CHAPTER TWO
The next day as I enter the Queen's outer chambers, I can feel her eyes on me, as subtle and as warming as the sun. I curtsy deeply before her, and take my new place at the window seat. Today, everyone seems to be sewing, and so I attempt to do the same. But I have never had nimble fingers, and so I tangle the thread, and skewer myself with the needle at least half a dozen times. I look up from my work, taking a deep breath to calm myself, when my eyes catch the Queen's. She has been watching my struggle, a soft smile gracing her face. I find that I cannot feel ashamed, since my ineptness has caused even this small amount of joy to cross over her features. So instead, I smile back, shrug and lay the needlework down. With nothing left to do, I return to an easier pastime, and pick up my book.
I open it to where we left off yesterday, unsure whether or not to read aloud, when I hear the queen's voice calling to me. "Lady Kai, if you would be so kind as to join me?" She gestures to the pile of gorgeous pillows next to her chair on the dais. I stand, gather my skirts, and settle myself on the pillows. I see at once why she has arranged this. From up here, I can read just for her benefit, and not disturb the other ladies, who graciously tolerated my reading yesterday, but I have come to learn prefer to gossip about their husbands.
Not so with Catherine. Even with my head buried in my book I know I have her full attention. And I give it back the best I know how - I read to her, filling the air around us with beautiful words, so that they hang, undisturbed, like a cloud that we stay, lost in them, throughout the afternoon.
The sun hangs low in the sky when the bells peal out, announcing dinner. The ladies begin to put their things away, chatting quietly amongst themselves. I slowly fold my book closed, a ribbon marking our spot. When I look up at the queen, her eyes are distant, and I can almost feel the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. My thoughts return to last night, and what the servants had said. I am unfamiliar with the games men orchestrate, but it seems to me that Henry is a particularly malicious player. To flaunt so openly a mistress, and so disrespectfully in front of his lady wife and Queen…it just seems so wrong.
I wish that there was something I could do or say to ease the ordeal she must once again put herself through this evening, but I know that there isn't. So I cough, softly, gaining her eye, and say "Thank you for the pleasure of reading to you, your majesty." A small smile twists the corner of her mouth upwards, and she gives a tight nod. I nod back. "Until tomorrow," I say, and I take my leave with the other ladies.
...
Later...
...
Two days pass by in this fashion before I realize where they've gone. Life is so pleasant here. The castle is a wonder to behold, and the grounds hold endless places to explore. Attending the queen is a pleasure beyond imagining. She is kind and gentle, and loves to be read to, which is wonderful, as I love little more in the world than reading. Making her smile has somehow recently topped the list. When we are not attending the queen we have quite a bit of free time, and I roam all over, taking delight in each new discovery. Ponds, forests, horses...all are at my disposal. I'm afraid I must seem very dull to the other ladies, who want nothing more than exactly what they have. But I want to see and experience all the castle has to offer. I am alive with delight here.
Her majesty, however, seems more tired and agitated with each passing day. Finding my bravery, I once asked her First Lady, plump old Lady Margaery, if the Queen rests well at night. As First Lady, Margaery is given a small room right outside of the queen's chambers, in order to be at her beck and call. If anything was happening, a First Lady should see, or at least hear. But, in truth, Lady Margaery is rather old and questions bear repeating in her presence.
Today, seated so close to her on my cushions, I am ideally placed to observe. As I move through the book, I flick my eyes occasionally to her face, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, and how they never seem to focus on anything in particular. It's obvious she's not sleeping well, and seems to have a migraine. Her hands grip the arms of her chair like a lifeline, and when the guards move in to raise the curtains to let the afternoon sun in, she looks positively faint. I find that I cannot stay still any longer, and when I come to the end of the next section I quietly shut my book. I move softly to lean in to her, noting that I don't seem to be attracting any of the other ladies' attention. "Your majesty," I say softly, "please pardon the intrusion, but are you feeling alright?" Her eyes find mine, and she looks shocked. Then she suddenly closes her eyes with an exhale, gripping the chair arms tighter. "Majesty, is there anything I can do?" I whisper, not wanting to draw attention. Slowly she is able to open her eyes. She gives a minute shake of her head. "It will pass." Then mutters under her breath, "It would pass easier if I could sleep," before looking extremely shocked that she spoke those words.
"There are still many hours before supper. Would you like to lie down?" The Queen turned her head to look at me, and the intensity with which she searched my face took me aback. Questioning, curious...as if she were unused to having someone care about her well-being. Whatever she saw there seemed to convince her that my thought was sound, for she quickly dismissed the ladies to go enjoy the rest of their day on the grounds. I am about to retire when she asks me to join her and Margaery, and if I might read to her a bit more. I agree, sitting outside her chambers while Margaery redresses her for bed.
When I re-enter she is safely tucked in bed. I draw up a stool to sit by the bedside and pull out the book to read, encouraged by her easy smile. After several minutes, I chance a look up, only to find her asleep. Her face is so relaxed, all lines of worry erased from her features. She is stunningly gorgeous, and I feel a stirring deep in my abdomen. A stray hair falls slowly down her forehead to her face, and it is all I have in me not to reach up and brush it to the side...I suddenly realize what a dangerous position I am in, and have all but stood up to leave...when I find I cannot. I decide to stay and read for a while longer, but mark the spot in the book for future reference.
Not long after I begin again, she shows signs of discomfort and begins to fret in her sleep - brow creasing and small noises starting in the back of her throat. I place the book down and kneel by her side, unsure of how to help, or even if my help will be welcomed...but before I know it I have placed a hand lightly on her forehead. I almost draw it back, for fear that I am taking something without permission, but then she presses into my hand, still continuing to fret. I begin to hum softly a song that I learned as a child. Slowly, whatever had a grip on her eases away, and she relaxes. Before removing my hand I allow myself to touch the crown of her widow's peak, just the tips of my fingers brushing a small amount of strands. It is not enough, but it will have to be.
I return to read to her again allowing myself a quarter of an hour to make sure she stays free of nightmares. But eight minutes have barely passed when I sense a change in her again. I move close, and begin to hum, trying with all my might to keep my hands to myself. Seconds pass, and then she awakens with a gasp and a muffled scream. I'm still close to her, but once she sees my face she quickly rolls away. Her shoulders shake as if she is crying. "Your Majesty" I call out softly, but she stays turned away. I want, desperately to reach out to her, but protocol is back in place. I could no more touch her than I could the moon. So I begin to hum again. At first the shaking increases, but then, bit by bit, it lessens. As I finish a verse, I softly call out "Majesty?" and she finally turns back around. I am at a loss of what to say, so I just hold my hand out to her. She slowly comes back to me, like a frightened animal, and puts her shoulder in line with my hand.
I gently descend the hand, resting on her shoulder, thumb stroking. My chest swells with joy. She let me touch her. I try to memorize the shape of her shoulder, the angle of her shoulder blade. The texture of her skin through the gown. We stay silent for a few moments, and her eyelids flutter closed as she fights to get her breathing back under control. I see how she shakes, and I leave her momentarily to get a cool cloth, pressing it against her forehead, and then to the sides of her neck. Slowly she exhales, and opens her eyes, although they do not find mine, instead staring into the fire. I stay very still, afraid to move or break this very precious moment. However, break it must, and a very short time later she tells me it is probably time for supper.
"Will you be joining the king for supper, your Majesty?" I ask her, and she shakes her head. "No, I will stay here." I nod, and offer to have something sent up for her, which she accepts with surprise. Not knowing what else to say, but not yet ready to leave, I ask her how her head is feeling. "Much better, thanks to your care." I stand, taking my cue, and curtsy deeply, before deciding to take one last chance. "It was my pleasure, your Majesty." I make eye contact with her a smile gently, as she rings for Lady Margaery. "I hope you are able to rest well tonight."
Margaery appears, and the Queen nods me out. As I make for the exit her voice rings out, calling my name. I turn. "Majesty?" She studies me for a moment. "Report to my rooms in the morning with Lady Margaery. I would have you learn the ways of a First Lady, and it is high time we trained someone new, do you not think so, Lady Margaery?" I looked over at Margaery, a short and plump delightful woman, easily in her late 50's. Margaery looked me over with an astonished smile. "As you wish, your majesty."
We both bow and make our exit. During dinner, I am told that I am the youngest first lady the queen has ever taken. Lady Elaine tells me that the queen only likes people older than her about her, as she finds youthfulness a trial. The other women giggle, but Margaery is still staring at me. "You have an old soul in you, I'll grant you that. I think you'll do just fine."