At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn by Anne Clinard Barnhill Page A

everyone,” he said.
    “But you weren’t there, Tom. Why?” Madge said.
    “I am married, my girl—you know that. And not to one of my liking. So, I decided to spend a few quiet moments gathering my thoughts and writing a poem,” Thomas said.
    “Dear Tom. You are so kind and good. I am sorry you cannot find happiness in your wife. Such a case is very sad indeed. But perhaps writing a poem can ease your pains,” said Madge.
    “Enough of that. Why are you so blushed and out of breath?” Thomas said.
    “Sir Churlish! He had the very nerve to kiss me at the May!” said Madge.
    “Sir Churlish? And who, may I ask, is that?” said Thomas.
    Madge turned a deeper shade of red. She hadn’t meant her pet name for Arthur to slip out.
    “Just a rogue I met on my very first day in London. And he hasn’t let me alone since. His name is Arthur Brandon and he’s a … well, he’s a bastard,” said Madge.
    “I know Arthur well, dear lady. He’s the natural son of Sir Charles Brandon and a finer man you’ll not find. He’s honest and hardworking. Seems he’s one who can’t be bought and doesn’t care a goatshead for who is what at court. He is the son of Sir Charles’s youth before Sir Charles was married to the king’s sister,” said Thomas.
    “I don’t care what you say about him—he’s not much more than a brute!” said Madge as she sat on a nearby bench. Shadow hopped up to join her.
    “Don’t let such things upset you, Lady Margaret. On the May, it is expected that kisses will go round the maypole along with the ribbons,” said Thomas, smiling.
    Madge breathed easier. She was glad to hear good words about Sir Churlish, even though she wasn’t sure she believed them. And she was happy to find her friend.
    “Well, at least it wasn’t Henry Norris who kissed me!” Madge said.
    “That is something to be thankful for—that rake is one I’d never want to kiss,” laughed Thomas.
    “I should hope not, sir!” said Madge, laughing, too. “Will you be at the coronation next month? I shall be riding with the queen. It’s all so exciting! And Her Majesty has sent bolts and bolts of silks and satins for at least four new dresses! She’s even promised me a necklace for each dress—I can hardly wait for the festivities!” said Madge.
    “I fear I shall not be there. I’m being sent to France for some business,” said Thomas.
    “France! Oh no, what shall I do without you? You are my only friend,” said Madge.
    “You will take the greatest care, lady. And become more friendly with the queen. If she is fully in your corner, you will be safe once she delivers the young prince,” said Thomas.
    “Safe. Yes, that’s what I’d like—to be safe and back home,” said Madge.

 
    Nine
    The few days before Queen Anne’s coronation were filled with excitement as the entire city of London hurried to prepare for the second coronation of an English queen in less than thirty years. Many in the city went about their tasks with less than enthusiastic faces and there were murmurs against the “goggle-eyed whore” who had bewitched the king and placed good Queen Catherine in banishment. But Madge saw little of the disgruntlement. Instead, she was called to the queen’s privy chambers early Friday morning.
    As Madge went through the outer apartments of the queen’s side, she noted how many new dresses adorned the ladies of the court. The queen had about one hundred ladies with only ten who cared for her person and were allowed into her privy chamber and inner bedchamber. Most of these were older, wiser women than Madge, though Madge had dreamed about serving the queen in this way. She admired the lush wall hangings and tapestries that adorned the walls of the queen’s apartments. The painted cloth of her own room suddenly seemed tawdry, though when she’d first arrived at court, she’d thought it quite splendid. She was glad she’d left Shadow with Cate, for the king had just banned all dogs from court