After dinner there is masquing in the new way, with the dancers taking partners from the court. I have said that I will not dance and I am glad to stand beside the king, my slim hand on his great shoulder, and avoid the danger of having to go hand-clasped with Thomas. I don’t think I could bear to be close to him. I am sure I could not dance. I don’t think that I could stand.

The king watches the dancers, applauding one or another. He puts his hand around my waist, while I look fixedly at the windows where a pale winter sun is setting over the trees in the gardens. He slides his hand downwards to pat my buttocks. I make sure that I don’t flinch. I don’t look at Thomas, I look blindly out of the window, and when the king releases me and I can step aside, I see that Thomas has gone.

HAMPTON COURT PALACE,

WINTER 1546

At the gift giving for the New Year Princess Elizabeth asks me to accompany her to take her present to the king. Together with Princess Mary we go to his presence chamber, where he is receiving his court and giving and dispensing gifts. He almost always gives a purse of money, and Anthony Denny is at his side, tactfully judging the correct weight of the purse for each smiling recipient. Everyone falls back when the princesses and I enter the room, and I curtsey to Henry but step aside, so that Elizabeth can go forward alone. I look around for Thomas, and see he is standing near to the king, a fat purse in his hand. Carefully, he looks away from me; carefully, I keep my eyes on Elizabeth.

“Your Majesty, my honored father,” she says in her clear voice, speaking French. As he smiles at her she changes into Latin. “I have brought your Christmas gift. It is not riches in the eyes of the world but it is a treasure from heaven. It is worthless from the hands of its maker, for that was I, your most humble daughter, who made the translation and the copy for you. But I know that you love the author, and I know that you love the work and that gives me the courage to offer you: this.”

From behind her back she brings out her beautifully written translation of my private prayers, translated into Latin, French, and Italian. She goes towards her father, bows very low, and puts it into his hands.

The court bursts into applause and the king beams. “This is a work of great learning and good sense,” he says. “Published by my wife and approved by every scholar. And here it is translated by another good scholar into a work of great beauty. I am proud that my wife and my daughter are women of scholarship. Learning is an ornament to a good woman, not a distraction.”