“I am saying that we have to keep you safe. There must be nothing that anyone can say against you. No hint against your reputation, no suggestion of disagreement between you and the king, nothing that could make him turn against you. Not even for a moment.”

“Because it only takes a moment?”

“It only takes a moment for him to sign a warrant,” she says. “And then it is all over for all of us.”

* * *

Catherine Brandon comes back to court as commanded, and she does not wear mourning. She comes first to my rooms and curtseys before me, and before all my ladies I give her my condolences for her loss and welcome her back to my service. She takes her seat among them and looks at the translation that we are working on. We are studying the Gospel of Luke in the Latin and trying to find the purest, clearest words in English to express the beauty of the original. Catherine joins in as if she is here by choice, as if shedoes not want to be at her own home, with her sons.

At the end of the morning when we put away our books to go out riding I beckon her to come with me as I change into my riding dress.

“I am surprised that you came back to court so soon,” I say.

“I was commanded,” she says shortly.

“Weren’t you secluded, and in mourning?”

“Of course.”

I rise from my seat before the silvered looking glass and I take her hands. “Catherine, I have been your friend since I first came to court. If you don’t want to be here, if you want to go home, I will do my best for you.”

She gives me a little sad smile. “I have to be here,” she says. “I have no choice. But I thank Your Majesty for your kindness.”

“Do you miss your husband?” I ask curiously.

“Of course,” she says. “He was like a father to me.”

“I think the king misses him.”

“He must do. They were always together. But I don’t expect him to show it.”

“Why not? Why should the king not show his grief for the loss of his friend?”

She looks at me as if I am asking her a question to which everyone must know the answer. “Because the king cannot bear grief,” she says simply. “He cannot tolerate it. It makes him angry. He will never forgive Charles for leaving him. If I want to stay in favor, if I want my sons to have their inheritance, I will have to conceal the fact that Charles has deserted him. I cannot show him my grief as it reminds him of his own.”

“But he died!” I say impatiently to the man’s widow. “He didn’t leave the king on purpose, he just died!”