The Tudor Triangle

Chapter 5: Petals are falling

 22nd August 1549

Stanfield Hall, Norfolk

 My father says that if there's a prettier girl than me between the North sea and London he doesn't believe it.  In truth, I hope it isn't too immodest to say I think he may have a point. My hair has turned a burnished gold in the hot July sun and it is much envied. It is plain to me that I must be the luckiest girl in Norfolk, nay perhaps in the whole of England, Princess Mary and Elizabeth included. I am happy and fortunate indeed.

 I am seventeen and still an unmarried maid, beloved of my parents.  In truth, it is hard to imagine ever leaving my dear mother and father who cherish me so.  I think Father would like to keep me near him until his dotage but I cannot help but wish for a wedding soon. Father allows me great liberty when it comes to clothes and I love to glean all I can about the latest fashions at Court.  Although from what I hear Edward VI does not approve of such frivolity, maybe he will weaken when he marries.As long as I do not have to venture far from my beloved Stanfield I do hope Father will arrange my marriage soon. But not to an old man, I have heard Elizabeth Stanford of Norwich is to marry a man of thirty-eight, poor girl!I have told father my husband must be young and would have to love Norfolk as I do.

Stanfield is a moated ancient hall and my birthplace.  I know every quirk; from the door to the gallery which you have to kick at the bottom to open, to the drip in the roof if we have too much rain in the corridor nearest the kitchen.  It runs through my veins, I know every view from every window.  As a baby I crawled along the Great Hall, as a child I played in the long gallery and as a young woman I have studied the garden with mother to learn of medicinal cures. I know the landscape and I know the people.  It is my birthplace , my birthright and I hope I see out my days here, with my family and husband at my side.  I can imagine no other future.

I am my father's only heir and although I was not the son he must have hoped for when he married my mother, you would not know of any disappointment.  I am surrounded by love. My mother, who married before and bore four children, (Frances, John , Phillip and Anna) is also kind although it is Father who indulges me best and who I run to. Frances is about to be married to William Flowerdew and I am so excited, I have been promised a velvet from London.  Her husband-to-be is lanky, pasty and always has a slight sheen on his face. Whenever I see him I cannot help but think of bread dough. But still, they get on well enough.

If she is married maybe I will be next. John and Phillip I cannot think about at the moment for I fear for their safety. My father is Sir John Robsart, who has also been Sherriff of Norfolk and Suffolk. He owns all the land I can see if I stand on my tiptoes in the gardens and is very clever. I think the departed Henry VIII himself could not have been a better father.

Today, we are having special visitors and so the house is bustling with strangers and provisions. There are pies, custards, jellies and comfits all being made at this very moment.The smells wafting through the house are divine and are making me hungry, mother says a eat a little too much. Cook has promised me the first comfit as she knows it is my favourite. Apparently we may have the Earl fo Warwick himself. I know not alot about him but father says he is an important man at court and in great favour with the young king himself. There are hundreds of men camped out in our fields, which is very exciting. I know that father will be worried for his harvest though, for what good can muddy men do? They will be marching on Norwich maybe tomorrow to reach the troublemaker.

 It has been a very strange summer in truth, for there is a man who has stirred up great discord in Norfolk. To my mothers great embarrassment we are related to this man. My mother married previously Sir John Appleyard and in turn his sister is married to the rebel, Robert Kett.  It is unfortunate indeed for my half brothers and sisters are fond of their aunt. To make matters worse it is all over a dispute Robert has with Frances's betrothed family, the Flowerdews. We are quite in the middle of it all. Mother has not told me,no-one tells me anything, but I have heard the servants saying that the rebels have John and Phillip which turns my blood cold to think of.  I have every faith though that Father will see them safe. I pray to God every night that it is so.

Robert Kett is all I seem to hear these days and father is always so busy dealing with the rioters and indeed at his busiest harvest time.  I think God has made it very clear that we must obey the Sovereign of our land as we obey God himself.  In fact God has made the natural order of things very clear; a child obeys their parents, a wife obeys her husband and a subject obeys their King. So Father says Kett will have to be stopped and I am sure he will see it so.  I don't really understand it all, I just know I want my brothers back safely and Father to be less busy. How can we get on with Frances's wedding with all this commotion?  I walk out into the garden, all these thoughts jumbling in my head.

The new knot garden that I finally persuaded father to have, is hazy with bees and the sun is beating down.It is small as father is always saying that land was made for sheep not flowers.  I should not be wearing one of my best silk dresses out for my perfume gathering purpose but there are so many visitors around, I think it is important to look my best. Hopefully mother or my sister Frances will not catch me for they will tell me off for sure, they always do.  It is an oatmeal colour which complements my complexion and brings out my nutmeg eyes.  It has a sheen to it which gleams like pearls. I have also put on my best golden belt which was a present for my sixteenth birthday. I have my willow basket to gather rose petals to make some some rose oil, which is running low.  Mother also says I can put some out in the rooms, she knows I love flowers so. My favourite is the gillyflower, I love its scent and it's frilly bloom signifying high the summer.

The last of the roses are in bloom for a second time and so I gather as many petals as I can.  We have many types of roses: bleached linen whites and blood reds intermingle like the Tudor Rose of our Sovereign Lord, Edward.  I love the feel of their velvety skin as I gently pluck them from their stem. I study their vibrant colours; some the colour of peaches, creamy whites and apricot shades. I love the soft pinks the best.  The keen smell of lavender drifts over making me feel drowsy and I can feel the sun heating my back as I work. .At last my basket is full and walk inside, to find my ingredients. The garden is busy with the preparations for tonight, I can see Grace and Agnes from the kitchens picking all manners of vegetables that I wonder if we won't run out of food.

I head into the house walking onto the worn flagstones.  It is immediately cold inside and I'm already regretting the loss of the late summer rays. I am just turning the corner to head towards the hall when I suddenly collide with someone and it sends my basket flying.  I look up with delight to see showers of rose petals fluttering gently down to the ground around me, a myriad of pinks and milky whites.  Forgetting my companion, I laugh and cup my palms out as petals land and then push them back up in the air.  At first it reminds me of blossom falling off the trees on a warm May day and then it reminds of a wedding I went to last Midsummer's Eve.  A flower girl had sprinkled soft rose petals in front of Jane White, a childhood friend of mine, as she walked proudly up to St Margaret's church to marry her beau John.  It is a wonderful sight.

I suddenly become conscious of the pretty picture I must be making, dusky pink petals in my honey hair and scattered all over my deep cream silk dress.  I look up to see a young man smiling at me and suddenly I am the one who is falling, just like the petals.  I feel as if lightning has struck me for I cannot speak. He is just perfect,  a Knight of my dreams. King Arthur himself would not be more pleasing to me. We stare at each other thunderstruck and I feel the instant connection between us.  He is wearing a black silk doublet which highlights his piercing blue eyes and is very finely dressed.  He must be of the Warwick company for we have never met before. The petals have settled around us now, in a carpet of colour against the grey stone. Both of us at the same time look over our shoulders to see if anyone can see us, aware that it is unseemly that we meet like this.  We then both smile at each other, aware of the small joy in finding ourselves momentarily alone.

"I am Robert Dudley, it is a pleasure," he says in a clear voice, he bows his head to me and it is suddenly as if I have always known him.  There is a petal on his shoulder and I long to reach out and brush it off. I duck my head shyly and say simply back:

"I am Amy."