Oh my gosh, everyone, look! A new chapter!

The day of Elizabeth's ball came with much excitement from all members of court. Servants rushed from room to room decorating and preparing, cooks earned their keep in the kitchens with free reign to create the most audacious dishes they could dream of (provided, of course, that they did not involve Welsh sheep) and courtiers spent hours in their chambers, their attention turned to making themselves as beautiful as possible for the coming evening. Even Arthur was in an unusually good mood, though he would be loathe to show it. The life of a courtier or minor royal was an opulent one, if prone to dullness, and dances were far from uncommon, but true spectacles such as this did not happen every day. If nothing else, it would be a welcome break from routine.

The evening began, of course, with a feast. Huge tables were adorned with crimson silk edged in gold with peacock feathers placed artistically between the dishes. There were five courses, each as lavishly decorated and impeccably prepared as the last. Chicken, veal, stag, hare and many other meats drenched in rich sauce, sugar-plums and pomegranate seeds, dozens of eggs seasoned with cloves and saffron, pies of all varieties and sweet pastries topped with fruit represented only a fraction of the banquet Elizabeth and her servants had planned. All French, of course, but delicious nonetheless.

"It does not miss the sheep," commented Arthur, who spent the feast seated at Elizabeth's left elbow.

She laughed and went to reply, but her attention was stolen before she could finish her mouthful. She always arranged the seating so that the people she liked the most sat within easy earshot. The further away you found yourself sitting, the less amusing the Queen found you. Arthur had never been more than one seat away.

After everyone had eaten themselves content and drunk just enough fine wine to maximise their enjoyment of what was to come, the courtiers were ushered through into the ballroom. It had been decorated even more lavishly than usual; silk-topped refreshment tables dotted the edges of the room and the crystal chandeliers had been polished and lit, casting a golden glow about the dancefloor. Court musicians were already playing a slow, stately tune on a small balcony at the other end of the room, which picked up in pace and vigour as couples began to hurry eagerly out onto the floor.

"Elizabeth," said Arthur, slightly giddy-headed and enjoying every moment, "may I have this dance?"

"Of course you may," she laughed, and allowed him to lead her out into the centre of the room.

Dancing had never been one of his strong suits, but it is simply impossible to survive life at court without getting ample practise in it whether you want to or not. While he was certainly no great natural talent, Arthur had slowly but surely gained an ear for music over the years and was easily able to conduct himself in a manner befitting a dance partner of the Queen. Elizabeth herself could have been a dancer if her occupation hadn't otherwise been decided, and indeed practised voluntarily every morning. But tonight was not the night for showing off dancing prowess. Tonight was a night simply for enjoying the music and the lights and the feel of Elizabeth in his arms.

"Are you happy?" he asked her, lifting her arm above her head as she twirled, the lights reflecting off her golden headdress and red curls pinned back above her ears.

She finished her spin and smiled up at him as they began to step in another direction, following the flow of dancers around the room. "That's a rather broad question. Happy with what?"

"With your ball, what else? Is it all you hoped it would be?"

"All and more," she sighed. "I must make it a policy to hold one of these regularly. It's marvellous for relieving stress."

"If you do not organise them, I'm sure someone will," he said. "These people live for parties. Gossip, favour and material pleasure - they care about little else."

"True," she admitted. "But such shallowness can prove a welcome break from responsibility. I do love making decisions that won't ruin the kingdom if I find I have miscalculated."

"I would never let you ruin the kingdom," he laughed. "There have been far worse rulers than you and I am still intact, am I not?"

"You understate yourself, Sir Kirkland!"

"Well, what would you have me say?"

"You are a great kingdom and a fine man. I count myself lucky to have you by my side."

"And I you, Elizabeth. I would be nothing without my beautiful Queen."

Before she could reply, the last note of the song rang out through the ballroom and the couples separated, smiling broadly and applauding the musicians. A voice sounded behind them and Arthur turned around to see perhaps his least favourite man in court.

"Your Majesty," said Lord Robert Dudley, sinking into a deep bow in front of Elizabeth. "Sir Kirkland." He acknowledged Arthur with a nod in his direction, then held his hand out to Elizabeth. "Would you do me the honour of this dance?"

"Of course," she laughed, placing her hand in his. And, with one last smile back at Arthur, allowed herself to be led back out onto the floor.

He watched her go, trying valiantly to convince himself that he felt perfectly neutral about this situation. Elizabeth loved him, of that he was sure, and Dudley was nothing but a friend. A good friend, certainly a hopeful friend, but just a friend. She could not well have refused him a dance without being rude.

Even so, he wished he would not hold her quite so closely as they stepped to the music.

Arthur blinked, dragged himself out of his thoughts. Either he could stand awkwardly at the side of the room and stare at Elizabeth until Dudley finished with her or he could find his own partner and perhaps salvage some enjoyment from these next few songs. The thought of dancing with another court lady far from thrilled him, but it was not quite as repulsive as watching the two of them with nothing to distract him. Making up his mind, he spotted two ladies without partners on the other side of the room and began to make his way over.

He was less than ten feet away when the sound of their conversation reached him.

"Lord Dudley would make a perfect Prince Consort, don't you think?"

Arthur froze, spun on his heel to walk away, changed his mind and turned back, then tried to lean against the wall and look nonchalant. All thoughts of getting any nearer to them than he was now disappeared instantly from his mind.

"Oh, yes," sighed the other. "It's such a pity he's already married."

"Not for long. Lady Dudley doesn't have long to live, you know. It's only a matter of time until she dies and the Queen snatches him up."

"But not straight away! She can't, can she?"

"I don't know, they just look so perfect together..."

Arthur wondered what Elizabeth saw in these pointless gatherings of airheaded, shallow gossips. He himself certainly took no enjoyment whatsoever from them and had no further desire to be in the same room as her and Dudley as they spun slowly in the middle of the floor. He turned and strode to the door, not bothering to explain himself as he pushed past the servants and headed back across the hall, his footsteps echoing more loudly than usual on the stone floors.

Robert Dudley. For the first and only time, Arthur found himself nostalgic for Mary and her pyromania. The cold truth was that, although he was certain that Elizabeth loved him far more, Dudley would make an undoubtedly good husband. And since when had marriage been dictated only by love?

Arthur was in bed hours before the rest of court, but it was only hours after they had all stumbled back to their chambers that his furious thoughts and worries gave way to dreams rather fatal to Lord Robert Dudley.