Love, Remember Me by Bertrice Small

this match. There is no precontract with any other. There is no consanguinity. She is not a Lutheran, but rather like Your Grace follows the doctrine whereby the Church yields its authority to the state."
    "I have not been well-handled," muttered the king dourly. "She is nothing as was reported to me; and had I known it, she would not have come to England, my lords. Now I must needs put my neck in this noose you have fashioned for me. Nay, I have not been well-handled!" He glared around the table at them, but his hardest look was reserved for Thomas Cromwell, and the Lord Chancellor's enemies knew then and there that his days were numbered. The butcher's son had finally made a mistake.
    Cromwell arose and said, "On what day will you be pleased to have the queen crowned, Your Grace? Will it still be Candlemas as we discussed?"
    The king glowered at him. "We will talk on it when I have made her my queen," he said grimly.
    Cromwell winced, but continued. "We will have to leave soon to welcome the princess to London, Your Grace."
    Without another word Henry Tudor arose and departed the room.
    "Your time grows short, Crum," the Duke of Norfolk said boldly.
    "I am a more loyal servant of the king's majesty than you are, Duke Thomas," Cromwell replied. "I am not gone yet."
    The king left London for Greenwich with a great party of nobles in his retinue. They would meet Anne of Cleves and her escort at Shooter's Hill near Blackheath, and the king would accompany his bride into London. Henry Tudor came down the Thames from London by barge. All the vessels accompanying him were decorated gaily with bright silk streamers that fluttered in the cold light breeze. The Lord Mayor of London and his aldermen had their own barge, and they traveled behind the king's royal barge.
    Anne rode from Dartford, where she had been resting for the past few days. Only a hundred of her people from Cleves remained with her for the present. Two of her native maids of honor spoke English. They were Hans's elder sister, Helga von Grafsteen, who was thirteen, and her cousin, Maria von Hesseldorf, who was twelve. Although ignored by the Bassetts, they were welcomed into the group of younger English maids. Both girls easily picked up the lute, which delighted Cat Howard. She had been most discouraged in her efforts to teach her new mistress.
    "She has no ear for music," Cat said, shaking her auburn curls. "If the king hears her efforts, he will be even more displeased with her than he already is, I fear."
    "But she is quickly learning to dance," Nyssa said with a smile. "She is very graceful. And her English has been improving in just these past few days. I think the king will be pleased with her."
    "She tries so hard," Kate Carey said. "It should not matter that she is not quite what her portrait made her seem."
    "God's blood!" Cat Howard swore softly. "What kind of a ninny are you, Kate, that you have not realized that men will be taken by a woman's looks before all? For many of them nothing else matters."
    "Surely all men are not like that," Nyssa said.
    "You will not have to worry about it," Cat replied. "You are the most beautiful of us all. Do you look like your mother?"
    "I have her eyes," Nyssa answered.
    "They say the king was mad for her in her day," Cat continued.
    "You know more than I do," Nyssa said quietly. "I was but an infant, and not even at court then."
    They had brought their finest gowns with them for the official reception of Anne of Cleves into London. Nyssa had chosen to wear her burgundy velvet. The underskirt was a brocade of gold on wine velvet. Her gown was trimmed with rich marten at its hem and sleeves. Her cape matched her gown, and both the hood and the hem were richly furred, but she did not wear the hood. Her long dark chestnut-colored hair was neatly gathered in a gold caul. Her hands, sheathed in soft kid riding gloves, rested lightly on the reins of her gray mare. The other girls were as richly garbed, remembering the late