The Innocent by Posie Graeme-evans Page A

sleeves, until he found his place at the trestle-board immediately under the dais upon which the high table stood.
    A moment later, Aveline slipped back into her place beside Anne behind Lady Margaret’s chair. “You can go now,” she hissed. “I’ll attend Lady Margaret.” Anne was about to protest but another vicious pinch from Aveline made her yelp before she could stop herself, causing her mistress to turn and look at them both.
    “Aveline, there you are. Run and fetch my pomander, this close atmosphere is making my head swim.”
    “But, mistress, cannot Anne…?”
    Lady Margaret frowned at the older girl. “No, Aveline, I particularly desire that you fetch it for me.
    Anne is busy here.”
    Sitting below the high table, Piers watched the tension mount between the two girls; watched Aveline’s quick curtsy before she sullenly hurried away; watched Anne working her way from guest to guest, filling the cups on a look from her mistress.
    The king, too, appreciated the girl, charmingly flushed now as she tried to concentrate on her task. He was watching Anne covertly, enjoying her graceful movements and enchanted by the beauty of her skin and hair, as he made small talk with his host.
    “Master Mathew, I hear that you credit Lady Margaret’s late recovery, for which we all give thanks this day, to the taking of herbs. A mighty power they must have; perhaps you should be selling them to the doctors for the good of us all.”
    “Ah, sire, it is truly a miracle, and no one, not even the learned physicians who attended my wife, have been able to explain her cure, except in the terms we scarcely dare credit.”
    “And what does the Lady Margaret herself say?” Edward asked, still watching Anne. The girl had lovely hands, too, he noted, and she was very clean, unlike some of the ladies of his court.
    “Sire, I believe it was the prayers of my husband and this household, and also the strength in the herb teas and the special foods I have been taking, that have brought me to this board today,” Lady Margaret explained. “Anne, tell the king how you prepared the tisanes for me—and the puddings.” Anne looked up from her work, startled as King Edward turned, surprised, to his hostess.
    “This girl had a hand in your recovery?”
    “Indeed, I believe she did, sire. Anne came to us not eight months ago when I was truly lying in the shadow of the dark angel, but within some days of her arrival here, and after drinking the teas she prepares from the herbs she gathers herself, I had enough strength to eat again. And she fed me special puddings made from fresh blood and eggs and then—well, as you see…”
    “Come here, girl.” The king beckoned Anne to him as the entire table of dignitaries looked on with interest. “Do you truly believe that you aided your mistress with your medicines?”
    At first, Anne opened her mouth to reply to the king and no sound emerged. Then, seeing her struck dumb with his attention, and those of the magnates around him, he reached over for her hand, patting it gently, and smiled at her encouragingly. The girl let out her breath in a deep sigh and, gathering courage, said simply, though her voice shook, “Sire, my foster mother has a physic garden and taught me the making of medicines and simples from the time I was a child. I believe that if Lady Margaret profited from the poor help I was able to give it was because our good Lord wished it so.” And she sank into a deep curtsy, dropping her eyes to the rushes.
    This little speech was delivered with such modest and winning grace, and so clearly sincerely meant, that the king applauded, as did those around him. Then, reaching across to Anne, he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin, saying softly, “Bravo. An excellently fair and clever little doctor. We must see that your talents are properly used.”
    Now, with the king’s dark blue eyes looking down into hers, the same delicious shivering rush Anne had felt earlier