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than one person to start and stare when he poked his head out without warning and announced himself in that strange baying bark that was distinctive to his breed. Mother Anne dubbed it a howl.
    Elizabeth and Muriel responded to the little dog much as I had, with instant adoration. He returned their affection. Winning over Mother Anne took longer, nearly a week. Only Bridget refused to be charmed. She was still sulking because I had been chosen to meet the king and she had not.
    A month after my visit to Whitehall, I was sleeping soundly when a harsh whisper jerked me awake.
    “They are speaking of you,” Bridget hissed into my ear. “Come with me now.”
    Still groggy, I allowed myself to be lured from the bedchamber.For once, I left Pocket behind. He was curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, lost in puppy dreams.
    Following my sister, I crept quietly down the narrow staircase. Halfway to the lower level, when the rumble of Father’s voice reached me, I tried to pull back, but Bridget was relentless. She caught my arm in a tight grip and all but dragged me the rest of the way.
    I knew where she was taking me. From a young age, she had made a habit of concealing herself behind the wall hanging in the hall—an embroidered scene of a picnic in a forest glade—to eavesdrop on Father and Mother Anne.
    For one terrifying moment, we were exposed in the doorway and as we scuttled toward this hiding place, our white linen smocks shining like beacons as they caught the candlelight. Then we were safe in the stifling darkness. Neither Father nor Mother Anne had glanced our way.
    Father was pacing. I could hear the slap of his slippered feet against the floor as he came close to the wall hanging and then moved away again. After a bit, he spoke.
    “The court is a dangerous place for a young girl.”
    “Then keep Audrey at home,” Mother Anne replied. The whisper of fabric against fabric told me she held an embroidery frame in her lap. She was calm where Father sounded agitated.
    “I have no choice. I must obey the king.”
    The news that King Henry wanted me to return to court surprised me. It irritated Bridget. She pinched me. Twice.
    Father’s voice faded as he moved away. I missed a few words. And then he was talking about a recent outbreak of violence among the courtiers. “It has been as deadly as any plague,” he complained. “I do not know what spawned it, but there have been brawls, duels, and even murders, all within the verge.”
    “The verge?” Mother Anne asked.
    “That is the ten-mile radius that surrounds the person of the king. As you know, the king and his courtiers move about a good deal, but wherever King Henry is, that is the court and the verge moves with it.”
    Father was always being called upon to travel to different palaces. I already knew many of their names—Greenwich and Whitehall, Richmond and Woodstock and Worksop. And Windsor Castle, where I had once lived. There were many other royal houses, too, smaller ones that the king visited when he went on his annual progress.
    “Audrey is my responsibility,” Father said.
    “And you do well by her.” A little silence ensued. “Whitehall is but a short distance from London,” Mother Anne pointed out. “You need not remain for more than a few hours at a time.”
    “If the court were always at Whitehall Palace, there would be no problem.”
    “Surely His Grace does not expect you to bring Audrey with you to the more distant palaces. Greenwich, mayhap, but that is not so very far away, either.”
    “Nor are Richmond and Hampton Court,” he admitted.
    “From any of those palaces, you can bring her home again before nightfall. She will sleep safe in her own bed.”
    “And what of the times when I am obliged to leave her alone in the chamber set aside for my workroom? I cannot take her with me into His Grace’s bedchamber.”
    “She need not be alone,” Mother Anne said. “You always take Richard with you. Or one of the