The Other Henry VIII

Sins and Virtues

And so, with the stubborn resilience that had carried them through much darker times, the English court returned to normal. It was in England's blood, perhaps, to forget the events which only brought them sorrow; the day of the misfired bolt was no exception. After all, it had left no lasting mark upon the country but a large white scar across Thomas Cromwell's chest.

As for Princess Clara, she emerged from the incident unharmed to the eyes of the world. Nightmares came and went, never granting her more than two days' rest before they plagued her sleep again. No-one else knew of it, but that was how Clara wished it to be. As long she kept the secret repressed, her nightly torments could stay confined to her chamber. They could be ignored — for the most part — during the day, and she could be free of them for a few precious hours. Telling someone would only allow her dreams to manifest in full form, beleaguering her conscious state as well as her unconscious one. In short, they would become real.

The King, by way of contrast, was thoroughly invigorated by the whole experience. He saw no greater display of the strength of his rule than the smooth manner in which his court recovered from it. If an assassination attempt did not rattle them, then what could? And with two healthy sons in the nursery, he had finally accomplished what his father had instructed him all those years ago. The Tudor dynasty was safe. For the first time since he was a young, lusty, freshly-anointed king, Henry felt invincible.

Which was why he spared no expense in the spring equinox celebrations. There was to be hunting from dawn till dusk, followed by a four-course banquet in the evening and a grand masquerade dance extending well into the night. Edmund Westover, newly-promoted Lord Chamberlain of the Household, was charged with organising the entire ball, and he spent most of February working tirelessly to do so. There would be fourteen roles in the masque: seven virtues, selected from the young ladies of court, and seven deadly sins, from the gentlemen. Parts were doled out four weeks before the equinox, allowing ample time to fit the extravagant costumes and order in the finest cuisine. Edmund was in his element at last.

When the evening finally arrived, much to the anticipation of the courtiers, Leia could not deny that she was proud of her brother's efforts. The Great Hall was bedecked in green and white banners, the colours of the House of Tudor, and the tables were piled high with every rich delicacy in the land. At the centre, right in front of the King's chair, was an enormous roast swan, white feathers gleaming in the candlelight. Leia knew her husband would be salivating at the sight of such a dish, but unfortunately for him the banquet could not commence quite yet.

First came the masque. Although all fourteen of them were wearing masks — and excessively embellished ones at that — Leia identified her husband almost immediately. Like the other gentlemen, he was attired head-to-toe in Lincoln-green velvet with a satin sash draped around his midriff. Henry's bore the word 'Pride'  in silver, curling letters. A shrewd decision on Edmund's part, she thought with a smirk; no man in England had a pride to match the King's. Even if she had not already known which role he had been allocated, the fact that he was at least a head taller than everyone else in the masque rather gave it away.

Following that, the Virtues were to choose one of the Sins with whom they wished to dance. Masks would be removed at the end, and all would be merry to discover the identity of the partner they had selected. That was the idea, at any rate. As she met her husband's eyes, Leia contemplated for a moment what fun it would be if she walked right past him and chose another man instead. How that would vex him! It took all the self-control in her body to refrain. Henry's good spirits must be cherished, she reminded herself, not spoiled. And so, with purposefully slow steps, she approached and offered her hand.

"Master Pride," she addressed him lightly, "I'm afraid you are encumbered with me tonight."
Henry's eyes glinted with mirth. "I have no complaints, Mistress Wisdom," he replied in a similarly jesting tone. Then, with a theatrical swirl of her white silk skirts, they began to dance.