A Love Most Dangerous (19 page)

'Well finally Mister Cromwell believed I'd told
nobody, or so it seemed. But I realised I was still a danger, that just knowing
about you and the King might mean my death.'

'Don't be so melodramatic,' I said.

He sat up still higher and grinned.

'Well, Miss. At this point I spoke to him as bold as
brass. I realised that the King would still need a go-between so why risk it being
someone else than me.

'I said, bold as gold, "how will I be able to
summon Alice Petherton in the future without people noticing me speaking to the
lady concerned? It's risky to talk so often, a Page to one particular maid of
honour." I'd stumped the Lord Privy then and he began to ponder it. Then
an idea came to me.

'I said I'd got two scarves, one red, one green. I
said if the King wanted your presence, I'd go and find you, not say a word to
you but wear the green scarf. If he didn't want you, I'd wear the red.'

Humphrey wriggled in his seat. 'He liked the idea, he
did. Thomas Cromwell. He liked my idea. He said it was a grand idea and patted
me on the knee. I think that's what saved my skin.'

I handed back the scarves. 'I'm sure it did. He must
have thought you were quite like him. Clever and deceitful.'

'Is he deceitful, Miss?'

'Of course not, Humphrey. He is the servant of the
King.'

I smiled at him. 'I think it was very clever of you.
You saved your skin most definitely. And you may even have saved mine.'

I smiled even more and he blushed as red as his scarf.

And that smile and Humphrey's reaction to it made me
finally understand the relationship between the King and Cromwell. It was
intimate.

More intimate than that between the King and I.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Hiding of Sin

7 January 1538

My talk with Humphrey had reminded me of the dangers
of what I was doing. Above all else I must make sure that no one suspected my
liaison with the King. Above all else I had to quell the slightest hint of
gossip.

I hurried to the Maids' Parlour. Mary was playing a
lute in the alcove by the window. She always said it sounded best played there.
The melody filled the parlour like a breeze in springtime.

Susan was sitting close by, her nose in a book. There
were three more of the maids in the room. All were busy with their needlework.

I sat beside Susan and glanced at her book.

'Is it interesting?' I asked in as casual voice as I
could manage.

'The subject matter is,' she said, 'but the words give
me a headache. Why can't people write things plainly as they are said?'

'Vanity, I suspect.'

'And a desire to seem more wise than they are. I
wonder what a book written by a woman would be like?'

'It would depend upon the woman, I suppose. You would
say it plainly, Susan, others would be flowery.'

Susan put her hand upon mine. 'Something troubles
you,' she said.

'Nothing,' I said lightly. 'I just feel like a little
walk.'

'It's still snowing,' she answered. 'How about a few
turns around the Lower Court?'

'That sounds perfect,' I said although I knew it was
not.

Susan peered a little closer. 'Shall Mary come?'

I nodded.

Susan looked across at Mary who brought her melody to
a conclusion and laid down her lute. She joined us and without a word we headed
towards the Lower Court.

Running round the court was a covered passage-way
fifty yards long on each side. When the weather was inclement the three of us
would sometimes walk there. Little windows gave out into the court itself and
the walk was fairly pleasant. It would not do to walk alone there, of course.
Some of the courtiers who had rooms there would seize the chance to seek better
acquaintance of any lady walking on her own.

We walked in silence along the passage-way. I felt my
heart bubbling with anxiety.

'It is quiet for the time of day,' Susan said as if by
way of conversation.

'It is,' I said. I drew closer to them. 'I would talk
of the King,' I whispered, 'but not here. Let us walk a little and then go to
our chambers.'

We took a turn around the Court and then climbed the
stairs towards our living area. Susan and Mary spoke of the littlest things as
we strolled, the weather, a dress that one was making, the music Mary had been
playing. I walked in silence, my heart so in my mouth I dare not open it.

'Let's go to my room,' Mary said. It was a good
choice. She was perceived by all as a woman not given to tittle-tattle or
conspiracies.

We slipped into her room unseen and she closed the
door behind us. Her chamber was lovely, bigger than mine, as was fitting for a
Maid of her seniority. Several musical instruments lay on her table, a
recorder, a flute and a little stringed piece I did not know the name of.

'Now what's the matter?' said Susan before we had even
sat down. She was ever direct like this.

I gulped. 'What do you know of the King and me?' I
asked.

'We know he has summoned you to his chamber to read
poetry,' said Mary.

'Just to read poetry?' I asked.

Mary nodded.

'But we suspect something more,' said Susan.

I looked at her and the bile rose to my mouth. I did
not need to ask what they suspected.

'But have you told these suspicions to anyone else?
Anyone at all?'

Susan shook her head. 'Do you think we should be so
unwise?'

'Or so disloyal,' Mary added.

'And the others?' I asked. 'What of the others?'

'A few know that you talked with the King in the
garden in the autumn,' Susan said. 'Perhaps one or two wondered if you had seen
him since.' She fell silent for a moment and then spoke more softly. 'I'm sure
that some people must be suspicious but no word of this has come to my ears.'

'Well it wouldn't would it?' I said. 'People know you
are my friend.'

'All the more reason why they'd wish to talk to me,
then. To find out exactly what's going on.'

I glanced at Mary who nodded in agreement.

'What of Wicks and Bray?'

'They hate you anyway,' Susan answered. 'Believe me if
they knew anything untoward they would be stirring the pot, giving out little
hints and questions. I have heard nothing of this.'

'Me neither,' said Mary. 'They are too angered that
Lucy has deserted them so swiftly.'

Susan squeezed my hand. 'If you would put your mind
still more at rest why don't you ask Lucy if she's heard anything amiss. She
has no guile and would know of any gossip.'

I shook my head. 'The fewer who know my fears the
better.'

Susan glanced at Mary. 'Then you do have something to
fear?'

I blinked my eyes. Tears were beginning to form in
them.

'My poetry reading with the King must be kept secret,'
I said. 'They came too close to the Queen's confinement and they would not look
right. He should have been reading poetry with her, not me, some might say.'

'That would prove difficult,' Susan said. 'The woman
could barely read.'

'She could read,' said Mary. 'Not well but she could
read.'

I felt the blood pound in my temples. Mary had been a
good friend of Jane Seymour's and she was the greatest risk to me. If she grew
spiteful then I would be found out.

'But she preferred to sew,' I said. 'She was the best
of us all at needlework. And she loved music more than words. Your singing must
have been a great comfort to her at the end, Mary.'

Mary nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a
handkerchief.

'Thank you,' she said with a sigh. Then she looked up
and stared into my eyes. 'I don't care if you are sleeping with the King,' she
said. 'You must be a comfort to him.'

'Nor I,' said Susan. 'As long as he keeps those wolf
eyes off of me.' She gave a little laugh.

I could not believe what I heard. 'So you do know?' I
cried.

'Of course we know,' said Susan. 'We're your best
friends.'

I put my hand to my mouth. I had told Cromwell
different.

'But nobody else?' I managed to whisper.

They shook their heads.

'Your secret is safe with us,' Susan said.

The tears began to course down my cheeks in earnest.
'It must stay that way,' I said. 'Until the King decides otherwise. No gossip,
no hints, not the slightest suspicion.'

'Then when will you see him?' Mary asked. 'And how
will your unaccustomed absence be explained?'

'I don't know,' I said.

'But I do,' said Susan suddenly. 'Religion.'

I shook my head in confusion.

'You shall say you have a sudden interest in the new
religion. You will go to the chapel on your own and pray. You will carry a book
on faith with you and con it with fervent eye. You will tell others you must
retire to your room for contemplation. You must even talk to them of faith and
disputed theology. People will soon tire of you.'

Mary giggled. 'That is most cunning of you, Susan.'

'A cloak of purity is the cloak which covers best.'

She's right, I thought. And Jane Seymour would endorse
her words.

Susan was absolutely right. I immediately borrowed a
book on theology from the youngest of the Palace priests. He blushed a furious
red as he gave it to me and even more when I placed my hand on his as I took
the book.

'Would you give me lessons on the new faith?' I asked.

'It is not a new faith,' he said, glancing quickly as
if the pews had ears. 'The King is still his most Catholic Majesty, still Defender
of the Faith. He is not a Lutheran.'

'But he has supplanted the Pope as head of the
church?'

'He has indeed. And that is right and proper.'

I sighed loudly and shook my head slowly. 'It is
confusing for a simple girl,' I said. 'That is why I ask for lessons from you.'

He blushed again.

The poor man will have imminent need of confession, I
thought with satisfaction.

'Perhaps Father Ambrose,' he said, his voice high. 'He
is far more knowledgeable than I.'

'He is too old and dry,' I said. 'I am young and
fresh. I need my teacher to be so as well.' I leaned closer so that my face was
close to his. He fidgeted nervously but did not move away.

'I need a teacher to understand my heart and soul,' I
breathed.

He made a noise in the back of his throat and struggled
to his feet. 'I must go now and pray for guidance.'

'Do that, Father Luke,' I said. 'But I pray you, do
not desert me in my hour of need.'

He turned and fled. I chuckled to myself. I had my
cloak of purity now.

Father Luke sent word to me the next day. He had
sought guidance from Father Ambrose who had immediately consented to Luke
acting as my spiritual adviser. I wondered at the old man's alacrity. Perhaps
he feared for his own soul more than he feared for Luke's.

I hurried down to the chapel and found Father Luke
deep in prayer. Or perhaps not quite so deep for I saw his eyes flick open as I
approached and he mumbled to a speedy end.

'Ah,' he said. 'You received my message.'

'I did indeed. My heart welled up with joy.' It was no
word of a lie for I knew that it would give me the disguise I needed.

The surging tide ended almost immediately for Luke
pointed to a pile of books beside him.

'These are the tracts which we will study,' he said.
'And when the new Bible is ready, Miles Coverdale's Bible, we will sit and read
that together.'

'Is that a big book?' I asked.

'The Bible is a large tome, Alice. As befits its
mighty subject.'

'I would not be able to rest it on my knees then,' I
said.

'No indeed. We will have to place it on a table and
scan it together.'

'And when will we be able to read it?'

Luke shrugged. 'It is not yet printed. In the
meanwhile I shall have to read the Bible to you in the Latin.'

'I do not know much Latin,' I said.

'Then I shall translate it for you,' he said. 'I shall
be your Coverdale.'

'I shall enjoy being Coverdaled by you,' I said,
placing my hand upon his.

He jumped at my touch but did not move his hand away.
I gently withdrew mine. Not such an innocent after all, I thought to myself.

I searched my mind. Was Luther himself not married?
And even the Archbishop of Canterbury. I'm sure that Father Luke would know.
But I would not ask him. Not yet at any rate.