At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) Read Online Free PDF

king’s favor, Ned Neville and Harry Guildford.
    “We will stay as long as the hunting is good,” Bess predicted. A few days earlier, the court had taken up residence at Woking, one of the king’s lesser houses. Rebuilding the Great Hall had been one of the last architectural projects of the last king’s reign.
    They encountered two of Bess’s younger brothers on their next circuit of the room, Lord Edward Howard and Lord Edmund Howard.
    “Why are you not dancing, Lady Anne?” Lord Edmund asked. “I vow you have a most excellent light step.”
    It was flattery, but it was also true. When Anne realized that the next pavane was to be danced in threes, with one man partnering two women, she gave in to temptation. “I have only been waiting for you to offer to lead us out, Lord Edmund,” she said.
    “My pleasure.” He extended his right hand to Anne and the left to his sister.
    The dance began with curtseys and bows to the king and queen. King Henry, flushed of face and smiling hugely, bestowed a nod of recognition on Anne as she took her place at Lord Edmund’s side. His Grace looked genuinely pleased to see her join in, although he’d spoken barely a word to her in all the weeks she’d been at court.
    As Anne executed the steps, taking special care with the long train of her gown when she danced backward, she was intensely aware of being watched. Although she would have been happier without her brother’s scrutiny, she could not help but be pleased by the admiring glances from the others. The king approved of her. He looked often in her direction, even though he was once again dancing with the queen. Anne also had the full attention of two of the most toothsome unmarried gentlemen in the Great Hall—Will Compton and George, Lord Hastings—and that made her feel like the most fascinating woman alive. As she executed the intricate steps of the dance, she laughed aloud in delight.
    Oh, yes—she did love life at court!

5
Woking, Surrey, August 4, 1509
    L ady Anne sang like an angel. Seated on a stone bench in the garden and surrounded by other courtiers, she accompanied herself on the lute. George Hastings waited until she trilled the final note of the ballad before he went to sit beside her.
    “Never have I heard that song performed better,” he said, relishing the smile she lavished on him, “not even by the king’s choristers.”
    “You are kind to say so,” Lady Anne replied, “but others are far more talented than I am and there are those who can play more instruments, as well.”
    “Better to excel at one than butcher many,” Will Compton quipped.
    Compton sat on the ground near Lady Anne’s feet, as did Ned Neville and Charles Brandon. The second bench in the little bower was occupied by Lady Boleyn and Lady Fitzwalter. The latter, George knew, was Lady Anne’s older sister, Elizabeth. George did not think they liked each other much. As if to prove it, Elizabeth Fitzwalter sent her sister a sly look and sighed deeply.
    “You must confess, Anne. Tell them what other instrument
you
play.”
    “I am not ashamed of my skill,” Lady Anne shot back. “Not everyone can master the rebec.”
    “Why would anyone want to?” Lady Fitzwalter idly strummed her own lute. “Its high pitch and shrill quality are most annoying.”
    George had never thought much about the rebec. It was a pear-shaped instrument with three strings and was played with a bow. He’d heard it was far more difficult to coax music from than a lute. That was not surprising. Everyone at court could pick out a few of the most popular songs on lute strings.
    “Some compare the sound of a rebec to a woman’s voice,” he blurted out.
    “Is that meant as praise or condemnation?” Lady Anne had a teasing light in her eyes.
    “Some women,” Neville interjected before George could reply, “cackle like hens.”
    Bess Boleyn threw a ball of yarn at him. She always seemed to have needlework at hand. Neville caught the missile