and whispered in Bridget’s ear. “Some even say that the queen takes the men to bed, even Mark the lute boy, because the king is barely capable, and Anne is forced to seek her pleasures elsewhere.”
Bridget jumped back as though Lady Rochford’s words had scalded her. She could scarcely believe what she had just heard. The queen took her male favourites to bed? The king, a big, vital man, was barely capable? Bridget might have been a relative newcomer to court, but she knew potential treason when she heard it. “My lady, you should not say such things. They are extremely dangerous, even to think such things is dangerous. Besides, I am certain they are not true. The queen would not behave that way.”
Lady Rochford smirked, her face quite flushed. “Have I scared you, Bridget? Have I made you question your beloved queen? Fear not, little one. The things I have told you are only whispers, shadowy words exchanged in dark corners, never exposed to the sunlight. Nobody would dare accuse the queen publicly, not if they value their head upon their shoulders. But it is as well that you should know these tales. For protection, if for nothing else.”
“Protection from what precisely?” Bridget demanded, not really sure now if she wanted to hear anything else from Jane Rochford. Jane tilted her head to one side in a considering fashion. “From Sir Francis Weston for starters. We have all seen the way he looks at you, and he is certainly interested in your little friend Joanna. It would be wise to keep yourself, and her, away from him. From all of them. They belong to the queen, body and soul. They are her territory, she has marked them out for her own, and she does not care for poachers. You will get an arrow in your back if you try.”
At this, her face darkened and she looked lost in unpleasant thoughts. Bridget’s mind was similarly disturbed, so much so that at first she did not notice that they were no longer completely alone. There was a man approaching them rapidly from across the park. It was the distinct figure of Will Redcliff. Bridget felt relieved, and excited, to see him.
“Greetings, Mistress Manning,” he said courteously, doffing his cap and bowing in a slightly ironic way. He bowed properly to Lady Rochford, who barely acknowledged him. “Good day, Mr Redcliff,” Bridget answered, warmth rising in her voice. “Have you become the queen’s official dog walker?” he enquired playfully while one of the dogs worried at his shoe.
“I am at the complete disposal of my mistress,” Bridget replied lightly, “as you are at the complete disposal of your master. If that means walking the dogs, then that is what I do.”
“’Tis true,” Will agreed, “our lives are not our own.” They lapsed into silence, each unsure of what to say but happy to examine the other with only their eyes.
Will was the first to cease the examination. “As much as I would like to stay and help you with these little rascals,”—one was still worrying his shoe—“I must away. My master awaits, and he is not one who takes kindly to waiting.” Will broke into a smile as bright as a summer’s day and began to take his leave, nodding at both ladies in farewell, but he stopped short when he saw the small figure of a young woman, a girl really, tearing towards them across the grass. Her feet seemed to fly over the ground and, as she got closer, Bridget realised that the little whirlwind was Catherine Carey.
She reached them in no time at all, and at first could hardly speak she was so winded. “Bridget, Lady Rochford,” she managed between ragged breaths. “Come quickly, it is the queen. She is bleeding.”
Chapter Five
Lady Rochford reacted immediately, setting out at a fast pace for the palace, Catherine Carey running beside her. Bridget noticed that Will departed very speedily as well, an urgent look in his eye. It would not be long before Thomas Cromwell was told of what was happening, or possibly
Bridget jumped back as though Lady Rochford’s words had scalded her. She could scarcely believe what she had just heard. The queen took her male favourites to bed? The king, a big, vital man, was barely capable? Bridget might have been a relative newcomer to court, but she knew potential treason when she heard it. “My lady, you should not say such things. They are extremely dangerous, even to think such things is dangerous. Besides, I am certain they are not true. The queen would not behave that way.”
Lady Rochford smirked, her face quite flushed. “Have I scared you, Bridget? Have I made you question your beloved queen? Fear not, little one. The things I have told you are only whispers, shadowy words exchanged in dark corners, never exposed to the sunlight. Nobody would dare accuse the queen publicly, not if they value their head upon their shoulders. But it is as well that you should know these tales. For protection, if for nothing else.”
“Protection from what precisely?” Bridget demanded, not really sure now if she wanted to hear anything else from Jane Rochford. Jane tilted her head to one side in a considering fashion. “From Sir Francis Weston for starters. We have all seen the way he looks at you, and he is certainly interested in your little friend Joanna. It would be wise to keep yourself, and her, away from him. From all of them. They belong to the queen, body and soul. They are her territory, she has marked them out for her own, and she does not care for poachers. You will get an arrow in your back if you try.”
At this, her face darkened and she looked lost in unpleasant thoughts. Bridget’s mind was similarly disturbed, so much so that at first she did not notice that they were no longer completely alone. There was a man approaching them rapidly from across the park. It was the distinct figure of Will Redcliff. Bridget felt relieved, and excited, to see him.
“Greetings, Mistress Manning,” he said courteously, doffing his cap and bowing in a slightly ironic way. He bowed properly to Lady Rochford, who barely acknowledged him. “Good day, Mr Redcliff,” Bridget answered, warmth rising in her voice. “Have you become the queen’s official dog walker?” he enquired playfully while one of the dogs worried at his shoe.
“I am at the complete disposal of my mistress,” Bridget replied lightly, “as you are at the complete disposal of your master. If that means walking the dogs, then that is what I do.”
“’Tis true,” Will agreed, “our lives are not our own.” They lapsed into silence, each unsure of what to say but happy to examine the other with only their eyes.
Will was the first to cease the examination. “As much as I would like to stay and help you with these little rascals,”—one was still worrying his shoe—“I must away. My master awaits, and he is not one who takes kindly to waiting.” Will broke into a smile as bright as a summer’s day and began to take his leave, nodding at both ladies in farewell, but he stopped short when he saw the small figure of a young woman, a girl really, tearing towards them across the grass. Her feet seemed to fly over the ground and, as she got closer, Bridget realised that the little whirlwind was Catherine Carey.
She reached them in no time at all, and at first could hardly speak she was so winded. “Bridget, Lady Rochford,” she managed between ragged breaths. “Come quickly, it is the queen. She is bleeding.”
Chapter Five
Lady Rochford reacted immediately, setting out at a fast pace for the palace, Catherine Carey running beside her. Bridget noticed that Will departed very speedily as well, an urgent look in his eye. It would not be long before Thomas Cromwell was told of what was happening, or possibly
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