by G Lawrence
“I will help all my friends to good husbands,” she said. “But I will miss you.”
“And I you,” I said.
Others were staying put, including Francis, but I knew he would not stay long. He had talked of leaving to seek his fortune in Ireland. Officially he had said through trade, but all knew there were less honest means of making a fortune in Ireland. Piracy was rife, and mercenaries always needed in the households of Irish chieftains, battling their neighbours over land and power.
On the day I left, I went to my grandmother. She would not be with me at court, but was staying at Norfolk House, close enough for me to visit bearing gossip. “Hold your head high, Granddaughter,” she told me. “You are a Howard, a lady, and a beauty. When presented to the King, be modest, demure, but let him note the spark of joy in those pretty eyes. When you come to serve the Queen, become her friend and confidant, for that way she will favour you and aid you in finding a good husband. Forget not your dignity and that of your family, and no more wildness.” She smiled, running a long finger along my jaw. “You are a woman now, no more a girl.”
“I swear to be all you expect of me, my lady,” I said.
“You are a good girl,” she said.
That afternoon, with chests carrying my new gowns, hoods and trinkets loaded behind me, I took a boat from Lambeth, along the river to the steps of Greenwich Palace. At the waterfront I was met by a young woman with a stunning face and quick eyes.
“Mistress Catherine Howard?” she asked as I was helped from the boat.
“Yes,” I said, stepping carefully onto the stone steps. “I am she.”
The lady inclined her head and I did the same.
“Mistress Anne Bassett,” she said of herself. “I am here to guide you in our duties.”
Chapter Forty-One
Greenwich Palace
Summer 1539
In some ways, walking behind Anne as she took me to the maidens’ chamber of the Queen’s household was like my first day at Chesworth. But there was one difference. Anne did not expect me to scamper after her like a child. She slowed her steps so we might glide through the halls as elegant women, almost side by side.
She walked slightly ahead, demonstrating she was more senior, but that I did not mind. I had become accustomed to being a lady of junior station.
But although I was grown, an elegant lady in a beautiful dress, there was much of that day which resembled my first in my grandmother’s house. The court was vast, a bigger and more complicated space than my poor brain could fathom, with endless corridors, chambers, alcoves, galleries and halls. When later I came to try to remember how we had got to the maidens’ chamber, I had nothing in my head. Everything had raced past so swiftly that my mind had nothing to catch on to.
Anne, as she told me, was the stepdaughter of Lord Lisle, bastard son of Edward IV and therefore uncle of the King. Lisle was the Governor of Calais. Anne was the only one of the maids of honour who had served at court before, the rest of us were new. “I waited upon Queen Jane,” she told me as we passed a band of gallants lounging near the royal apartments with nothing more to do than to watch us, apparently.
As we walked by, they called to us. Anne smiled. “Pay them no heed,” she said quietly. “They have been there all day, hoping to catch sight of the new women brought for the Queen’s household, and they are all merry wastrels.”
I smiled at them as we passed, as did Anne, but we moved on quickly before they could engage us in conversation. “It is good you understand,” she said with a curt nod. ”The King’s men, we talk to, but hangers-on to court we do not. The Queen will expect her maidens to show reserve, so it is good you understand this.”
“As long as I learn quickly who is whom, Mistress Bassett,” I said. “At the moment, it is hard to tell.”
“I will guide you,” she said. “And call me Anne, please. When we are together and alone there is no need for formality. When we are with the King or Queen, it is required, but not between us girls.”
I smiled warmly, liking her more each moment. “You have been long at court, then… Anne? If your parents are in Calais, and you waited on Queen Jane?”
“I have been here two years. But I do go, from time to time, to the houses of my parents’ friends. I was away last autumn, as I was ill.”
“I do hope you are better? Certainly, to look at you, one would think you had never been unwell in your life, you are so beautiful.”
She cast a great grin at me. “You flatter well,” she said. “Hone that, for it will come in useful.”
“I spoke with honesty, I swear it.”
“All the better. It is a part of court life to tell people they look marvellous even when they appear malcontent.”
She showed me the maidens’ chamber, and said my chests would be brought up later. “We share, two to a bed,” she said. “And, if favoured, will be expected to share the bed of the Queen.”
Although the engagement was not formal yet, everyone spoke as though the Queen were already in England. It was sign enough that the agreement of marriage was only a formality, for I, along with many other girls arriving at court that day, had already been sent for.
“I shared a bed in the maidens’ chamber of Norfolk House, and was my grandmother’s chosen companion many nights,” I said.
“Good. Then you know how to sleep peacefully, offering warmth and companionship without keeping the other awake.”
“I do.”
“That is well. We may not be chosen, we maids of honour, as ladies-in-waiting more often share the bed of the Queen if the King is not visiting, but it is good to know these things.” She pursed her lips. “What of other skills?”
“I dance well, I am told, and I have a voice my grandmother and others say is pleasing. I can play the lute and virginals.”
“And can you read?”
“I can, and write,” I said.
She smiled. “I may ask for you to help me, then, from time to time. I read, but my writing is poor. When I send word of court to my mother in Calais, I have to ask a scribe.”
Anne had no compunction about telling me this. It was, in truth, more common for people to know how to read than write. Many nobles did neither, employing someone to write letters for them, and read aloud when they desired entertainment. Since the break with Rome, it was growing more common for people to read, as personal learning now had a high value placed upon it, but boys were always better educated than girls.
“I would be happy to write for you,” I said. “But my handwriting is not very accomplished.”
“Do you speak French?”
“Only a little.”
“Well, there I may help you, for I speak it well.” She smiled, putting her hand on the sleeve of my new crimson gown. “We will aid each other in the skills we lack.”
“I would like that very much.” I had begun to think Anne was the nicest person I had ever met. At Chesworth and Norfolk House it had often felt like I was competing with other girls. That did not seem to be the idea here.
Anne saw the question in my eyes. “Ah, we maids must stick together, Catherine. We are the lowest of the high, you see? We are noticed as women lower in the household are not, so do not have protection of anonymity. But we are not as high as ladies-in-waiting, who are untouchable, which puts us at risk. Noticed not enough, but too much to hide away… that is our fate, so we must be guardians, confidants and protectors to one another. Queen Jane taught me that.”
“You mean, we are at risk?”
“There are dangers at court, for everyone,” she said. “Men can become too familiar with maids of honour, and if found in a compromising position, even if not your fault, you will be blamed. That is why we stick together, travelling in packs. If shame falls on one of us, it falls on us all. This is as true for our skills as it is for our reputation. That is why we look after each other.”
I nodded. Of course I understood everything she said.
Anne introduced me to other ma
ids. One of my cousins, Katherine Carey, daughter of Mary Boleyn, and possibly the King if rumour was to be believed, was amongst them. “I am pleased to know you,” she said.
Katherine was an exquisite girl, with fair hair that had a touch of red fire in it. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her features pleasing. With her wide-set eyes and pretty, rosebud mouth, she was a beauty. She had been serving in the household of the Lady Elizabeth, her cousin, or possibly half-sister, but now old enough for court, she had been brought to Greenwich.
Another was Mary Norris, who was not as pretty as Katherine, but by no means ill-favoured. One of the requisites of being a maid of honour or lady of court was that you were pleasing to look upon. Mary was engaging, with sharp features, high cheekbones and large, grey eyes that reflected all the colours she looked upon, so at one moment her eyes were blue, another green, or even gold.
Her father had been executed with my cousin, as one of Anne’s alleged lovers, but her brother had recently regained some of their father’s lands and estates, and Mary had been brought to court to demonstrate her family were in favour again. She had been the ward of my uncle of Norfolk since the death of her father.
“Never ask about her father,” said Anne later. “She will not speak of him for the sorrow it brings, although it is also a sensible precaution since he was executed for treason.” She looked about. “And speak not of your cousin, for whom he was executed,” she warned. “The King purged the palaces of her portraits, emblems and embroidery upon her death. It is like a curse to speak her name.”
I was introduced to Mistress Stoner, the Mother of the Maids, a gentle lady who nonetheless looked as though she might turn to iron if I did anything to disgrace her name, and she told me Anne was to show me and other new girls about.
We maids were the lowest rank of the ‘above stairs’ women of the Queen’s household aside from chamberers, whose task it was to clean and tidy. ‘Above stairs’ was the area surrounding the Privy Chamber. It was our duty to be up early with the gritty light of dawn, and oversee chamberers as they lit fires and cleaned pallet beds away. We were overseen by Mistress Stoner and by ladies-in-waiting. The Lord Chamberlain and Vice-Chamberlain were officially at the head of our branch of this tree of court, but we would get our orders from women. The men were too important to concern themselves with us… unless we did something wrong.
The Chamberlain and Vice-Chamberlain ensured the household ran smoothly, in keeping with the sacred, royal dignity of the King and Queen. Below stairs the Lord Steward was king, responsible for domestic staff and their tasks. He kept the four masters of the household in check, as well as the controller, the master of jewels, the King’s fools, the cooks, the groom of the stool and children who toiled in the squillery. Technically, my uncle of Norfolk, as Lord Treasurer, came under the mastery of the Lord Steward, but since he was a duke, and one of the men of the King’s Privy Chamber, he was also above the Lord Steward.
All this, all these tricks and quirks and rules, we had to learn, Anne told us. It was daunting, as anything new and utterly confusing is, at first.
“The Lord Steward caters for the needs of court,” said Anne as we walked from the maidens’ chamber to those of the Queen. “He decides when everyone eats, what they eat, and sees to charitable giving from our plates. Always leave something in the dishes granted to you at each meal, for it is given to the poor, and if you eat all of it, it is not only greedy, but uncharitable.”
I, Mary and Katherine nodded, all at the same time, and smiled at each other as we hurried along behind Anne. Of course we knew this already. We had been raised to understand how to eat and to leave food behind. Every noble house handed out leavings from feasts and ordinary meals at their gates to the unfortunate poor.
“If you see rascals or men hanging about where they should not be, report it to the Lord Steward,” she went on. “Officers of the household search court each day for such men. They spread dishonesty, and some are thieves.”
Anne explained that each day we maids would share two loaves of coarse bread and three of white, four gallons of ale and half a pitcher of wine for our breakfast. From October until April there was a daily allowance of wood for the fire in our room, as well as three torches and six candles, which we were not to waste by staying up to talk late into the night. In the morning, as night clung still to the skies, a groom would come to collect torches, candles and unused stumps of wax to be remade. We would eat with the court in the great hall, served dishes whose ingredients and number were decided according to rank, and would eat carefully, with decorum.
“I am sure you would not, for you are women of great houses, but do not be tempted to steal away food from the table in the great hall, or from any dishes the King and Queen reject,” she went on. “People caught doing that, and there are some who do, forgetting the poor need that food, are dismissed.”
“Why do people take food?” asked Mary Norris.
“To sell to others,” I said, without thinking. It was what Francis had done, along with using it to buy favours in the maidens’ chamber.
“You heard of this?” asked Anne, her head twisting back with one eyebrow raised.
I inclined my head. “My uncle, Lord William Howard, dismissed a man for such crimes,” I said, lying quickly and smoothly.
Anne nodded, her face grave. “Then you understand well the naughtiness of it. Some men, ungrateful for the wages they get from the King, or their masters, steal in such a way. Those foods should be left to distribute as alms to the poor, but they steal them to make money. Be careful if someone offers you something, for it may come from such a source.”
We all nodded, and I swallowed my discomfort. I would have to be more careful, but at least my lie had covered my mistake.
“When Her Majesty comes to court,” Anne said, showing us about the Queen’s Presence Chamber, “we are to see to the chamberers, help the ladies of the Bedchamber as they aid the Queen to dress and wash, and we will escort Her Majesty each morning to church. At times, we will serve when she eats, but at all other times we hand platters, napkins and pots of ale or wine to her ladies. We keep our Queen amused during the day, by singing or playing, sometimes reading from the Bible or other works if she wishes us to. Do you all know the card games Primero and Cent?” We all nodded, and she went on. “Be careful with your coin, but always let the Queen win,” she said. “Make the games exciting, but wager not too much, for you will always lose it.” She paused, putting a hand absently to her lovely French hood to check it was still perfect, which it was. Nothing was ever out of place on Anne.
“Of course,” she went on, a little frown forming between her eyebrows, “All this depends on the temper and character of our Queen. We have all been listening to reports from Cleves, gathering information so we know what she may like and dislike before she reaches us. You must aid us now you are here. Thus far, we know she is much taken with embroidery, but we know not how much she might pray each day. We hear she is not known for hunting, so we might have little call to ride with her, apart from on progress. But of her personal tastes, if she likes poetry, books, or prefers Scripture, we know little.”
Clearly this was a worry to Anne, and my heart went out to her. “We will help,” I said. “I can ask my grandmother, for my uncle of Norfolk talks to her about the Queen and what he has heard of her.”
“And what do you know?”
“He said she only speaks High Dutch, but is intelligent. She is modest, but has shown she has wit. He said she does not sing or play instruments, but he had heard she was charming.”
Anne nodded. “That is what we heard too. Hopefully the Queen will learn English swiftly.” She smiled at me. “Keep your ears open for all information, and tell us.”
“I will, of course.”
“They say when she is sent to England, she will pass through Calais, and my mother has promised to send a detailed report about Her Majesty when she does, so we may all be forewarned, armed with the knowledge
to please her, but if you hear anything, let your sisters in the maidens’ chamber know. We must all work together, for then we will all do well.”
She smiled at us, and we walked on, curtseying in turn to the empty throne on the dais.
“If the King and his men come,” she said, taking us along a gallery from the Queen’s Presence Chamber to the Privy Chamber, “we are to do whatever is asked of us to amuse him. When His Majesty is here, it is his will we follow, and when he is not the Queen is your master. If the King calls for music, we play, if for dancing, we dance. You will make polite conversation with his men, be engaging and flatter them, but do not allow them to become indiscreet. His Majesty has a fondness for pretty ladies, so flatter him.”
She showed us much. The Presence Chamber was where the Queen would sit each day when petitioners came begging for her aid, but we, unlike them, were allowed into her private rooms, the Privy and Bedchambers. Not many were permitted into these intimate chambers. Men guarded the doorways, restricting access to each inner chamber, and Anne introduced us to them so they would remember our faces and allow us in. The palaces, Anne explained, were arranged to offer privacy to our royal masters. Public rooms were separated from private ones by galleries, keeping prying eyes and ears at bay.