Rosamund sat down. She had no other choice. And then she waited. And she waited. The hour for the main meal of the day came, and the queen and her ladies glided through the antechamber on their way to the Great Hall. Rosamund stood up as the queen came into the room, but passing her by, Katherine of Aragon gave no indication that she even saw her old friend waiting. She exited her apartments. Rosamund sat back down. She had not been invited to the meal and therefore could not go. The antechamber was empty now even of maidservants, and it remained empty for the next few hours while Rosamund continued to wait. Once, she got up and went to the necessary, returning quickly lest she be found gone. She could see the progress of the day into early evening through the windows of the queen’s antechamber. The long twilight deepened into night, and Rosamund remained seated. Finally the door to the room opened, and Mistress Drum came back in, the look on her face a surprised one, for she had not expected to see Rosamund still there.
“You are still here, my lady?”
“I think perhaps the queen has forgotten me,” Rosamund replied quietly.
“I shall find her at once and tell her you are still here,” the servant said, obviously distressed that Rosamund had waited all day. She departed the chamber, and when she returned she wore an even more distressed look upon her face. “I am sorry, my lady. The queen says you are to go home and return tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mistress Drum. Please tell her highness that I shall return and wait upon her pleasure tomorrow,” Rosamund said, rising, shaking her skirts, and leaving the antechamber of the queen’s apartments. She could feel her anger rising, and she needed to leave the palace as quickly as possible. What was the matter with Kate that she had been treated in such an unkind fashion? She had been sitting all day, alone most of the time. No one had spoken to her. She had been offered no refreshment, and then she had been summarily dismissed. Well, tomorrow she would find out what it was all about.
But when Rosamund returned the next day, and the next, she was treated in the same fashion. She was made to wait the day alone, without so much as a cup of water. Then she was sent home without any apology.
On the fourth morning when she arrived at Westminster, Mistress Drum greeted her with an encouraging smile. “She has said she will see you today, my lady,” the servant informed Rosamund.
Then she lowered her voice. “I’ve been with her for years, and I’ve never seen her be so unkind to an old friend.”
“It’s all right, Mistress Drum,” Rosamund replied softly. “It isn’t always easy being a queen.”
Mistress Drum nodded her head in agreement. “ ’Tis the lack of a child that troubles her muchly. And her so devout and faithful, too.”
“God will work his miracles in his own time,” Rosamund said.
“Amen!” The servant crossed herself, then she said, “You’ll have to wait again, but it will be sometime today. I promise.”
So Rosamund sat down in her chair to wonder again why the queen was being so rude. It was not like Kate. As loyal as she was to her queen, Rosamund considered that she could be home now doing many other things. It was a long and arduous journey from Friarsgate. And then, too, there was Logan whom she had promised to allow to court her. Did she really want him do so? Why was everyone so determined she remarry? How could she give herself to any man after Patrick Leslie? She let her mind wander back to their sojourn in San Lorenzo. It had been the most perfect time in her life, and she doubted anything could ever be as wonderful as those months she had had with him there and at Friarsgate. It had been a perfect dream.
The morning passed. The queen and her ladies departed for the main meal of the day. Rosamund continued to wait. And then, in late afternoon, the door to the queen’s antechamber opened, and Katherine of Aragon entered the room. She looked directly at Rosamund and said, “Come!” Rosamund jumped up and followed her old friend into her privy chamber.
The queen whirled about and said in a cold voice, “How dare you ignore my summons of a year ago, Rosamund Bolton!”
“I did not, your highness,” Rosamund protested. “I was not at Friarsgate when your invitation came. I was in Edinburgh, where I had gone to be married.”
“And did you marry?” the queen asked. Her dark eyes were unreadable.
“Nay,” Rosamund said softly.
“Why not?” The question was snapped like a whip crack.
“When I arrived, Lord Leslie had suffered a seizure of the brain. I spent over a month nursing him, but his memory only partly returned. He recalled nothing of the past two years. He did not remember me. We could hardly wed under the circumstances.”
“Perhaps he had just changed his mind, and the illness was his excuse to avoid marriage with you,” the queen said cruelly. It seemed she wanted to hurt Rosamund.
Tears, unbidden, slid down Rosamund’s pale cheeks. “If you had seen him, Kate, if you knew him, you would understand why such a thing was not possible.”
“I have not given you permission to use my Christian name,” the queen said.
“I beg your highness’ pardon,” Rosamund responded.
“Was this the same man with whom you whored in San Lorenzo?” the queen queried.
“Yes,” Rosamund said without hesitation. There could be no convincing the queen of their love. Katherine was too devout a woman to comprehend that kind of passion.
“You have no shame, do you?” the queen said. “I should have never thought that you had the soul of a born whore when we knew each other as girls, Rosamund Bolton.”
Rosamund did not answer. Even though they were alone, it would do no good. She quietly accepted the insult. The queen would not remain angry forever.
“Did you enjoy whoring with my husband?” the queen suddenly demanded.
“What?” Rosamund was staggered by the queen’s accusation, but no matter what happened she would never admit to Katherine of Aragon of her brief affair with the king. It had been a private matter, and few knew of it.
“Do you deny that you were my husband’s whore when you last came to court?” the queen said furiously.
“Yes!” Rosamund cried. “I most certainly do deny it! How could you even think such a thing of me, K-your highness?”
“I have it on the best authority,” the queen replied stonily.
“Whoever has told you this lied,” Rosamund declared indignantly. But she knew who had told the queen, and the bitch would regret it.
“Why would a friend to me since my childhood, a countrywoman, lie to me, Rosamund Bolton?” Katherine said.
There was nothing for it, Rosamund thought. She must take the bull by its horns now and reassure the queen, regain her friendship for Philippa’s sake. “I think I know who has told you this terrible untruth, your highness. I know she believed what she thought she saw, and though I swore on the Blessed Virgin it was not so, she said she would tell you. I begged her not to, for your sake, your highness.”
“Inez would not lie to me,” the queen responded, now sounding a bit unsure. Inez was an old friend, but then Rosamund had helped her in her darkest hour. “Why would she lie to me?”
“Because Inez thought it was the king with me that night. It wasn’t. It was Charles Brandon. We had had a harmless little flirtation, and I was departing the next day. We met to kiss and cuddle. That was all. There was nothing more serious than that, your highness. In the darkness of the hallway Inez mistook Charles Brandon for the king. I could not convince her otherwise, though I certainly tried. You know yourself that they are often mistaken for each other at a distance. I begged Inez not to distress you with her groundless suspicions. She was insulting to me and now attempts to embarrass me publicly with her evil and slanderous tongue!” Rosamund sounded properly indignant.