Page 41 of Boleyn Traitor
Anne brushes the silks from her lap and jumps up. ‘Good God! You would undo me... I’ll see your head is off!’
George glances up from whispering with Elizabeth and sees my anguished glare at him. ‘What’s this?’ he asks, coming closer, seeing the tangle of silks on the floor, Norris on his feet, Anne white.
‘May Day madness,’ I say, laughing my courtier laugh a tinkle as sweet as a warning bell.
Norris rounds on George; he is quite furious. ‘I failed a riddle,’ he said. ‘I did not know the key to your sister’s riddle. But it was not a riddle that Her Majesty should have told.’
‘She’s a very witty queen.’ George struggles to understand the sudden switch from daring flirtation to what feels like panic. He offers Anne his hand as if to pull her out of danger, and she takes it and they walk away from the silks on the floor, their steps matching, moving as one being with two heads.
Henry Norris looks blankly at me, as if I can explain what just happened.
‘Nothing,’ I say again. ‘That was nothing.’
‘That was madness,’ he says. ‘Anyone could’ve heard her – she accused me!’
‘Nobody heard,’ I say. ‘And it was nothing.’
‘Half a dozen heard,’ he said. ‘And every man and woman at this court is a spy for someone. Someone’s bound to tell the king. I’ll go to the queen’s almoner now and swear it was nothing.’
‘It was nothing. And there are no spies here.’
IHURRY TO CATCHmy spymaster on the stair on his way to the hall for dinner. We stand as close as lovers to whisper in the bay of the oriel window.
‘Henry Norris misspoke,’ I say. ‘A joke about him loving the queen more than Margaret Shelton. But he went to swear to the queen’s almoner that it meant nothing, so I thought I should tell you.’
‘Yes. You’re right.’
‘Did you know already?’ I ask curiously.
His smile is hard to read in the shadows of the stair well. ‘Is Henry Norris the new favourite?’ he asks.
‘He’s always been a good friend.’
‘And Sir Francis is another?’
‘Weston or Bryan?’ I ask cautiously.
He smiles. ‘Two Francises, a Thomas, and a Mark, and a Richard and a Henry. So many! William Brereton?’
I shake my head. It is a relief to say no. ‘Elizabeth Somerset’s brother-in-law? Never! He only visits us to scold Elizabeth...’
‘And of course, George is constantly with his sister. In and out of her private rooms?’
‘Oh yes,’ I assure him. ‘George is always at her side. George keeps her safe. He can vouch for her.’
I can hear a noise from the king’s privy chamber above. I can hear Anne’s voice, and then I hear the irritable whine of a spoilt child – she must have ordered them to bring Princess Elizabeth to the king.
‘What’s happening?’ I ask Cromwell, looking up the stairs. ‘Is that the princess?’
‘The queen sent for her... after Norris misspoke, as you call it.’
‘But why?’ I ask. ‘Why Elizabeth in the middle of all this?’
‘It’s always a masque, isn’t it, with you people? It’s always some sort of play. I think the title of this one is:The Faithful Wife and the One True Heir.’
I go to the top of the stairs, and I see Anne waving the little girl’s nursemaids back to the nursery, putting her hand on the king’s arm and looking into his face, as if to persuade him of something. She is smiling her confident smile, baring her teeth, but he is oddly impassive, standing stiffly on his painful leg.
‘All’s well,’ Cromwell says reassuringly, coming up behind me.
