“I know that.” Amethyst stood back, head down, flooded with sorrow for the poor queen. “I hope she did not die alone.” A sudden anger at Henry tormented her. “The king wouldn't let Mary visit her dying mother…” She purged those thoughts. Now was not the time—she needed to concentrate her energy on praying for the queen's soul. “But to expire so suddenly.” She looked into her maid's moist eyes. “Is the king in residence?”
“Aye, my lady.” She nodded.
“You go and pray for the queen, I'm releasing you from your duties for the next few days.” With a pat on her maid's cheek, she offered, “Use my prayer beads if you haven't your own. “ She gathered her skirts and, without pausing to bathe away the journey's dirt and grime or change from her traveling garments, she tossed her cloak on the bed an
