The Unfaithful Queen by Carolly Erickson

Author:Carolly Erickson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press

NINE

DAY after day we waited, there in Calais, for the storms to abate and the tides to be favorable. Lady Anna fretted, she was used to riding and vigorous walking and did not like being confined in the crowded walled town with little to do but play cards with her ladies.

There were no more jousts. Apart from the injuries to the jousters, the horses suffered greatly, and well-trained chargers were costly to replace. We prayed daily for a swift, fair crossing, but each new dawn brought rain and storms, and we prepared ourselves for yet another delay.

For me, however, the rainy dawns brought hope—and renewed delight. For Tom had revived, his injured leg and arm were healing, and he and I were growing closer and closer the more time we spent together.

For the first few days he was confined to bed. I visited him and brought him comfits, and he urged me to stay on, saying that my companionship made him feel better. We talked about our Culpeper relatives, he told me of his childhood spent in the royal court, first as a page to King Henry and later as a groom and then a gentleman of the privy chamber. The court had been his life, he said. He knew its ways, its pitfalls. He had seen many a man rise high only to tumble back fatally.

I told Tom of what had happened between Francis and me at Lambeth, of my painful disillusionment when he abandoned me and I discovered the truth about him.

“At least you are not bound to him, as you thought. You are free.”

“As long as the king makes no claim on me, yes.” I told him of King Henry’s hints to me when we were together, of his sharing his vision of the palace of Nonsuch with me, and saying he would not tell Lady Anna about it.

“Clearly he favors me—but he has not kissed me, or spoken words of love to me.”

Tom looked thoughtful. “That is unlike him.”

Time passed quickly and very happily when we were together. I felt as if I had known him for a long time, not just a few days. He did not overpower me, as Henry Manox had, nor beguile and deceive me, as Francis had. Tom’s open, trusting friendliness and affection were gentle and genuine, and it was easy for me to give him my openness and trust in return. Gradually, easily, our mutual liking and sharing turned to love.

How and when it happened I couldn’t have said. But after a week of knowing Tom I felt I knew everything about him, and never wanted to be apart from him again.

What a hard thing it is to write of love! Easy enough to describe the burning brand of lust, or the yearning of infatuation, that yearning that can never be assuaged. But love! There is only the word, and the knowing of it.

Tom was soon recovered enough to carry out his duties, which were light, the king not being present in Calais, but only a few of his officials.

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