Daughter of Time

March 1534

The whispers from the court filter through to Hatfield daily. The masques, the tournaments, even the day to day activities are highly commented on and discussed. My father keeps a lavish court, and his concubine sits by his side, fawned on as Queen.

It is a very sedate style of life here, as opposed the buzz and fast pace of the court. At least until that woman comes to see her little bastard. Then the quiet and repetitious days obliterate, and the house is a hive of activity, turned on its head. Maids double up in their rooms to accompany the extra ladies that accompany her and the whispers and rumours, that had reached Hatfield, which we had thought long gone, resurface, and hours are spent re-deliberating on them.
However, it is by the whispers, and rumours filtering through, that I learn that the King has considered a new betrothal for me, and it is a prospect that fills me with dread.
I am proposed as a bride for the Earl of Surrey, the Duke of Norfolk's son. The idea of the union repels me. To propose such a bridegroom is nothing short of an insult. That family presume themselves as royalty also, by one of them co-habiting with His Majesty, wielding her falsely appointed power, whilst her bastard child is proclaimed heir to the throne in my place. The Duke's daughter has been married to the Kings baseborn son, my half-brother, the Duke of Richmond. Not forgetting the numerous high-ranking offices the Duke holds, his vast wealth, and his considerable influence as a peer of the realm. Yet he still aims for more. Well, he shall be disappointed in his latest scheme. I would never agree to such a match. This marriage must not be! Should they try to force it, I shall declare myself willing only to become a bride of Christ, and take the cloth, even if it means that my claim to the throne is clouded

"Lady Mary." Lady Clere says firmly. "You are to remove to your chamber."

"For what offence?" I protest, wondering why I am being summoned to my room, when I have done nothing wrong, and why Lady Cleres voice is sterner than normal when she is usually well disposed towards me.

"I know not," she says. "It is Lady Shelton's orders."

I wonder if the King is to visit. It is the only reason I can conclude as to why I am to be banished. Lady Shelton has barely spoken to me this week, and the house is a hive of activity, as it usually is before a big visit. If he is, and I am to be shut in my chamber, then it must be that he still does not wish to see me.

I will comply with Lady Shelton's orders and if she should tell the King that I have done as I am bid, perhaps he will relent and allow me to come to him, so that I can see him once more, kneel to ask for his blessing. He will see that I am as good a daughter, as I have always strived to be. That my reasons for not demeaning myself are because my conscience forbids me to acknowledge something I know to be untrue.

I reach the top floor and look out at the window, which offers a better view than the window downstairs, and can see that the royal banners are indeed billowing in the March winds. The King is coming! I catch my breath, for the first time in nearly two years, my father and I will be under the same roof. I long to see him, I long to have his blessing.

I hear footsteps coming up the stone steps, and hurry to my chamber. I will not be antagonistic, if my father is here, he may wish to see me, and I do not wish for our reunion to begin with him chastising me for disobedience.

The footsteps come closer. I rise from the bed. Lady Calthorpe opens the door, and shows in a stout, short man, dressed in a black riding coat, with flushed cheeks.

"Lady Mary." He says in a gruff voice, stifling a little bow. "I am Thomas Cromwell, Secretary of State."

I acknowledge him, the man made by the King and now one of the most powerful men in the Kingdom, with a bob of a curtsey. "Master Secretary."