finishing the outfit with a string of jade chips in my hair, I rose quickly, smoothing down the skirts of my lace gown.

Most people would scorn lace as being too simple for a lady of the Court and a Countess at that, but I disagreed. I thought it beautiful, especially for a celebration such as May Day.

And I think Henry agreed. He gasped as he saw the pale green lace billowing around me.

Flashing him a halfway coquettish smile, I took his arm. "Will I do, do you think?"

"Do? You're beautiful, love. My love. My Queen of the May and the Summer Sun."

"Duchess of the May and the Summer Sun." I protested. "My sister's the Queen."

Henry's mouth tightened at my words. "There's something I ought to tell you, Eleanor."

"What?"

At that moment, however, a distant horn blew in the Courtyard. The May Day Joust was about to begin.

"Later. I'll tell you later. It's time I was suited up."

Henry pressed a fleeting kiss to my lips and another to my hand and was gone, leaving me to pick up my skirts and dash to join the King, Queen and other ladies in the Royal Box.

My sister and the King were already seated when I reached the Box. I curtsied to them both. "Your Majesties."

"Sister." Anne smiled at me, but His Majesty seemed distracted. He barely nodded at my greeting and he didn't enter into our playful banter as he would have done in former times.

"So, ma petite soeur, who do you favour to take the overall honour of winning the day?"

"My heart tells me Henry Brandon, Sister, but my head tells me the Duke of Suffolk. No one, save His Majesty here could ever hope to unseat a horseman of his skill and experience."

"Really? You don't think our brother George stands a chance? Your Boleyn loyalty is indeed weakening."

"I hope you don't expect me to favour our idiot of a brother over the knight who captured my heart when I was thirteen and has held it in the palm of his hand ever since." I teased back, just as Henry rode up and held out his lance to me. "My Lady Lincoln."

"My Lord. May Lady Fortune smile on your endeavours this fine morning." I replied, before tying my silver hair ribbon to his lance, leaving my hair free to ripple in the wind as the band of precious stones at my temple gleamed in the sunlight. I ought to have had a hood on, but it was so hot that I had discarded propriety just this once, however dangerous that might be.

Returning to my seat amongst the whispers as people became aware of it, I could feel the tension radiating from my sister, even as she forced a smile for the benefit of the people watching.

I didn't blame her. In the weeks and months following her last miscarriage, we Boleyns had been walking on eggshells around the King. Something ominous was brewing but none of us knew what. We could only wait and watch, fearing the consequences.

Still, the first part of the joust passed off well enough and, despite everything, I found myself enjoying the thrill of the passes and the skill of the riders, particularly since my husband was doing well.

But when Sir Henry Norris rode up to ask for my sister's favour, the fragile peace created by the jovial mood of the day was shattered.

As Anne leaned over the balcony to hand him the ribbon that had been hanging from her waist, she dropped the glove she had been holding in her other hand.

Fluttering down, it caught on the pommel of Sir Henry's saddle.

"Oh! My glove! Hand it to me, if you please, Master Norris." Anne held out her hand, half-imperious, half-smiling. But Henry Norris refused, instead securing it to his weapon belt and saying, in a voice that carried around the Tiltyard "If you smile on me enough to grant me twice your usual favour, Madam, then I am sure that I shall have twice my usual fortune, for my fortune seems inextricably linked to your favour."

A half-stifled gasp ran round the Tiltyard at his words, as people looked askance at each other. The King rose abruptly as soon as Norris had ridden off, having first swept my sister the bow that a Queen of England deserved.

Anne half-rose as well, calling "Sire? Are you not well? My Lord?"

He didn't look back and she made as if to follow him, but I forced her back into her seat. "You can't leave! If you leave, the Boleyns are lost. You have to go on, pretending he's beside you, pretending nothing is amiss."

"How can I do that when I'm sweating with fear?" she retorted.

Realising she was right, I used Nan's handkerchief to wipe her brow, hissing "You can do it because you are Anne Boleyn. Because you are a Queen, a woman and a Howard. That's three reasons for being the most deceitful creature that God ever put on this Earth. Now do as I say and lead this Court like a Queen. Like the Princess Dowager used to do."

At the sound of her most hated rival's name, Anne's spine stiffened. She drew herself up and did what I asked of her. But it cost her. I knew it cost her and hated myself for it. But there hadn't been anything else I could do.

Like Anne and all the rest of our faction, I was down to my last desperate throws of the die. I just hoped it would be enough to turn this nightmare of a situation around.

"Bring me my daughter."

Later that day, Anne had changed her gown from the ceremonial one she had worn to the joust and looked more like an ordinary woman than a Queen, but the hard edge to her voice as she asked for her little girl was impossible to gainsay. Madge hurried from the room and returned a few minutes later, carrying my goddaughter.

Anne wrapped Elizabeth in a summer cape with trembling hands before hoisting her - our -Howard Princess into her arms.

"Where is the King?"

"In the gardens. But Madam…"Margaret Wyatt trailed off as Anne strode to the door.

I sprang up to open it and heard her murmur "If I can only see the King. He'll listen to me. He'll have to. For the love of Elizabeth, he'll have to."

The look she threw me as she passed stopped me from following her, though I desperately wanted to. Instead, I watched from the windows as she chased King Henry down one of the garden paths, struggling under Elizabeth's weight.

Her hair, usually so immaculate, began to escape the confines of her hood.

The hem of her dress dragged in the dirt.

But Anne paid it no heed. She who had once embodied desire so completely now looked the very image of desperation.

I couldn't hear what she said to His Majesty, nor he to her, but I saw him shove her away angrily and stride off without a backward glance. I saw Anne crumple to the ground; saw her bury her face in little Elizabeth's hair.

Without needing to be told, I knew she was crying. She was my sister. I knew everything about her.

At the sight of her, tears came to my eyes. It really was the most evil of May Days for us Boleyns.