"'Tis a message from the King!" she exclaimed and broke into a run
to meet him.
She met him halfway to the gatehouse. Remaining on his mount, he
handed her a note embossed with the royal seal. "For Lady Amethyst
from His Majesty the King," he stated. The King had recently taken
to being called "Your Majesty" as introduced by Cardinal Wolsey, a
title to suit a monarch, as Wolsey felt "your grace" was beneath the
King's dignity.
"I am Lady Amethyst."
"The King wishes a reply by Tuesday week."
"A reply?" She hurriedly broke the seal and tore into the parchment.
The messenger was beginning to rear his mount and begin his return
journey. "Wait!" she summoned him, and he halted the horse. "I can
give you an answer right now. Tell His Majesty I would be honored to
attend court for his thirtieth birthday festivities. I shall be
there."
A sharp thrill sent a tremor through her as she ran her fingers over
the creamy royal parchment. She could see the glow of a thousand
candles above her head as she and the King danced over the gleaming
floor of the great hall, the lavishly dressed courtiers following
her every leap and dip with overt admiration, her satin skirts
rustling, her diamonds and pearls glittering.
"Aye, Lady Amethyst." The messenger touched the corner of his hat
and trotted off.
By then Topaz and Edward, minus the pony, had approached her.
"Where's the pony?" Amethyst asked.
"Being bathed and perfumed," Topaz replied. "He was a bit ripe. So
what does Bluff Prince Hal have to say for himself? More castles and
titles await us? Or does he wish to reverse the attainder against
our dead grandfather this time?"
"Nay, Topaz, 'tis an invitation to court for his thirtieth
birthday."
Topaz twirled round to face the stables, her back to Amethyst. "I
shall not attend!"
Amethyst was glad her sister couldn't see the smile brightening her
face. "I expect that would suit the King just fine, because it seems
you were not invited, as was no one else in the family except
perhaps Aunt Margaret, who is already there."
Topaz faced her sister and fingered her delicate necklace of daisies
interwoven with honeysuckle. "He invites you alone? What must he
have on his mind, the lecher? Does he wish to make another addition
to his harem?"
"'Tis nothing of the sort, Topaz. Your imagination is simply wild.
He's celebrating his birthday and he wants a representative of our
family there to celebrate the occasion with him."
"Thirty, eh? The old toad is getting on in years. Past his prime, I
daresay. Growing older and feebler every day, and still without an
heir."
"He wished for an heir and was cursed with two bastards!" Edward
piped up.
Amethyst could stand it no longer. "Edward, listen to what Aunt
Amethyst has to say and I never want you to forget it. Whatever you
say about the King and Princess Mary in the privacy of your own home
is your own business, but whilst standing on the grounds of Warwick
Castle, do not ever speak ill of them again. I absolutely forbid
it!"
The child's eyes widened in dismay.
"And that goes for you, too, Topaz."
Topaz laughed it off, as if it were Amethyst's problem instead of
her own. "Do becalm yourself, sister. He is but a child."
"It is because of that that I am so upset. He is a child with a
poisoned mind who will grow up to be an adult with a poisoned mind,
and doomed to follow his grandfather's fate serving out his days for
treason if you persist in this folly!"
"Never!"
"Think what you will, sister, but mark my words, you are asking for
trouble."
"And what will you do? Arrive at court and ask the King to sign our
death warrants?"
She resisted the urge to slap her sister. "I need not. You are doing
quite a good job of it yourself."
She excused herself and crossed the drawbridge and forced herself to
put the argument from her mind, already deciding as she strode along
which gowns to bring on her trip.
Court was being held at Windsor that summer, after an exhausting
progress through the shires. Yet the enthusiastic preparations for
the King's birthday betrayed not one whit of the courtiers'
weariness.
Amethyst met the sprightly King in the great hall the night of her
arrival, three days before his birthday. She hadn't been invited to
sit on the royal dais at dinnertime, but renewed their acquaintance
after the minstrel show.
She approached, curtsied, her eyes roving over the length of him.
Once again he glittered. His torso narrowed at the hips; the
shoulders were square and commanding under the doublet lined with
diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. The crimson velvet cloak flowed from
him with fluid grace like a waterfall. Silver-striped black hose
adorned his strong legs. Glowing pearls lined his collar. His strong
arms carried the slashed sleeves regally. He captured the light of
each candle.
"'Tis a pleasure to meet you again, sire. Thank you ever so much for
inviting me to share in these festivities." Her voice quivered with
excitement.
"'Tis a pleasure to see you again, Lady Amethyst. How fares
Warwickshire?"
"It fares well, Your Majesty..." She began telling him of the
harvest that had given way to the harsh winter, and as the
conversation droned on, she beheld him, the rugged body showing not
one sign of aging since she saw him last. His golden eyes sparkled
and his skin glowed. His presence engulfed her; even if he were not
the King, he would be the handsomest man in the kingdom. No man held
himself with such grace and confidence.
"...And Mary is getting to be quite a bright child, she already
speaks Latin..." He was bragging about his daughter, but Amethyst
was busy studying his features.
A bit of golden stubble grazed his upper lip and chin. His lips were
exquisitely shaped, the ends turned up in a faintly amused
expression. He lifted his hand slowly and swept back a red-gold lock
that had fallen carelessly over the smooth forehead. She couldn't
stop staring at those hands, those long, slender fingers...how warm
they'd felt in hers.
Although her voice betrayed her exhilaration, she was thankful that
she was not trembling outwardly. Her poise verified her passage from
blushing adolescence to womanhood, a titled lady of nobility with
enough aplomb to keep a king's interest.
"And have you composed any songs brought to you with midnight
inspiration?" he asked in a low tone reminiscent of a cat's purr.
"Oh, aye, Your Majesty! I did as you suggested, kept some parchment
by my bed, and when an idea for a melody came to me in the night, I
wrote it down hastily at the virginals the next day, and was able to
embellish it and create a lovely arrangement!"
"Perhaps you would like to play some of your original compositions
for me whilst you visit here?" he suggested silkily.
"I would be honored, Your Majesty. Although...I doubt my music
reaches the standard of your discernment. You are a much more
accomplished musician than I could ever hope to be."
"Your modesty does you credit. Alas, these days I have less time for
simple pleasures such as music. Affairs of state prevail and I find
myself in the Council chambers more often than in the conservatory.
A responsible job, this is, Lady Amethyst. A demanding and imposing
job," he said, but not in a complaining way. "So you have not become
betrothed since we last met?"
She didn't want to change the subject; she would rather have talked
about music all evening. But of course, this was part of his
imposing job also; to secure the marriageability of the kingdom's
young maidens.
"Nay, Your Majesty," she answered frankly. "Several gentlemen have
courted me, but none have yet sparked my..." She groped for an
appropriate word.
"Passion?"
"Heavens, no! I was alluding more to...interest, Your Majesty.
Passion I've yet to encounter."
"Perhaps here at court, then, you will find a suitable
parti
.
I assure you, there are many young gentlemen worthy of your rank
and...interest, as you say."
"I doubt it not, Your Majesty." But how could she even look in the
direction of a mere earl or duke when in the presence of the
handsomest and most vibrant man she'd ever met, who loved music more
than she, who just happened to be King?
"Do you care to continue our musical interlude during your visit to
court?"
"Aye, Your Majesty, there is nothing I would like better!" she said
with naïve honesty.
He gazed down at her for a time as if trying to make up his mind
about something of the gravest import. At last he broke the silence.
"Very well, then, meet me in my receiving chamber following Vespers
tomorrow. It is where my attendants meet to pass the time, and from
there we shall find a quiet, private corner in order to play music
together. I trust that suits you, Lady Amethyst."
"Aye, it sounds grand." Making music with the King again—she
believed something like this happened only once in a lifetime, not
twice! "I shall be there, Your Majesty." She curtseyed.
"Very well, I shall see you then."
Then she remembered. "Oh, but my lute has not yet arrived with my
baggage, your grace."
"Never you mind, Lady Amethyst," the King replied, touching her
cheek with his fingertips ever so gently. She shivered at the
unexpected meeting of their flesh. "All the necessary instruments
will be provided."
She curtseyed again and he stepped away. As she walked away from
him, the King watched her hair tumbling down her back like spun
gold, the way her erect shoulders squared off and her softly rounded
buttocks swayed under the shiny satin of her gown as she strode out
of the great hall.
Oh, we shall make music together, my sweet Lady Amethyst
,
he thought, tongue moistening his lips, his mouth watering with a
desire bordering on possessiveness.
We shall, my innocent, young
maiden of Warwickshire. Sweet music will be ours, to resonate in a
thundering crescendo.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The King was not present in the great hall the next morning where
she breakfasted with a few members of the King's Musick. She was
hoping they would invite her to join their practice session this
morning, so she would be well-rehearsed when it was time for the
private duet with Henry.
She sat quietly nibbling on a slice of honeyed bread, listening to
the musicians' idle chatter.
"Is Bessie out of the King's good favor again?" Mark Smeaton, a
young musician, asked around the table distractedly as he dug into
another slab of plum cake.
"Aye, she has been in and out for the last fortnight..." Ned, the
citternist, replied.
"You mean the King has been in and out..." Mark quipped, and a
conspiratorial laughter echoed round the table.
"She saw Catherine and went running like she'd been shot from a
longbow."
"Aye, she keeps her distance from Catherine!" giggled John, the pipe
player.
Amethyst had heard Bessie Blount's name more times than any other
since arriving at court, even among the servitors, and always in a
tittering way.
"Why, they were together the day after he married the Queen, but I
was not here yet. This is just what I hear," Mark declared.
"Aye, I was here," George the organist affirmed. "'Twas not the day
after the wedding, though. 'Twas the day after the honeymoon ended.
All Catherine has to do is turn her back to go to the privy, and he
takes the opportunity for a romp with Bessie."
"Bessie hasn't been his only play toy," Mark added. "He had that
Mary Boleyn for a time."
"He had 'er, all right," John joked, a lusty smirk crossing his
adolescent features.
They all broke into laughter, and Amethyst sat expressionless, not
wanting to participate in this conversation in any way. All this
prattle about the King and his dalliances was chipping away at her
appetite. She forced down the last of what she was chewing.
"If you mind it not..." her voice, firm but pleasant, rose above the
others, "I would be honored if you would let me sit in on your
practice session today," she intoned, desperately wanting to change
the subject. She did not mention the King's invitation to his
private apartments; after hearing the way these courtiers gossiped,
she didn't dare.
"Aye, we would be pleased," the older gentleman said, and the others
nodded. "What instrument do you play?"
"Which one would you like me to play? I play them all...lute,
virginals, flute, harp."