Free The Tudor Bride by Joanna Hickson Page A

squire and I had scarcely managed to give them the privacy of the crimson curtains before we heard the urgent sounds of passionate love-making. We exchanged wry glances and while he hastened to set a reviving flagon of wine and accompanying cups on a side table, I retired to the hearth to stoke up the fire. As I stirred the embers and sent sparks flying with fresh logs, I could not suppress a gurgle of mirth, picturing my incendiary task as a metaphor for what was taking place only yards away behind the drawn bed-curtains. A few days and nights of this, I thought with an indulgent smile, and England would soon have its longed-for heir.

6
    F or three days and nights, the king and queen scarcely left the confines of the hall with its blazing fire and accommodating bed. Soon after dawn on the first morning, I took it upon myself to commandeer the boat and boatman to take me across the lake to fetch fresh clothes and other necessities for Catherine and we returned with a priest and the clerk, Walter Vintner, his scrip full of letters and documents for King Henry’s attention. Fragrant new loaves from the castle bake-house, milk and cheese from the dairy and a large basket of fruit and vegetables had also been loaded on board, an indication that the king would not be leaving imminently, and who could blame him?
    During the return journey, being privy to the royal itinerary, young Walter proved a fruitful source of information. ‘The king intends to visit Coventry and Leicester while he is at Kenilworth and the queen is to go with him. They will stay on here until after Easter and then they are to make a progress through the northern shires. I hope you will not suffering unduly from all that riding, Madame.’ A mischievous grin crossed the young clerk’s face.
    I shot him an indignant glare. ‘It is not I who bears the strain, Master Walter, it is my stalwart mare. Perhaps on your return to the castle you might be kind enough to check that Genevieve is well tended in the stables.’
    ‘No need, Madame. I went there last night to check my own cob and met Lady Joan Beaufort, who told me she had been speaking to the stable master about all the queen’s horses, so I think you may be reassured on that score.’
    I was impressed. ‘I will tell the queen that her youngest maid of honour shows great initiative. Although I am afraid it may only confirm her opinion that Lady Joan cares too much for horses.’
    Walter made an appreciative noise. ‘She is a beauty though, is she not, Madame? Many a young squire would be happy to loosen her girths!’
    I glanced at the priest’s back, straight and prim on the forward thwart and wondered if he had heard the last remark. ‘Whoa Master Vintner!’ I murmured reprovingly. ‘Lady Joan is the king’s cousin and destined for a great match. You had best keep your eyes down if you value your position!’
    He had the grace to look a little sheepish. ‘I was just saying … I do not aspire to a high-born love, I assure you. However, if I did, I would pick Lady Joan over that Eleanor Cobham. She is another beauty right enough, but I reckon she would be a handful – and I do not mean in a buxom way!’
    I decided there and then that it was time Master Vintner found himself a wife and wondered if he had a sweetheart at home in London. A position like his in the royal household did not lend itself to a steady domestic life and I knew that many of the courtiers in the king’s retinue made use of the whores who were allowed to follow at the back of the train if they submitted themselves to the court physicians for regular health checks. My curiosity did not extend to questioning Walter on this matter however.
    The royal couple were still abed when we returned, giving time for breakfast to be prepared and warm water to be brought for washing. After dressing quickly, the king spent half an hour with his clerk in an adjoining chamber while Catherine stood before the fire in a dreamy reverie,