“But surely, my lord, you would never return England to the power of the pope in Rome,” I observe. “You would never fail God in order to please the Spanish emperor? You would not serve the world and risk your honor?”

Henry applauds a shot well played on court. “I shall do as God guides me,” he says flatly. “And His ways and my ways are mysterious indeed.”

I turn and applaud as he does. “That was hard!” I exclaim. “I never thought he would get it.”

“I would have got it easily when I was young,” Henry remarks. “I was a champion tennis player. You ask Anne of Cleves. She will remember the sportsman I was!”

I smile past him to where she sits, on his other side, watching the game. I know she is listening; I know that she is thinking what she would have said if she had been in my place. I know that she would speak up for the people of her country who only want to read the Bible in their own language and worship God with simplicity. “Is it the case, Princess Anne?”

“Oh, yes,” she says agreeably. “His Majesty was the finest.”

“She is a good companion for you.” Henry turns to me and speaks in an undertone. “It is pleasant to have a beautiful woman like her at court, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes.”

“And she is so fond of Elizabeth.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Everyone tells me I should never have let her go,” Henry says with a little self-conscious laugh. “If she had borne me a son, he would be five years old now, think of that!”

I know that my smile has died. I don’t know what to think of that, or of this entire conversation. Has Henry forgotten that he never consummated his marriage with the now-desirable Anne of Cleves, telling everyone that she was too fat, and no virgin, and that she smelled so bad that he could not bring himself to do the act?

“Some people say that she had a child by me,” Henry whispers. He waves encouragement to the losing player, who bows his thanks.

“They do?”

“Nonsense, of course,” he says. “You must pay no attention to what people say. You don’t listen to such gossip, do you, Kateryn?”

“No,” I reply.

“Because d’you know what they are saying in France?”

I smile, ready to be amused. “What are they saying in France?”

“That you are ill and are going to die. That I shall be a widower and free to marry again.”

I force a thin laugh. “How very ridiculous! But you can assure the French ambassador that I am very well indeed.”

“I will tell him,” Henry smiles. “Imagine them thinking that I would take another wife. Is it not ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous indeed. Ridiculous. What are they thinking? Who is advising them? Where do they get these rumors from?”

* * *