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Sir Robert Moncourt-Spencer, Earl of Willingham was one of the men who fought beside Henry VII in the Battle of Bosworth Field. There the young Henry had defeated Richard III and claimed the crown of England and had not forgotten the men who fought beside him.

The elder Spencer had received several titles and offices in addition to generous endowments of land which had greatly enriched his coffers. When his father died, young Moncourt had inherited his father's lands and title and instead of his offices reverting back to the crown, young Henry had made sure that they would remain in the Moncourt family, for which Sir Roger was more than eager to show his gratitude.

His family had increased their wealth thanks to Henry's generosity and he was eager to thank him by entertaining his monarch, no matter what the cost. Moncourt's estate appealed to Henry: the grounds contained a pretty castle of an unknown age and there were gardens and walks along a slow-flowing river. The river hosted two pairs of swans floating along banks lined with willows, a sight both soothing and picturesque.

Best of all was a well-maintained tilt-yard that had been built for the benefit of the elder Henry and had been kept up by Moncourt's son for the amusement of the younger Henry who loved jousting. During the king's visit, the court could count upon at least one meet.

Mary and the queen's women put themselves to unpacking the queen's luggage and helping her bathe and change into a fresh gown. Mary noticed how the strain of the journey had affected the queen's looks. She was obviously fatigued and even the soothing bath could not hide how the long ride had taken its toll. The lovely young queen that the people had loved was gone, but the people loved her, she was still their beloved queen.

"Do you wish to rest before dinner your majesty?" one of her ladies asked and Mary could see on Catherine's face how much she desired to rest, but dinner was soon and the daughter of Spain would not admit her fatigue for anyone. After supper she could retire and rest, but she would keep up appearances no matter what it cost her.

Mary and the ladies in waiting refreshed themselves and exchanged their riding habits for different attire. Mary dressed herself in a pale blue gown over a pale silver petticoat and a hood that matched her gown. She wondered how and if Henry would manage to see her with so many members of the court in close proximity. It would be some months before the court returned and she hoped she did not have to wait to spend time alone with him.

Roger Moncourt had a lavish feast prepared for the guests. There were roast fowl, fish, and lamb, with a wild boar as the center piece. Now that it was summer there were fruit and vegetables on the table for those who preferred them and freshly baked bread. But Henry loved game and there was sure to be hunts and a fresh killed stag would grace the table the following night, if not the next.

Mary looked up at Henry and Catherine sitting under a canopy and sighed, wishing that Henry would notice her. She hoped that she would be summoned to his bed, if not this night, soon.

"Don't be so obvious," hissed Anne, "He'll send for you as soon as he can."

"Oh hush, Anne, you think it should be you in his bed, not me. Well, I don't he'd put up with your moods and your tempers."

"He puts up with you because you're married and therefore he has no obligation to you. Father and Uncle would not have put you in his bed otherwise. When he tires of you, he'll find another married woman to dally with, you're not singular, you're one of many."

"Yes, Anne, he will tire of me eventually, do you think I do not know this? He beds the queen but rarely, so he seeks out someone to take her place. I feel sorry for her, I do. With all of her education, breeding and upbringing, she's just a neglected wife. He is fond of her, respects her in his own way, but he neglects her and she is aware of it. He's doing his best to be discreet where I am concerned, he does not want to flaunt me in her face…"

She noticed Anne was not paying attention to her. Young Henry Percy, one of Wolsey's pages had gone on progress with the court, accompanying his master. Anne was staring at him, and he was staring back, just as hard.

"Anne, stop that, someone might notice," Mary whispered, "Percy is betrothed to Mary Talbot, both the king and Wolsey arranged the match."

"Well, he's not married to her, not yet. Since the match with Ormond has fallen through, Father and Uncle have done nothing to arrange another match for me. Look at how long it took them to arrange a match for you with Carey. Compared to George and his prospects, we are not important. I hear he is to marry that ninny Jane Parker."

"I have heard that too. It is too bad we are not free to arrange our own marriages, but they must be approved by Father and the king. The betrothal papers have been signed so they're as good as married. Flirt with him, dance with him, ride with him when we go on hunts, but be careful. Even if you tried to marry him, they'd annul it. That's not just a marriage, it's a uniting of two families. Henry wants the borders guarded in the north, that marriage is intended to accomplish that.

"You don't have to tell me what I already know," Anne scoffed, "Maybe if Father hears rumors about a romance between me and Percy, he'll actually do something about finding me a husband."

The summer skies were light and fragrant and the court drifted outside to enjoy the last of the summer afternoon. Roger Moncourt had provided amusements for his guests, there was archery, they played at bowls, and the more energetic among them played tennis on the clay courts. Sir Roger's musicians had moved out of doors and some of the company began to dance. All in all the first night was a success.

Anne had been whisked away by young Henry Percy and they joined the dancers. Go ahead, Mary thought, ruin your life like I ruined mine, just don't be a fool and try to marry him. She watched the dancers and felt someone tap her shoulder.

Sir William Compton was standing at her side. "I have been instructed, my lady, "to bring you to the someone who very much wishes to see you. Come this way, if you please." He held out his arm and she took it.

At that moment, Anne's laugh could be heard coming from the couples dancing. Sir William turned his head. "Your sister appears to be enjoying herself," he said, "She is certainly turning heads."

"Oh yes," answered Mary, "If Anne is not the center of attention she will take steps to assure that she is."

He patted her hand, as if to reassure her, "There is one who does not care for that. He enjoys the company of peaceful women whose presence he finds soothing. And besides, as attractive and alluring as your sister seems to be, her beauty is no match for yours. Were your attentions not otherwise engaged, I might see if I could tempt you away from the king!" He looked at her, and gave her a mischievous smile.

They came to the luxurious quarters that Sir Roger reserved for the king when he visited. Sir William smiled, and bowed and instructed the guards to admit Mary into the king's presence.

"Mary!" Henry took her in his arms and buried his nose in her perfumed hair then kissed her, "Please forgive me, my love, for not sending word to you, but I have been busy getting settled in. I trust you are comfortable and that Anne has not been tormenting you?"

Mary laughed at this, feeling the tension of the day flowing out of her, "I think the day Anne stops tormenting me will be when one or the both of us is dead. But no, Anne is making mischief of another kind, flirting with men she should leave alone."

"Young Percy?" asked the king and Mary nodded. "Well, for now I will leave that alone. The papers are signed and all that is left if for them to take their vows in church. He will know the value of the union between him and Mary Talbot, and besides, this is my command. Perhaps at some point I will put a stop to it, but for now I will let the lad have his fun. Your sister must watch herself, though, if she thinks she can interfere she will find herself sadly disillusioned."

"But, enough of that, I have not called you in here to discuss your sister's amours. We have only a short time until supper and I have thought of nothing all day but having you in my arms. Will you not be kind to me, Mistress Carey?"

Mary stepped into his embrace, her hood falling from her head as he kissed her, then freed her hair from its net. He helped her undo her laces and untie her petticoat and soon her clothes fell in a pool around her feet.

"Oh, Henry," she whispered and he lifted her up and lay her on his sumptuous bed. Sex had never been like this with William or Francis. She cried out when he squeezed her too tightly to him and he whispered his apologies.

Their lovemaking was all too brief, for she had to return before Henry made his entrance. They would exchange looks, and secret smiles all during supper and afterwards he would lead her, or perhaps another lady of the court, out and begin to dance. Perhaps he would summon her again, but perhaps not, but there would be another estate to visit, another courtier to be entertained by and surely at some point she would find her way into his bed again.

William Carey lay in his bed, lamenting the fact that his wife was free to be courted by the king.

There was a knock at the door and a servant entered, holding a scroll, "This came for sir." Then he bowed and left the room.

"William Carey of the Privy Chamber," it read, "has been graced an annuity of fifty marks." It was signed by Cardinal Wolsey. A nice amount, perhaps, but where was his knighthood? To truly have influence at court he needed to be "Sir William Carey", not "Master William Carey."

Henry you bastard, he thought.