In the Shadow of Lions by Ginger Garrett

summer. The sun stretched its rays further and stronger, like a thousand lances determined to strike a strong blow and leave a red mark. The sun was the only challenge to his glory that Henry could not conquer, Anne thought with a wry smile.
    He caught her smile and laughed. “How do I amuse you, mistress?”
    “I am not your mistress! Nor your wife!” Anne yelled, being careful to keep the reins in hand. This horse was much different than the courser she had in France. She did not care for his churlish temper.
    “For a good Christian, you have little faith!”
    Henry motioned to his privy guard to hand him a pike, which the boy did with great trouble, being similarly mounted just beside Henry. Henry took the long weapon and dealt Anne’s horse a glancing blow on the rump. The animal ran with great spirit, and Anne cursed this king who was determined to spur her from comfort.
    She pulled tightly on the reins, careful not to unseat herself, with her thick bodice and train making any movement difficult. At least Catherine and her court were not on this procession to see her humiliation. Henry spoke out loud as if intimacies had passed between them. Anne hated the taint it bore her, the dirty feeling in her spirit that anyone would think she was unfaithful to Lord Percy or to her Christian duty. Yet what could she say? Henry was master of the realm, and every knee bowed in reverence, making him wholly incapable of understanding anyone else.
    “Au premier, L’ Pleazaunce!” she heard him call behind her, and as her horse steadied and slowed, taking a turn in the road, she beheld it: Greenwich Castle, “the pleasant manor,” as Henry called it. Indeed, it was different than his castle at Windsor. Windsor was a grand lady that impressed every visitor with the weight of her history, like a grandmother pouring an old, heavy necklace into the palm of a young girl.
    Greenwich was much freer.There were many small buildings, but their charm was not their construction, for they each had small angled eaves and only a few rose above them with spires. But there was an endless army of trees, decked in green and glittering with birds, whose songs filled the air as the royal party entered, her train being lifted by a gentle breeze as she dismounted. Her servants jumped from their horses to assist her, lest the king order them lashed, but she was faster than they were and was off her mount and walking about before they even reached her.
    Anne was immediately surrounded by great, tall magical yews and thick, full, long-suffering beeches. Peace lived here; she knew it.
    Henry had dismounted and joined her. His face beamed with great pride and appetite. Anne sensed he was hungry after this ride. She hoped he would restrain himself to merely his appetite for victuals. She hadn’t the energy to stay awake through the night and keep watch over her door to prevent his entry yet again.
    “The palace sits on the River Thames,” he said, motioning beyond the cluster of red brick-and-plaster buildings. “When the tide turns every seven hours or so, you can catch a barge to any other estate.”
    Wolsey was not far behind them. “Yes, Henry was born here … his mother’s most perfect consolation after a hard and difficult labor.”
    “Yes.” Henry nodded, but to Anne, not Wolsey. “It is the home of many revelries. I am a king of the people, am I not? All comers are welcome here for jousts, if they do not mind a sore stripe and broken lance!”
    Why was everything directed at her? Anne grumbled inwardly. Did she want these prizes? He went to great trouble to present her with these affections, but they were unwholesome. Any move she made only encouraged. To protest gave him license to overcome her disdain. Heaven forbid she praise him, for there’d be no end to his great leapings and posturings.
    She had found no way yet to dissuade him in his attentions, to allow her to return to Percy. She reached in her pocket and patted her prayer