Betrayal (7 page)

             
“Where is this monastery of St. Michael’s?”

             
“It is not a monastery, but a small nunnery in North Cornwall on the Camel estuary. The girl serves Brother Michael well and has taught the little one her letters. Though, that’s a sore spot with the girl’s father.”

             
“How is that?” the lady Anne asked.

             
“He fears her unmarriageable, and to that I must agree. It places her above her station.” The Cardinal paused, seeing a flush appear on Anne’s cheeks.

             
“I fear, my lady, I have given offense unwittingly. You are, after all, the daughter of a nobleman, an advisor to the King.” Wolsey took a deep breath feeling his hands slick with wetness.  To offend this woman was very dangerous and foolish.

             
“My lord Cardinal, it would appear you do not favor the education of women,” Henry said, shifting the sleeping Sarah and awakening her.  “Send for her minder.”

             
“Here, George,” Wolsey called. The Cardinal waved to Cavendish who rushed across the hall to his master’s side.  “Return the child to Elisabeth. I fear her presence has upset the Lady Anne.”

             
“Not I, my lord Cardinal. The child is sweet and well mannered. I mourn her father’s lack of faith. All fathers have dreams of their daughter’s successes; of this I am well aware. For does not my own father dream of his daughter safely wed? Yet, my lord, literacy is not a sin. Could you speak to the man, lest he leave her a nun?”

             
“No fear of that, my lady, I remind you he moves on soon and takes the child with him to Salisbury to work for Somerset.”

             
A frown creased Lady Anne’s lips.

             
“Fear not, dear lady, it is as he, himself, said not until winter’s first snow. There now, the child goes to eat. Shall I have the musicians play?”  Wolsey clapped his large meaty hands and a troupe of traveling troubadours began a lively galliard.

             
Sarah watched the beginning of the dance through sleepy eyes. She snuggled into Elisabeth’s shoulder, watching the King escort his lady to lead the dance. Sarah mumbled ‘someday’ before nodding off again. 

***

              Elisabeth awoke to the morning bells calling the priests, monks, and nuns to prayer. She enjoyed this time before dawn, each day an unwritten page and therefore each day a surprise.  As she lay on her pallet with Sarah tucked up under her arm, Elisabeth’s mind recalled the scene in the garden.  Had it been a dream?  Or had it truly happened, that little Sarah had nearly bowled the King of England from his feet?  She felt dizzy, her mind a whirl of bits and pieces from that busy day. It had started so mundane, so predictable, but who could have imagined so extraordinary a meeting?  But yet it was not a complete surprise; somewhere deep inside Elisabeth knew this was meant to be, that Sarah was meant to know the King and his Lady.  Why or how she knew, Elisabeth couldn’t say.  The bells rang again, bringing Elisabeth out of her thoughts. She had to hurry, Mass would begin at quarter to the hour. Roughly, she awakened Sarah, wrestling with the half-asleep child to dress her. Struggling into her gray tick habit and donning the matching half-veil, Elisabeth picked up the sleepy child, and ran down the cloister stairs to the Lady Chapel.

             
Elisabeth was shocked to see the royal party seated in the front pews.  She searched the chapel, but the Cardinal was nowhere to be seen. “That’s odd,” she said, louder than she had intended.

             
“What’s odd?” a bleary-eyed Sarah asked, raising her head from Elisabeth’s shoulder.  Then, seeing the royal party, Sarah wrestled free, of Elisabeth’s grasp and ran down the side aisle toward the King.  Elisabeth felt her stomach lurch as the child scampered up to the most important man in the kingdom and boldly climbed into his lap. The King shouted with delight hugging the child close. Elisabeth jumped at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

             
“You must regain control of your charge,” Brother Michael said.  His tone was sharp, but the look in his eyes was gentle.

             
“I fear I have lost that for good,” Elisabeth sighed as they made their way to a back pew.

             
“Fear not, Elisabeth, once the royal party has moved on, life will return to normal. Here, shall we be seated?”  He pointed to a back pew where they would have a full view of the chapel and its inhabitants. 

             
Elisabeth kept a close eye on Sarah during the interminably long service. It seemed as if having the King in his congregation, Father John wanted to touch on every important thought in the Gospel of Saint Luke in his sermon.  Elisabeth was pleased; Sarah was so well behaved as she sat perched on the King’s knee. Elisabeth returned the disdainful darting glances of George Cavendish with a sheepish smile.  At long last the sermon was over, and Communion was served.  Elisabeth made her way up the side aisle to collect Sarah.

             
The little girl reluctantly gave up her hold on the King’s hand, but accompanied Elisabeth from the chapel with proper decorum. Elisabeth smiled shyly as the little girl tightened her grasp of Elisabeth’s hand as they passed Cavendish at the door.

             
As usual, John de Roche was not in sight.  He was already hard at work. With his work at York Place nearly done, he was eager to remove Sarah from Elisabeth’s influence.  He had not approved of their tight-knit companionship. While he was grateful that Sarah was well looked after, John resented how little time he was allowed to spend with his daughter, and so a bitter rivalry for Sarah’s affections had grown between Elisabeth and him.

             
“Elisabeth,” Sarah said excitedly, as they entered the cloister walk. “Henry told me that I was good as gold.”

             
“Sarah! Elisabeth snapped.  “You are not to refer to the King of England as Henry!”

             
“Why not?” the child retorted, hands firmly placed on her hips.

             
“Because it is not polite, that’s why.  He is your better and always will be. You must give him proper respect and refer to him only as His Grace or the King,” Elisabeth continued as they stood looking out one of the long, arched windows of the cloister.

             
“Even if he says I should call him Uncle?” Sarah asked with a frown, “Because he did, Elisabeth, honest; and the Lady Anne too.”

             
“What?  That you should call her Uncle too?” teased Elisabeth. She stroked Sarah’s copper curls as the two watched a sparrow harry a magpie in the courtyard.

             
“No, silly!” Sarah laughed. “Aunt! I am to call her Aunt, if I wish. And I do, Elisabeth, I do. Can I?”

             
“No, dearest, I am afraid not. While they may elect to come down to our level, we must never try to rise to theirs. It is not for you or I to address royals as if they were stable boys and wenches. So, little one, you will mind your manners and remember your place. Do you understand?”

             
“No.”

             
“Will you do as I say anyway?”

             
“Yes, Elisabeth. Can we go out to the gardens, please, oh please, can we?”

             
“May we, Sarah?  When we want to do something we ask may we?”

             
“Well, may we go out to the gardens?”

             
Elisabeth was relieved with the easy distractibility of the five year old. Breathing a sigh of relief that a dangerous situation had been avoided, Elisabeth smiled. The late summer sun warmed the garden in a golden glow as they walked out to the roses.

             
As Henry and his lady prepared to leave York Place he spied Sarah playing amongst the yellow roses. “You, little one, come and give your Uncle a kiss goodbye,” he called, with arms out-stretched to welcome the running child.  He knelt on one knee, the dust of the carriageway dirtying his hose and velvet doublet. Anne stood quietly aside slightly behind the King. Cardinal Wolsey, his lips pursed, his stare cold, stood nearby glaring at Elisabeth.

             
Elisabeth, wincing under the Cardinal’s unrelenting gaze, wished she gone straight to her letters rather than into the garden. Now, she could do nothing but wait.

             
“Now, little one, off to your Elisabeth,” the King said, smiling. He slapped the dust from his hose as he continued, “Now, mind your manners and most of all, mind you, do not bowl over any more of the good Cardinal’s guests.” Henry laughed heartily, while Wolsey’s face twisted with suppressed anger.

             
This was something the Cardinal would not forget easily, being upstaged by a member of his own household.

             
“Now, Thomas,” the King said, as he wheeled to face Wolsey.  “Post another appeal to Rome with haste.  I will have this lady to wife.” He finished by gallantly taking Anne’s hand while dipping a deep bow.  “We return in a fortnight, be prepared next time.”

             
“Sire, I should have been prepared this time had I but known of your intent to visit.”  The older man felt his back stiffen. ‘I tire of playing your fool, boy’ he thought as he dipped a bow from his waist.  The skilled politician hid his inner thoughts with a wide smile. “But as always, Sire, it was a pleasure to see you. Truly Hampton Court was a more fitting property in which to entertain a King.” Wolsey paused with a silent pang of regret at his loss of his favorite property to the King, but, alas, it had bought him time. Time he needed to receive the long awaited blessing of the Bishop of Rome. Or time for the King’s ardor to cool.  That Henry was displeased was no secret. The Lady Anne blamed him, and not Pope Clement.  What was he to do?  There was naught to do, but wait and pray.  Wolsey watched with barely concealed resentment as the King assessed York Place and found it to his liking.

             
“A fine place you have here, Thomas. What say you Anne, fit for a King?”

             
“Aye, Sire, and his Queen,” she replied. The hate she bore for him so clearly evident in her shaded eyes chilled Wolsey to his bones. All he could muster was a stiff bow from his waist.

              “Thomas, come to me on Wednesday next.  There is a meeting of the Privy Council. Send once more to Rome; tell the Pope I grow tired of waiting.”

             
The Cardinal nodded his assent as the royal party boarded the waiting coach; he bowed once more as the door closed. Backing away from the rising dust, he bowed his head.  Then as if suddenly aware of their presence he turned to Elisabeth and the child saying “To your letters, girl,” raising his arm to indicate the nearby gate.

             
Elisabeth dipped a tight curtsey, pulling the struggling Sarah down with her. “Yes, my lord,” she said quietly.

             
Sarah craned her neck to watch the disappearing coach and numbly repeated, “Yes, my lord.”

             
Aware of the child’s lingering gaze as the royal coach disappeared from view, Wolsey spoke, anger and sarcasm soaking every word. “Playtime is over, Sarah. You will work at your letters and be a good girl for I promise you if you do not, not only will you not accompany the Lady Anne on her progress, but you will not be allowed in my gardens again.  Fancy yourself not, Sarah, for a King’s attention is a fickle and often fleeting thing.” Swirling the scarlet skirt of his cassock in a tight about face Wolsey re-entered York Place leaving Elisabeth and her young charge in the settling dust.

SEVEN

FRIDAY, JUNE 28th

             
A beam of early morning sunshine woke Lydia from a dreamless sleep.  She found herself enveloped in Dan’s embrace.  One of his arms lay under her pillow, with his other hand cupped tight to hold her breast.  Feeling the heat grow between her thighs, Lydia could wait no more. Burning with desire, she reached for him. She smiled as Dan’s body responded to her soft touch. They made love with a ferocity that sapped them of all energy. Exhausted, they fell back into a deep sleep until the incessant ringing of the alarm clock woke them.  They awoke tangled in the sheets, Dan’s arms surrounding Lydia, his hand once more cupping her breast.

“My lady,” Dan said, nibbling her ear.  “That was wonderful. You certainly know how to start the day right.” Nuzzling her ear; his hand slid down her hip to her thigh.

Lydia moaned at his touch, aching to ban the day from coming.  “To lie here like this till night falls, to make love to you whenever and as often as desire demands, that is my wish for today.  But, it cannot be.  The world awaits, my good knight, beyond yon door and we to battle must go.”