galleried range that flanks the great hall. A screens passage leads into that high and stately chamber. That day we could have located the hall by the level of noise alone.
Jack veered off just short of the entrance to lead us up a narrow flight of stairs to the musicians’ gallery. Only three of the musicians were playing. The trio produced exquisite sounds that could scarcelybe heard over the hubbub below, but the other members of their company were a more appreciative audience.
“The Bassano brothers,” Jack said. “Newly arrived from Italy. They make my poor skills seem little more than an amateur effort by an untalented child.”
Taking the comparison as a criticism of my own ability, I shrank back, but Jack was the noticing sort. It took him only a moment to realize how I had misinterpreted his words.
“You are naturally gifted,” he assured me. “You have inherent talent. Why else should I have brought you here today? I have a surprise for you.”
Mollified, I demanded to know what it was.
“All in good time, Mistress Audrey. All in good time.”
Jack showed me to a place by the rail and then left me to exchange greetings with some of the other royal musicians. They were not gentlemen of the Chapel Royal but rather the king’s secular musicians. Some twenty-five of them, many foreign born, played for His Grace at masques and for dancing.
I peered at the crowd below, and was glad I was not down there among them to be jostled and buffeted. Spectators seemed to fill every inch of space, vying for the best position from which to see the king and his bride of barely five months. Anne of Cleves was a very plain woman but she had a kind smile. As I watched, Her Grace handed out arms and expensive robes and silver vessels to that day’s champions.
Edith, having settled herself with much grumbling, suddenly gave a little cry of pleasure. “Only look, Mistress Audrey! There is the Countess of Surrey.”
She indicated a young woman in her early twenties in close attendance on Queen Anne. Lady Surrey had wide-spaced eyes, abroad nose, and a strained expression on her pale face. She did not appear to be enjoying the festivities.
“Is your mother here, too?”
“Oh, no, Mistress Audrey. She will be at Surrey House in Norwich with the countess’s children. They are too young yet to be brought to court. The fourth, another boy, was born less than three months past.”
No wonder the countess lacked enthusiasm!
“Do you recognize anyone else among the ladies attending Her Grace?”
“That is the countess’s sister-in-law.” Edith pointed out a compactly made, richly dressed young woman who kept her eyes downcast, almost as if she was lost in her own thoughts. “She was born Lady Mary Howard, the Duke of Norfolk’s only daughter, but she’s Duchess of Richmond now. Poor creature. She was married to the king’s bastard.”
I must have given a little start of surprise because Edith looked at me and then away, as if she’d said too much. I poked her.
“Go on. Tell me all. I did not know the king had a son other than Prince Edward.”
Curiously, in spite of the noise and laughter all around us, private conversation was possible. We were hidden from the view of those below and seated in a little well of relative quiet.
“Henry FitzRoy, he was called. Before Prince Edward was born, the king made him a duke. Some said His Grace meant the boy to be king after him, bastard or no, so it was a fine marriage for Lady Mary. But then the boy died and she was left a widow before she was ever truly a wife.”
I made a sympathetic sound, but my thoughts had strayed.I did not often remember that I was a bastard myself. Even Bridget did not taunt me about it. But it had never before occurred to me that achild born on the wrong side of the blanket could rise so high. I supposed it made a difference when your father was the king.
“Oh, there is Mistress Catherine Howard.” Edith gestured toward a pretty girl
Jack veered off just short of the entrance to lead us up a narrow flight of stairs to the musicians’ gallery. Only three of the musicians were playing. The trio produced exquisite sounds that could scarcelybe heard over the hubbub below, but the other members of their company were a more appreciative audience.
“The Bassano brothers,” Jack said. “Newly arrived from Italy. They make my poor skills seem little more than an amateur effort by an untalented child.”
Taking the comparison as a criticism of my own ability, I shrank back, but Jack was the noticing sort. It took him only a moment to realize how I had misinterpreted his words.
“You are naturally gifted,” he assured me. “You have inherent talent. Why else should I have brought you here today? I have a surprise for you.”
Mollified, I demanded to know what it was.
“All in good time, Mistress Audrey. All in good time.”
Jack showed me to a place by the rail and then left me to exchange greetings with some of the other royal musicians. They were not gentlemen of the Chapel Royal but rather the king’s secular musicians. Some twenty-five of them, many foreign born, played for His Grace at masques and for dancing.
I peered at the crowd below, and was glad I was not down there among them to be jostled and buffeted. Spectators seemed to fill every inch of space, vying for the best position from which to see the king and his bride of barely five months. Anne of Cleves was a very plain woman but she had a kind smile. As I watched, Her Grace handed out arms and expensive robes and silver vessels to that day’s champions.
Edith, having settled herself with much grumbling, suddenly gave a little cry of pleasure. “Only look, Mistress Audrey! There is the Countess of Surrey.”
She indicated a young woman in her early twenties in close attendance on Queen Anne. Lady Surrey had wide-spaced eyes, abroad nose, and a strained expression on her pale face. She did not appear to be enjoying the festivities.
“Is your mother here, too?”
“Oh, no, Mistress Audrey. She will be at Surrey House in Norwich with the countess’s children. They are too young yet to be brought to court. The fourth, another boy, was born less than three months past.”
No wonder the countess lacked enthusiasm!
“Do you recognize anyone else among the ladies attending Her Grace?”
“That is the countess’s sister-in-law.” Edith pointed out a compactly made, richly dressed young woman who kept her eyes downcast, almost as if she was lost in her own thoughts. “She was born Lady Mary Howard, the Duke of Norfolk’s only daughter, but she’s Duchess of Richmond now. Poor creature. She was married to the king’s bastard.”
I must have given a little start of surprise because Edith looked at me and then away, as if she’d said too much. I poked her.
“Go on. Tell me all. I did not know the king had a son other than Prince Edward.”
Curiously, in spite of the noise and laughter all around us, private conversation was possible. We were hidden from the view of those below and seated in a little well of relative quiet.
“Henry FitzRoy, he was called. Before Prince Edward was born, the king made him a duke. Some said His Grace meant the boy to be king after him, bastard or no, so it was a fine marriage for Lady Mary. But then the boy died and she was left a widow before she was ever truly a wife.”
I made a sympathetic sound, but my thoughts had strayed.I did not often remember that I was a bastard myself. Even Bridget did not taunt me about it. But it had never before occurred to me that achild born on the wrong side of the blanket could rise so high. I supposed it made a difference when your father was the king.
“Oh, there is Mistress Catherine Howard.” Edith gestured toward a pretty girl
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