Chapter Two: A New Adventure

"Oh, yes! Yes, more, please!" The soft sounds of pleasure coming from inside the queen's chamber made Anne of Cleves smile. Still, she hesitated a moment before knocking and finally entering. After all, King Henry VIII might still be in bed with his enchanting young bride. Anne had worked so hard to bring the royal couple back together, and she hoped that this time . . .

"Yes, who is it? Come in already!" Catherine Howard didn't seem too embarrassed by her own moans or even by her own nakedness. The new queen was resting on her enormous bed, lying face down while a large red-faced woman in a frilly cap and apron used work-roughened hands to give Catherine a massage.

"Ah, gut! I see Helga is working out well." Anne of Cleves greeted the thick-muscled maid in German, her native language, before addressing Queen Catherine. "You sent for me, Your Majesty?"

"Mmm." Catherine didn't open her eyes, but she did wave towards the jumble of disordered papers on the writing desk in the corner. "There's a letter in there from someone, an old knight who needs the king to grant him a pension, or give him gold, or something. He's very poor, and he says his son is sick or dead or something."

"Ach, we must help him, poor man." Anne quickly located the crumpled letter, which looked as though someone had been reading it while eating jam-filled pastries in bed.

"First we have to find out if he's telling the truth!" Suddenly Catherine bounced up from the bed and bounded to her closet. "I'll hurry up and get dressed while you see about getting us a carriage and horses. Helga can come along too, for protection. She's as good as a man in some ways!"

"I think so too. That is why I give her to you." Anne winked at Helga, but the big and bulky German maid didn't seem to notice. She was very happy with her new queen, and was already helping lively little Catherine into her smart new traveling clothes.

Many dusty, bumpy hours of travel later . . .

"I hope Sir Hubert Hawley has a hot supper waiting for us!" Queen Catherine yawned loudly, even as her stomach was rumbling. It was already getting dark, and the autumn air was quite chilly. The queen wore a smart little fur-lined cloak, but she didn't object when loyal Helga wrapped an arm around her for added warmth.

"Yes, well I'm sure the poor old man will be very glad to see us." Anne of Cleves didn't want to worry Queen Catherine, who was obviously tired and hungry after a hard day of travel. Earlier in the day, they had passed through several prosperous villages. Cheerful, fresh-faced Catherine had smiled and waved and captivated everyone, kissing babies and flirting with flocks of handsome young men, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

Now there were no more villages, and no more fertile fields. Queen Catherine was fast asleep, her head resting on Helga's shoulder, completely worn out by hard travel and an exciting day. But Anne watched the passing scenery with a thoughtful frown. The lands surrounding Sir Hubert Hawley's house seemed wasted, full of charred and blackened trees and lifeless swamps. A full moon was rising, the ghostly light making the normally sensible German woman think nervously of ghosts and ghouls and goblins, and ancient evil rising from the grave.

Why did poor Sir Hubert Hawley live in this desolate country all alone? And what had happened to his only son?