Page 28 of The Uprising
‘Me too. What happened with Tudorville George?’
‘What happens in Tudorville, stays in Tudorville,’ she said, winking.
‘I knew it. Next time you have to trust me.’
‘That’s more or less what he said.’
‘Classy guy, I like Tudorville George.’
A fierce burst of warm wind whipped through the open window and blew Cara’s hair across her face. It was one of those perfect moments when she was grateful to be alive, and the future lay before them like the promise of a rosy summer’s dawn.
George handled the car with ease and she gazed at the beautiful lush scenery as they darted down the country road. ‘We’re going to Willow Manor,’ she said after a few minutes.
‘Spot on.’
‘Is the surprise that you booked us into the hotel for the night?’
‘No, much better than that. Just wait a bit and all will be revealed.’
She never tired of admiring his beautiful hands, and she did so now as they rested on the steering wheel and manoeuvred through the gear changes.
They swung through Willow Manor’s gated entrance which was open, and then George brought the car to a smooth stop on the other side.
‘Why are we stopping here?’
‘Look out of your window,’ he said.
‘Oh my God.’ Cara looked over at him, her eyes glittering.
‘I wanted us to see it for ourselves. It’s a sign, all right,’ said George, reaching for her hand.
Hampton Court Palace, London, 1536 - Tudorville
George and Cara dined in the great hall that evening, just as George had predicted. It was impossible not to notice the charged atmosphere. The king was ill-tempered and drank even more than usual, and the queen did her best to pacify him with her sweet smiles and alluring manner.
Cromwell beckoned to George and the Duke of Norfolk, to follow him and leave the hall. A while later, when George returned, he whispered to Cara, ‘Let us retire, my love, unless you wish to stay longer? I leave tomorrow at first light.’
‘You know there’s nowhere I’d rather be than alone with you. I’ve passed many a dreary evening when you were away; and there will no doubt be more ahead.’
The courtiers were determined to show they were having a good time and there was much forced merriment. Cara had already endured quite enough and wished for nothing more than to be with George in their apartment. Who knew when they would be together again, and a ripple of fear shot through her as she thought about how dangerous it was for George to be brokering the Pilgrimage of Grace negotiations between the rebels and the poisonous Duke of Norfolk. The duke had sold out his flesh and blood; his niece Anne Boleyn, and it was obvious he cared only for his own reputation. She shivered at the memory of his betrayal.
When they were alone in their bedchamber, Cara said, ‘George, please be vigilant. Norfolk is desperate to get back into the king’s good graces and will stop at nothing.’
‘You’re right. I know him of old and fear I’m being used as a pawn to trick the rebels.’
‘It’s unfolding just as history reported,’ said Cara, the anguish ringing in her voice.
‘What do you mean—as history reported?’ asked George.
Cara swallowed. ‘Do you remember when I asked you to trust me about knowing certain things about the future? I can’t explain exactly how I know, only that I do. Norfolk will double-cross the rebels, and they will be executed, next year—1537.’
‘But the king has promised he will meet at least some of their terms. Why would he renege on his word in such a fashion?’
George rubbed his temple and sank heavily onto the bed, and then reached down towards his feet. Cara knelt to help him remove his heavy boots.
‘I don’t know, other than he can’t stand anyone getting the better of him. Cromwell is pulling the strings behind the scenes. The people blame him for the Dissolution of the Monasteries and call him a heretic, but lord knows, the king must have personal demons enough. Let’s not forget he recently killed a wife and took a new one inside a month. It’s a wonder he’s able to run the country at all.’ Cara spoke in hushed tones. Even alone in their apartments they couldn’t be too cautious.
George pulled Cara towards him and whispered in her ear. ‘This is treason, my love. And those looking to incriminate you would say you seeing the future is pure witchcraft. I know you have visions, but we must be careful. No one other than me must hear you speak so. Promise me...’
