From nowhere, a servant appeared and refilled my mug. English
wine rose to the brim, fuller and deeper scarlet than before.
I brushed a cocoa brown tendril of hair over my shoulder.
“Thank you, sir.”
He leaned close to my ear. “Compliments of the King.”
My heart slapped the inside of my chest and my breath came faster.
Perhaps he is sending drinks around to all the girls.
Careful not to call too much attention to myself, I turned slightly.
The redheaded girl from Surrey still mopped at her front and her
large, gray eyes watered just a bit. Sure enough, her mug was dry.
Elizabeth, lost in conversation with one of the twins from Dorset,
picked up her mug. Her familiar voice rang out across the table
like a beacon in my ears. “Do you suppose His Majesty would
think me impolite if I were to ask for a refill?” Obviously already
feeling the effects of the first helping, Elizabeth sniggered. “That
wine is the best to have ever passed my lips!”
King Henry is watching.
My heartbeat, loud before, quickened to a pulsing gallop in my
ears. The world spun around me and melted the dining hall into
a fresco of colors, faces, and gold-beaked peacocks, still wearing
their iridescent feathers. I squeezed shut my eyes and gripped the
side of my chair. Mother Mary, please intercede before I become ill.
Someone clapped sharp and quick and sent a hush of quiet over
my giggling tablemates. The courtier with the plume strode into
the dining hall. His shoes, shiny black, clipped like horse hooves
on a cobblestone street.
“Ladies.” He bowed a deep bow. “Once again, it is so good of
you all to have accepted the King’s invitation and come to Court.”