"This is my daughter, your Majesty, Lady Elizabeth Howard."
For a moment, Bessie was frozen as she looked up into the piercing gaze of King Henry of England. Catching her father's eye, however, she quickly swept into an elaborate curtsy, her eyes cast demurely downward.
"Why Norfolk, if I had known you had such a lovely daughter, I would have visited France sooner! Rise, Lady Elizabeth," the King said, gesturing for her to rise from her curtsey.
"Please, your Grace, call me Bessie," she smiled, and chanced a glance at the King. Bessie's life at the French court for the last five years had left her with a vast knowledge of the ways of men. It was what Anne called the 'the look of lust'. Indeed, the King was studying her with a hungry gaze, as his eyes raked over her chest, neck and face.
"Bessie," the King said, trying her name out on her lips with a smile. Norfolk looked disapproving at his daughter's boldness, but his countenance changed when the King turned to him. "May I escort your beautiful daughter for a dance, Norfolk?"
Bessie looked at her father. Whilst they were not close, she knew him well; his reputation as an ambitious and power-hungry Duke were greatly known across Christendom. Any favour the King harboured his family favoured his own advances.
"Of course, your Majesty, she would be delighted."
The King offered his arm to Bessie, to which she had no choice but to accept. The musicians started to play the tune for a Pavane. Bessie felt her nerves grow exponentially. She was not nervous for the dance, for she was well-trained in all manner of courtly dances and had a good reputation for being graceful upon her feet. No, it was the way that the King had looked at her that made her worry. She vowed to be polite and courteous, but not too risk any more bold remarks.
Many eyes were on the pair as Henry lead Bessie out to the floor; who kings chose to dance with were exciting topics of gossip at royal courts. He bowed to Bessie, to which she curtseyed in return. The King had a gleam in his eye as he took her hand to begin the dance. They being going through the graceful steps of the dance. Bessie noted what a wonderful dance partner he was, though as the dance bought them closer together, she thought him a bit too close for proprieties sake.
"Tell me, Bessie," he said lowly, as he moved her about the room, "Why the French court, and not my court in England?"
"I had little choice, you Majesty, I came here when I was ten years of age at the orders of my lord father," she replied.
"Well, I will have to speak to him about a position for you, in my wife's retinue."
Despite initial resistance, Bessie loved her life in France. She adored Queen Claude, her ladies, and the music, dancing and flirtation. Above all, she loved being with Anne. She cursed her initial boldness with the King, for she did not want his lustful advances, nor did she wish to return to England.
"Thank you, your grace, you flatter me with your offer," she said carefully, smiling politely.
"Tell me, Bessie, I want to know who you believe is the greater King," he asked, a more serious expression on his handsome face.
Bessie thought for a moment. She knew she had to be careful in answering, despite what she truly believed.
"Your majesty, I could not possibly choose between the two greatest rulers in Christendom," she said.
"Perhaps time at my court will change your neutrality."
"Perhaps, your grace."
He did not trouble her with many more enquiries, but he did continue to gaze at her and her body intently throughout the dance. Bessie felt uncomfortable, well-aware of his vice-grip on her hand, and focused intently on her steps as if that would make the dance end sooner.
As it ended, however, a tall and imposing figure approached the pair.
"May I take the Lady Bessie off your hands?"
King Francis was on first name terms with all his wife's ladies. A notorious womaniser, just like the King of England, Francis was also keen to gain any sort of victory over his rival. Stealing his dance partner was a perfect was to do so.
There was a storm in Henry's eyes, though he knew he could not say no due to the custom of court dances.
"Of course. I was just telling Lady Bessie about the wonders of the English court."
"Trying to tempt her back across the channel?" Francis asked.
"Mayhap she wishes to do so."
Bessie could almost see the anger pouring out of each king. She suddenly felt the greatest urge to roll her eyes at their behaviour. She was greatly aware that she was a mere pawn in each of their power games.
Francis held out his arm for Bessie.
"Thank you for a wonderful dance, your majesty." She curtseyed to King Henry and smiled sweetly.
"Your company is one that any man is lucky to keep Bessie."
Inclining his head, he stalked away to the high table he shared with his wife. Drinking his goblet of wine, he glared broodingly across the floor, whilst Queen Katherine placed a caring hand on his arm.
Francis held his hand out to Bessie, "Come, demoiselle, it has been far to long since we shared a dance."
Grasping his hand, Bessie wondered how she had managed to steal a dance with two of the most sought-after men in Christendom in one evening.
AN- Hi everyone! The next chapter will be the final of the field of cloth of gold. Bessie will receive a surprising invitation, Anne will return to the scene, and she will meet a mysterious man at the end of the night.