‘My lord the King requests that you attend him in the audience chamber.’ Since the official avoided my eye, anxiety destroyed my hard won calm. For Henry to make this an official meeting—and I could imagine his advisers flanking him as he delivered the news—I could only imagine what it would be. The official did not appreciate my hesitation. ‘My lord the King is hard pressed and would see you now, my lady.’ I would not be hurried. ‘Tell the King I will attend on him shortly.’ ‘But my lord the King is …’ ‘Tell the King I will present myself in his audience chamber as soon as I am fit to be received into his presence.’ ‘It is momentous news, my lady.’ ‘It may be momentous, but five minutes more will make no difference.’ I needed time. To dress carefully, to plait and cover my hair. To compose my features. To order my senses. I would not fall and weep at Henry’s feet, whatever the provocation. Nor would I show him any signs of neglect from my days of prayer and sleepless nights.
