The Exiled by Posie Graeme-Evans

Author:Posie Graeme-Evans
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781444778397
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2013-04-24T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mathew Cuttifer’s house was a haven that evening.

There were to be court festivities later — another feast, this time given by Edward in honour of the bride and groom, with entertainment from a troupe of celebrated English mummers. But for now Anne, all alone by strict instruction, soaked in an oak tub of cool, lightly scented water before her open casements.

Perversely, of course, it was now a perfect evening with high brilliant stars. Once again the noise of distant revelry in the city wafted into her private solar on a warm and gentle wind.

Behind her, in the shadows of the room, a dress of delicate ivory silk was laid out on her bed. A present from Mathew Cuttifer as a thank offering for Anne’s acumen — her bold spirit and natural ability as a trader had made him an even richer man — it was simple and unadorned except for diamond sleeve buttons. Anne would wear it with nothing but pearls.

Tonight there would be formal gift-giving to the bride and groom at the Prinsenhof and the dazzling gift from Anne and the Cuttifers had been brought up to the solar so that Anne could inspect it one last time. It was a wedding chest, a cassone, but one that had few equals.

Built from fruitwood to symbolise fertility, it was ornamented with ivory and lignum vitae and studded with exquisite little bas-reliefs worked in jasper and chalcedony. Mounted on each panel of the chest these perfectly executed, tiny scenes displayed moments in the marriage of the duke and his duchess.

First, there was the journey of the bride over the water from England; then the arrival of the duke outside the cathedral at Damme; the marriage itself inside the cathedral — when the duke met his bride — was accompanied by the most fortunate omens: the roof of the church itself opening to show God the father amongst glorious clouds, surrounded by angels, himself blessing the duke and his bride; then there was the celebration feast presided over by the Virgin Mary; next came the bedding of the bride with her groom (whilst suggestive, it was not salacious); and then, finally, the birth of a baby, the heir to the ducal throne.

This last was wishful thinking, but loyal wishful thinking, as the duke and his duchess would no doubt appreciate.

But it would all be for nought if Anne decided against attending tonight’s celebrations at the Prinsenhof.

After the confrontation with the queen, and the fiasco of the archery contest, did she have the strength to do what must be done — face the royal party again and bow and smile and pretend that nothing, nothing at all, was wrong between her and Elisabeth? And that she and Edward were strangers and that nothing, nothing at all, was wrong between her and Elisabeth?

Caxton’s information that Elisabeth might be behind Anne’s near assassination was both confirmation, fear and, yes, relief made manifest. Relief that she, at last, knew who she had to fight. And,

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