The King's Damsel by Kate Emerson

First the case had to go before the court of the Star Chamber. Do you know what that is?”
    I shook my head.
    “That is where cases involving rich and important people are settled, sometimes by the king himself. There charges and countercharges were made. The legal wrangling went on for more than seven years but, in the end, Margaret Bassett was allowed to marry Ralph Egerton. Her forced marriage to Master Vernon was declared null and void.”
    “And they lived happily ever after,” I concluded, remembering Sir Ralph’s reference to his wife. I sighed in satisfaction.
    Lady Catherine chuckled. “They have had as good a marriage as most, although I understand that Sir Ralph has a number of bastard children.”
    I frowned, disliking this ambivalent ending to the tale. “What happened to the band of kidnappers?”
    “Vernon was fined. Then the king pardoned everyone who was involved in the abduction.”
    “I prefer stories where evil is punished.”
    Lady Catherine laughed aloud at that, but it was a sound so devoid of humor that I became more convinced than ever that she hadherself lived a life worthy of a roman . She had experienced, I was certain, more than her share of sadness. I wanted very badly to ask her why she looked so unhappy. To stop myself from speaking out of turn and offending her, I turned my gaze toward the dancers.
    It was only by chance that I noticed the princess slipping away from the crowd. She was alone.
    I hastily excused myself and followed Her Grace. Protocol demanded that at least two attendants be with Princess Mary even when she visited the stool chamber, which seemed likely to be her destination. She passed through her bedchamber and on into the smaller room where her close stool was housed. I stopped short when I heard voices. I hesitated on the threshold, suddenly unsure of myself.
    It never occurred to me that the princess might be in danger. She was well guarded here in her innermost chambers. No one could gain access who was not already part of the household. Still, there was something strange about the rhythm of the words I overheard, even if I could not quite make them out. When I listened harder, I realized what it was that seemed so peculiar—the princess and her companion were not conversing in English.
    Still unsure whether to advance or retreat, I took a step away from the inner door. My foot struck a cushion left carelessly on the floor. It made no sound, but I was so startled by the unexpected contact that I gasped.
    An abrupt silence fell on the other side of the door. I longed to creep quietly away, following the distant sounds of lute and viol and the faint ripple of laughter that filtered in from the presence chamber, but I was frozen to the spot. Before I could force my legs to move, Maria Vittorio emerged from the stool chamber.
    I sagged in relief. They had been speaking Spanish together. That was all. I had no cause for alarm.
    But Maria gave me a long, hard stare and showed no hint of the friendliness I’d come to expect from her. Then she spoke over her shoulder to the princess. “It is only Tamsin, Your Grace.”
    With a rustle of brocade, Princess Mary appeared behind her. She smiled, just as she had smiled at Sir Ralph when she’d drawn his name. “I could not hold my water,” she said with a little laugh. But if she was embarrassed by her lack of control, she showed no other sign of it. “I am ready to return to the dancing now.”
    That night in our shared bed, neither Maria nor I mentioned the strange little incident. I related the story of Sir Ralph and his Margaret to the other maids of honor and then we all settled ourselves to rest.
    For a long time, sleep did not come.
    Maria and the princess had been speaking Spanish, a language no one else in the household understood. I could not help but wonder why.

11
    W e left Worcester on the seventeenth of April to travel to Hartlebury Castle, principal country residence of the Bishop of Worcester, which was