Dear Heart, How Like You This by Wendy J. Dunn Page A

this day, during this grand performance. Queen Catherine was here to listen to the petitions of these supposedly elderly knights. Yet, so much had now turned. Where once these performances were filled with the expectancy of youth, now youth fled, leaving in its place an empty, hopeless thing.
    When near the Queen, the ladies and knights reigned in their horses and pages ran onto the grounds to hold fast the horses’ reins. The two knights then dismounted and bowed to the Queen. The Queen then spoke in her strong, deep and vibrant voice, reaching all those who listened on this day.
    “I have taken heed of your approach, my lords,” she said to the men. “You appear to have travelled from afar. Tell me, good sirs, what is your desire? For what reasons have you journeyed here?”
    One of the tall knights moved forthwith towards her, and knelt before her upon one well-shaped knee.
    “Your gracious Queen,” he said, his words muffled by his headgear. “Though we are hindered by the great disadvantage of age, my good fellow knight and I desire permission of your Grace to assail the defenders of the castle. We wish to reveal to you, gracious Queen, that strength of character, and attributes of good will and courage, are all that are needed to gain true and valiant victory.”
    The Queen and her ladies applauded these words of courage, coming so earnestly from the mouth of this knight, and gave him and his companion her permission to proceed with their desire. All of us then tried to act surprised when the knights tossed away their disguises revealing that they were none other than the King and the Duke of Suffolk—dressed richly in gold, silver and the deep purple of royal estate.
    We, who had been left behind in the confines of the castle, now watched—from the high planks fastened behind the fake walls of the castle—a tournament unfold between our defenders and the King and Duke. Within minutes the contest was over. Indeed, the King demonstrated his usual standard by breaking at least seven spears.
    On one of the final days, our great enjoyment of this great make-believe soured somewhat when, out of sheer boredom I believe, some defenders of the castle began throwing stones at the people standing outside the walls. Very soon, to the horror of us who wanted nothing of it, a real and somewhat bloody battle was taking place. Unfortunately, as was usual in this sort of situation, the only people to be really hurt were a few innocent bystanders.
    *
    Thus, 1524 came to a close, and 1525 began in earnest. And this was the year that saw Anna summoned back to court.
    Anne had left a broken-hearted girl of fifteen—all her young faith about what life would bring her completely destroyed. She came back at eighteen, on the threshold of womanhood, utterly desirable. And with plans to use her desirability as a way to gain revenge. I had never stopped loving Anna, but this was one time in our long association when I came close to losing my patience with her, and thus was brought many times near to anger.
    Alas, it was easy to see that the King had not lost his interest in her. But, for me, it was also easy to perceive that Anna had worked out the King’s character during her time in exile. Therefore, she made him more intrigued and interested by appearing utterly disinterested in him. I did not believe for one moment that Anna knew or understood what danger she was putting herself in. So I devised a plan of my own to keep her safe. The King was not the only man to be wooing Anna… I likewise courted my dark Lady.
    I reasoned that if my wooing resembled that of an Arthurian knight who chose to honour a lady with acts of chivalry and platonic devotion, (abiding by strict rules existing for hundreds of years—yea, ever since Eleanor of Aquitaine wedded England’s second Henry) then the King, with his great love for role-playing, might also follow suit. Thus, I greatly hoped, Anne, for the moment, would be protected from the King’s