“Does the king know?” she asked.

George shrugged. “But I cannot believe this would be carried out if it were known that the king would strongly disagree.”

Anne looked truly troubled. “But….” She looked to be hard-pressed to place her thoughts into words. “I thought we were of a mind.”

“Mayhap he is being advised from two opposite quarters,” George said.

Later, Anne came to my chambers, cuddling her little dog Pourquoi, a gift from Lady Lisle, in her arms. “I have heard that there are secret meetings going on within the court. I need to know who attends—who is honest and true, who may be plants and spies. Since the king sent Katherine away all know that our marriage is nigh and it becomes dangerous to me…. as you may imagine.”

I nodded, thinking of Jessica, of the duchess, of Bilney.

“As your sister is a known reformer, no one will think it strange if you attend a meeting should you be found out. Especially as you are not known to be…. devout. Will you cloak yourself and attend after the Christmas celebrations?”

“Will it help you?”

“’Twill, or I wouldn’t ask it of you,” she said. She held my gaze. “But ere you agree I must confess. I have heard from George, who heard from Latimer and Parker, that Will Ogilvy is back from Antwerp and may be in attendance.”

THIRTEEN

Year of Our Lord 1531

York Place

Richmond Castle Greenwich Palace

My sister, Alice, was present at court and the day after my discussion I drew her aside in Anne’s chambers. “I’d like to speak with you.” I gave her a meaningful look. “Will you be at your rooms after dinner?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “I will wait for you.”

Later that evening I made my way through the ravenish shadows of the ladies’ courtyard chambers where my sister was quartered. She was not nobility, as I was as the widow of a baron, nor even as tightly connected with Anne, so her rooms were comfortable but meager. She served willingly in spite of that fact. I knocked sharply on her door and she opened it and let me in. “My dearest,” she said, taking my shawl from me and patting the chair closest to the fire. “How fare you?”

I hugged her tightly before sitting down, the scent of her lightly perfumed hair evoking memories of my running into her arms when I’d been hurt or harrowed as a child. I wondered if I would ever outgrow the need for her comfort or have a child of my own to offer it to. “I have a favor to ask,” I began.

“Anything.” She drew near to me and offered a small platter of comfits.

After taking a bite of one as a courtesy I said, “I understand there are some reformer meetings going on at court. I’d like to attend one. Or more.”

She cocked her head warily. “For yourself?”

These times, perhaps, would bring much good and yet could still make a beloved sister question another. “For Anne.” I explained the situation briefly. She had, of course, heard about Bilney. “And mayhap for myself.” I did not mention that it was a man I sought and not his God.

She nodded. “Of course.” She let me know that the meetings were often held in rooms and chambers furthest out from the circle of courtiers, though not always; directed me to a few; and gave me a password to use if I should be questioned. “Romans eight,” she said. “Do not forget that.”

I had no idea what might be found at Romans 8, but of course I would remember it as if my life depended upon it, as well it might.

Nighttime at court was quiet. The halls echoed and amplified the softest of steps because most were safely behind doors. Some closed doors sheltered right and honest activities, sleep or reading; sewing; discussion or pleasant discourse of intimate sorts between husbands and wives. Some doors hid corrupt activities, thieving and plotting and horrors upon which one didn’t like to let the mind dwell. Some doors, like the one I crept toward, hid activities that were just but might not always be perceived thusly. I pulled my cape around me, left the hood up, and knocked lightly on the door. A young courtier I did not recognize opened it to me. “Romans eight,” I whispered, and he nodded and let me in.

I admit to it. I immediately scanned the room looking for Will and was unsure if I was disappointed or relieved not to find him present. A priest whose name I did not know but recognized as a friend of Matthew Parker, whom Anne had helped install as a chaplain at court, was speaking from the front. I did not listen to him at first but continued to look about me. Most people were courtiers I recognized but had few dealings with. Few held copies of what seemed to be Holy Writ. I leaned over and glanced at the copy of the woman next to me. I could just see that it was written in English before she glanced at my hooded form. She closed the book and slipped away. After all, it had been just the year before that Henry had decreed an injunction against anyone owning an English Bible and Bilney’s ashes were not yet cooled. Though there were a hundred or more people packed in the chamber, I only recognized one woman whom I knew to be a lady in the service of the Duchess of Norfolk, Anne’s highly placed aunt and sworn enemy.

She looked in my direction but could not recognize me, as my cloak was pulled tight about me and fell down from my forehead. Is she here as a spy for her mistress, as even I am? Or does she have questions she cannot voice to her mistress and seeks answers here?

It seemed I’d arrived late. The speaker was nearly done and I wanted to take my leave afore any could recognize me. “There are many good priests,” he said, drawing his hand down over his priestly vestments. The crowd laughed. “But sadly the best of them cannot read Latin nor Hebrew nor Greek. We love the Church and all who serve within it. Let us seek reform from within so we may provide those good, simple priests, and the gentle souls they serve, Holy Writ in their own tongue. They, too, may then hear the voice of the Lord speaking to them directly and sweetly.”

I slipped out, my spirits dampened a bit. I had hoped for more. To see Will. Perhaps, though I would not willingly admit this to another, to see God. I believed in the priest’s good intentions, but I, who read Latin, and had read Holy Writ for myself, could not say that I’d ever heard from the Lord directly and sweetly, so it did not follow that making it available in English could help all.

I reported to Anne what I had seen and heard; naught to be of concern but perhaps the morsel about the Duchess of Norfolk.

I went back two nights hence and all was nearly the same as the first visit, except it were held in different chambers. In spite of my every attempt to locate those who might cause Anne some harm, there were no highly placed listeners other than those I knew to be her true friends. Some seemed to do nothing but grumble against all who kept to the old ways, and Rome, which impressed me not at all; many conservatives I knew to be good people with admirable motives. Some were there solely for political advancement. I’d seen them sidle up to Cromwell’s lackeys. Some were genuine seekers, thirst writ across their faces, and nearly ecstatic joy at hearing Scripture spoken in English. I envied them. None seemed dangerous. I’d determined not to visit again, but when I was about to take my leave I caught the scent of something in the room. I could not locate its wearer but I recognized its source. It was jasmine perfume.