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

attention as her lying-in approached.
    As the queen proceeded to the tiltyard, the other ladies-in-waiting followed her. Madge thought them all lovely and smiling this midsummer day with the exception of Lady Jane Seymour, who looked as if she smelled a sour odor.
    As Madge passed by the lonely looking girl, she smiled at her. Lady Seymour did not return her smile but lifted her chin a bit higher. Though Madge had tried several times to befriend Lady Seymour, all her efforts were rebuffed. Still, Madge pitied the young woman who hadn’t yet married, though she had a large dower and fine family. It was her plain face that drew no suitor, and her quiet way—it seemed the life had gone out of her. The gentlemen at court often called her “Plain Jane” behind her back, but Madge heard them. Henry Norris had said the rhyme boldly to Madge, as if his wit could help him press his suit. Madge thought him merely cruel and lacking in any true wit.
    As Madge and the queen took to the stands, the king rode out on his favorite mount from Governatore’s bloodline, Trojan. Henry trotted to the queen’s booth, doffed his helmet, and bowed.
    “My queen, I carry your colors today and would win for your honor and beauty,” said the king.
    “I shall be your sweetheart, Your Majesty, as always,” answered the queen, smiling down at him with what seemed to be true affection. She patted her belly and added, “Our son wishes you care and Godspeed.”
    The king then kissed Anne’s blue-and-purple kerchief and tucked it inside his armor next to his heart. As he did so, Madge caught sight of a flash of yellow within his suit, a silk rag already next to his heart. She knew then Cate’s gossip was true—the king had a lady love and it wasn’t the queen.
    As the queen bade her ladies to sit, she grabbed Madge’s hand and squeezed until Madge thought her fingers would pop.
    “Did you see that token already near my lord’s heart? Yellow, it was. The king has taken one of my maids, I’ll warrant. He shall not! He shall not!” whispered the queen.
    Madge said nothing but looked straight ahead as the jousting began. Secretly, she hoped the king would topple off his mount and break his faithless neck! He had been struck before and suffered grave injury. Why not this day? But as the queen seemed to cool her ardor, Madge realized the king was the only person alive who could keep the queen safe. She had made enemies and too many lords and ladies supported old Queen Catherine, though not so boldly as before. Madge kept her ears to the wall to discover how the queen fared at court and was dismayed to find even her uncle, the duke of Norfolk, had become irritated with the queen’s sharp tongue and willful ways.
    Madge considered the queen and why so many hated her. To the men at court, especially the old guard, the king had married beneath himself when he wed Boleyn’s daughter, whose family had been part of the new merchant class before the meteoric rise of their clan. Because the queen espoused the new religion and was well-read in such matters, Madge could see the queen’s own erudition stood against her. She dared to argue points of theology with the king himself—Madge had heard such discussions from her truckle bed. Her Majesty often won the battles, leaving the king huffing and in haste to leave the queen’s side. The noblemen and commoners in the north hated the destruction of a few abbeys and monasteries, though many people agreed with the king’s reforms. An equal number desired the old religion. Changes of all kinds shook the country and Queen Anne was blamed for everything.
    The horns trumpeted as the king and Sir Nicholas faced each other in the tiltyard. The king looked resplendent in his armor, carrying his long spear and shield. He was a large man, though no taller than Sir Nicholas. But Sir Nicholas was thin and wiry—the best lancer in the land except the king himself. Madge felt sorry for the horses, carrying not only the