At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn Read Online Free

of commerce ringing through the air while what seemed like thousands of people milled about in the streets, dodging carts and wagons, horses and carriages, other pedestrians, not to mention free-roaming pigs, dogs, chickens, and a few cows.
    “At last, Maddie. London! What you couldn’t find here wouldn’t be worth having,” said Cate as she sat up straighter and smoothed her still-blondish hair. Cate Blanton was a fine-looking matron, never married. Her figure was that of a girl’s with none of the soft pillows around the middle that showed on most women her age. She had come to the Shelton family as a girl of barely fourteen and had cared for each of the babes until the boys had gone off to school and the other girls had married or gone to a cloister. Maddie was her favorite.
    Madge pulled the curtain to one side so she could get as full a view as possible. She took a quick breath and pinched her nose.
    “London smells!” she said.
    “Yes, ’tis the scent of life, Maddie. Life!” said Cate.
    “What could all those people be doing? They look like the ants that nest in the pigsty, each heading in a direction, not looking left nor right, eyes straight ahead. And so many—ragamuffins, shopkeepers, milkmaids! How can they ever find their way in all this … this frenzy?!” said Madge.
    “There’s a jester! How very short he is and dressed so fine. Must belong to the king. And there! A cutpurse, no doubt. See how his eyes narrow and the way he follows that well-dressed merchant,” said Cate.
    “I never thought London to be like this—it’s beyond the mind of man. How far to Hampton Court, think you?” said Madge.
    “A good deal of a ride, I’ll wager. We’re in Cheapside now. Look at all the shops and carts of goods—apples and violets, chickens and ducks, turnips and over there, cabbages! What food they must eat in London,” said Cate, still peeking from behind her own curtain.
    “No wonder so many are round as fat sheep. I’ll not eat so much, Cate. You neither. We don’t want to waddle our way at court!” Madge looked at Cate and they both laughed.
    At that moment, the carriage jerked to a stop. The driver swore at a passerby and before Madge could drop her curtain, a young man popped his head inside the carriage.
    “Who might you be, missy, riding in the king’s own coach?” The young man smiled when he saw Madge and stared boldly into her eyes.
    “Your better, that’s who,” scolded Cate as she tried to pull the curtain from the young man’s grip.
    “I doubt it, old Nurse. Come on, missy. Don’t let the cat hold your tongue. You won’t get far at court with no wit.” He continued to gaze into Madge’s eyes.
    “I … I am cousin to the queen, niece of Sir Thomas Boleyn,” Madge said with as much strength as she could deliver.
    “Well then, I am wrong—you are my better. I am merely the bastard son of the king’s brother-in-law. Sir Charles Brandon is my father and I am called Arthur, after the king’s dear, dead brother,” he said as he swept the hat off his head and bowed with a grand flourish.
    “I call you Sir Churlish, for though you carry the name of a great king, your actions here prove you share none of that king’s manners,” said Madge. She turned her face away from the young man as the carriage lurched forward once again.
    “Call me what you will, my lady. I shall be your humble servant!” he called after them.
    “Humph. I have heard tales about this—the shame of London! All the young men presume so upon the young ladies. We must take great care, my Maddie. Great care indeed,” said Cate.
    Madge rested her head against the back of her seat and breathed several deep breaths. She dared not speak for her blood seemed about to burst from her veins. She wasn’t sure why. Sir Churlish had angered her, yet there was something beneath the anger, a feeling new to her. When she closed her eyes, she could still see his brown beard, not full and stiff like her