Free The King's Damsel by Kate Emerson Page B

in what he said. Although we’d had little chance to put our knowledge into practice, we were all familiar with the favorite pastime of courtiers and ladies at the royal courts of Europe. A courtier picked out one lady in particular to be his “mistress,” wooed her with gifts, wrote poems to her, serenaded her with song, and vowed to be faithful only to her. If she accepted him as her “lover,” he was allowed to joust in her honor and she, especially if she was older than he or superior to him in birth, advanced his career at court. This flirtation, which might even include passionate declarations of love, was all a game. Most of the time, both “mistress” and “lover” were married, although never to each other.
    “The perfect knight honors his beloved, ofttimes from afar,” Sir Ralph concluded, “and so I shall worship you, Your Grace, as I watch you dance with another.”
    Once the elderly knight had persuaded Princess Mary to choose a different partner, a young gentleman waiter, the music began. We all joined in the dancing. I was pleased to discover that Sir Giles knew all the steps and executed them with precision. Even better, he was uninterested in conversation. His attention strayed with the least provocation to my friend Anne Rede, and when the first dance was succeeded by a second, abruptly abandoned me to partner her.
    I evaded Master Pereston before he could offer himself in Sir Giles’s place. After that, I tried to make myself invisible. It was not all that difficult to blend into the shadows at the side of the chamber. I sought a window alcove where I could observe without being seen.
    It was already occupied by Lady Catherine.
    “I beg your pardon, my lady. I will—”
    “Stay, Tamsin. There is room for us both.” She slid over on the window seat and patted the cushion beside her. The princess had given permission for those of her ladies who were not dancing to sit in her presence.
    I could not, in politeness, refuse, but I felt awkward perched there at her side. Sensing how ill at ease I was, she sent a reassuring smile in my direction. “Shall I tell you a tale for a change?” she asked.
    “I am always interested in hearing stories.”
    I wondered if she would speak of herself. I had observed, from time to time, a sadness in Lady Catherine that hinted at an intriguing past. It was, however, Sir Ralph Egerton’s history that she recounted. Or rather, that of his wife.
    “She was born Margaret Bassett, daughter of Ralph Bassett of Blore, Staffordshire, and her first husband was an important Leicestershire sergeant-at-law named Thomas Kebell. He was a very rich man, and after his death, because she was a wealthy heiress, she was abducted from Blore Hall by a band of men brandishing swords. It is said there were a hundred and twenty in the raiding party and it was led by Roger Vernon, son of Sir Henry Vernon of Haddon Hall in Derbyshire. Roger wanted to marry Margaret, even though she was already planning to wed Ralph Egerton of Ridley. In fact, at the very time Margaret was kidnapped, Ralph—he was not yet Sir Ralph then—was staying at Blore with his father to celebrate their upcoming betrothal.”
    “How terrible!” I felt a deep sympathy for Margaret. Like her I was an heiress. Like her, I had been taken away from my home against my will.
    “Margaret’s mother and grandfather and brother set off in pursuitof the abductors, but they were outnumbered and were unable to rescue her. Roger Vernon forced Margaret to marry him and then sent her to his uncles in Leicestershire and later into the Welsh Marches, to hide her from pursuit. Margaret, however, was a clever young woman and she managed to escape on her own and travel to London.”
    The music and the noise of the dancers faded away as I listened, rapt, to Lady Catherine tell the tale. I felt certain there was a happy ending in the offing. “Did Sir Ralph find her there? Were they married at last?”
    “In time they were.