Shades of Red (15 page)

She stood where the page pointed, near the back of a large room. The walls of the room were hung with heavy tapestries, but the windows were thrown open to catch the spring air.

Several people stood closer to the front of the room, an area dominated by a raised dais. In the centre of a small crowd was a woman with a vast sweep of long hair that, unlike the other women, she kept uncovered.

She was very plump and sat surrounded by her attendants, including Nan, who looked striking in a black velvet gown and headpiece. Darrell noticed that Nan wore the same frivolously ruffled gloves that she had worn the day before. A tiny girl of eight or nine years sat at the feet of the queen, demurely embroidering a piece of fabric in a small hoop.

A young man stepped forward from the crowd before Queen Katherine, twisting his hat nervously in his hands, and cleared his throat. She nodded her head at him sagely and he dropped to one knee.

“Beggin' your Majesty's pardon,” he said, “but my wife ailing with the sweats, I felt I had to come before you and ask that she be spared from her labours at the castle until she returns to full health, if it be your pleasure, m'um.”

The queen lifted her handkerchief delicately to her nose.

“That is quite all right, my good man. We have no wish to have further exposure to that dreadful illness here in the castle. What is your wife's position, good sir?”

“Why, she works in the kitchen, yer Majesty. She's a helper to the cooks.”

“All the more reason for us to wait cheerily for her full health to return before she comes back to us.” The queen paused. “And what is your labour, good sir?”

“I works in the smithy, m'um. The smith gave me the time off to come and speak to you today.”

“Good man.” The queen dropped something into the hand of one of her ladies, who ran forward to hand it to the queen's petitioner. “This is for you and your good lady, young man. And pass a farthing on to your smith, for his kind will in allowing you to appear before me today.”

The young man beamed up at the queen. “Lor' bless you mu'm — I — I mean yer Majesty. Thank you most kindly for your charity.”

The queen smiled serenely. “The Lord looks fondly upon charitable works, young man. Good day.”

Dismissed, he walked backward awkwardly until he reached the rear of the room and then fled, clutching the money given him by the queen like a badge of honour for all to see.

Darrell could see Nan lean forward and whisper in the queen's ear. The queen stiffened but gave a quick nod to Nan.

“Is there a Mistress Dara present?” she called out, her tone more strident than regal.

Darrell swallowed hard and stepped forward.

“Curtsy before her Majesty, the Queen Katherine,” hissed the page. Darrell did her best, feeling a bit roughish in the curtsy department.

“Queen — uh — Katherine?” began Darrell.

Beside the queen, Nan Bullen smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Darrell smiled back at Nan. “My brother and I have come from afar, your Majesty, to escape the sickness that swept through our village. When we arrived here we came straight to the castle to offer our humble services.”

The monarch nodded gracefully. “Lady Anne has told us your story,” she said. “You may know that the dreadful sweating sickness has recently passed through our own court. It is imperative that we replace the courtiers that were taken ill with healthy staff.”

Lady Anne?
thought Darrell again.
What is Nan up to?

Queen Katherine raised her hands and two of the ladies who sat by her side immediately leapt up to help their mistress to her feet. She stepped down off the dais and limped heavily over to where Darrell stood. Up close, it was clear she was substantially overweight and appeared to be expecting a baby as well.

Nan stepped down behind the queen. “I think you will find, your Majesty, that the new attendant I have found you is in excellent health.”

The queen leaned forward and peered closely into Darrell's face. In addition to her other physical disabilities she was apparently very nearsighted. Darrell's attention was drawn to Nan, still standing behind the queen. She dropped an eyelid and touched her finger to the side of her nose in a cheeky gesture.

“You do appear to be in extremely good health,” the queen said, having to look upwards six or eight inches to Darrell's face. “I cannot remember seeing a young lady quite so tall for many years.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

Nan came forward and put a hand on the queen's arm. “This lovely young girl shows no sign of the sweat, dearest lady. And look at her! It's been years since I have seen an attendant in such a bloom of good health. She will be strong as an ox — think what a help she will be!”

Another of the ladies stepped down off the dais. She flared her nostrils at Nan as though a bad smell had swept through the room and walked over to whisper into the ear of the queen. “She appears to be missing a leg, milady. Indeed, as all can witness, it is apparent that she requires a stick in order to walk. 'Od's truth, I believe she walks not upon flesh at all.”

The queen peered nearsightedly back at Darrell. “Is this the case, petitioner?”

Darrell lifted her chin and glared at the lady-in-waiting. After a long moment of silence, she spoke. “It is. However,” and in two strong strides she crossed the room to stand in front of the whispering lady, “my foot may be of wood, but it serves me well, and I would do the same for this household, m'lady, if you will have me.”

The queen tilted her head to one side. “Unlike you, Lady Margaret,” and she extended a hand to the whispering lady, “I am inclined to take Lady Anne's word on behalf of this petitioner.” She stumbled on the step up to the dais and seated herself with difficulty. “We are inclined to support the cause of this young lady, for she looks to me to be in excellent health and fine spirits. Besides,” she turned to Darrell and smiled benignly, “after the recent losses, beggars cannot be choosers. We welcome you!”

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Darrell took a deep breath and swept to the ground in a full curtsy that would do any ballerina proud. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Lady Margaret,” she muttered as she started to walk away.

“Never turn your back on your queen,” hissed the page, gesturing wildly.

Darrell spun around quickly, her face flushing at the breach in protocol, but the queen waved her benignly away. “Cannot imagine trying to walk backwards with only one leg,” she said jovially to her ladies, who all laughed politely.

Darrell seethed in silence and vowed to master the art of walking backwards with a wooden foot, even if it killed her.

The page ushered Darrell away, and Nan, after whispering a few words and bowing prettily before her queen, hurried after her.

“Queen Katherine has freed me to take you on a tour of the castle,” she said, “but you'll see it all soon enough. I have something else to show you. Follow me.”

As they walked, Darrell noticed that while many of the men about the castle doffed their hats or even bowed deeply to Nan, the young women were more inclined to turn their backs. “Nan,” she said carefully. “I noticed that the queen referred to you as Lady Anne. I am sorry, but I am not aware of your full title ...?”

Nan giggled. “I'm afraid I haven't shared that with you, for during the time I spent with Queen Claude in France, I was called Nan, and it is a name I like my true friends to use. But of course in England, everyone knows it is only a nickname for Anne.” She dropped into an effortless curtsy, her nose nearly whisking the floor. “I am known as the Lady Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn,” she said with a dimpled smile.

“Your brother will be billeted in the stables until room is found for him in the barracks,” whispered Anne. “And you shall stay with me. I have a small solar that I share with two others of the queen's ladies, but very soon I will have apartments of my own within the castle.”

Darrell nodded, not really listening, and looked around the magnificent chamber in which they sat. St. George's chapel was a stunning room with hugely vaulted ceilings and soaring windows of stained glass. Anne had brought her up to the choir loft for the best view of the beautiful chapel.

“It's only just been finished,” said Anne, keeping her voice low. “Henry ordered it to be completed so he and the Knights of the Garter can engage in their ceremonies here.” She held Darrell's hand in both of
her own. “And it is here that I plan to be married,” she whispered.

Darrell smiled politely and tried to think of a way to steer the conversation around to find out more about Friar Priamos. “Will you be married by the friar?” she asked.

Anne arched an eyebrow. “Of course not. He and I only discuss secular matters and changes within the church. No, I will be married by the highest priest in the land, as is befitting a queen!”

Darrell turned her head and pretended to study the detailed architecture. She was running out of energy for Anne's prattling about marriage. She tried a new tactic.

“Perhaps I could meet Friar Priamos,” she suggested. “We could talk more of the ideas of Luther.”

Anne waved a heavily gloved hand dismissively. “Perhaps.” She clutched Darrell's arm. “The king invited me to sit at his court this morning, and he was soon bored of his paperwork.” She laughed aloud. “Such a manly man, don't you think?”

Darrell rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Lady Anne.” This was getting truly boring. Who cared if the king was manly? And why would this young woman care what the king was thinking?

“... a tournament tomorrow! Isn't that wonderful?”

Darrell realized she had missed some of Anne's chatter. “A tournament, did you say?”

“Yes.” For the first time, Anne looked a trifle impatient with her new friend. “Aren't you listening? I said that Henry and his courtiers decided to hold a spring tournament.” She stood up and dragged Darrell over to a small window that overlooked a huge grass field known as the Lower Ward. The field was a flurry of activity as banners and stands were hastily erected.

Darrell nodded and did her best to appear interested. “It looks like fun,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“Oh it will be, indeed. And I have a strong feeling that I shall be asked to sit in the royal box.”

Darrell looked closely at Anne. As far as she could remember, the king had no son of marriageable age — no sons at all, as a matter of fact. Darrell knew that the young girl who sat at the feet of the queen must be her daughter, Mary, but try as she might, she couldn't remember who succeeded Henry VIII. Was there a Henry IX, and did Anne have designs on him? “You mentioned a new beau, yesterday, Anne,” she asked as they walked back to the kitchens. “Do you plan to marry someone in line for the throne?”

Anne's eyes sparkled, and she gave her most bewitching smile. “I will marry whoever catches my fancy,” she said and gave a small pirouette. “For I am known for the magic of my smile.”

A great feast was held that evening in preparation for the festivities of the following day, and Darrell quickly learned that an attendant to the queen had many duties to fulfill. Long before the dinner was to begin she was hauled into service in the kitchen and spent what felt like hours setting up the great tables in the dining hall. Anne had sought her out to tell her that since Darrell was now in the direct service of the queen, both she and Paris were invited to dine in the hall with the nobles rather than on leavings in the kitchen with the rest of the servants.

“Now I know how Kate felt when she was stuck in the kitchens in Scotland and Florence,” whispered Darrell to Paris. He had spent the afternoon readying the horses for the joust and she had run down to give him the news of the dinner.

“You think that's bad,” he said, pushing a stiff brush into Darrell's hand and showing her how to use it. “I've been cleaning out horses' hooves all morning.” He rubbed his back ruefully. “You hoist the foot of the horse off the ground and hope that he doesn't lean on you, and then you take this big hook and pick out everything that's caught in his hooves.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ever seen what a horse steps on, Darrell? It isn't pretty.”

She grinned at him. “It's good for you, Paris. Anyway, I saw Anne creeping off after bragging to me that she was going to marry big, and I think I know where she went. She is always talking about this friar, but I haven't actually
managed to meet him yet.” She ran the brush over the smooth, brown coat of the horse. “I really believe he's the key to finding Conrad, Paris. I had hoped that Anne would help, but she's too full of herself and her marriage plans to think about anyone else.”

Paris finished brushing the horse's mane and led the beast back into a nearby stall. “Well, let's hope you find Friar Priamos quickly,” he said. “I haven't been sick for three hours now, but I'm not sure how much more of this time travel stuff my stomach can take.”

“Oh, you must come!”

Anne's eyes shone. She was dressed in an elaborately ruffled gown with gloves reaching up past her elbows. She turned on her heel and, with a rustle of skirts, plunged deep into the cupboard near the scullery door. After a moment there was a muffled shriek of triumph from inside the cupboard. She emerged, brushing a large cobweb from her hair.

“I
knew
I had seen these somewhere!” In one hand she held a slender length of wood, from one end of which dangled a mass of fine cord. In her other hand were a clutch of arrows, none of which looked in terribly good shape to Darrell.

“See? I told you I have tried archery before.” Anne was brimming with excitement. She nodded slyly at
Darrell. “You must invite that handsome brother of yours to play rovers. With his height I'm sure he can compete with those who draw the largest of the longbows.”