The Forgotten Queen

6. His Majesty's Orders

I am such a fool!  I should be here at Hampton Court as the resident jester not a lady in waiting.

Only a fool would attract the attention of the King upon who determines the destiny of her family. Only a girl completely devoid of good sense and a single sensible thought in her head would tempt fate in this way.   

The younger girls of court were shooting me envious looks.  Did they not understand the danger of the King's attentions?  It was deadly.  They were welcome to ride with him this afternoon.  If only they could take my place!  There was nothing I sought less in the world than the attention of a ruthless monarch.

If he had been able to order his own wife to death, he would spare little thought for my being should I cause him offence.  This man exiled his wife of over 20 years from and allowed her to die a poor woman's death from the conditions she was sent to live in.  His second wife whom he loved with enough passion to split from the Catholic Church, he sent to the scaffold with no mercy other than French sword to do the deed.  And his last wife, his beloved Jane, died as a result the son he so desperately wanted.  I, with little family and few riches, do not hold a candle to these Queens who paid the price for the King's attention.

Although, through all of these thoughts, my mind could not associate the kind spirit I had encountered in the chapel with the tales I had heard all my life of the infamous Henry VIII.  The Henry I saw was an injured soul, capable of compassion and I struggled to imagine the infamous temper replacing his kindly demeanour.  Surely they could not be one and the same man? 

'No Grace,' I told myself.  'Do not allow yourself to fall for this facade.  You know well the fates of the three Queens.'

Cursing my supposed good fortune, I slipped out of the Ladies Quarters to prepare myself for the day ahead.  My first day at court and look at the mess I had made.

I strode down the corridors, surprised I could remember the route to our room and quickly sat down at the looking glass.  There was little colour left to my complexion and I was in need of more appropriate attire for horse-riding.  Pinching my cheeks sharply to bring some semblance of colour back, I removed my hood and swiftly braided my hair around my head, creating a crown of plaits which would stay firmly in place for riding. 

I had just stripped down to my undergarments when my Aunt quietly stepped into the room.

Closing the door behind her she said, 'Oh Grace, my dear, I feared this may happen.'

Whatever did she mean?  If my Aunt assumed I would bring great danger to her family name and position and court why would she have brought me here?  

The surprise must have been evident on my face as my Aunt quickly hurriedly offered an explanation. 

'I had thought so close to his beloved wife's passing and with his being in deep mourning, he would not single you out.  But I was wrong.'

She said this whilst walking over to the trunks which contained our belongings and pulled out a luxuriously crimson riding gown I had not seen before.  

'To be singled out by the King is a dangerous feat for any maiden, let alone one with no experience of court,' she said shaking the gown out and ushering me forwards.  'It was naive of me Grace and I am truly sorry.  I have placed you in harm's way, something I vowed to your mother I would never to.  I swore to protect you Grace and I will keep that promise.'

In all my years at Somerfield I had never heard my Aunt Mary apologise, she was always in control and had no need to do so.  Today her face told a different story.  She looked at me with concern as she pulled the gown up my body, a task a handmaiden would usually perform not the Lady of the house.

Turning me to face the stone wall, she deftly moved her hands lacing the bodice tightly around my body and smoothing out the creases which were tainted from travel. 

'This is important now Grace, listen to me.  You must be convivial with the King.  Do not say anything to upset him, broach no dangerous subjects.  Religion, love and politics are not to be discussed.  He is still healing from the death of Queen Jane and I do not know how he will react so you must be as agreeable as possible but you are not to be charming.  Enticing a King such as he can only mean danger for you.'  

I felt something cold wrapped around my neck and reached a hand to my throat.  A dainty gold necklace lay there, deep red drops of rubies decorated the chain and settled on my chest.  I looked to my Aunt who was regarding my appearance and avoiding my eyes.

'Aunt, I...' I began to say.

'You look well Grace.  I fear that may be a problem for you.'

A knock on the door interrupted any further conversation and Catherine soon appeared wearing a green riding gown.

'Grace you look beautiful! How dare you outshine me?' she said winking at me mischievously.  'Please do say you are ready, I will escort us both to the stables where noble steeds await. And I am not talking about the horses!'

'Catherine!  Whatever would you Mother say to hear you talking so?  You sound like a common scullery maid.  Do watch your tone around the King for all our sakes', my Aunt scolded.

'Of course I shall my Lady Mary, I am no fool', her tone suddenly serious.  'Grace?  Are you ready?'

Turning to face my Aunt I spoke, 'What do you think Aunt?  Will this do?'

A brief nod from her was all the approval I needed to snatch a hood from the chest and fastening it into place follow Catherine out into the sunshine.

Catherine happily chattered all the way through the Grand Courtyard and across the gravelled grounds to the stables.  Rounding the building the sun appeared high in the sky and momentarily blinded me.

I lifted my hand to my eyes and through the rays saw the outline of a man who was unmistakably the King.  How I could not have recognised him before I will never know.

'Grace!  I am so glad you have agreed to our tour this afternoon.  It is truly my honour', he said smiling.  

'May I have the privilege of escorting you on this journey?' he said extending his hand.

Slowly I stepped forwards and in the summers sunshine, took his hand.