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Resolving to ignore her, I refuse to meet her eyes as she takes her place next after the Queen and lifts up her train. Behind her, the Lady A
The fanfares sound, then the lords start processing out of the hall in stately fashion, and in a little space we three ladies follow, walking in line behind the Queen’s Majesty along the bright blue carpet that has been laid along the path to the Abbey, and through the Abbey itself. I am overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of this day: the bells ringing out joyfully, the choir bursting into song, the awe-inspiring majesty of the organ, and the Queen, that small, thin figure weighed down by her heavy robes, dedicating herself with shining sincerity to the service of her country and people. And one other thing I will always remember: Harry’s face, among the lords, glimpsed as I pass on my way out of the Abbey in the wake of my crowned sovereign. I turn my head – how could I not? – and our eyes meet for a heartbeat. It is three months since I last saw my love. I smile – but he, like so many other people have done, looks away.
Part Two
I
Kate
July 1483. Windsor Castle.
KATE THOUGHT HER father looked magnificent in his royal mantle, seated on White Surrey at the head of his vast retinue, as he led the great procession through the lower ward and out of the gates of Windsor Castle. He was bound for London, and then Oxford, on the first stages of a great royal progress through his kingdom, the purpose of which was to greet his new subjects, and to court and win their loyalty.
She had stood by the mounting block as Queen A
It was frustrating being left behind, but it would not be for long. The Queen had been slightly indisposed – a summer fever, the doctors had said – and did not feel up to travelling at the moment. It had been arranged that she and Kate would miss out the first stops on the progress and travel directly to Warwick Castle to join the King there. And then – oh joy, Kate thought, her heart soaring – she would be reunited with John! The days could not pass quickly enough.
‘It will be good to be in Warwick again,’ A
‘Will we be going to Middleham?’ Kate asked. She was still nostalgic for her old life, but these days she could think of little but John. They had met several times in the Dean’s cloister garden behind the new chapel that was a-building and would be dedicated to St George. The first time, John had given her a pink rose; he said it matched her cheeks. He was always paying her poetic compliments, calling her his ‘flower of beauty, excellent above all others, lovely, good and wise …’. He’d told her of his family, of his irascible sire, his lovable mother – her father’s sister, Elizabeth – and of the great houses he called home: Wingfield in Suffolk and Ewelme in Oxfordshire. He made her feel so important and special. She knew now, beyond any doubt, that she was in love with him.
The long days of their separation seemed to stretch endlessly ahead. She did not know how she would bear them. How inconvenient of the Queen to be ill at this time! She caught herself up at that. A
A
‘I beg your pardon, Madam, I was thinking about the progress.’
‘And a certain young man.’ The Queen smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes.
‘I – you know?’ Kate asked, floundering. But she had done nothing wrong, nothing of which she was ashamed. John had never even attempted to kiss her.
‘There are no secrets in courts,’ A
‘It is no game!’ Kate cried. ‘We love each other, I swear it. And he is unwed, and so am I, so why can he never have me?’
‘For a start, you are first cousins; you could not marry without the Pope’s dispensation, and that might prove expensive, given the close kinship. Forgive me, Kate, but you are baseborn. He is the Earl of Lincoln. He is destined to succeed his father as Duke of Suffolk, and should – God forfend! – anything befall my son the Prince, he may be in line for the throne itself.’
‘We can overcome all!’ Kate cried. ‘I may be baseborn, but I am the daughter of the King, and he has often spoken of arranging a great marriage for me. And John loves me! He will not quibble at seeking a dispensation.’
‘Has he spoken of marriage?’
‘Not yet. But we have only known each other a short time. He has spoken much of love, though, so I have no doubt his intentions are honourable.’
‘Oh my sweet Kate, how i
‘Surely my father will give me a rich dowry?’
‘Indeed he will. He has said so. But it is he who will choose the man you marry.’
Kate was begi
‘Might it not be best to wait and find out if John has marriage in mind? Or if his father has chosen a bride for him already.’
‘John is not betrothed. He told me so.’ She could remember the moment: they had been standing in a window embrasure late one evening, looking out at a starry sky. It was one of those moments she felt she wanted to hold on to forever. John had asked her if she was pledged to anyone, and had squeezed her hand when she had told him she was not, and then he had said he was not pledged either. At the time, it had felt like a promise. She had been certain he had been hinting that he desired to wed her, and her heart had soared again.
A
‘Will you speak for us?’ Kate’s spirits were suddenly uplifted.
‘I will ask him if he approves,’ A
Katherine
November–December 1553. Whitehall Palace.