on her knees, glanced up briefly in reproof as they hurried in, then quietly returned to her prayers. Elizabeth found it hard to concentrate and made the responses mechanically. Why had her father looked so fearfully angry?
She felt a chill of apprehension. She had learned by now that when her father was angered, bad things happened. His wrath was far more frightening than most men’s, for it held the power of life and death. People had even died…She moved closer to Kat and clutched her hand.
Henry frowned as he took his place on the dais for the feast. He sat there, enormous in his jeweled doublet, a feathered hat perched on his balding, graying head, obviously fuming, as his narrow eyes raked over his courtiers. The presence chamber was quiet; instead of the usual hum of conversation, he could hear muffled coughs, the odd sniff, and stifled whispers. He espied his daughters, regarding him with anxious eyes from their places at the end of the high table. They, like he, had been let down. They had been expecting a stepmother, he a wife he could love. He felt like exploding.
Where was that villain Cromwell? He should be here! And here he was, all smiles and affability, entering the room late, after his sovereign. But discourtesy was the least of it, Henry thought.
Cromwell’s eyes met those of the King, and his smile faltered and died. The court collectively held its breath, looking from one to the other. Elizabeth, who missed little, realized at once that Master Cromwell had in some way offended her father. So that was why the King was in a bad mood. Things were beginning to make sense.
“We missed you on our return, Master Secretary,” Henry said ominously, his voice tight.
“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon,” answered Cromwell smoothly. “I was dressing for the feast. I was unaware until an hour ago that Your Majesty had returned.”
“We returned, Master Secretary, because there was nothing to stay in Rochester for.” The King’s voice was icy.
“Is Your Majesty saying that the Princess Anna was not there?” asked Cromwell. The courtiers were devouring every word.
“Oh, she was there, Master Secretary, she was there.”
“That is a relief, Sire,” babbled Cromwell. “And how does Your Majesty like the Queen?”
The King leaned forward menacingly.
“I like her not. I like her not!” The last words were spat out staccato. “She is nothing so well as she was spoken of, by you and others. And if I had known as much before as I know now, she would never have come into this realm!”
He sat back in his chair, looking like a lion about to pounce on its prey.
“What remedy, Master Cromwell? What remedy?”
Cromwell looked like a man who had just been punched.
“Sire, the contract has been signed and agreed. There might be difficulties…” Looking at his master’s face, he added quickly, “But I will look at it carefully and see if there is a way out.”
“You had better find one,” said the King. “You got me into this pass, and you are going to get me out of it!”
When Cromwell had scuttled off like a whipped cur, Henry nodded at the minstrels. They began to play, and the courtiers thankfully resumed their conversations in a subdued fashion. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable. This was not the happy New Year’s Day revelry she had anticipated, and she now feared she might not be getting a new stepmother after all. Nor could she understand why, for the Princess Anna had looked so lovely in her picture. What did her father not like about her?
She realized that the King was grumbling to the Duke of Norfolk, who sat at his left.
“Poor men can marry the woman of their choice,” Henry was saying plaintively, “but princes must take as is brought them by others. Whom can men trust?”
“Your Majesty is ill served,” observed the Duke, shaking his head in sympathy. “No doubt about it.”
“Indeed I am,” agreed Henry sadly. “But must I needs put my neck in the yoke? What remedy is there?”
“We must hope that Master Cromwell will find one, Sire,” soothed the Duke. Elizabeth was surprised to see his thin lips curl in a furtive smile.
The next day, the court moved to Greenwich, regardless of the fact that no one now knew whether or not the royal wedding would be taking place there. The King had left the feast early on the previous evening, and no one had seen him since, while Master Secretary Cromwell had gone to ground somewhere.
Before