Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,65

by Diana, the moon goddess—this time, represented not by a boy, but by a shapely, beautiful woman in a sheer gown. She bowed to the king, who ogled at her and her two female attendants.

Diana took her attendants by the hand, and the three executed a graceful dance. Then a curtain was pulled up, revealing a huge crescent moon on wheels.

The goddess swept her hand toward the moon. As a fanfare played, a door concealed in the moon opened, and a platform swung out. On the platform stood George Ferrers, wearing a crown and robes of purple and carrying a scepter. “Your Majesty—my lords—my ladies. The season of misrule has begun!”

***

The Lord of Misrule kept the court busy beyond belief over the twelve days of Christmas. There were interludes, masques, jousts, banquets with so many dishes I lost count. Each night I fell into my bed at Greenwich, exhausted from all of the merriment. But the prisoner in the Tower could not be forgotten, especially when a scaffold was erected by the Eleanor Cross at Cheapside. There, a group of young knights were tried and convicted for not having obeyed Misrule the day before, but the sentence of execution was carried out on a hogshead of wine and a bag of coins instead, and the contents of each distributed among the crowd. I could not help but feel pity for Somerset, kept closely in his prison this time (no Christmas visits from the duchess), as the headsman swung his axe against the barrel.

Even when Twelfth Night passed, the festivities did not end, for on January 17, twelve gentlemen, including my three eldest sons and Henry Sidney, tilted at Greenwich. Snug in furs, I watched as Jack, Ambrose, and Robert rode out, feeling altogether too much maternal pride as the January sunlight glistened upon their armor.

Near me were Robert’s wife, Amy, and Ambrose’s wife, Nan. Seated next to me, or rather on my right with the width of a good-sized human being between us, was Jack’s wife, Anne, Countess of Warwick. Feeling for the poor girl, whose parents, the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, were both in the Tower, Jack had made much of her over the past couple of months, giving her fine clothes and many pretty presents, and I had tried to fill the role of a mother to her. But our efforts were to no avail, and indeed, how could they be, under the circumstances? I wished the girl was not so slender; before her wedding, her father had asked that the consummation of her marriage be delayed until she was sixteen because of her physique, and we had honored his wish. If she had borne Jack a child, or was expecting one, she might have been, if not happy with us, at least less unhappy.

The countess stared blankly at the knights, neither appreciating nor troubling to admire Jack’s skill as he ran against his opponent. (Jack took after his father, who had been a fine jouster in his younger years.) I touched her shoulder and attempted to draw her closer to me. “I see Jack is wearing your favor.”

“He took it from me. I did not give it to him.”

“Oh.”

“My head aches. I would like to return to my chamber.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“I am not your dear.”

“It is only a manner of speaking, Anne. I meant no harm. Shall I send our physician to you?”

Anne rose and shook out her skirts. “No, I need no physic for my headaches. I often get them, and the only thing that helps them is to lie down in darkness and quiet, as Mama could tell you if she were not in the Tower.” She looked over her shoulder as her page began to help her away. “Besides, I would not trust any physic which came from a Dudley.”

I sat there open mouthed. No one else had heard the insult, spoken in a low tone; Amy and Nan were discussing Amy’s new gloves, while Guildford and Hal, both slightly too young and inexperienced to joust publicly, were consoling themselves by criticizing Jack’s every move. Mary’s mind was back somewhere in the court of King Arthur, where it would reside until her own husband took his turn in the lists, and Katheryn, her father’s darling, was leaning on his shoulder contentedly as he explained to her the various strategies Jack was taking. For a moment, I thought of following the girl and giving her a well-needed shaking: how dare she speak of