service she had performed and had tried to persuade her against it, fearful lest she was discovered and accused of witchcraft once more. But her desire to heal had been greater than her fear.
Another roar rose from the crowd and the Spanish ambassador was making his way down to the arena, flanked by an entourage of attendants all clad in the same black satin, white plumes on their caps. Buckingham dismounted his horse and swept an elaborate bow, then kissed the ring on Gondomar’s gloved hand.
‘They have dined together twice this week,’ Thomas murmured, his gaze fixed upon the two men.
Frances felt a familiar disquiet. She looked down at the marquess, his face wreathed in smiles. He was not courting the ambassador for his royal master’s sake alone – of that she was certain. Despite showing Gondomar every courtesy, the King seemed no more inclined to ally with Spain than he had before. Thomas had heard him mutter about King Philip’s dupli city shortly before he had fallen sick. But, then, James showed little enthusiasm for anything other than hunting, these days – that, and his favourite, of course.
Unable to bear the sight of Buckingham’s preening any longer, she glanced around the stands, which were crowded with spectators, all in their finery. She could see many faces flushed from the heat of the sun, which was now high in the sky. There was not a breath of wind to provide relief from the choking ruffs and heavy gowns. Her back felt damp and she longed to escape to the cool shade of the palace gardens. But she knew the tournament would be followed by a lavish feast and a series of masques lasting long into the night.
With a sinking heart, she looked across at the royal gallery on the opposite side of the arena. Prince Charles was seated under the canopy, his face in shadow. Frances could not imagine he took any more pleasure in the spectacle than she. He had none of his late brother’s martial prowess, and was so slight that lifting a sword, let alone wielding it in combat, might be too much for him.
Sitting close by, the Countess of Buckingham was gazing down at her beloved son with an expression of rapture. Frances thought back to the scene she had witnessed at Windsor almost three years before and felt the same revulsion she had experienced then. Any hope that the countess might return to Brooksby Hall had long since been extinguished. The King had even appointed her a suite of lodgings close to those of her son. The only saving grace was that she had never sought out Frances’s company, clearly believing her of too little significance to trouble with. If only the same were true of poor Kate. Frances looked across at her friend now and could tell from her fixed smile that she wished herself far away from Buckingham’s domineering mother.
At last, Buckingham led Gondomar from the tournament arena and the spectators began to file out from the stands. Frances and her husband remained seated, neither eager to take their places at the feast.
‘I wish we could be free of this place,’ Thomas said.
‘Perhaps the King will grant you leave, once he is fully recovered.’ Her longing to return to Tyringham grew stronger with each passing day.
‘There is little hope of that, my love. Already His Majesty talks of riding out to Hertfordshire next week, even though he will surely be too weak to sit in the saddle . . . I am anxious to see how our affairs prosper, though. There has been no news from my steward for more than three months now.’
It had pained him to mortgage such a large part of his estate, and for such little return. A succession of poor harvests had caused the price of land to fall sharply. Frances prayed that this year would be better, or Thomas would need to diminish the estate still further.
‘We should make haste,’ he said at length, breaking the silence that had fallen, like a cold stone, between them.
Frances nodded, and followed him towards the growing cacophony that emanated from the banqueting house beyond.
* * *
A deliciously cool breeze wafted through the privy garden, carrying the heady scent of lavender and rosemary. Frances breathed deeply and closed her eyes, feeling it soothe away the ache at her temples. The evening’s revels had seemed endless, the heat in the crowded hall suffocating. Thomas had been obliged to take his place with