Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (21 page)

By the time we had bested the Guildfords three times, we were in charity with each other. We were also considerably richer, as it was the custom to wager on the outcome of every game. And because the duke’s servant, young Ivo, had refilled our cups with wine before ever they could be emptied, I felt deliciously light-headed when we left the card table.

I made no protest when the duke steered me toward the spacious lodgings King Henry had assigned to him at court. The rooms were very grand. To the casual observer, these would seem the lodgings of an honored guest rather than an enemy prisoner of war.

I told myself I was returning to Longueville’s bed only out of a sense of duty, but in the one small section of my mind not fogged by wine I knew that was not entirely true. The duke was a skilled lover and I wanted to enjoy his embraces again. When we were both naked, I opened my arms, welcoming him into my eager embrace. Enraptured by the heat of our passion, I put out of my mind the insulting offer I had overheard him make to the king.

But I never again called him Coriander.

Hours later, I lay awake, sated but unable to sleep. My conscience had begun to trouble me. If I was in the duke’s bed on the king’s orders, should I have enjoyed myself so thoroughly? The only one I could ask was my confessor, and I did not think I wanted to hear his answer.

It was not as if I had any choice in the matter, I told myself. Had I not already considered using the duke to bring me pleasure?

Would he also bring me information? That was a more complicated question. We had talked together, laughed together when he was a prisoner in the Tower, but he had rarely spoken of military matters or of posts he’d held in King Louis’ government. He had not even told me how he’d come to be captured.

What if the king was not satisfied? If I was no use to him as a spy, would I be banished from court after all? I would starve to death if I had to survive on nothing but my tiny annuity.

Troubled, I rose and dressed as best I could without a tiring maid, anxious to return to my own room before my bedmates became too curious. No doubt they’d already guessed I had a lover. Secrets were nearly impossible to keep at court.

I slipped out of the duke’s bedchamber and almost tripped over Guy. He lay stretched across the doorway on his sleeping pallet. He rose at once and I saw that he was fully dressed.

“I will escort you.”

“There is no need.” I backed away from him, more anxious than ever to be gone.

“There is every need. There is much drunkenness and lechery at any royal court and this one is no exception. I will see you safely to your door.”

I accepted his wise advice and his company, but we did not speak. The scene in the bower at Havering came back to me in a rush. Guy had heard the duke’s offer, just as I had. That he might
now regard me as little more than Longueville’s whore, a commodity to be given away on a whim, distressed me out of all proportion.

Why, I wondered, did it matter so much what Guy Dunois thought of me?

I
HAVE ALWAYS
loved Yuletide, the more so because the king customarily spends part of the season at Greenwich. As night fell on Christmas Eve, the entire court gathered to help decorate the palace with holly, ivy, and bay, and whatsoever else the season afforded that was green. The distinctive smells of those plants filled the palace.

As soon as an enormous Yule log was set to burning in the presence chamber, King Henry officially appointed William Wynnsbury as his Lord of Misrule. Wynnsbury had held the title every year, going back into old King Henry’s reign. For the whole of the Yuletide season, the Lord of Misrule would be accompanied everywhere by a train of heralds, jesters, acrobats, dancing children, and men who did conjuring tricks.

“As Master of Merry Disports,” the king declared in ringing tones, “you are charged to produce goodly and gorgeous mummeries.”

Under cover of cheers and applause, Will Compton came up beside me and took my arm, tugging gently. His sharp-sighted hazel eyes and the nose that had been broken during that fall in the tournament dominated a face given to frequent smiles. But his expression now was grim. “Come with me, Jane.”

He gave me no choice in the matter, sliding his hand from my forearm to my waist and tightening his grip. He steered me out through a service door while everyone else was distracted by the Lord of Misrule’s antics.

Sudden panic had me digging in my heels on the rush matting. This pitiful effort to slow Will down did nothing but make him more irritable. He stopped, but only to lift me right off the ground until my face was only inches from his. “Cooperate or I will shake you till your bones rattle!”

“Where are we bound in such a rush?” I meant to sound annoyed, but my voice did not cooperate. I sounded as frightened as I felt.

“God’s bones, Jane! Stop fighting me. I have been sent by the king.” For all the frustration behind them, his words were no more than a whisper of sound.

“Then stop hauling me about as if I were a sack of grain!”

Slowly, he lowered me, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel the bulge of his codpiece against my belly, even through the many layers of my skirts. His hands slid from my waist up to my shoulders. “His Grace awaits your report.”

Fear replaced, momentarily, by fury, I stomped hard on his foot, then kicked him in the shin.

He released me and stepped back. His face was still set in a scowl, but a hint of amusement lit his eyes. “I assure you, Jane, that you do not in the least resemble a sack of grain.”

Frowning, I started to speak, but he held one finger to his lips. “Not here. Follow me.”

In silence, I did so. I had no doubt that Will was telling the truth. As the king’s chief gentleman of the bedchamber and groom of the stole, he was the most trusted of royal servants. He was also the one who escorted women to the king’s bedchamber, should His Grace wish to bed someone other than the queen. He was the king’s keeper of secrets. It made sense that he should be the one sent to question me.

Unfortunately, I had nothing to tell him.

In a small private closet fitted out as a study with a stool, table, and shelf for books, he paced while I sat. “You are the duke’s mistress, that we know.”

I nodded. Although our coupling remained most enjoyable, the sense of magic that had always been present when we were in the Tower of London was absent. After the first few nights back in Longueville’s bed, it had been determination that had kept me returning to lie with him. If not for the king’s command, I’d have weaned myself of my craving for his lovemaking ere now.

“Well?” Will sounded impatient.

I spread my hands wide. “I cannot help it if he is more interested in pleasure than policy. He talks about the color of my eyes and the softness of my skin. He does not prattle of battle plans in bed.”

“You are a clever wench. Convince him that you are fascinated by such things.” Will reached down to pinch me on the cheek. “You can cozen secrets out of him if you put your mind to it. Be subtle, but persist. You should have no difficulty. You are comely enough. I have always thought so.”

“You never paid the slightest bit of attention to me at Eltham,” I shot back, annoyed. When he reached for me again, I slapped his hand away. “Go home to your wife, Will Compton!”

“Whatever for?”

I looked pointedly at his codpiece, one nearly as gaudily decorated as the king’s. He laughed and gave up what had been, after all, only a halfhearted attempt on my virtue. “Come along, Jane. The king has arranged a surprise for you, an early New Year’s gift.”

More puzzled than wary, and no longer fearful, I accompanied him through passages and along corridors lit by torches. I knew Greenwich so well that I had no difficulty recognizing the way to the duc de Longueville’s apartments. Will led me to a nearby
double lodging in which a wax taper in a latten candlestick had been left burning and a fire had already been lit in a fireplace of the sort built flush with the wall.

This outer room was furnished with an oak chest carved with panels that showed various sorts of foliage, a table with two stools, and a cabinet for storing food. A small but attractive tapestry showing a hunting scene adorned one wall. Lavender had been added to the rushes on the floor to make the place fragrant.

“Should you, or a guest, feel hungry late at night, as His Grace sometimes does,” Will said, indicating the food press, “you have been provided with a few provisions.”

I opened the pierced door to find not only comfits and suckets but also a supply of aleberry, the bread pudding flavored with ale that the king himself favored as a treat. I did not share his taste for it, but thought it politic not to say so. “His Grace is most kind,” I murmured, and then was struck by a sudden thought. “Does
he
plan to visit me here?”

“I do much doubt it.” Will parted the curtains that had hidden the inner room from view.

Plucking up the candle, I went through the doorway. Here, too, a welcoming fire had been lit in the hearth, and all my belongings had been moved to these, my new quarters. My traveling chest sat next to a tester bed with a heavy wooden frame and wooden boards to support the mattress. It was richly furnished with pillows, bolsters, and blankets.

“And who is to occupy that?” I asked, pointing to the truckle bed tucked beneath the larger one. “I have no maid of my own.”

“You do now. The girl whose services you have been sharing with your bedfellows, if you want her. She packed for you and can be sent for to take up her new duties tonight.”

I winced. “Then no doubt she has already carried stories back to the servants’ hall.” I worried my lower lip. “Are you certain the king wishes to call so much attention to me?”

He looked at me askance.

“Your pardon. I should have known better than to ask.” None of the king’s men did anything unless it was at His Grace’s express command. For whatever reason, King Henry now wished the entire court to know that the duc de Longueville had taken me for his mistress.

A mirror lay upon a small table, next to a coffer meant to hold jewelry. I picked it up and stared at my reflection in the polished steel surface. I looked the same as I always had—pale skin, brown eyes, brown hair, and a small nose set in a narrow face. I was no great beauty. How was it that I had suddenly become the object of so much male interest?

Abandoning the looking glass, I moved on to my traveling chest, reaching down to run one hand over the familiar curved top. It was a sturdy piece with a leather exterior that had been soaked in oil to make it waterproof. The iron fittings included a lock. I frowned. The key still hung from my waist, as it always did, even though I kept nothing more valuable than my clothing and a few bits of jewelry inside the trunk. That had been no barrier when the king wanted my possessions moved. There was a lesson there, I thought. A warning.

Will’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Discover useful information, Jane, and His Grace will be in your debt. He can be most generous. If the information you provide has sufficient value, you will be able to name your own reward.”

I
AWOKE ON
Christmas morning uncertain where to go or what to do. Was I still to attend upon the princess? I knew she would hear
Mass in private with the king and queen, then walk in procession with them to the chapel for Matins. The entire court would join them there, both to worship and to watch the king participate in the service. I doubted that anyone would notice if I was absent. Except, perhaps, Will Compton.

I sighed and wrapped myself more tightly in the sinfully thick and warm coverlet that graced my bed. I ran my hand over the soft fur from which it had been made and wondered what animal’s pelt I stroked. That made me think of the spaniels some ladies in waiting kept at court. Although in general I detested the little beasts, I thought perhaps I should acquire one. I was not accustomed to sleeping alone.

Always before I had shared my bed with someone. I was not certain I liked having the entire expanse of mattress to myself. On the other hand, I did not miss my most recent bedfellows, two of the Lady Mary’s attendants who thought themselves my betters simply because their fathers had been knighted.

I tried to imagine the expressions on their faces when they heard about my luxurious new quarters. They would speak disdainfully of my morals, but secretly they would envy me.

Drowsing in my warm little cocoon, indulging myself in pleasant fantasies, I was startled by the sound of the outer door opening. I cowered behind the bed hangings, uncertain what to do. A moment later, two servants entered the inner chamber. They seemed surprised to find me peering out at them from the gap in the bed curtains.

“What do you want?” I was relieved to hear no tremor in my voice.

“We come to collect all the unfinished candle stubs and the torches, mistress.”

“Why?” Genuinely curious, I pulled the coverlet around myself
and leaned out into the chamber. They had a large basket with them, into which they’d put the remains of candles.

“They are melted down and made into new, if it please you, lady.”

“You collect these every day?”

Two heads bobbed in unison. “Aye, mistress.” They looked anxious, as if they feared I would call a guard.

“Away with you, then. Go about your business.”

They scurried out like mice pursued by a cat and left me to wonder what else went on in the royal household that I had never noticed. Even on Christmas, I supposed, close stools must be emptied, candles replaced, and meals cooked.

That made me wonder where Nan was. Nan Lister, the maidservant who was now all mine to command, should have brought washing water to the chamber by now. It was her job, too, to keep the brazier—the fireplace, I corrected myself—fueled, in addition to mending tears in clothing and serving as my tiring woman.

What else did she do, when her work was done? Was she well compensated for her services? A wry smile made my lips quirk at the thought that her wages per annum might be greater than my paltry stipend. It was fortunate indeed that I was not responsible for paying her.