Second chapter I uploaded today. Please review, feedback motivates me a lot! I am grateful for constructive criticism as much as for praise!
Saint Martin's Day, The Pageant at Whitehall, 1524
~o~
Catherine
It was the day of Saint Martin and they all heard a mass that praised their great king's generosity. Then there was a banquet to celebrate this special day, and the king had invited the two ambassadors of France and Spain with their entire entourage. Henry was in a brilliant mood, laughed and japed even with his Queen who had often displeased him as of late. But for once, there was no war, no tension between the great three and Henry was generous and enthusiastic. Cat knew that one of his friends would displease him sooner or later. Charles of Spain was an ambitious man and Francis would not like to be overshadowed by the Habsburgian emperor.
But for now, all was good.
The banquet ended and sweets, nuts and cheese were served but Catherine ate only little. She did not want to feel heavy during the dance later. The signal was given and six of the queen's ladies rose from their seats and bid their queen's leave. She allowed them to go with feigned confusion and her husband at her side distracted her. Katherine of Aragon had seen more plays and pageants than she could count but she still feigned confusion and did so well whenever the king tried to surprise her again. After the ladies, the king left as well with his closest friends, Catherine knew, although she did not see.
She was laced into the white costume and took her hood off so that the handmaiden could place the headdress on her dark blonde waves. She tugged the veil in place.
"Very pretty, my lady." She said shily. Yes, indeed. Now, Cat had the opportunity to look at herself properly and she was content with what she saw. Mary Boleyn was more beautiful, beyond a doubt, but she had the wits of a turnip, if truth be told, and the king liked wits.
She met some of the other maids in the hall and together, they made their way over to the Great Hall. Behind a curtain of heavy velvet, they took their positions, Cat on Mary Boleyn's left side, Anne to her right. They heard voices outside, the Queen laughing lightly.
"This is His Majesty's surprise, I am certain." She said and once again Cat wondered how hard it must be to be Queen. She did not envy her namesake.
Then, the curtain fell and the courtiers broke out in gasps of feigned surprise and delight. The ladies on the raised tribune started to sing of terror and the demons, men dressed in black and red, countered their sweet song with screams and threats. But there, help was near. A group of men, dressed in cloth of silver and shining brighter than any group of stars, made their way through the hall. The demons all gasped in shock and expressed their fear, the ladies sung of hope. Through the lace of her veil, Cat saw the Queen smile at her husband who led the group of Gods, although his face was hidden by a full mask. If she guessed correctly, it were Compton and Brandon behind him, followed by Knivert and others.
They stormed the paper temple with its white columns decorated with lengths of green velvet and cloth of silver, and fought the demons with swords of painted wood.
"I have come to your rescue, sweet nymph." The king shouted and offered mary Boleyn his hand.
"Oh, you have saved us all, good lords, and for that we shall show our gratitude. A dance we offer you!"
"Nothing could be sweeter than a dance with beauty itself. Come now, sweet nymph, we shall lead the dance."
And Mary Boleyn followed her lover down the steps in front of his lady wife.
Cat took the hand of another gentleman, still looking at the king.
"Why, now, that is quite rude." she heard a voice close to her ear. Not him, of all men. He must have recognised her under her veil, and chosen to torture her even more.
"You dance with a nobleman and have only eyes for another."
Cat smiled at him, now she saw his eyes, blue and cold.
"Why would I look at a star when the moon shines so brightly?" she asked.
"Well, Henry has certainly found his moon, my lady, and a star would do well not to crave the moon."
His insolence almost took her breath away and she tried to withdraw her hand but he held it tightly.
"Why, now, my lady. You do not want to forget yourself, do you?" The music began and he offered her his other hand. Cat was tempted to refuse him in front of the whole court, but Henry would not be pleased by that, so she took the hand he offered and allowed him to pull her closer.
"You do look quite pretty, if I may say so. The veil brings out the beauty of your face."
That was another outrage but Catherine did not take this one to heart.
"Oh, how kind of you to say so. I agree, this veil has its advantages. Just like your mask. I must say, it is an improvement."
The Duke laughed at that.
"Touché, my lady."
He twirled her around, then pulled her close again, stared down at her.
"Down with the masks!" The king shouted. "Lift the veils!"
Catherine unfastened the ribbons that held his mask in place while the duke lifted her veil. Around them, everyone feigned surprise as the king revealed himself. Charles Brandon stared down at her face.
"Down with the masks, His Majesty said, my lady." he said in a toneless whisper. As if I would show you who I truly am. You, of all people. She'd rather walk through the streets of London, naked.
"Only if you put yours on again." Cat replied, with the hint of a smile.
For the tiniest of moments she saw his eyes flicker over her bodice. It was not much, but a girl who had grown up at court noticed such things. A reluctant satisfaction filled her. He liked what he saw, of that she was certain.
"You hold it in your hands, Lady Catherine."
~o~
Life at court was full of feasts and frolics these days. Henry's good mood still lasted, as did the peace with the continent. Queen Katherine was content as well, and Cat had practised her Spanish almost to perfection. There were hunting trips every day, trips in the royal pleasure barge and picnics on the Thames' grassy banks, where everyone was huddled in fur cloaks. Catherine took up falconry again, and outshot all other ladies with the longbow. She was a decent card player, though not half as brilliant as Anne was, but she was learning all the English games again.
She had taken a liking to the queen and Katherine of Aragon felt the same about her, she could tell. The king was fond of her, too. It could have been perfect, if not for the Duke. He still did not grant her a proper allowance, for every penny did she have to beg. She already worried about the payment for the Christmas gifts for Henry and Katherine, and others. He hated my father, and now that he has cast him down, he means to torment me. Catherine tried hard to be pliant and sweet, but it was not her nature to be as good as the Queen and sooner or later, her temper always won.
There had been a ball the other day. Brandon had refused to give her silver for the less fortunate and she had not been able to give out alms to the poor, something that shamed her greatly. So she had sold a ruby necklace and given the money away, to the Duke's dissatisfaction.
They had not spoken to each other for a day and a half when during the ball, he had come to her and asked her to dance, no doubt a peace offering. But the blood had rushed in her ears as she remembered his words. So she had replied, quoted him:
"You shall have what I am willing to give you, and that is, at the moment and for that cause, nothing."
Many had heard her words and saw her walking away while colour rose to the duke's cheeks, whether it was shame of anger, she could not say. Perhaps both. To spite him, she had danced every dance that night, with almost every man in the room but him. The final dance she had danced with the king, who had pushed Lord Southhampton.
"You will allow, my lord, if I steal the lady's hand from you for this dance?"
And the king's companion had bowed and left with a smile. Catherine could not have been more pleased.
"You look very beautiful, my lady." The king had said, his eyes on her face first, then wandering over her red velvet gown. Catherine had been delighted. It was the king's friendship she needed.
~o~
It was a fine morning, only two days later, and late autumn sunlight grazed the green lawns and hedges in the gardens.
"Lady Catherine." The king offered her his arm although Mary Boleyn stood not far from them with Anne and their brother, George.
"How are you finding life at court?" the king inquired.
"Most entertaining." she replied courteously, biting back the remark that it was infinitely more entertaining than life had been in Oxfordshire.
"So do you find the English court more cultured than the French?"
It was certainly just as frivolous.
"Infinitely more so, Your Majesty. In France there were dances, too, and masques...but nothing compared to the revelries and amusements at your court. Queen Claude was a kind mistress but Francis was… very French."
Henry laughed.
"Many ladies find him rather handsome, I have heard."
Catherine smiled.
"Only the blind ones, Your Majesty. His nose is far too long and his eyes are very narrow. He looks like a fox, everyone agrees."
"A fox!" he exclaimed. "Yes, indeed." he chuckled. "So you are quite happy to have returned to England, to court?"
"I am…" she hesitated on purpose. He would ask her.
"Is there an obstacle to your happiness, Mylady?" Catherine looked down demurely.
"No, I should not have- forgive me, Your Majesty."
But now, the king wanted to know. He might wear a crown but he is just like every other man.
"I am rather ungrateful, I fear, for His Grace, the Duke, was so kind to make me his ward...Although I understand not why, for he seems to positively loathe me. He makes me beg for every penny, I - Forgive me, Your Majesty, I am in the wrong."
Henry looked at her intently. "I will talk to him. A lady should never have to beg." He squeezed her hand. "You should show His Grace some kindness. You refused to dance with him only two days past, my lady."
"Would it not be improper to dance with him?" Catherine asked, innocently. "He is, after all, my guardian."
"By law, indeed. But he is neither father nor brother to you." No, you killed the former and sent the latter running.
"Of course." she smiled. "It is my first and utmost wish to please my king." She curtsied low. "And if it pleases Your Majesty, I shall do as you ask."
She wanted to take her hand off his arm but he held it in place.
"Your first wish?" he asked, his odd blue-green eyes pierced hers.
"My greatest wish." now she stared back openly, the French way.
She thought he was about to say something when his gaze suddenly wandered to something behind her. Mary.
"I am always pleased to reward a loyal and faithful subject." he said, and smiled, but she knew that it had been something else he had wanted to say originally. "Be kind to the Duke, and you shall reap what you sow. But I will speak to Charles." he promised and led her back to the other courtiers. There was a visible bulge in Mary's bodice by now and Henry's eyes wandered to that bulge from time to time. He wonders whether it's his child. He wonders whether it will be a son. The queen's childbearing years would be over soon, everyone knew.
It had not been the triumph Catherine had hoped for, but hopefully, it would do. Rome wasn't built in one day. She reassured herself. She would try to be kind. Tonight, perhaps.
They went back in before the sun set, it was colder now and soon, the first frost would be uupon them.
After her bath, Catherine chose a gown of emerald silk with oversleeves of velvet in the same colour and a low embellished neckline. Her handmaiden pinned up her now dry hair under an emerald green French hood and Catherine pushed it back as far as modesty allowed. She wore a gold and emerald necklace and the Tudor Rose brooch her father haid rebuked her for so sharpy. She left her hands bare, it was wiser for the dance later.
The feast was splendid, the food supherb, and the king was as merry as ever. He sent roast quail to Mary and the finest dishes to his queen who was red-cheeked and clear eyed for once. Anne sat next to Catherine and together, they made fun of the great lords and ladies at court. Anne was beautiful in blue with a tiny French hood and a string of pearls around her neck. Mary's affair with the king had made Sir Thomas rich and his daughters and wife showed his wealth.
After the feast, they left the banqueting hall to watch the play in the Great Hall. A dance would follow.
The play was a light comedy, made fun of Martin Luther, the heretic monk from Germany. The king laughed heartily, but Catherine noticed that a few smiles were strained.
After the play, the queen took her high seat, but the one to her left remained empty. The king lead the dance. Now.
Catherine searched the hall for Charles Brandon's tall figure and found him talking to one of the king's gentlemen of the privy chamber, Sir William Compton.
The man left when he saw her approaching although Cat didn't miss the suggestive look that he gave the duke in passing. What does he think I am here for?
But that did not matter. She had to swallow her pride for once. What does it matter, he will refuse anyway. Then I can tell the king I tried my best.
"Your Grace." She curtsied almost as low for him as for the king. She could hear him chuckle above her and anger coiled in her stomach. Calm. Think of what is at stake.
She rose again. "I have to apologise for my behaviour, Your Grace, and ask you whether you would honour me with a dance." It was not exactly common for a lady to ask but it would not cause a scandal.
The Duke grinned.
"I know that you hope and expect me to refuse unkindly, so I accept gladly." God, have mercy.
"I am delighted." she replied, though it did not even sound believable in her ears.
The Duke laughed as he led her onto the dance floor.
"A Volta!" The king shouted and Catherine froze stiff for a moment. Everything but this. The Volta was a dance the king enjoyed, but utterly frivolous and it involved far more contact than any other dance. Catherine caught a look from the king to his friend. They have played me. she realised.
"My lady, I offer you a piece of advice." Brandon said as he took her hand. "The king might have grown fond of you, although I do not understand why. And he did indeed ask me to grant you the allowance you have begged for." I never beg. "But I have been his companion since childhood,he shares everything with me, he allowed me to marry his sister. Do not presume that you can denounce me."
Shame and anger made Catherine blush.
"The colour looks good on you." The duke said with a smug grin, as he put one hand on her waist.
"The king's sister was a beautiful woman I heard. A pity that she died so young and all alone. My condolences."
For a moment, his grip on her waist tightened.
"Mary is dead for near on four years now. Leave her in peace." He forced the words out between clenched teeth.
Again, shame hit her. No matter how much he angered her, the dead should not be used for this kind of game.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. It was ill done." She said, meaning it, and he looked down at her face with surprise. He was so startled that he missed a beat and lifted her up too late. She felt her skirts whirling around as he turned with her in his arms, then he put her down again. She could feel the heat of his body on her skin and his eyes never left her which she found both strange and unnerving. Perhaps he desires me. She thought, but discarded the notion at the same time. He loathed her, despised her, nothing more.
And yet, the steps came easy to her as he led her, and when he had to let go of her after the last high note, she almost felt as if she missed his touch. Nonsense.
He bowed, as it was tradition, and she dipped into a deep curtsy. When she rose, he was gone and she missed his touch no longer. He is truly disrespectful and has no manners at all. She danced the next dances with other lords but her thoughts kept trailing off to him, although she tried to focus.
When she came back to her chambers that night, she found a letter sealed with the lion rampant on a striped field that was the arms of the Brandon family.
The letter allowed her to use one half of her income as she pleased, the other half was managed by her warden, the Duke of Suffolk, who paid her servants and oversaw her estates in her name. From her income she would have to pay for her wardrobe and leisure.
Catherine kissed the paper and spun around that her skirts flew. Yes. She did not need him anymore, he had given her everything she wanted.
~o~
Charles Brandon
At the same time, the king had a cup of wine with his closest friend.
"You are far away Charles." Henry observed. "Who is it that you want? Or have you not decided yet?" The king laughed.
Charles knew whom he wanted. Green eyes that looked at him defiantly. A sweet voice with a cutting tone. She was beautiful and he found it hard not to stare. But she was also the most wayward, wilful, impertinent being he had ever met. And worst, he enjoyed every duel of words with her, the triumph in her eyes when she knew she had won, the stubbornness when she had to admit that he was the victor. But if he showed her that he desired her, she would use him, drain him, and laugh at him. She respected him not, despised him for the role she thought he had played in her sister's disgrace and her father's downfall. And is she so wrong? I did not play the dishonourable roles she thinks I played, but I have surely not covered myself in glory. No, he would not show, he would provoke her further, he loved the spark in her eyes, the way her lips curled into a reluctant smile when he had something funny and she had to laugh against her will. He had given her what she had wanted, though, could not bring himself to use it against her. She had been too kind, too sweet. Now, she would be back to being her old wayward self.
"I think I know who it is, Charles." Henry grinned. "She has the claws of a wild cat but perhaps you can tame her." Taming her was never his wish.
"The tame ones prove no challenge." Charles grinned. "I like the wildness in her."
"Perhaps you are right." Henry agreed. And Charles was suddenly certain that Mary Boleyn's days were numbered.
"You granted her the allowance." The king observed.
Charles nodded.
"She will think that she can get everything from you now." Henry suggested but Charles knew that was not true.
"No, I have given her everything she wanted from me, Your Majesty."
"She will treat you as she did before." Henry warned and Charles laughed.
"Oh, I hope so."
For Henry, this was all still a game. The ladies at court were butterflies he chased after and when he got one and broken its wings, he suddenly decided he wanted another. Charles had been like that, to a degree he still was. But he could not forgive himself for what he had done to Mary, although Henry seemed to have forgotten it all together.
The shadows of the past faded now though, and Charles felt the familiar thrill of the chase.
She was no meek rabbit that was his after a dance and a letter. She was different and as wayward as a cat, but that made it far more thrilling. She was innocent though, as far as he could tell, and not experienced. That was his advantage.
The king raised his cup of wine.
"Women. A blessing...and a curse."
Charles drank to that.
