In the great hall, which had been recently rebuilt to feature a towering carved hammer-beam ceiling and a fanciful minstrels' gallery, the court feasted on fish of every description, from salmon and flounder to salted eels and whiting. Micheline, as the newest guest, was seated in relative security between King Henry and Andrew. The king was kind to her, though from time to time he gazed at her bosom in a way that made her vaguely uneasy.
The king's table was reserved for the court elite. It reposed on a raised dais, while the rest of the company supped at tables that ranged down the length of the hall. There was an open hearth in the middle of the floor near the dais; the smoke found its way up into the roof and out of an elaborate louvre.
Seated near Micheline were some of the luminaries of Henry's court: Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk; the Earl and Countess of Oxford; the Duke of Suffolk; Thomas Wyatt, the dashing poet who was said to love Anne Boleyn; and, most prominently, Thomas Cranmer, the newly consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury, and Thomas Cromwell, the king's dour-looking new chief minister, who was assuming the position vacated by Cardinal Wolsey. Micheline watched and listened carefully and soon began to connect names with faces and form opinions about their owners.
Finally sweets were served. There were jellies of all colors and shapes, plus sugared nuts and candied nutmeg and lemons. Then two liveried pages carried in an enormous rabbit made of almond paste and marchpane mixed with isinglass and sugar. The confection had been dredged with cinnamon to resemble a real rabbit, roasted. Anne Boleyn laughed in delight when the counterfeit hare was placed before her.
"My sweet Anne has been craving rabbit for several days," Henry whispered to Micheline. "Until Lent is behind us, this will have to suffice."
"Very thoughtful of you, sire," she said, smiling. Meanwhile Micheline was thinking that this wasn't so difficult. All she had to do was agree, smile, and compliment to get along in the English court. It was a small price to pay for loving Andrew, and she was comforted by the knowledge that he didn't enjoy the situation any more than she did.
It was late when the boards and trestles were removed from the great hall. Micheline stifled a yawn, hoping that she and Andrew could escape after a reasonable amount of time. However, everyone seemed to be leaving the hall, amid much laughter, and she watched in growing bewilderment.
"The king has planned a masque," Sandhurst explained, reading her thoughts. "We must go, too, and conceal our identities." His voice was sardonic.
"But that's silly!" she protested. "I have no other gown but the simpler one I must wear tomorrow. Everyone will recognize me!"
Laughing softly, he led her into the corridor. "We'll just don masks, and even those have been provided for everyone—in Anne's heraldic colors. The only person who must be entertained is the king. He imagines that he is anonymous in his costume and loves to make a game of finding his lady."
Once again Sandhurst was right. When they rejoined the rest of the court in the great hall, minstrels were playing gaily in their gallery, and blue-and-purple-masked dancers had begun to frolic. Before long another celebrant appeared in their midst. Clad entirely in green, from his jaunty feathered cap to his shoes, the man disguised as "Spring" was not only tall but barrel-chested and obese. His velvet costume was elaborately slashed and puffed, decorated with diamonds, rubies, and silken green leaves. Small eyes gleamed happily through an emerald-set mask, while their owner's ruddy cheeks contrasted with fair skin elsewhere and a reddish-gold beard.
"Hmm," Sandhurst mused, "I wonder who that could be!"
Micheline giggled. "I cannot imagine!"
"Spring" stopped before every female flower in sight, kissing hands and nuzzling necks as he inhaled various scents. When he reached Micheline, it was all she could do to smile politely and suffer his investigation. As if by design, Anne Boleyn stood at the opposite end of the crowd, now wearing an extravagant jeweled gown of cloth of gold, its bell-shaped sleeves turned up to display sable linings. Her hair was hidden under a gold gable coif, and her blue and purple mask was set with rubies. When the king finally reached her, he pretended to be unsure. He pressed kisses to her throat and ran his hands over her bodice, then caught her up in a crushing hug and let out a gusty laugh of