the barge."
"But the river is already thronged with boats!"
"There will always be space for one more. I hereby close the subject, advising you to make yourself scarce until eight o'clock."
"But Andrew—"
"Leave us! If you want to depart for Greenwich now, get Rupert to take you! I want to sleep!."
When there was no further argument from the hallway, Sandhurst burrowed under the covers and enfolded Micheline in his arms. "Actually that's not quite true. Mmm, you're warm." Kissing her throat, he caressed a breast, hip, and slim thigh. "And soft." His hand lightly traveled back up the inside of her leg until Micheline flinched slightly.
"Your sister still doesn't like me."
"I thought she'd been behaving rather well," he murmured absently. "Better, certainly, than in Yorkshire."
"Didn't you notice the way she failed to include me when speaking about the plans for today? It's as if she's trying to pretend I don't really exist."
"Oh, you exist, my love. I can certainly vouch for that."
His fingers were exploring intimately, expertly, and Micheline's thighs opened in surrender. Cicely was forgotten as Sandhurst's mouth covered hers; the love storm that dominated their lives was swelling to another crescendo.
* * *
That afternoon, while boats blanketed the river itself, the banks of the Thames were thronged with people. Everyone wanted to watch the magnificent procession for Queen Anne, though most subjects still judged Catherine the real queen. For despite the Archbishop of Canterbury's recent decree that King Henry's first marriage was invalid, no such decision had been handed down by the pope!
Micheline could not imagine a more sumptuous pageant than the one taking place around her on the Thames. Perhaps the procession had been made so overwhelmingly lavish in order to impress and thereby win over the skeptical citizens. The most incurably stubborn were said to crowd the dungeons of the Tower of London.
Music, cannon fire, and trumpet calls filled the warm air. Numerous barges had sailed down to Greenwich Palace more than an hour ago. Now they were returning. Cicely, clad in a pretty new gown of ruby silk, clapped her hands in excitement while Rupert shouted "I say!" over and over again.
The first barge held Queen Anne herself, dressed in cloth of gold, attended by the colorfully decorated vessels of bishops and lords. The mayor even had a dragon on board, which thrashed about and spat fire into the river. More than two hundred other boats followed, embellished with tinkling bells and Anne's coat of arms paired with the king's. Streamers fluttered and danced in the breeze while musicians played with gusto from every craft.
When the queen's barge reached the water gate of the Tower of London, the mighty guns above her boomed in welcome. The constable and lieutenant came out of the crowd to greet Anne and take her to join the king, who waited at the postern gate.
"She'll spend the next two nights in the queen's apartments in the Tower," Andrew explained to his wife. "It's a tradition. On Saturday there will be another procession—this time through the streets of London, bearing her to Westminster, where she'll be crowned on Sunday."
Nibbling at a sweetmeat, Cicely proclaimed, "I intend to be queen one day, but I suppose I shall have to be patient, for I would not marry King Hal!"
Micheline smiled wanly. For the first time in her pregnancy, she felt the heat and was conscious of an enervating malaise, compounded by all the commotion and ceaseless music. "It's all very exciting." She gave Sandhurst a hopeful look. "Are we going home now?"
"No!" cried Cicely. "Please, Andrew, take us to join the celebrations! I don't want to return to that boring house!"
He had already given a signal that sent the oars dipping into the glittering water. As the barge glided upriver, he said, "Spare a thought for Micheline. She's with child, as I have told you, and deserves an extra measure of consideration."
The girl wore a petulant frown. "This is the most exciting day of my life! I don't see why—"
"No need for all this!" Rupert exclaimed, moving forward to clap Sandhurst on the back. "Patience and I would be happy to take Cicely out to enjoy the festivities, wouldn't we, my darling?"
Patience surveyed them all with calm, tiny eyes. Her face was colorless in the sunlight. "Naturally," she said, smiling.
Chapter 33
May 31—June 5, 1533
Saturday found Micheline standing with Cicely. Rupert, and Patience behind one of the rails that lined the route of Queen Anne's procession through the streets of London. Although she felt better today,