Chapter Three - Meeting the King
Greenwich Palace
Christmas Day 1539
The Christmas festivities are in full swing by noon. A great feast is being served as everyone at court finds a seat at one of the long tables. I glance over to the far end of the hall, the King, the Lady Anne and the Lady Mary are seated at their own small table, surveying the court like a kingdom. For Mary, it is likely to be the closest she gets to ruling. She is 23 already, unmarried, and behind her two year old brother in the order of succession. The word going around court is that she cannot bring herself to accept or warm to Anne of Cleves because she comes from a Protestant country, and Mary has never sincerely given up her strong Catholic beliefs. This surely forecasts a turbulent marriage for the King, all the better for me.
After the feast, the dancing begins. The Lady Anne has been very liberal with us, her ladies, today, and has given us freedom for the whole time the festivities are going on, until of course she leaves. Desperate to dance, I look for a partner. Behind me is a small group of men, I approach them in the hope of finding a fellow dancer. This group consists of Edward Seymour, the late Queen Jane's brother and uncle to Prince Edward, Sir Francis Bryan, one-eyed and flirtatious - whom they call the vicar of hell -, and Bishop Gardiner, whose religious loyalties remain obscure. A trio of undoubted power, or at least for now.
As I am nearing them, I see Sir Francis whisper something quickly in Edward's ear - perhaps about me. He then steps forward.
"Lady Catherine Howard, isn't it?" He bows slightly.
"Yes, Sir Francis." I return a curtesy.
"You would like to dance, little Lady?" He smirks, his one eye twinkling, the other mysteriously hidden behind a black eyepatch. I blush at his nickname for me, then take his arm to dance.
We dance for a short while in silence, only the music to listen to. Then the music changes to a new piece, one that requires closer contact. Once side by side, he begins to talk to me.
"You may have noticed me say something to Master Seymour before I first spoke to you."
"Yes, I believe that I did." I reply, catching a quick glimpse of Seymour searching the hall, no doubt for his promiscuous wife.
"It was about you." He whispers in my ear.
"Oh?" I reply innocently.
"You are something of a mystery, Cathrine. You keep yourself hidden away."
"I do not mean to." I reply. "But I have only been at court a few weeks."
"Have you been introduced to the King?"
I stare at him for a few seconds in disbelief. Is it really so easy for me to be introduced to him? I haven't yet been at court even a month, but already the opportunity has arisen for me to begin my work, my magic.
"I...no, Sir Francis, I have not."
"But all nobles who come to court for Christmas make their introductions to the King, and thank him for inviting them."
A sting of annoyance latches onto me. So it is not that I am special, not that the King wants to meet me especially , but that he simply must meet everyone.
"Come, Lady Catherine, I shall introduce you."
Taking my arm in his, he leads me to the three gold thrones at the far end of the hall. I curtesy and Francis bows. The first thing I am aware of, before I have even looked up, is an icy stare being directed straight at me. I look up to see that the owner of such a glare is Mary, the King's eldest daughter. She looks down the end of her nose at me, clearly jealous of my youth and beauty. It is then that I notice Cromwell standing behind the King, and the event of a couple of nights ago comes back to me. I smile to myself as he again produces that funny expression of confusion and awkwardness, his dark brows knitting.
"Your Majesty, this is Lady Catherine Howard." Sir Francis introduces me before stepping back.
"Your Majesty." I curtesy again. The King looks down at me, his beady eyes glaring from the fat on his face. I smile my most innocently seductive smile, my long lips gently curving up at the ends. For a second I think I see in his blue eyes a glint of affection, a like for what he sees. But then he simply welcomes me to court and returns talking to Mary.
It was certainly a disappointing first meeting. He barely showed any interest in me at all, not asking me any questions or commenting on how I looked, or asking me how I found his wonderful court. I would have thought that the Lady Anne would have made more of an effort to introduce me, and emphasise my importance to her. Perhaps she did not feel it was her place. When I am Queen nothing will be none of my business, I will never be out of place.
After the festivities are over, and I have attended to the Lady Anne, I return to my own room. Sitting at my dressing table, I study my appearance. I let my auburn-brown curls fall down past my shoulders to my elbows, long and voluminous. My large eyes are the colour of a light grey Winter sky, my lips tinted red. There is no reason why the King should not like me, I am a pretty thing. But how to get him to notice me? I cannot simply go and find him, and I can only see him by coincidence.
Sighing, I climb into my bed, angry that I have scuppered my chance to get his attention. Who knows when I will see him next. And it is so very unlikely that he will recognise me, remember me, he barely glanced at me.
I fall asleep asking myself the same question over and over: how can I get his attention?
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To Catch A King
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