Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set by Kate Emerson Read Free Book Online Page A

presence chamber but did not acknowledge his daughter in any way. I wondered if he recognized her. Although his eyesight had been failing for years, he refused to wear spectacles.
    The rise and fall of voices filled the crowded room. Following close behind my mistress, I advanced toward the dais. On the far side of the presence chamber, I caught sight of Charles Brandon. He noticed me, too, and sent a smile my way that made me think I might let him kiss me again. Perhaps I would like it better the next time. As I felt heat creep into my cheeks, I quickly shifted my attention back to King Henry.
    He looked down on us from a raised dais, a morose expression on his face. As was his custom, since he set great store by appearances, he sat beneath a cloth-of-gold canopy and upon a braided and tasseled cushion. Both were symbols of his authority. The ceiler and tester were trimmed and tasseled with Venice gold, and the section hanging down the wall behind him was embroidered with the royal arms.
    Whatever chair the king’s cushion was placed upon became the chair of estate, even though the principal chair of estate was the one he now occupied in his presence chamber. No one but the king of England could sit on that one. Courtiers newly arrived in the royal household were taught that even if they entered this room when His Grace was not present, they must still doff their caps and bow as they passed the chair.
    It was impressive to look at, upholstered in cloth-of-gold studded with gilt nails. It was also the only chair in the chamber. No one was allowed to sit unless His Grace gave permission. He didnot ordinarily do so, but for those rare occasions when he did, the room was furnished with settles for those of the highest rank and stools for men and women of lesser importance.
    A duke outranked all other noblemen. Then came marquess, earl, viscount, and baron. Most courtiers, however, were only knights, or gentlemen like Master Brandon.
    When the Lady Mary reached the dais, the king spoke quietly to his daughter, then acknowledged my presence with a nod. “Bring the messenger in,” he ordered.
    The room abruptly fell silent. All eyes shifted toward the door through which we had just entered.
    A man stepped through from the great watching chamber. He was clad entirely in black. He twisted his cap in his hands, and the smell of wet wool emanated from his clothing. Narrowing my eyes, I studied him. This appeared to be the same fellow I’d seen earlier, taken into custody during the storm by the king’s guards near the submerged water stairs.
    After much hesitation and throat clearing, he addressed the king in French, the language common to every royal court. He introduced himself as a secretary to the king of Castile, which explained his odd accent and provoked a stir of interest in the crowd. There were exclamations of surprise and excitement when he announced that King Philip, driven ashore by the storm, had taken refuge in England and begged King Henry’s leave to remain.
    The babble of voices almost drowned out the messenger’s next words. I moved nearer in time to hear him say that he had brought a letter from his master. King Henry accepted it and in the hush that descended, he perused its contents.
    A loud chattering sound broke the silence. The Lady Mary and I shared an amused glance. Jot, the king’s pet monkey, was loose…again. A stir in the crowd of courtiers marked his progressfrom the door of the privy chamber to the dais. Still reading, King Henry absently held out one arm. A streak of brown fur flashed along it to settle on His Grace’s shoulder and sit up.
    The little spider monkey, a mischievous creature whom the late queen had named Jot, wore a decorative collar of velvet and kid adorned with the king’s arms. Still chattering softly, he reached out one small paw and tugged on a lock of white and thinning royal hair. King Henry reached up to stroke the creature’s small head.
    Anticipation bubbled in the