Anne sat in the stands behind her daughter and nervously pulled on the threads of her sleeve. Jousts were exciting, but they were also dangerous. She did not forget Henry's great fall that had cost her the child growing inside her. She did not forget when the Duke of Buckingham had all but lost an eye so many years ago. Status meant nothing when you were ahorse and riding towards your foe.
She watched George take his place opposite the man backed by France. Poor Elizabeth had had to offer her cord of green silk to the man riding against her dearest uncle. But her little daughter had done perfectly well, tying the silk cord to the lance and curtseying gracefully to the man chosen to represent the french alliance. George did not seem to take it to heart and had sent his niece a little wink, which caused Anne to grin. But then, as the men had thundered towards each other, the decorated lance had caught George's shoulder, almost unseating him. George had cried out in pain, dropping his own lance, but not before it had slammed into the frenchman's breastplate, pushing him into the dirt below. Anne's hand had shot out to her daughter's shoulder when her brother had taken the hit, but now she forced herself to relax. George wheeled his horse around, but did not celebrate his victory like she knew he wanted to. He was still holding his shoulder and his face was grimacing in pain. His squire dashed out to him and helped him down, solidifying Anne's worry that the injury was not just a glancing blow. The crowd hushed and Linacre dashed forward, always on hand should he be needed.
But her brother waved away the court physician like one would a pesky fly and approached the royal box, sinking to one knee. While he held his injured arm awkwardly, he grinned up roguishly at the king.
"Alas, I fear this is the only victory I will take home today, Your Majesties. With your blessings, I will withdraw from the competition and celebrate with a mug of ale."
A victory hard won," Henry chuckled. "Perhaps Mounsiour Marillac would be so inclined to share a barrel of the fine Burgundy wine with you- to reward you of your prowess..."The surrounding courtiers clapped politely for Boleyn, though the French ambassador did so stiffly, ruffled that his man was defeated so quickly and cost him a barrel of a vintage he was fond of. His courtier's smile was in place though for the king, as if gifting George a cask of wine was a great honor. If Elizabeth was disappointed that the champion that was forced on her was out of the lists so early, she did not show it. She only graciously applauded along with the rest of the court as George limped away.
Anne felt eyes watching her and she caught Henry's gaze. She wondered if he too remembered the last Mayday they had celebrated together- how strained their marriage had been. She shook the memories away with a toss of her hair and refocused on the next tilt.
Ah, that is why he watches so, she thought as Hal rode in. She couldn't help the intense pounding of her heart at the sight of him, the small scrap of blue silk at his wrist. There was something about his smile that made her forget everything since she had been in his arms. As if she was still just a girl again, having never climbed the steps of the throne only to be cast down again. Having not experienced the horrors that had befallen her or the gripping fear of the shadow on the tower green. Something about those mischievous eyes just wiped away all her trauma and left her feeling light and young and beautiful and happy. When she spoke with him, she didn't feel like she needed to calculate every word and every smile. It all just came so easy, like it had when they had been all but children falling in love for the first time. Not trusting her gaze to give away her feelings and knowing the king's eyes were scrutinizing her, she glanced down at her hands, as if not even affected by the handsome duke.
As she got control of her breathing, she raised her eyes once again to the field, where Hal was lining up. He raised his arm to lower his visor, but not before meeting her gaze, sending her a grin and a wink. Lord, here she sat, a woman grown, mother of a princess, and a divorced queen, and yet she felt her cheeks redden. She felt her father shift besides her and knew it was not just the king watching her every move. She wondered if he meant his words the other day. If she chose she wanted to remain the Marquess of Pembroke and retire to the countryside, would he support her? Or would he accept nothing less than being in Henry's consort? She wondered if he would even be happy if she were to aim for the empty space by Hal's side. Most men would be thrilled with the thought of a daughter as the duchess of Northumberland, but Thomas had always had higher ambitions. She wondered if her father would be happier to see her a mistress of the king than gain an honorable marriage with a lesser title.
Her musing was disrupted as the trumpets sounded and Hal thundered towards his opponent. Anne watched with eagle eyes as the riders came together, lances clashing. Neither rider sustained a true blow and they reorganized to ride again. Her attention rapt, Anne forgot about the other spectators. On the second run, Norris' aging eyes still found their mark, his lance slamming into Hal's breastplate. While Hal lost his shield and lance in his attempt to keep his seat, he was unhurt and had managed not to fall. It was only now that he was safe, did Anne notice she had gasped aloud, earning the gazes from around her. Her father and the king's eyes were cold, but Jane and Elizabeth had turned to her with matching knowing grins, the latter with a raised eyebrow.
"It seems, madam, that you are more concerned now than when your own brother lay in the dirt," Henry's petulant tone was not lost on her and Anne couldn't help but bait her ex-husband.
She laughed lightly to cover the awkward air that lingered and smiled brilliantly at the king, raising her bare wrist. "Ah, but you see, Majesty, while I love my brother dearly, my fortune and my favor both lie with this match." Henry stared at her wrist, absent the favors that most ladies brought with them to the jousting field. His cheeks flushed slightly as his gaze swiveled to Hal, who was accepting his fallen lance from his squire. The sapphire silk on his gauntlet floated in the breeze. The king gave a little derisive snort before turning his attention to the flighty Mistress Howard once again.
Anne met the queen's gaze and saw her hide a little smile.