moms, and you had a sister. Who does
Elizabeth have? She's all alone, all by herself,
writing letters to strangers and asking them to be her
mother. Oh, Kit. The poor kid."
"Perhaps the "poor kid" needs to be treated
thusly. She may not be a giddy child, but she will
grow up to be a magnificent queen, one who will
have the backbone to keep Spain at bay. Leave
her alone, Deanie."
"Okay, so she'll be a magnificent
queen," Deanie countered, her voice rising.
"Maybe she'll be even more magnificent if she
can have a happier childhood."
"And maybe her unhappy childhood is the
key to a great queen." Other courtiers had
hushed, trying to make sense of the strange
exchange between the two. But even the nearest
gentleman could not make head nor tails of their
conversation. All there knew, however, that they were
witnessing a scene full of passion.
"I'd rather give the kid a hand," she spat.
Then with a deep breath she continued, trying to calm
herself. "Please, Kit."
"Deanie." His voice was rough as he put out
a hand to steady her. "Love," he said softly,
"helping Elizabeth won't do a jot for your own
childhood."
Deanie stared ahead, not really seeing. "I
don't know, Kit. Something about this letter has really
gotten to me. Maybe ..."
"Maybe what, Deanie?"
"Maybe I want a child of my own," she
breathed. "A child of ours, who will never worry about
where her parents are, or if they love her.
I've never felt this, never."
Wordlessly, he brushed the tears from her cheeks,
wanting very much to hold her but fully aware that the
most proficient court gossips had already taken
note of their conversation.
"If all goes well in the maze, we will have
that chance. Only then. Otherwise, we will never have
our turn."
"Kit, please. What if something happens to us
in the maze, if we're separated or killed?
We both know that's a very real possibility. And
if that happens, what will we leave behind as a
legacy? A recipe for doughnuts? A
spectacular jousting record? That's not much,
Kit. But if we can make a little girl happy,
a future queen. And then also help a generous
woman, someone who is just as out of place here at
court as we are ... Well, no matter what,
we will have lived for something important."
For a long moment the only sounds were the echoes of
clashing foils and the soft whispers of conversation.
Finally a very small smile appeared on Kit's
mouth. "All right, Deanie," he acquiesced.
"I will make a deal with you. If it rains again
tomorrow, or proves too cloudy to attempt the
maze, we'll try to think of something to help little
Elizabeth and the queen. But if it's sunny,
we'll try to leave."
Through her sniffles and relief, she smiled and
prayed for an English monsoon.
Neither Kit nor Deanie had noticed the
growing smirk on the face of Henry Howard, the
earl of Surrey.
Chapter 14
There were rumblings at court.
At first Deanie feared the news concerned
Queen Anne and the much-anticipated annulment
finally taking place. The corridors vibrated
with a hushed excitement. The usual morning
greetings seemed subdued and hesitant, as if
by the very act of acknowledging another, one might
miss the latest tidbit.
By ten the sun was rolling high above a cloudless
sky. Usually such weather brought a frenzy of
activity, of courtiers gathering in select
groups to plan a day of splendid outdoor
sport. But on this morning even the most restless
court members lingered within, reluctant to leave the
palace and its fluctuating rumors.
In the queen's chamber, it was clear that something was
up. Deanie and the other women spoke of fashion,
with Katherine Howard detailing the latest high
neckline just beginning to emerge from Italy and
France. She alone seemed oblivious to the
unnatural pauses and distracted comments from the
other women.
"And above all, 'tis most flattering to all
figures, be they round or slim," she concluded.
Then she stopped, her gaze rounding the circle.
"However, a great deal of caution must be exerted."
All five of the ladies' heads, including that
of the queen, snapped to attention. Their needles
hovered in midair, waiting for Katherine
to continue.
"Why is that, Mistress Katherine?" asked the
queen, her voice dry and brittle.
"Because ..." Katherine leaned forward, and
Deanie held her breath. As the king's apparent
confidante and Norfolk's niece, she could very
well be the best source of information in the entire
court.
Katherine yawned before she spoke, a
languorous, unhurried stretch, giving all the
women time to imagine the worst.
Finally Katherine was ready. "One must
exercise caution, for the high collars may indeed
become entangled with one's headdress." With that
she nodded, satisfied that all had heard her
statement.
"What?" Deanie asked, ignoring the needle
that just plunged into her thumb.
"'Tis true. One must wear a
bonnet, much as the gentlemen do. And be wary of
all headdresses, be they gabled or of the French
hood fashion."
Deanie's eyes met the queen's, and at
once they began to giggle, joined shortly
by Cecily Garrison and the others. Katherine
Howard seemed perplexed.
"But it is serious," she began. "I have heard
of many a lady caught by a troublesome headpiece,
and once--"
Katherine halted when the door flew open.
Englebert, his face pale, entered the room and
bowed to his queen before handing her a note. Her
eyes scanned the paper, and she too became
pale.
"My ladies, I require some privacy,
if that is okay," she mumbled. Deanie rose
with the others and began collecting her needlework.
"Mistress Deanie, you please stay."
As the other ladies filed from the chamber,
Deanie stood uneasily, brushing bits of
clipped needlepoint thread from the front of her
gown. The door closed, and from the hallway she
could hear the whispering of the dismissed women.
The queen did not delay speaking.
"Cromwell this morning was taken by water to the
Tower."
Stunned, Deanie sank back into her chair
without asking permission. "Is that good or bad?"
she asked bluntly.
"I don't know," the queen muttered, the note
from Englebert still in her hands. "Cromwell
&
nbsp; arranged my marriage. He made allowances for
my foreign behavior and dress. I am far from
my home, Mistress Deanie. You know how that
feels. I am at the mercy of my husband."
"Maybe you should leave," Deanie said in a
rush. "Maybe you should go home to Cleves as
soon as possible. I'd be glad to help, and
I'm sure Kit would do anything to--"
"No." She walked to an inlaid desk and
allowed the parchment to flutter from her hands. "I am
a married woman now. No matter what
happens, I will not disgrace my brother
by returning to Cleves."
"But what if things don't work out?"
"Don't work out? I know not what you can
mean."
Clearing her throat, Deanie struggled for a
diplomatic way of phrasing her
thoughts. "Through no fault of your own, the king may
wish another for his wife."
"Think me stupid?" the queen snapped. This was
the first show of temper Deanie had seen from the serene
Anne. "One day he wants you, one day he
wants Katherine. Holy cow, Mistress
Deanie, he has never wanted me, and for that I
am mightily glad."
"You mean you don't mind not receiving the king's,
eh, attentions?"
"Don't mind? Ha." She returned
to Deanie's side and sat heavily in the chair
next to hers. "I hear what happened to the
ladies who received the king's attention. One grew
older than her years and died in exiled
degradation, one got her head chopped off. The
lucky one died in childbed. No. Let me
stay queen, and let the king give his attentions
to some other poor cookie."
"But Your Majesty, the king wishes a duke of
York."
"So? I am not stopping him. I will have the duke
of York, then he may go to another." She
seemed satisfied.
Now Deanie was completely perplexed. "You
mean you and the king have, well, you know?"
"I know what?"
"Well, let me think how to put this."
Deanie glanced out the window, watching a bird on
the sill. The sprightly figure of the tiny bird was
distorted by the thick glass. "Is there a
possibility that you may have a duke of York
soon, Your Majesty? If that's the case, you can
pretty much call the shots around here."
"If the king commands it, I shall have a duke of
York soon."
"Pardon me, Your Highness, but it takes a
little more than a royal command to produce a Duke
of York."
The queen raised one of her plucked
eyebrows. "Yes?"
Again Deanie cleared her throat. "What
I'm asking is, uh, well ... what happens
at night between the two of you?"
"Oh, I see! It is quite pleasant, really.
night.""
"And then?"
"Why of course, I say back to him "And
good night to you, Your Grace.""
"And then?"
"Well, it is the nighttime, and I go
to sleep."
Deanie folded her hands. "But before you go
to sleep, doesn't he sometimes, well, kiss
you?"
The queen gave her a blank stare. "Why should
he kiss me and keep me awake, when already it
is time to sleep?"
"Holy cow, Your Majesty." She leaned
forward. "Don't you know anything about the birds and the
bees?"
"Of course I do, silly. They both fly in
the air."
Just as an uncharacteristically speechless Deanie
stammered for a response, there was another knock
on the door. Englebert appeared, less ashen
than before, yet still solemn.
"Your Highness, the dukes of Suffolk and
Hamilton request an audience."
Deanie jumped to her feet. "Kit! Are you
all right?"
"Deanie?"
The queen, unable to resist a smile at
Deanie's sudden eagerness, nodded, and Englebert
held the door wide. Kit emerged first, his
face flushed and eyes bright, with more of a slide
into the room than a stately entrance. Without thinking
twice, Deanie ran to him and threw her arms about
his waist.
With measured steps, the duke of Suffolk
made his grand entry, sweeping into a low bow before the
queen. From beneath his scraggly eyebrows his gaze
found Kit and Deanie, a decided twinkle
to his formal countenance.
All in the room watched the couple, the
strange intensity as they seemed able to isolate
themselves from the rest of the world. For a moment they said
nothing to each other, her face buried against his
doublet as his arms tightened round her shoulders. The
queen saw the expression of relief on the
duke's face. His eyes closed, as if the
only sensation he wished to be aware of was the feel
of the woman in his arms.
He pulled back, framing her face with his
hands. His thumbs gently stroked her cheeks.
"Have you heard?"
She nodded. "Cromwell's in the Tower.
What does that mean for the rest of us?"
"If I may speak," said the duke
of Suffolk. "That is precisely what we are
trying to determine. Your Majesty, have you been in
direct contact with either Norfolk or the king this
day?"
"Nay. We have been closeted within since
early this morn." The queen still gaped at the
couple.
"It's a sunny day," Kit said softly
to Deanie.
"I know." Both left their words hanging.
Only they knew the significance of their
exchange. "But with Cromwell in the Tower,
Kit, aren't we all better off?"
"Not necessarily. For the moment he's too
preoccupied with his own hide to worry about us.
Others, however, can now focus their attention away
from Cromwell. They're free to look elsewhere
to threats real or imagined. I fear that may mean
us." In spite of the dire meaning, he gave her
a slight smile, and she caught a fleeting
glimpse of his crooked bottom tooth.
Deanie reached up and touched his face,
briefly, gently.
"I saw it all." His face became somber
again. "I saw his humiliation. God knows I have
never agreed with Cromwell's politics, but
never have I seen a more piteous sight. Norfolk
pushed him to the ground and snatched away one of his
gold medallions. He proclaimed
Cromwell guilty of treason--by which means I
know not. Cromwell threw down his hat and asked
if anyone else there saw him as a traitor."
Kit looked about the room, at the queen and
Englebert and Suffolk before continuing, his hand
reflexively tightening over Deanie's shoulder.
"Norfolk said nothing, nor did any of us. But
then Norfolk kicked Cromwell, kicked him
hard and enjoyed it."
"Aye, that he did," confirmed Suffolk.
"Of all, Hamilton, you should have reveled in
Cromwell's downfall. You have borne the
brunt of his anger these past weeks. All there
knew 'twas Cromwell who did you such
grievous harm. But you seemed ill at ease.
In truth, I thought you might become ill."
"Never have I witnessed such brutality. All
the peers gathered about him like hungry wolves,
taking his garter and fur-trim cloak. All had
called Cromwell a friend, had courted him for his
power. It indeed made me ill to watch
them turn on the man who walked as their equal for
more than eight years. No one is safe. And where
was the king?"
"Ah." Suffolk rocked on the balls of his
feet as he spoke, as if chafing to get on to the
next topic. "The king cannot bear to see suffering.
It makes him weep like a woman, and he
invariably rescinds whatever order caused a
soul to suffer."
"What did they arrest him for?" Deanie's
voice sounded shrill compared to the rich tones of
Suffolk and Kit.
"No charges, Deanie," Kit answered.
"The monstrous thing is that he was felled by his own
creativity. He is being held by the Act of
Attainder, the very device he invented to hold the
old countess of Salisbury for so long. All
of his worldly possessions, every house and inch of land,
every plate and tapestry and inkwell, have been
confiscated by the Crown. Cromwell has nothing
to his name, nothing at all."
"Will there be a trial?" asked the queen. For a
moment Kit looked surprised, since he had
long before decided that the queen was hopelessly
simple and would never manage to master the English
language.
"Nay." Suffolk shook his head. "I doubt
it, Your Majesty." Suffolk shot Kit a
questioning glance, and Kit nodded once. "Your
Majesty," continued Suffolk, "we believe the
king has sent Cromwell to the Tower with more than just
his rent clothing. We believe Cromwell has
in his cell the final papers for an annulment.
Forgive me, Your Majesty. But the king wishes
to dissolve your marriage."
Instead of swooning or falling into a justifiable
fit of tears, the queen merely straightened. At
first Deanie wondered if she had understood
Suffolk's words.
"What can I do?" she asked after a brief
pause.
Englebert dashed to his queen's side, but she
pushed him away. "Be gone, Englebert. I
am fine, okay? But I ask of all you here,
What can I do to save myself from the block?"
Deanie was torn between inching even closer to Kit
and comforting the queen. With a gentle nudge in the
small of her back, Kit prodded her to go
to Anne. Instead of brushing Deanie aside, the
queen clutched her hand.
"How can the king legally annul the marriage?"
Deanie gave her hand a squeeze. "They are
married by law. Everyone knows that."
"Indeed, Mistress Deanie, that is where the
difficulty lay." Suffolk gave his hat a
brisk flick to remove a small piece of
dirt. "He may feel forced into a corner to come
up with an excuse. And however ill used
Cromwell is, he forges yet forward on the
proceedings. God only knows what his state of
mind will lead him to contrive. His only hope--and
it is a slim one at that--is to successfully win
for the king an annulment. I beg Your Majesty's
forgiveness for speaking so directly."
"Nay, good Suffolk," the queen said softly.
"'Tis you gathered here who are my true friends, not
those who think to save me from harsh words, no matter
how true those words may be."
Kit shifted uncomfortably as Deanie shot
him a carefully subdued nod.
"Again, I ask of you, what should I do?"
"I believe the problems with both Queen
Katherine and Anne Boleyn could have been
avoided had they been more agreeable to the king's
variable tempers," offered Kit delicately.
"Should the present queen bear a male heir,
the king would no doubt change his mind," added
Suffolk, speaking slowly.
"I fully intend to bear a duke of York
soon," proclaimed Queen Anne, and Deanie
winced.
"Well, we might have run into a little
roadblock in that department." Deanie gave a
helpless shrug toward Kit, who immediately understood
her meaning.
"Do you mean to tell me ..." he began.
"You've got it," she confirmed.
"What means this?" the duke of Suffolk waved
his bonnet between Deanie and Kit.
"Mistress Deanie fears the king and queen
may not be having, well ..."
A dawning expression crossed Suffolk's
reddened face. "Oh, well. Hum. Well."
"Exactly," confirmed Kit.
The queen, who had observed the entire conversation
without joining in, narrowed her eyes. "Speak your
words, please. I understand not all this forth and
back."
"Does Your Majesty recall the discussion
we were having before the dukes entered the
room?"
"Indeed I do, Mistress Deanie. We were
discussing the new collars from France, although in
Cleves we have worn such collars for many years