The King's Damsel (7 page)

“Yes, my lady.” I thought about telling her that I already knew how to play the lute, but decided against it. Something told me that my performance would fall short of her exacting standards.

Apparently satisfied, Lady Salisbury turned to a page who had been waiting, forgotten and very nearly invisible, in a shadowed corner of the room. “Fetch Mistress Rede,” she ordered.

A moment later, as if she’d been waiting for the summons, a young woman presented herself. Like the princess, she wore her hair uncovered, as maidens everywhere are permitted to do. For the journey from Glastonbury, my own hair had been tightly braided and confined beneath a hood. Three days of hot sun beating down on me had left me longing to wash the long strands and scrub my face and scalp, too.

“Mistress Rede is also a maid of honor,” Lady Salisbury said. “She will show you the way to the maidens’ dormitory, answer your questions, and help you settle in.”

I curtseyed yet again as I thanked her.

Lady Salisbury sniffed, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “You stink of horse, Mistress Lodge. I will have a bathtub sent up. You will bathe before you enter the princess’s presence again.”

H
ere we are,” my companion said in a cheerful voice. “This is the maidens’ dormitory.”

Mistress Rede, a rosy-cheeked individual no more than a year or two my senior, sent another friendly smile my way. She wore what I supposed must be the livery for Princess Mary’s maids of honor—a russet kirtle, bodice, and sleeves under a plain black gown.

The room we entered was large, long, and sunlit. It contained three beds and numerous wardrobe chests. My trunks and boxes made an untidy pile in one corner.

“Mistress Rede—”

“You must call me Anne,” she interrupted. “We will be great friends. I am certain of it.”

She seemed so eager to have me agree that I did so at once.

“My father is Sir William Rede of Boarstall in Buckinghamshire. Was that your father who brought you to Thornbury?”

I shook my head in vehement denial. “He is my guardian, Sir Lionel Daggett. My father was Sir Arthur Lodge of Hartlake,
Somersetshire. He died.” The words were painful to say aloud. I tried to mitigate the feeling by adding, “I am an heiress.”

“That is of little consequence here.” Anne grinned at me. “Did I hear him call you Thomasine?”

I could not help but smile back at her. “My Christian name is Thomasine, but my friends and family call me Tamsin.”

“Tamsin it will be, then. Did you bring your tiring maid with you?”

“Oh,” I gasped. I had forgotten all about Edyth. “Do you think someone will escort her here? I hate to think of her lost in such a large and frightening place.”

“No doubt she has been taken to the servants’ quarters. The maidservants have their own lodging, as there is not enough room in the maidens’ dormitory for truckle beds. Do you need her to help you unpack?”

I could tell that Anne was curious about me and my belongings. I obliged her by delving into my baggage and showing her some of the special treasures I’d brought with me from home. Anne admired the small handheld looking glass Father had sent for all the way to London, and the deck of brightly painted playing cards he’d given me one Yuletide, but she was much more impressed by the jeweled pendant my grandfather had taken off a French ship during the brief period when he’d sailed as a privateer. I was happy to recount the stories behind each of these items and soon Anne and I were chattering together like old friends.

Before long, I dared to ask the question that had been bubbling up in my mind ever since my interview with the princess’s lady mistress. “Who is this Lady Salisbury that she can command such instant obedience from Sir Lionel?”

“She is the
Countess
of Salisbury. She was Margaret Plantagenet before her marriage and she is cousin to King Henry. She is high in His Grace’s affection and in that of Queen Catherine.”

Anne chuckled at my abashed expression. Even though I’d taken note of the sable trim on her gown, I truly had not thought I was speaking to so great a noblewoman.

“And she is in charge of the princess’s household?”

“She controls the distaff side. You would be wise not to give her any offense. If she takes you in dislike, you will be sent home.”

My fingers tightened on the sleeve I’d been about to return to the largest of my trunks, which would now serve as my wardrobe chest. A wave of homesickness swept over me, so sudden and so intense that for a moment I had to close my eyes. Tears sprang unbidden into my eyes. I dashed them away with my free hand, but I could not seem to stop myself from speaking. “I am not certain that would be such a bad thing.”

I missed Blanche terribly, and I also missed all the privileges I’d enjoyed as Father’s only daughter. In each of our houses, I had my own chamber, my own bed. I’d not had to share either, as it was clear I would have to at Thornbury. And I had never had to be someone else’s servant, either.

“Sent home in
disgrace,
” Anne clarified.

A chill passed through me as I realized that I would not be returned to my stepmother. If I displeased the countess, I would be sent to Sir Lionel Daggett. I had no doubt but that he would retaliate for my failure to follow his instructions. If I did not make myself pleasing to those I met here, he would marry me off to the first man who offered him a large enough bribe.

With excessive care, I put the sleeve into the chest, resolved to make a success of myself at Princess Mary’s court. “What am I to wear to serve the princess?” I asked.

“Someone will come and measure you and within a day or two you will have clothing just like mine.” She swept a hand down her body to indicate the russet and black garments. “This livery is
provided by the Crown and we each earn ten pounds per annum, besides. It is paid quarterly, but we can borrow against that expectation if we need to buy anything the princess does not supply.”

At this interesting juncture, we were interrupted by the arrival of two burly servants carrying a wooden tub. They were followed by a dozen more bringing buckets so full of water that it sloshed onto the floor as they walked. They dumped these into the tub until it was half full and left the remaining buckets for rinsing. Edyth brought up to the rear of the procession, armed with packets of fennel and bay to add to the bathwater, a ball of sweet soap, a sponge, and two towels.

“Is bathing common at court?” I asked Anne as Edyth began to help me out of my travel-stained and reeking clothing. Although many people thought total immersion in water was dangerous, I saw no harm in the practice. In the ordinary way of things, however, all my washing was done with no more than a basin and ewer.

“More so than elsewhere.” She sounded faintly disapproving. “I have heard that King Henry is most particular about cleanliness.”

I thought that odd in a man, but I did not say so. I was too relieved to have the chance to scrub off the dirt and smell of days on horseback. I stepped gingerly into the tub, pleased to discover that the water was neither steaming nor cold, but just comfortably warm.

Anne perched on one of the wardrobe chests, her legs tucked beneath her. “Have you more questions for me?” she asked.

Sunk in the delightful luxury of having my hair soaped and rinsed by Edyth—a process I usually had to carry out by kneeling on a towel and bending over a basin of water set on the floor of my chamber—I needed a moment to realign my thoughts.

“What are our duties?” I asked.

“We do whatever the princess requires of us,” Anne answered. “You will be asked to swear an oath of allegiance to Her Grace. The
Lord Chamberlain will administer it. He is the one in charge of the entire household. If you ever want to leave court for any reason, you must apply to him for permission.”

“Where would I go?” I asked. “Thornbury is too far from my home for me to return there on my own.”

“Oh, we will not be here long. The princess will not remain in any one place for more than a few weeks. Her Grace has been given her own household so she can be seen in her role as Princess of Wales.”

“Then shouldn’t she be
in
Wales?” I asked. On our way to Thornbury, Sir Lionel had pointed out the distant Welsh hills . . . on the other side of the Severn. This castle was in Gloucestershire.

“I expect we will go there,” Anne said as Edyth poured more water over my head, “but it is to the city of Gloucester that we travel next.”

Would we visit Bristol? I wondered. Blanche would hear of it, if that city were included in the princess’s itinerary. She’d make a point of removing to our town house there . . . unless Sir Lionel prevented it. I still thought it unfair that he, not my stepmother, controlled all the property I’d inherited. Then I remembered—he could not forbid her to occupy the Bristol house. It was part of her widow’s third of my father’s estate and hers to do with as she would. Should she choose to remarry, she’d make her second husband a wealthy man.

While Anne prattled on about the plans for Princess Mary’s ceremonial entry into Gloucester, which had required weeks of preparation, and the pageantry that the citizens of that town were likely to provide, Edyth dried my body and began to comb out the tangles in my hair. Since it fell nearly to my waist, this was no simple task.

“It will make a nice change,” Anne said.

The odd note in her voice caught my attention. “A change? To what are you accustomed?”

“Boredom!”

“But we serve a princess. Surely there are disguisings and banquets and tournaments to amuse us at her court.”

Anne laughed and shook her head.

“No? What about entertainment by jugglers or players?”

Another head shake answered me.

“Surely Princess Mary has her own fool.”

“Not even that, although there is one musician assigned to the household. For the most part, Her Grace has lessons. Endless lessons, to some of which we must accompany her. And when we are not listening to Her Grace learn to speak some foreign language or going with her to church or on her daily walks in the garden, we sew shirts for the poor or embroider altar cloths or vestments.”

“What of lessons in dancing and music? Those must be enjoyable.”

“They do not occupy enough hours to dispel the boredom.”

Although Anne painted a far less exciting picture of life at court than I had imagined, the reality did not sound all that dull to me. “There is that ceremonial entry into Gloucester,” I reminded her.

She laughed. “Oh, yes. We’ll have to ride right behind Princess Mary. We’ll watch the pageants—endless pageants. We must smile the whole while . . . and hold our water.”

I saw her point, but I still looked forward to the experience. As Edyth dressed me in fresh, sweet-smelling clothing, I wondered how Anne Rede had become so jaded. Since the princess’s household had only just been formed, she could not have served Her Grace for very long.

I thought back over what she had said and suddenly began to smile. “We ride behind the princess, did you say?”

Anne blinked at me in confusion. “How else should we enter the city?”

“In a litter. Apillion. Sir Lionel would not permit me to bring any of my horses.” I thought of Bella with sudden longing. “Should I send for one?”

“The princess has an excellent stable. Suitable mounts are provided for us.”

Palfreys, then. Still, this was the best news I’d heard yet. My smile stayed in place as Edyth made one last adjustment to my kirtle and left us, explaining that she had to return to the servants’ quarters if she wished to sup.

The reminder of how long it had been since I’d eaten had my stomach growling again. I glanced toward a cupboard with a perforated front. I’d spied it on my first survey of the chamber. It was the kind of cabinet used to store wine and cheese. “Is there anything to eat in there?” I asked Anne. “I have had neither food nor drink since we broke our fast at dawn.”

“You should have said something sooner,” she chided me, and produced a wedge of cheese and a pitcher of barley water. “We are well fed here,” she assured me, “but only after the princess and the highest-ranking ladies in her household have been served. All of Her Grace’s meals are conducted with great formality—another lesson. One day, after she marries some foreign ruler, she must preside over his court as queen.”

“So, like all of us, the princess is in training.”

“But unlike us, she can
never
be private. I feel sorry for her sometimes.”

Anne summoned servants to remove the tub and mop up the water that had sloshed over onto the floor. Moments after they left, the other maids of honor joined us. They were all dressed alike and all appeared to be nearly the same age. At first glance I saw little to distinguish one from another, but Anne quickly remedied that situation.

“This is Cecily Dabridgecourt,” she said, catching hold of a girl with green eyes. “She is the oldest of us at nineteen.”

“I come from Solihull, near Coventry,” Cecily said, speaking so softly that I could barely make out the words.

“You’ll have no trouble remembering Christian names,” Anne continued, gesturing to the three remaining young women. “The others all share the same one.”

“I am Mary Fitzherbert from Derbyshire,” said the first girl. She had a small mole on the left side of her chin.

“I am
Maria,
not Mary,” the second girl insisted. “Maria Vittorio. My father is the queen’s physician.” She spoke with a the slightest of accents, but it was enough to betray her Spanish origin.

The third Mary had sad brown eyes. “And I am Mary Dannett of Leicestershire,” she said.

Later I learned that her father, like mine, had died too young.

We had no time to exchange more than the briefest of life histories at that first meeting. We might not sup with the princess, but we were required to be in attendance upon Her Grace while she ate. When the others left the maidens’ dormitory, I went with them.

I
found it difficult, that first night, to fall asleep in a strange bed, especially when I was sharing it with a stranger. I was paired with Maria. She turned her back to me and feigned sleep, but after a few minutes I could feel her shoulders shaking and knew that she was crying.