The Only Boleyn

Spring 1522 - May Day

     The end of spring brought much entertainment to the court as the weather began to brighten, and the animals came out of hibernation and frolicked happily about in the fresh, green grass. There were more dances than usual - not to say there were few in the winter months, but the coming of summer excited all of us.
One such festivity was the annual May Day festival. The mood was light and the chatter was jolly as the whole court, servants and all, poured out in our masses to the gardens of Hampton Court Palace. The tilt-yard was surrounded by draping canopies to prepare for the summer sun; already anticipating the many more jousts that were sure to take place when the warm weather came again.
I strolled casually across the dewy grass, revelling in the beauty of the fresh morn; excited despite myself for the day's celebrations.
    "Ah-ha! Here we are, again, my friends! The annual May Day festival!" King Henry's voice was buoyant with childish excitement, and the gathering crowd gave a great cheer at his declaration.
    "To start the celebrations off, we shall hold the first maypole dance of the day in a few minutes. Of course, as ever, the main function of this event will be to select this year's King of the May and Queen of the May. I shall have the honour of choosing the Queen, and my wife shall select the King." Henry gave an almost careless gesture to Katherine, who was seated regally upon the gilded throne from which she would survey the day's celebrations.
    "I wish you all the best of luck!" The end of Henry's sentence was almost indistinguishable, such was the volume of the hurrahs as he sat down on his throne, placed on the wooden platform he had made his speech from.
    Another spark of excitement ignited in my stomach when I glimpsed the servants bringing out the maypole. The bright colours of the ribbons flashing around it, yellows, pinks, greens and the palest blues, seemed to perfectly match the colours worn by the ladies of the court. The scene was awash with pretty gowns and fair hair demurely hidden beneath gable hoods. Alas, they are still worn in England, despite my best efforts to persuade the ladies of France's terrible opinion of them.
The May Day festival was, indeed, a festivity which favoured fair-haired, innocent looking women. This was fortunate for Mary, of course, and therefore for the family - yet I slightly resented the stark contrast of my colouring to the pale shades of the day.
I had chosen well, I must admit. I wore a fashionably-cut emerald dress, with rich velvet setting it apart in style from the dowdy English gowns. My French hood was present, as ever, framing my face beautifully in the delicate sunlight. My face itself had received a special effort today; I had used honey to soften the skin - a new-fangled idea, brought back with one of the most recent crusades from the eastern provinces - and had applied red ochre to brighten my cheeks and lips; appearing full of life on this fine spring day.
I was abruptly swung from my shrewd surveyal of the scene and pleasant admiration of myself by the excited shouts of the court as the musicians struck up a folk dance and we all rushed for a ribbon.
"Are we plaiting?" Someone shouted over the music as the musicians finished their introduction and we prepared for the start of the dance.
"Aye," replied another, and with that, we began the dance, weaving in and out of each other to bring the lovely colours together.
    After the dance, Mary was crowned as Queen of the May, which came as a surprise to no-one. The real Queen, Katherine, had no viable alternative but to crown Henry King of the May. Their coronation resulted in much sniggering at Mary's expense - compared to Katherine, Mary was a slim nothing, a girl, a doll, possessing none of Katherine's majestic demeanour whatsoever. Mary and Henry were in raptures after the morning's happy events, and I left them to talk earnestly of whatever they pleased in the partly-concealed mock throne box for the Monarchs of the May, situated above the tilt-yard where the joust was to be held, later.