Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set Read Online Free PDF Page A

staffs. Harry Guildford’s mother, who until then had been one of Queen Elizabeth’s ladies, was appointed as Mary’s lady governess. Princess Mary took to calling her “Mother Guildford,” and soon we were all using that name behind her back. To her face, we addressed her as Lady Guildford or madam.
    I was nominally assigned to the Lady Mary—she refused to be parted from me—but I still conversed with the Lady Margaret, in both French and English, on a daily basis. All four households—Prince Henry’s, the Lady Margaret’s, the Lady Mary’s, and Prince Edmund’s nursery—continued to live, for the most part, at Eltham. But we were all at Hatfield House again in June that year when Prince Edmund died. He was only sixteen months old. I was saddened by his death, but I would have been much more upset to lose one of my princesses, Prince Henry, Harry, or Will.

    I was always happy to go to Pleasure Palace when the court was there. It lived up to its name as a place where we could indulge in pleasant pastimes. We were allowed to watch the disguisings and the dancing, and we had games of our own. Harry Guildford was always the cleverest at devising those. He was the one who set prince and princess against each other in a contest with hoops.
    One day in my tenth year, Prince Henry, the Lady Margaret, Harry, and I eluded the tutors, governesses, and five-year-old Mary to meet in the passageway that ran beneath the king’s apartments. Above us, King Henry’s rooms were stacked one above the other in the five-story keep.
    “The goal,” Harry explained, “is to be the first to roll these hoops from the chapel to the entrance to the privy kitchens.”
    The passage, newly floored, was long and level and perfect for the purpose, but I regarded the metal barrel hoops and sticks Harry had “found” for us with a sense of dismay. I did not see how I would be able to keep control of such an unwieldy thing.
    The Lady Margaret had no such doubts. She sent her younger brother a superior smile and was off, deftly spinning the hoop at her side. Prince Henry followed an instant later and nearly overtook his sister near the royal wardrobe; but for all her stocky build, the princess was fleet of foot.
    My hoop toppled over at the first uneven bit of flooring. Harry completed the course, but was wise enough to move much more slowly than his young master.
    “I was faster!” Prince Henry complained. “If you had not started before the signal to begin, I’d have reached the finish sooner.”
    “Is it a race, then?” Margaret asked, eyes aglow with anticipation.
    “It is. Let us see who takes the best two out of three.”

    “Agreed. We will go back the way we came.” Margaret kilted up her skirts and ordered Harry to count to three.
    Prince Henry was off at “two,” but his sister still passed him halfway to the chapel and beat him handily.
    “Best three out of five,” the prince said, panting.
    “Done.”
    This time when Margaret won, they had an audience. Servants had come out of various household offices and courtiers had trickled down from the king’s apartments, drawn by the commotion.
    “You cheated!” Face red, eyes bulging with anger and humiliation, Prince Henry threw his hoop against the wall. When it bounced back, the sharp metal rim nearly struck Harry. He barely jumped out of the way in time.
    The spectators made themselves scarce. I eyed a nearby tapestry, wishing I could duck behind it and hide. I stiffened my spine. It was my duty to remain at Princess Margaret’s side, but I dearly wished she would wipe that smug expression off her face. Seeing it only heightened her brother’s anger. He glared at her, saying not a word, but if thoughts could kill she’d have burst into flames.
    “Cheat!” With a snarl, the prince stalked off. Harry trailed after him, shoulders slumped.
     
    W HEN I WAS eleven, a fifteen-year-old Spanish princess named Catherine of Aragon arrived in England and married Prince