hall was jammed with guests, all of whom seemed to know one another.
“You should smile,” I whispered to Brother Edmund. “You look too grim for a party.”
Brother Edmund said dryly, “Many things have been asked of me since I left Dartford Priory, but to be jovial in the home of the Duke of Norfolk? That request is the one I’m unable to meet.”
I burst out laughing—and felt a hand tug on my sleeve.
A plump and pretty auburn-haired girl, short in stature, no more than fourteen years old, said, “Welcome to Norfolk House. And what will you be tonight? A nun or a lady?”
My mouth fell open.
“Don’t look so scared,” she giggled. “Don’t you know why you’re here?”
“We’re here for the party,” said Brother Edmund.
“But what part will you play for the masque?” she said. “My cousin of Surrey was explicit with his announcements. You can choose to remain yourself, a lady and gentleman”—her eyes swept doubtfully over our plain, travel-rumpled clothing—“or you can wear a religious costume. We have so many.” She turned to Brother Edmund and smiled, a single dimple deepening in her right cheek. “You’d look perfect as a monk, sir!”
We stared at the girl, astounded. And then it was Brother Edmund’s turn to laugh. His shoulders shook; I thought he would weep from it. I began to worry when a few heads turned to see who was making such noise.
The girl’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you laughing at me?” she quavered.
“No, no, no,” Brother Edmund gasped. “I would not do that.” He took a deep breath and composed himself. “I would very much like to be a monk, mistress—what is your name?”
She dropped a curtsy. “Catherine Howard, sir. I live here.”
Brother Edmund bowed. “I am honored to meet a member of the family.”
She giggled again. “Oh, don’t be. I am not an important one.” She pointed to the doors on the other side of the hall. “That’s where you get the costumes. First we dance, and then my cousin of Surrey has a masque written to perform. And there’s much wine for all.”
With a final, kind little wave, she moved on to the next guests.
I whispered to Brother Edmund, “What could be better? We costume ourselves and find the tapestry. We’ll be out of here soon.”
We separated and went to the rooms set aside for changing. I took off my winter cloak and donned a black nun’s habit over my skirt and bodice. It gave me pause; I felt as if I were mocking our traditions and values. A servant handed me a mask for the upper part of my face, and I tied it on, around my black hair. I dropped the borrowed veil over my hair.
I moved into another antechamber, where the guests were lining up. Musicians played a jaunty tune within the great hall. More than half of the people wore the habits of a monk or nun. I saw three bishops, too, and even a scarlet-red cardinal of the church. At the entranceway stood a page dressed in the ducal livery of the Howards: his crest boasted a red, long-tailed lion on a gold background. He had a scroll in his hands. After listening to what one gentleman said, he glanced at the scroll, turned, and shouted into the hall, “Sir Henry Lisle!”
I drew back. The guests were being announced—something we must avoid. I searched the antechamber for Brother Edmund but could not find him at first in a sea of laughing friars and monks.
I moved among the guests, my pulses racing, until I found him. Taller and thinner than most of the other men, he now wore a Benedictine’s habit, much like those worn by the monks of Malmesbury. He had exchanged his traveling hat for a large monk’s cap atop his blond hair, covering his tonsure. His brown eyes gleamed behind the mask.
“We cannot be announced under our own names,” I whispered to him. “But we can’t use a false name, either. It wouldn’t be on the list.”
Brother Edmund looked to the entranceway. “The tapestry could be in there,” he said. “If I could just gain entry for five minutes, that’s all that’s needed.”
No clear solution presented itself. We stood aside, while others moved forward, to be announced. Soon we would be conspicuous for not entering the party.
A short nun hurried by us, auburn hair rippling down her back below the veil. I recognized her.
“Mistress Howard?” I asked. An idea sprang into my mind.