She gives me a slow sad smile. “I suppose if you are King of England, you think that everyone’s life is dedicated to you. And those who die have let you down.”

* * *

I don’t want to hear Nan’s bleak warnings, I prefer to see the gloze of Catherine’s false smile as the court is at peace among itself with no quarrels or dogfights, and God’s goodness to England shines out in the sunshine and the golden leaves of the trees in the meadows that run beside the river. The country is at peace, the news from France is that they plan nothing against us, the battle season is coming to a close and Thomas has survived another year. It is a blissful end of summer. Every day starts bright and every evening ends in a warm glow. The walls of the palace are golden in the sunset reflected in the river. Henry enjoys a return to good health. His servers haul him onto his horse every morning and we hunt every day, easy runs, through the water meadows alongside the river, and it is like being married to a man of my own age when his huge hunter outpaces mine and he goes past, yelling like a boy.

The wound on his leg is bound tight, and he can manage a limping walk without support, needing help only up and down the stairs that lead from the great hall to his rooms, where I visit him every other night.

“We are happy,” he tells me, as if it were an official announcement, as I take my seat on the other side of the fireside from his strengthened throne and his new footstool. Surprised by his formality, I giggle.

“When you have been as troubled as I by unhappiness, you too will take note of a good day, a good season,” he says. “I swear to you, my sweetheart, that I have never loved a wife more than I love you, and never known contentment as I do now.”

So much for your dark warnings, Nan, I think. “Lord husband, I am glad,” I say, and I mean it. “If I can please you, then I am the happiest woman in England. But I have heard some rumors.”

“Of what?” he demands as his sandy brows twitch together.

“Some say that you might want a new queen,” I say, taking the risk of speaking Nan’s warning out loud.

He chuckles and waves a dismissive hand. “There will always be rumors,” he says. “While men have ambitious daughters, there will always be rumors.”

“I am glad they mean nothing.”

“Of course they mean nothing,” he says. “Nothing but people talking about their betters, and plain women envying your beauty.”

“Then I am happy,” I tell him.