Court of King Henry

[Carlotta]

Eolus Blunt had never been to court, per say. However, as he considered it, he had plenty of experience with court, having acted the parts of nobles, even kings (and several times queens, come to it) up and down the theaters of England. So, this? This was nothing. He now acted the part of the humble and yet dashing playwright: himself. With this in mind, he came up to the guards, and greeted them with a polite good-evening, followed by a brisk statement of his intentions. "I am seeking an audience with his Majesty, the Venerable King Henry," he said, absently adjusting a small jeweled button on this coat. The guards exchanged looks: another popinjay to waste the king's time, right. With a cursory nod to his fellow, the first guard stepped forward. "Might be he has time," he said. "And I can take you up to wait. No weapons are allowed." And, so it transpired that Eolus surrendered both his daggers, one from his boot, one from his belt, and was led up to the Renaissance chamber to await the king.

If one was to stand noticed in their chosen field, much work did it entail. The position of Barrister was not an easy field to gain access to, let alone recognition. Not saying it was an area hard to learn, that only those of great minds could endeavor it's path; on the contrary. If you had common sense, an ease to learn ever changing laws, and know how to manipulate people, an easy enough trade it could be. Being a woman who sought this position of prestige, that was quite a barrier to over-come; though it thwarted her efforts not. The vast library that rested within the castle confines is where she would eventually end. Seeking the permission needed to read the laws that now governed this Sovereignty. Laws of the land were easy enough, quite well laid out even with additions and subtractions to those prior. It was that fine line that separated church and state that would be tedious. This land, like so many others were governed by two sets of laws; Those of the King as head of state, and those of the King as head of church. Upon the rising of the sun had seen her within those shelved walls of leather bound bibles in a sense. Moving about the room as shadows shifted with the positioning of the sun, to gain the best light to read by. Soon enough, the strain of eyes by reading by candle light would take it's toll, a need to take a break would force her from her world of books and into the main hall. Adorned in a simple gown of forest green velvet; accented by ribbons of ebony, she'd begin the slow steps that carried her along. Fingers had long since plucked the reading spectacles from their rest upon bridge of features and now held betwixt fingers of right hand. Free hand rose to lightly rub the strain felt within eyes for a moment, then focus shifted to the distance before her as she continued this stroll.

The Court was in full glory this evening, and if there was one member of His Majesty's entourage who might have been inclined to displeasure or boredom - they were quick to conceal such emotion as the King himself strode toward the Great Hall. Naturally, many would view the man as imposing, due not to his stature but of course the title he owned. With frequency, Henry seemed to speak unbidden, words that were often times harsh and riddled with his increasing frustration. The constant and unwavering fuel to his fire was currently the inability Wolsey demonstrated regarding his Sire's much desired divorce from Katherine. However, the day had dawned to see Henry in a rare display of good humor, and as his brisk pace led him to the festivities, there was a wide grin lining his thin lips. Greetings were returned for the most part, echoed by a deep throttle of laughter that vibrated against the stone walls of his home. He was dressed warmly, in a dark green doublet and beige breeches that accentuated his athletic form. Just before the entrance to the Hall, he was forced to pause as a young Lady crossed before his path . Straightening, he watched her, noting how deeply her nose was buried within her reading material. "That direction," He began, his voice lit with humor. "will lead you to the court..." He continued, plucking the book easily from her grasp. "..yard. And, had I enough competent barristers, I might allow you to risk illness." His grin faltered slightly. "Considering that I do not, you'll have to take your pleasure within the castle this evening." Though he was now frowning, it was not at all directed toward the young woman. Stepping back, he extended his arm - an inviting gesture that pointed her directly to the Great Hall. When the call came regarding their visitor < Eolus >, Henry shifted to face away from her slightly and snapped. "Shall I go fetch him myself!?" Of course the young servant bolted without further encouragement.

Boisterous arguing could be heard bouncing off the cobblestone roadway. One voice rising loudly in rash tones, the other attempting to calm his comrade. It had drawn several pairs of eyes in their loud pair's direction. Children would look wide eyes while pointing stubby fingers in the direction of the commotion. Mothers paused in their strides as the man dead center of the two arguing loudly seemed, oddly silent. Wearing a dark patchy jacket with bellowing sleeves, a wide leather belt with black leather pants and cuffed knee high boots, the center man stopped walking. Standing in front of a newly formed crowd his private audience all succumbed to the dueling puppets draped over both his arms. Sure enough both puppets also stopped to look suspiciously at him then back towards the people staring wide eyed. Garan the granted entertainer spoke up, " if you both don't cease this bickering I will be tempted to paint your mouths on the backsides of your heads or on your asses!" This caused ticklish laughter from the children eagerly watching. Garan couldn’t help but grin at their hanging on the ventriloquists every word. Suddenly one puppet cussed , which drew gasps and ear handles placed upon the little one's ears. Garans brows bunched together, and as discipline his thumb took to rubbing off the offensive puppets mouth. Applause heard as the puppet would struggle then be muffled and finally giggled into silence. Gar would then bow graciously to his viewers, and drop his hat as well, seeking some coins for his efforts and of course his reward. In the distance lay a castle, his eyes bolted over the patrons heads.... looking to it from a far. ::

Katherine would have wished to have any other than Anne Boleyn trailing her this evening. Though when the King had sent word requesting her to join him in the deliberation over a certain gentleman's wish to come to court... she had been reduced to allowing the only one still lodged within her chambers to accompany her. Katherine had not even attended a court session in months, not since Henry had decided to start this embarrassing harangue over their marriage. Oh, she was not stupid she knew that the pregnant dog Boleyn was behind this.. her and that power hungry father of hers, but there was nothing she could truly do to bring the situation to light. Henry had taken a liking to her lady and Henry... always got what he wanted and it mattered little who stood in his way. Narrowed eyes watched the dark haired temptress as she fussed about her Queen's skirts as though she truly gave a d**n, her mind reflecting that it would take but one quick thrust of a dagger in her side to end it, though she'd be d**ned if she'd lose her head over her husbands desires. Straightening into the repose that her station afforded her she moved as quietly as voluminous skirts would allow her toward the door. Anne in close succession behind her and just to the right side. A guard took up pace with them as they exited and they were soon entering the room where Henry would no doubt join them soon. Katherine took her seat Anne bowing low in a curtsey before her as custom would initiate and then taking her place just behind and to the right of her chair. Hands placed demurely upon the back one atop the other, the almost ebony locks falling in ripples upon her shoulders Anne inspected the doorway for any sign of Henry. Eyes the blue of a winter sky focused with brevity and a deep inhale of breath caused her bosom to rise and press against the tightly laced bodice of her gown. Crimson adorned in golden brocade, her hair held in place by a simple black band also traced in gold. She looked particularly dazzling this night. She'd spent months not eluding the King, playing the game that would bring her ever closer to the throne for her father's sake... but in essence her heart was becoming more and more intricately entwined with Henry's.

While he waited, Eolus pretended to be preparing for a performance. This was to say, he paced, brisk and steady, back and forth and back and forth across the room, as if he were going somewhere purposeful. Simultaneously, he reviewed what he knew of the King: regretfully little, and most of it probably hearsay and vicious rumor. There was the business of the tension between him and the Church, of course. Who had not heard about that? Thus, he would not have to feign any undue piety. That was to the good. He was so distracted that the ladies entered before he pulled up short from his pacing upon seeing them, and then carefully withdrew well out of their way. Whoever they were, they were sure to outrank him, and he sketched a bow to both, and would have withdrawn further out of their way when a wide-eyed servant stepped into the room and requested that Master Blunt come with him immediately. The playwright assented of course, and followed the young servant to the King, whom he recognized by the way the servant looked at him. He bowed low to King Henry, and then straightened, considering his Majesty as he awaited acknowledgment. Eolus's manner was not quite impertinent: his gaze was lowered politely, and his expression was carefully smooth. However, he certainly lacked the usual shock and awe that a monarch might take as his due. He was a young man, sandy colored hair and cool hazel eyes, which were lidded, to the effect of concealing his thoughts. He was dressed not as a noble, but nonetheless in style. His coat was a rich dark green, with a few paltry jewels on the buttons, and he held himself with a certain - poise.

When that book was plucked from her light hold, eyes did snap in the direction of the offender. Chestnut pools narrowed, holding the malice that would have been followed by a tongue lashing. Lips had even parted to utter harsh words which fell mute when recognition struck her like an open hand to cheek. Silently chastising that quick temper, eyes lowered and low curtsey would follow. "Sire!" The only times she had viewed the man, was at a distance as propriety demanded. Returning to her prior stance, eyes rose to rest upon him. "As is your bidding, Sire." Hands moved slightly, intent to reclaim her book, though returned before her instead. If he wished to keep it, who was she to debate? The appearance of the page would keep her silent, and eyes would turn in the direction to which he indicated. Motion towards the festivities had began as the playwright arrived to greet the man of power. A glance back over shoulder to be briefly taken, then ahead as the spectacles would be slipped within the hidden pocket of skirts. Through the doors of the great hall she'd now move, a nod of greeting and polite smiles offered to all as she entered. Before the Queen she would make way, a deep curtsey to ensue. "Majesty. You look lovely this evening." Proper courtly greeting offered to the woman of power, and when she stood that polite smile would be in place. She'd await any return greeting and the woman's dismissal before she'd make way to her placement of seating.

A few coins plopped into his hat just before many started merrily on their way. Lateness would be the cause for many retiring. Not even a holiday season could stop children from falling asleep early. His fingers would gather up the coin then plant each individual piece into a leather pouch. Counting them one by one before cinching the strings. His faithful companions, dead wood with shinny painted faces, horse hair and cloth stolen from a bitter old tavern wenches drapery's, both..found themselves tucked away for the night. Both carefully peeled from off his arms he'd silently pray over them to hold together for just a few more days. That prayer has been on-going now with greater fervor as their conditions worsen. His sack of goods would be slung over one shoulder as he'd turn aiming himself for the castle rising above the villagers and plains. He was starving to death in this ever changing world of modern arts and magic wizardry. It was difficult staying on the straight and narrow. His breath frosted the air as the temperature seemed to be dropping. Wonderful, another night of fitful coughing. Burying his nose and lips beneath the wedged cloth circling his neck, he'd approach the towering gates, and hail a guardsman. :: " What say you, is this fine land open to survivors? " :: An odd question, but thought provoking. Most would just say, ' Go away. ' ::

The perpetual beat of hooves rang out across the main court yard lawn and was silenced shortly thereafter by a guard 'honing' the great beats into a halt and with a shifted balance the Duke of Buckingham lifted himself from the high equine and landed himself gracefully upon the hard packed earth below. One last regard was given to the currier at his side while large hands extended forward to allow the young page the reigns. "Treat him well." Blues mirrored the boy as he passed along the left corner of his vision and, only after horse and man were out of peripheral vision Andrew would begin his climb up the grand steps and straight into the hall that was the elegant home of there majesty. Left palm would casually fall along the hilt of his sheathed sword and, as he reached the castle guard he would but only give a nod of welcome. His business was to see the king..And to display to the youth his prize. A satchel slung along his right shoulder, ordained with beaver furs as remnants of his latest hunt. "It was a good day" Thin lips curled into a small grin as he pushed through the door and founded himself face to face with some familiar and foreign occupants. Henry had his deal of entertainment. Chin dipped almost imminently upon entrance as he knew Henry would have known of his arrival. Must set the frame work for a proper protocol now didn't he? Andrew's movement was strangely silent for a man of his tall stature as he offered nods of welcome to all those around him. In taking note of the man seeking Henry's audience he would say nothing to the King..At least naught for the moment. Instead Andrew took up his place as one of the majesty's men..Positioning himself just to the back right of the king. Perhaps must guard would turn away strangers for the protection of there beloved citizens and more importantly the nobility that lied within. But, instead the guard leapt from his tower and moved over to the man . "It is, sir. I ask only that you leave your weapons at the gate with me before entering. It is for the safety of our royal majesties that I ask that you comply." Rather or not the man truly meant to..He was profiling the stranger. "Your cooperation is much appreciated." The guard would not in a thousand lifetimes let the man enter without first making certain his intension was just and harmless.

[Carlotta]

He'd been intent on resuming his course, when the servant finally shuffled forward with their visitor following closely behind. Faltering once more, Henry crossed his arms over the width of his chest and inspected the man with an arched brow that suggested his growing annoyance. He hadn't seen Anne in several days, and he wasn't sure if it was her own will that kept her outside of his presence, or someone else's...like his wife. "Who are you?" He asked once the man had offered the gesture, before resuming his original pace, and flexing his fingers at his side, beckoning the man to walk with him. If the guest was so inclined to follow, they'd both enter the Hall just in time to witness a drunken Courtier attempting to juggle fruit. It was extravagant; the entirety of the Court, most individuals had already begun consuming their fair share of wine. Many were bordering intoxication, and the air was ripe with the sound of laughter and the scent of flesh. "Andrew!" Henry called, as his gaze immediately grazed his comrade. He raised his arm high, as his greeting boomed between them, and noticed then that he still maintained the possession of the barristers volume. Bodies parted and dipped low in respect as he forged his path toward the Duke, only rising once the King slowed and embraced the man. "I'm pleased to see that you've decided to grace us with your presence, Buckingham." He chuckled, before shifting around to face the playwright once more, and with his attention centered upon the man expectantly, Henry hadn't had the chance to notice the Queen of the land, nor the Queen of his heart just yet.

He had had a speech planned. One never knew when one would need a long, flattering and flowery prepared speech. Given the King's brusque manner and rising annoyance, however, he reevaluated this plan and replied succinctly. "I am Eolus Blunt, Master Playwright. I have come to ask your permission to join your court and thereby dazzle and entertain them --" He paused. Right, no speech. "--I believe you know the rest, Sire."

Moving slightly from behind the chair as soon as Henry entered she went into a deep curtsey, hands grasping either side of her extravagant gown and her head dipped quickly as though to avoid his eyes. It was an action that would go unnoticed seemingly but nonetheless it was done out of propriety and respect and also to keep tongues from further wagging about their relationship. Katherine fussed with her gown and nodded supremely executing a false smile to the Lady that complimented her. The same smile was given all round to the other courtiers that shuffled to her in order to pay their respects. Anne had risen by now as she could feel the heat of the Queen's stare upon her bowed head and it was extremely uncomfortable. Oh, how she'd fought with her father over his bidding to gain Henry's interest, though now that she'd gained his heart and his respect she could not end the cycle that had begun no matter how much she wished she could gain the people's trust and admiration once more. Regardless of what many thought, it did hurt her but Henry... she would never let him go.... not now. Standing fully again she placed her hands upon the back of the chair once more and kept her place though it was hard not to stare at the man. He was the epitome of regal consternation and every move of his body seemed to call to her. She caught her eyes upon his back, they'd lowered slightly so that she could watch him from beneath her lashes hopefully unnoticed.

Henry had been a lifelong companion to he and thus it should have come to no surprise at all of the grand welcome he received upon the King's behalf. Nevertheless head would dip low as he bowed at the waist during the wake of Henry's prance over to him. "The privilege is all mine, truly your majesty" That grin would stretch into a full fledge smile as muscular arms extended outward and accepted the hearty embrace from Henry. With a small clap of the furs against the center of the king back he withdrew and revealed to the man his prize. "I believe I am catching up to you in skins" Blues sparkled with deviousness as he knew the king had always the upper hand when it came to the hunting of game. Attention would fall upon the man who accompanied the King. "Master Playwright you say? I'm sure your coming will grow popular rather quickly" Then he looked to the king, offering the man that all knowing glance. But as his humor drifted he took note of the Queen and behind her still the King's new lover..Anne. Both would be issued a small dip of his head out of sheer respect for Henry and his honor.

Tongues did wag, not only amongst those who kept court, but along the streets, in taverns, and all points in between. Since in a sense it was of some importance for her to know, she would of course had looked further into the allegations being tossed about like a ball between children in a courtyard. Discretion always in place, never doing this openly or making inquires to where questions would be raised. Was it not, after all, the Barristers duty to uphold the laws as well as protect those who wrote them behind a shield they would place? A good one would, and thus she would utilize all available to her. Sometimes one's dark past did aide in matters when it came to utilization of those who remained underground; per say. Those who usually mocked reining power, who escaped the iron fist laid down. As much as they were a hindrance to the denizens of the lands and the nobility upon them; to the likes of her they were a treasure chest of information; along with other uses if a need would arise. Settled amongst the others, idle chatter would be listened to, a chalice in hand lifted to sip from as she idly listened to words shared between those near. Fish wives gossip usually was formulated by a basis of truth, which at times would become inflamed. One had to decipher fact from fiction. Chestnut colored gaze would settle upon the newly arrived, chalice to lower as a polite smile was offered. Though even during her time of eavesdropping, attention would return upon the King. Not the man himself, but that he held in his hold; that book. It was a volume in which the laws of the church were greatly and explicitly explained. Knowing the man's woes with their beliefs and laws, she only hoped he'd not take an interest in it and lose that jovial appearance he offered for all to view; or let alone claim his wrath. It wasn't that she followed such, for if that was the truth she'd not needed to have studied. Her own beliefs never offered in a topic of conversation, safer that way.

"Indeed," Henry said, grinning broadly as his gaze flickered down the man's length. There was a devious light in his eyes, a spark that hinted at wicked or humorous intentions that were soon to come. "I tell you what, my good man," He said, pausing briefly to cover his mouth with his fist to muffle his laughter. "You perform for me, one service, and the entire Kingdom will know you as the King's own playwright." The corner of his lips curled, as he cut his eyes toward the Duke at his side and hefted the heavy book into his comrade's chest. He released his hold on the item, forcing Andrew to either grab hold of it, or allow it to fall to the floor at their feet. "You engage this man," He brought his other palm swinging around to connect soundly with the novel, indicating Buckingham. "in a friendly bout of wrestling." Stepping back, he his clapped his forearm, indicating that it would be arm wrestling match only. "There's no man yet to best him, and his confidence grates my patience." Though, it was true, the words were offered in good humor before he applauded loudly, gaining the entire attention of those present. Numerous eyes began to travel to the duo, as the King tilted his head toward them, askance of their approval before his glance moved onward, toward the Queen, who gained an inclination of his chin in greeting. The smile he'd given freely to the rest of the Court vanished upon sight of her, but it gained ground again, once his gaze flickered behind her, toward Anne. This time, the dip of his head was prolonged, and he seemed to bend - though just slightly - at the waist, offering her a gesture that not even his Queen had gained, subtle though it was. Already, men were cheering on Buckingham and Blunt, placing wagers evenly on the men, spurring them on.

" How many blades do you want to hold onto? " :: The Entertainer looked up at the tower's guardsman. His hat slumped over onto one side of his head: Limp and to the left. His gaze would lift to the gate keeper as grotesque images covered him in cresting shadows of night vision. Disjointed views flooded through his imagination, before being discharged. His finger continued to tap the leather strap holding his sack at his side. Impatient, he'd pull out two blades. Holding them up for inspection, :: " This blade is from my uncle Beowulf, he claimed he never missed a target. This other one's from my cousin Sidney, he was the target God rest his soul. " :: Shaking his left boot, his jostled left to right as if vibrating. Reaching down he'd pull free from his left boot a small flip knife. :: " Father McDougal claimed he used this one for fruit peeling." :: Shrugging he'd drop it next to the other blades. Reaching round his back, he'd grunt as his arm stretched upward, :: " This one's from a lady, she use to scratch my back with it, and shave it too." :: That'd make 4, he'd look to the guard, :: " Ah, good nuff? "

With but a small grunt arms quickly extended forward perhaps out of due reflex as the heavy text landed harshly into the mid-section of his hard packed chest. Curiousness and uneasiness settled upon his face while blues looked around at the faces of those now applauding both he and the playwright. Just what did Henry have up his sleeve this time? Though it was against all of the caliber inside of him a blush swept along the sharp edges of his cheeks as he gave a reluctant nod in the direction of the king. Andrew was quite the competitor as it would seem and also he knew of Henry's growing annoyance towards his victory. "I wouldn't go as to that extreme, your majesty" A deep sigh was exhaled as he pushed the cover outward for Eolus to rest his elbow upon. "Are you ready?" Though the Duke did not wish to arm wrestle he would not refuse a desire of the King. Right elbow pressed firmly against the covering while long digits waved for a moment into the wind to ease the tension that lied within his knuckles. Blues were now fixated upon the playwright.

He glanced appreciatively in the Duke's direction when the man spoke so favorably of a playwright's chances in the court. That was just the sort of talk he liked to hear, particularly from someone whom the King seemed to hold in high regard. Beyond the glance, however, his attention remained studiously on the King himself. That grin did not strike him as the friendly sort of grin, not anymore than a wolf shows its teeth. Eolus regarded him expectantly, as he went on and then proposed -- that he be the King's own playwright. He was surprised enough that his lidded eyes flickered open as he regarded the king - and narrowed again when the terms were stated. A moment later, he smiled, a genuine smile by the look of it, and there was a glitter in his eyes of someone appreciating a challenge. The look, though, was directed at the King, and not the man with whom he was to arm wrestle. Then he bowed his acquiescence, regarded the attentive eyes of the court with due gravity, and held up a hand to request their patience. With great and fastidious care, he began to roll up the sleeve of his expensive coat. This exposed his arm, which was a good enough arm - and which, while lithe, obviously lacked the tone of someone who regularly swung a sword about. Eolus, however, seemed greatly impressed with his own arm. He flexed it, slowly, smile widening with pleasure as the muscle bulged, and when he'd flexed it fully, he nodded in deep approval, caught the crowd's eyes, and gave a suggestive nod to his arm. If that failed to rouse a response, he gave a quick flick of fingers to indicate it further, smiled smugly again, and placed his elbow down with reverence, opposite the Duke's. "I .. am ready." Dramatically.

Lids lifted almost in surprise, he'd noticed her, had acknowledged her in such a way as he denied Katherine and she could suddenly hear her heart quicken in her chest. Mindful of the pulsing pounding she fought within her mind demanding it to cease for fear the Queen would hear it. But Katherine had already guessed, she was far from stupid she had seen the gesture her husband had given Anne and it did little to appease her already heightened temper. Fighting the urge to stand and rail them both about the insolence and disgusting nature of their ways she kept her place for only a fraction of a moment longer before standing quickly. "Anne.. I am not feeling well I wish to retire." Before Anne could even so much as speak the Queen was whisking down from the dais and toward the main hall door. Anne reaching for her sleeve as though intent to help her back to her chambers, the action thwarted by a slap of Katherine's hand and her words hanging in shocked silence. "You Highness..." Anne turned to glance toward Henry, shaking her head and feeling horrible suddenly. Torn between her devotion to Katherine and her love for the King she felt as though she were ready to cry. Somehow, she found the will to leave the dais and move into the throngs of the court clearly she would not be welcomed in the Queen's chambers to help her ready for bed.

When the book was passed off, she nearly rose from her seat, as if to dive over the table in order to save that volume of writing. Onto the man unfamiliar, except in reputation as to whom he was, the heavy leather bound was now placed. It's next position of placement would be found humorous by her. The controversy over the contents held within had been the stage for many battles in the past, and now to be the center of another form in strength's opposition. Attention was drawn for a moment when peripheral noted movement, causing vision to drift in that direction. Noting the parting of the ways and her gaze would continue to trail after, not the Queen who's direction of departure would be known; but the one who drifted in parting to enter the crowd. Soon to be lost in the movements of press as all gathered closer to encircle the two. Back to the competition attention returned, chalice lifted to sip of the wine it contained. She had once heard something that now came to mind .... about how a blank page to a writer was the same as a battle field to a knight. Where the latter raised his sword in battle, the writer would wield his pen. Opposition to the knight would be another with a like intent, to be victorious. Opposition to the writer was to create words that captivated and in many ways, directed a man's way of thinking. To counter a life, that is a great position of strength, but to mold another's way of thinking and idealisms with the simple use of words. The pen is mightier than the sword, something she's come to understand. In this the playwright would find an unknown supporter. It would be for him her support would be given; inwardly and silent as wine was sipped and the actions being closely watched.

As the various weapons were dropped from the newcomer < Guardian >, with vivid details of their heritage, the Guards scratched their jaws in slight confusion. It was likely the last knife that had them grimacing, but like good men, they gathered the instruments and promised to keep them safe while the man enjoyed his visit. Back inside the Castle, Henry had returned his attention to the pair before him, he applauded once more and seemed sincerely pleased with them both. Though not wrestling himself, the King was struck by his often competitive nature and placed his own bet upon the playwright, whom he believed had the stronger wrist - considering his occupation. Much to the delight of the Ladies of the Court, Eolus demonstrated his strength and he was rewarded with several appreciative gasps from the nearest flock of women. Henry bowed to the two of them once, not a rare gesture in general, just for the evening. But, their acquiescence had entertained his court, and a well entertained court was always a priority. Pivoting on his heel, he strode from the gathering crowd to find his seat. Taut thighs flexed with power beneath his breeches, as he quickly strode toward the dais. He had just plucked a handful of grapes from a nearby tray when Katherine rose. He played witness to her harsh, or at least in his mind, treatment to Anne. His spine immediately stiffened in response, and the fruit he'd been eager to taste, was at the mercy of his tightening fist. Juices ran down his knuckles, dropping onto the floor as a flush of anger washed over his visage. He moved to intercept the Queen, fully intent upon a verbal lashing when both women looked toward him. His wife, seeing she'd struck a cord of displeasure, hastened her step..and Anne, looking mortified, tried to dive into the crowd. He followed the Queen's lady, tossing the smashed fruit from his grasp and onto the floor as he did so. When he caught up to her, he harbored no hesitation in touching her, in fact - his hand shot toward her elbow, stilling her motion. His fingers were gentle, but they were unrelenting, forcing her to face him.

[Carlotta]

By the gods they bought it. He'd be slightly dumbfounded that those fake blades worked. Well, were they to try and un-sheaf them, they'd find out soon enough. Not about to waste time, the Guardian of Humor swiftly tossed one end of his cloak over an opposite shoulder blade. Hoisting upward his satchel he'd begin to stride like a fancy peathingy crossing the castle's threshold. His chin jutting outward while the elevation of his nose poked upward sent a rather dashing illusion. Nobility? Respectable status? Boldly he'd walk as if challenging every armed man alive was his solo goal in life being aired. Once however he'd crested beneath the tower gate's headliner, his cloak fell from off his shoulder, his sack tucked in against his belly. He took to double stepping then into a slight jog making his way across the vast courtyard, thinking that this late hour the best place to plant one'self is within a stable or church. However, he was stopped blindly by the ostentatious sight of the castle's forum. Perhaps in the morning he'd apply himself, by making a formal introduction. If that was possible. ::

A brow arched upon the segway into this..Game of Henry's. Taking note of the playwright's arm flex left hand reached to unveil his own puffy sleeves and show onto everyone near enough his own muscular tone. Taunt forearm and bicep flexed underneath olive flesh as fingers reached forward to grasp hold of Eolus own. The grip was unwavering and fill of pure strength while jaw line tensed. Though never as competitive as the king Andrew too was a serious opposite in any activity called to him..Rather it be jousting, or with a women in the heat of passion it mattered very little to the Duke. Taking no care of the King's depart he gave a nod to the man. "Go" Without allowing much time for the man to comply Andrew began pounding at the man's arm, drawing it with labored strides backwards. He was, however impressed with the man's defiance and power of his own arm.. The pen can indeed be wielded as a weapon can't it? Eyes widened as teeth clinched together..His gaze was soundly upon the man as both of there arms played a constant pendulum of a back and fourth motion. A part of the Duke wanted for the playwright to be the victor. For the sake of Henry's nerves..But the competitor inside of him refused of such a thing..If Eolus were to indeed win then it would have to be his own strength that would favor him.

In her desperation to leave she'd not noticed Henry moving after her and as his hand came to grasp her elbow a sudden heat suffused her entire form, forcing her face to flush crimson as she was turned to face him. For a moment eyes of oceanic hue met his more wintry ones and quickly looked away as she glanced about to the others that were watching them. She kept her head slightly downward and spoke in a whisper. "Your Majesty... I think we should not be seen together in this way... please." It was as though she were begging him not to make a spectacle of the situation that had already taken place and yet her head lifted and eyes sought his again. Her heart felt as though it flipped, caught in her throat and then dropped back into her chest. Her breathing became shallow and his fingers though they held her elbow lightly, seemed to burn into the thick cloth that housed her delicate skin. Bosom heaving with each breath she took she found she could not look away. A few Courtiers moved nearer to them as if intent upon hearing their words and Anne decided she'd come up with something in the last moment to gain their ear so that they would think he was doing nothing more than asking about his Queen. "She is not feeling well your Majesty... she begged leave and wished not to be followed. Perhaps she was in need of some alone time." Speaking loud enough that it caused the court spies to shake their heads and move onward she finally lowered her gaze again and tried to execute a curtsey that was somewhat hindered by the grip still upon her arm. As she rose yet again her vision cut a fine line toward the door that led into the corridor as though she wished to escape, though it was perhaps a gesture that she'd meet him there later amongst the shadows that would keep wandering eyes from witnessing the truth.

Eolus, for his part, had a certain steel to him. He suspected that he was going to lose - he did not intend to lose easily. Honestly, though, he wasn't foolish enough to really want to best one of the King's favorites and his social superior in full view of the court. Initially, aware of the audience, he continued with his silly bravado as he clasped hands with the Duke and the contest began, shaking his head as the man pitted his considerable strength against his own, as if dismayed by how easily it was to resist the force of it. Then, playfully, he began to let the expression slip with exaggeration enough to be comical, melting his smug smile into a frown, and pretending to give little unhelpful nudges in the other direction. Then, sighing, he grinned wryly and put his back into the contest. This, for a moment, not only stopped the Duke's press of his hand back, but nudged the noble's arm back some of the distance it had gained. It was a desperate effort, though. Slowly, inexorably, with a tedious back and forth straining, Eolus's hand was forced back, back, until he had no leverage whatsoever, and his hand was slammed summarily against the table. He concealed a wince with a smile. "How do the knights say it? I yield, I yield, -- please have mercy?"

Without realization she had done so, the seat was abandoned when she stood. A need of elevation as the crowd grew and pressed about the two, hindering her own vision of the event unfolding. Back and forth it seemed to go, one would gain ground only to lose it a moment later. At one point she honestly thought the playwright was going to win, and then it all ended with the Duke's forward press to pin the man's hand down. Her hands to rise and applaud along with the other's when defeat was not only noticed, but vocalized by the playwright. He seemed to be a good sport about the situation, noted by the humor offered in words uttered forth. The crowd offered their congratulations to the victor as well as condolences to the Duke's opposition. Few would linger, other's to return to the festivities, and she would not reclaim her seat, but ease her way to where the men competed to collect that heavily bound book before it disappeared. Easing through the crowd, she'd await both men to lift arms and quick she'd be to stake her claim

The noise and bustle of the busy room dimmed for Henry, when she turned to face him. He had ached for her, to see her, and to hold her. She was the one thing he wanted most. He had never fancied himself in love with Katherine, he'd been young when they'd married and .. he'd believed it the right thing to do. Now, with no male heir to secure his dynasty, he believed with every fiber of his being, that he'd gone against God and married his brothers wife, in every sense of the word. Anne..she was his destiny. She was England's true Queen, he knew this now. While he held her close, and listened to her words, he read the plea in her eyes and .. did not allow her reprieve. He refused to loosen his grasp upon her, though his thumb did trace a path along her intricately embroidered sleeve. He was frowning now, drinking from her lovely countenance and had no care for propriety. He WAS the King after all! As if to emphasize this silent statement, he turned a glower toward those encroaching courtiers, who did not last long in their eavesdropping. "Anne," He whispered her name with yearning as he slid his wrist beneath her chin, and eased it high. "You know how I feel, my sentiment has not changed. Let that be enough to bolster your pride and courage, for no other woman can climb as much." Arrogant? Of course, he was the King. And, as such, he d**ned sure didn't care who saw what. . . they could all think what they liked, but well knew to mind their tongues in his presence. Careless? Sadly, yes. His wrist flickered, and a finger coated in grape juice extended to graze across her lips. "Stay with me?" He asked, and meant - don't ever leave. In the distance, he heard the roar of the crowd, as cheer was exclaimed and currency exchanged. It appeared the match was over. Finally, he released her, though it was with great reluctance, and stepped back. Allowing her to either take her leave, or join in the festivities..at his side. d**n all, but Buckingham best had not be the victor!

Be d**ned the hot tears that wanted to come and she blinked thrice before finally coaxing them to stay behind her lids. King he was.. her King, her future husband if she played it right and so she straightened her back, lifted her chin high and even as his finger traced along her soft lips they parted and eyes closed briefly as her tongue swept out to snatch a secret taste . A shiver ran along her entire body, like a foal newly born in the dew of a winter morn and she nodded. "I'll stay... I'll never leave you." The words were no more than a whisper though they held the weight as though they'd been shouted from the highest parapet's of the castle. Fighting still not to lean into him it was all she could do to open her eyes and give in to the strength he supplied her. Others were watching now with knowing eyes and sneering lips yet she cared not and suddenly turned her own fierce glare upon them as though challenging them to speak a word against her as her Champion and King were there to challenge them all. She knew this man, he'd not sway to send any to the chopping block for one wrong word against her. Suddenly with renewed vigor she grasped the hand that had lingered and kissed it while turning to tuck her arm safely within his. "For tonight at least I'll take my rightful place... "

Wolsey was finding it increasingly more and more difficult to pacify his majesty regarding the Pope's disinterest abroad. Henry was determined to be heard, and get exactly what he wanted in the process. In fact, the slightest suggestion that the King might not have his way in this matter, usually was received with an angry tirade from his majesty. Thus, as one can imagine, the Cardinal was tense as he entered the hall, already preparing himself for the duel that was to come. Often, he could soothe young Henry and .. sway the King to his inclination. But .. Wolsey was no fool, he knew he was losing Henry's favor with each passing minute that he did not produce the divorce papers. The hem of his crimson robe dusted the floor as the Cardinal moved deeper into the room. Like those around him, he began to clap, and forced his lips into a wide, teeth baring grin that .. almost appeared frightening.

Frightening was a word that fairly under described the Cardinal. To Jane he was horrid, and with each passing day she had to force herself to keep pace with him and do his bidding no matter how much she hated his fondling of her. He was like a withered piece of dried fruit that was fermenting to the point of repulsiveness. Not even a drop of good wine could be gotten from this man and her own happiness from her station was that it allowed her the chance to dally about with the rest of the King Henry's fine court. As soon as she'd entered the room, she'd found a way to get far from him and make herself scarce though it would seem quite by accident she had found herself back in the vicinity of the man she now viewed as her captor. Quickly trying to duck out of sight she twisted away in feigned devotion to a gentleman that came toward her. Grasping him unceremoniously by the arm and trying her d**ndest to engage him in conversation before Wolsey could find her and begin his pawing upon her. Just the thought of him even looking at her made her shiver with disgust.

Eolus, for his part, withdrew gracefully from the table after the Duke had said his piece. He straightened, lowered his sleeve modestly back over his arm, and carefully stretched and folded his fingers, reassuring himself that they were in fine working order. They were, despite his recent exertions. With a sigh, he smiled to himself, and turned to locate the King who'd put him up to it. He was calm, actually, and rather pleased with the show he'd put on. He could only hope that his Majesty felt the same - His eyes narrowed dubiously. Where was Henry?

Once book was back in her possession, a sigh of relief would be set loose. Easing back through the crowd, nearly heading into the path of the Cardinal and accompaniment. Easily she'd shift in direction, keeping clear of the man's presence. Back into the thong of the crowd she'd make her way, easing through with soft pardons as she passed. Making way back to her seat, the book set down and she'd plant herself atop it. One way to make sure it didn't get lost or ruined, especially containing the laws of the church within. If anything happened to it while in her care, she shuddered at the thought of repercussion. That wouldn't be a problem now, so relaxed she became, reclaiming her chalice of wine and engaging in the small talk that occasionally drifted towards her. Although focus would be in a different area altogether, and in this an idea had began to form. One she'd have to research into, it had as many possibilities as well as being plausible if she was right. Before anything would be spoken on the matter, she'd have to ensure it was flawless first.

Henry took great care to tuck Anne's hand safely upon his arm, before he too joined the applause and approached the duo. "Very well done!" He chuckled, before pausing directly before the playwright. "I'll not deny my wish slipped awry with the Duke's victory, but my word has been sealed." Eolus, aware of it or not, had just climbed quite high in the King's esteem and being a vocal man, Henry was quick to show his newfound appreciation. "Hear me now," He began, shouting a bit to carry his words over the noise of the crowd. "Before me, is the King's own Playwright, Mr. Blunt!" His statement was rewarded with increased cheer, and it was apparent that by that decree, Eolus would be the man of the hour. "Mr. Blunt, the Lady Anne Boleyn." He said, glancing back to the man before him. "If she has a desire for the art, we must see her pleasure fulfilled." He said, tenderly closing his fingers around hers to urge her forward.

Eolus tipped his head to the side as the King approached, and allowed his smile to return at the man's praise. Yes, it has been very well done, and he was pleased that this fact was duly recognized. He was less certain that the man actually meant to make him the King's own playwright. After all, he rather doubted Henry had ever seen or heard one of his plays. While he knew their quality himself, he did not presume that the King had such knowledge. Thus, his brows raised with some surprise when he was indeed declared - just that. His eyes lost their lidded look, glittering bright as the crowd cheered. Well, well, well! He bowed as modestly as he could manage. "I am honored, your Majesty." It was well that he was bowing, too, because it meant that his disconcertion did not show when the Lady that Henry introduced was not the Queen. He was observant enough, and the tension between those two was anything but subtle to a keen eye. He shrugged philosophically and directed a bow to the Lady, too. "I am your humble servant in all his Majesty wishes, Lady."

Unexpecting of this sudden thrust into the spotlight, though she should have realized as much would happen even as she was upon the King's arm. Prim smiles and demure glances had kept their place upon her features as she'd listened to the King's decree and was suddenly ushered forth as though she were already the Queen of England. Anne chose once again to repair possible damages as many were still watching them with vapid eyes filled with anger. "I am sure that you will do his Majesty a great justice... and think of my needs not... it is the good Queen Katherine that will find your entertainment most useful I assure you." She executed a humble curtsey and then turning gave Henry one as well. A moment before she'd told him she'd not leave him and yet now she was so angered at how he displayed her to all as though a crown already sat atop her head. Did he not realize that a he was still a very married man!? How could he bring such weight upon her and expect her to take it so graciously when there was another party involved that already hated her for the fact his eye was set strongly upon her. Turning quickly she left the hall before he could speak a word in protest with only one explanation hastily thrown over her shoulder. "I must see to her royal Highness the Queen. Good eve to you all." She disappeared quickly from the hall.

[Carlotta]

" Most excellent..." Wolsey breathed, as his beady eyes fell upon ( CE ). He watched her openly, folding his fingers beneath his chin before his tongue slid from it's confines, to swipe across his dry lips. He rocked on the balls of heel, until he was a swaying mass that was only slightly removed from the courtiers nearest. For a man of the faith, his gaze certainly took liberty, lowering over her swaying hips before trailing over her upper body. He would have liked to stay there and watch for a moment longer, but Jane crossed before the line of his vision and he had .. very important business to discuss with that one. Amazing, that someone of his size could move with such stealth. He easily cornered her, trapping her between his frame and a table that was laden with food. He reached around her slender frame, as though interested in a piece of sweet meat, forcing some of his weight into her back as he did so. "Jaaaane." He had a way of saying her name..hissing it really..so there could be no doubt whom was speaking. Bending over her shoulder, the Cardinal inhaled deeply, consuming the scent of her.

Jane was not in fact as pious a woman as she was meant to seem and yet suddenly she was praying that somehow the ground would open beneath her feet and swallow her just so she could get away from this massive bulk of swarthy flesh that continued to accost her every move. The man that she'd been speaking with moved away upon seeing the Cardinal approach and though many knew well that Jane would never have lowered herself to actually sleep with the man there were of course rumors that would speak otherwise. As his hand reached around her intent upon the meat though with other agendas in mind she openly slapped it away and turned abruptly, wrenching her body from between him and the table. "You are sickening... do you realize I could run to Henry and tell him how you constantly harangue me, trying to bed me... touching me in ways that could be seen as adulterous to God and the Church itself?" He knew of course she'd never do that, it would cause her to lose that precious position she loved so much. She'd gain nothing at all from ratting him out, as to just how corrupt he truly was. There was no end to the intense disgust upon her face as she spat more words at him. "What? What vile and corrupt deed would you have me do now? I know well that you seek me out only to have me play messenger to Henry because you are scared to death that he is... " She held her index and thumb together to the point they were close to touch right before his bulging bug-like eyes. "...this close to having you before England with your neck stretched across the chopping block because you cannot persuade the Pope to permit his divorce!" Searching to remind him constantly of his fear she all but smiled as she watched those eyes of his bulge even more to the point the looked as though they'd fall from their sockets to bounce upon the stone floor at his feet.

Those small hairs had raised on the back of her neck, to the point she had peered back over left shoulder. Enough to catch that gaze and quickly look away with a bit of a frown. The wine in held chalice would be depleted shortly after that seat was claimed. Eavesdropping was one of her specialties, and able to do so in a manner the ones talking knew not her intent. Eyes however would drift in following the hasty retreat of Anne then shift back to settle upon the King and playwright. The latter would be placed in quite a position at that moment it seemed. Fidgeting upon her seat, the book did little for added comfort, to where she'd relent to draw it from beneath and settle it upon lap instead. Clearing of her throat, she'd then speak out to the playwright not far from her own chosen position. "I would be interested in reading any workings you have." A book worm such as herself took pleasure in all forms of writing. It would be a good diversion from the intent study of the laws for church and state, as well as the books maintained for the plantation that had been placed in her care since she returned home.

His gaze narrowed dangerously upon Anne as she spoke; each word from her perfect little mouth pricked his ire. He'd made the gesture for a reason, and he was pretty d**ned sure she knew it. But, he watched her go with no apology, in fact - he watched her go with varying emotions. Anger, lust, love, disappointment .. and though the sentiments swelled within his chest, the only sign that he suffered at all was the rising color that stained his visage and the tightening fists he held close to his side. There was no smile on his lips now, no - it had vanished along with the Queen's lady. His jaw tensed, as he ground his teeth, and the vein in his forehead seemed to bulge with suppressed emotion. There'd be no farewell, as he pivoted on his heel - following her path but in no way giving chase. The doors were hastily thrown wide for the King and before the servant could close them, they'd be sent crashing back into place beneath the pressure of his swinging hands. Of course, silence would reign in the Hall, until one of the courtiers hurried to fill the void. They all knew, yes. You could hide only few secrets from the Court.

If Eolus was bothered by the sheer awkwardness of his position, as the lady bluntly refused him and retreated to her chambers, or by the King's subsequent rage, he did not much indicate it beyond the same thoughtful stare he gave his troupe when he was not entirely sure of their performance. This was not to say that his hands did not shake somewhat. However, he had the composure to lace them idly behind his back as if he had intended to all along, and to turn his attention to the lady whom, he observed, was very graciously saving his ass. He gave her a wry smile, and then his brows rose at her question. She would like.. to read the plays. He did not know what to make of that, nor what she would make of the grubby, passed around manuscripts that were the backbone of his plays. He hesitated. "Would you perhaps prefer to come see them? Words on a page, well, words on a page are not a play!"

She could run all she like, but in the end, Wolsey would chase her. He did so now, stalking her as though she were a tasty morsel and he .. a starving dog. His thick brows furrowed, the way one's would in anger....however, that grin remained firmly in place, wider now. And, good to the King and his sleeper, who cut quite the display and successfully stole attention completely from he and Jane. "Listen to me, and listen well." He began, before closing his sweaty hand on her elbow. Behind his back, he placed the paw she'd swatted and though he continued to grin in that maddening way, his digits were rough on arm, digging through the material of her gown. "You forget yourself, my little Jane." He nodded, forcing her to move with him as he strolled leisurely about the room. "One ill word, one slip of the foot, and I will make certain that you are exposed..for what you really are. And then, you may wave goodbye to the Court..that is," He lowered his voice, though he spoke through clench teeth as it was. "..if his majesty doesn't see your head severed from neck." Finally, his mouth contorted into a pout as he seemed to consider. "It is such a lovely neck, Jane. I believe I will taste it for myself, soon enough." His laughter mingled with that of the crowd, as they seemed to regain life after the King's departure. "Now, to business. You've a new assignment..with him." He didn't have to say the man's name, no .. instead he guided the lady so that her gaze was square upon the Duke of Buckingham.

Those words cut her to the bone, worse than his fingers that dug incessantly into her arm to the point she knew that bruises were inevitable. Wincing she tried to play off the twist of her mouth as a smile to a few that passed. Volleyed about the room as she was and his lips continued to bleed those words like the venom from a viper she realized that he had her trapped... trapped like an underfed rat in a cage as he dangled the most succulently golden piece of cheese just out of reach. However, upon his mention of her neck and his tasting it she hissed pulling her arm from his grasp no matter how badly it hurt to do so as his fingers clasped in a pinch upon the abrupt move. I'll be d**ned to hell first more than I already am and gladly stretch my neck upon that cold wood before I'll let you have one single graze of your petulant lips upon it!" Her face a mask of anger and hatred she was pointed in the direction of Andrew and froze, feeling as though a sharp winter wind had just torn through her body and shook her head in confusion. "Andrew? What has he to do with anything?" Andrew hated her, he knew well what she was and wanted nothing at all to do with her and thus this challenge would be greater than any he'd set her upon thus far.

Noting that expression, she couldn't help but to kindly smile. Such easily reached depths of chestnut reflectively. "Only for those who lack imagination, good sir." Perhaps a bit of a jest, noted by the light tone used. "I wouldn't mind a chance of viewing one." Offered in response. "I have read those written by Hrosvitha, The Wakefield Master, Shakespeare, and John Bale. Have seen a few performed shortly after reading them." Slight rise and fall of shoulders. "Sometimes I felt my imagination offered more than the performers could." Just as in any trade, not all applied it well. Sometimes a troupe would gain their placement upon the stage through manipulation, blackmail, bribes, or favors owed for a good deed in turn. Not that they weren't entertaining, for any diversion was gratefully excepted. Volume to be lifted and trapped against her chest with a one arm hold, protecting it like a mother would a child. Stepping around and down to stand a bit closer, she'd now offer her hand in greeting. "I'm Carlotta, one of the local Barristers." Giving not only a name, but one of the titles she held within the land.

Eolus wrote the things, certainly, but he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to read them. He had read books, and books were meant to be read. The king's preoccupation with his mistress had not been nearly so disconcerting as this baffling approach to plays. He listened her with polite bemusement as she explained herself, and nodded his acceptance. Eccentricities were to be counted upon in court. "My troupe perform better, I assure you, than horses trained to harness together," he began airily. "No doubt, this is why the King professed me to be his very own playwright with such laudable haste." He paused here, and instead of going on, inclined his head deeply. "In any case, well, if you .. .. do want copies, I suppose they might be found, but it's hard to say where." He pursed his lips. "Ah, well. I am Eolus Blunt, Master Playwright, Ms. Carlotta. Delighted to meet you."

"Hasty, hasty." He tsk'd, smacking his lips and shaking his head as though in grave concern. Ahh, he loved to see her so enraged..the poor creature had no idea, that's what most stroked the fire of his desire. "Divide, and conquer." Was the only reply she'd gain, as to his newest plan. "We've much work ahead of us this evening. Come now, and do not fret." He did not reach for her again, in fact, he moved straight to the door and was confident that she would follow him. "If the fastens of your clothing pinch, I've a robe you may borrow." He laughed at his own joke and she might suspect it then, he had no intention of releasing her until well after the dawn hours.

Over looked or ignored she made no outward indication of honestly noticing, the pro-offered hand would drift back and arms to criss cross over the burden in her hold. A bit surprised to hear he held no collection of his work. She assumed all did, and this she'd voice. "I'm sorry, I assumed like most you retained your work, with hopes of later publications of them like so many do." A bit sheepish was the smile to now appear. "I'll be content to await when you perform for the court, and see your work brought to life through the actions of others." An easy out given the man, she hadn't meant to put him on the spot. "I think some comedies would be a great remedy for the blues that come with the winter upon us." A good enough excuse, although not the real reason such tensions ran rampant through the castle and surrounding lands. No need to speak of the obvious, for the man had witnessed a small portion of it on his own this night. In time, he'd hear all the whispers that drifted about, and if not he, then members of his troupe surely would.

Eolus smiled, inclining his head to her. What interesting notions the woman had about plays! He wondered where she'd learned them. Books, probably. Books were full of strange things, and she seemed very attached to the one she was clutching now. "Oh, a comedy's just the thing for winter," he agreed readily. "I regret I'm rather new to Court - do you know what the taste of those here tends toward?"

His question took her back for a moment, so preoccupied she had been with her studies and helping to run the plantation, little time was spent in socializing. A blank expression to touch features, though quickly and easily erased by the formation of that smile. "I would avoid anything with the theme of religion, that's for sure." Tudor's had a love for the creation of plays that attacked their Christian counter parts. She, herself, found the comedy in such things since she claimed not any organized religion as her own. Of course her parents appeared at services regularly, making their presence known. She would usually feign a headache or feeling ill, to avoid doing such. A plausible excuse that none would doubt; unless they noted that they always came on those very days. "I would also avoid anything that has to do with infidelity too. A touchy subject with the Church." Not as touchy as it would be with the Queen, but again, an excuse offered that held a hint of truth none the less. Manipulation of words was a skill she'd gained over the years of training and through life experiences.

"My plays are scrupulously a-religious," he said blandly. "Infidelity, though.. ah, well. I suppose I can manage without, somehow," he concluded regretfully, and then looked her over. She was being quite helpful, in fact. It was to the good. "What about love, is that allowed?" He shifted his weight, stretching back his shoulders slightly, and sighing. The rush of adrenaline from speaking to the king has departed, and he was beginning to realize that he was unfortunately tired from the long journey here.

Light and soft was her laugh and a slow nod of head. "I don't see why not. Some things may be found controversial. Around here, the main part is keeping your head or from the stake to be burned." Church and State, their laws held weight, but could be easily manipulated by those who ruled over them. King Henry and the Cardinal had both exhibited this openly and freely. As for weary nature, her's had long ago started. Ushered into the festivities by the King who found her nose buried in the very book she held. "Perhaps another time we could speak more in depth. I have things I need to collect before venturing home." No, she didn't keep a room at the castle, like so many did. She'd find her comfort and solace within the walls of her family estate.

"I would enjoy that, Ms. Carlotta." He smiled again, and stifled a yawn. He very nearly did not manage to stifle it. "Rest you well, when you do find your bed."

Again she'd offer a smile and a slight dip of her head. "Good night, and a pleasure in making your acquaintance Mr. Blunt." With that she'd turn to take her leave of the court. A bow of her head to the Duke in passing, and any other who glanced her way. Back to the library she'd return, to not only collect her things, but a few books that could only be found there. The idea that hit her when she watched the actions within the hall would be researched upon her returning home. A word to a Paige would have her carriage awaiting her when she exited through the grand doors. Quickly she moved to enter it, drawing the heavy blanket over her for the warmth of travel. A lean to gaze out the window as it lurched forward. A final viewing of the castle
before settling back to close her eyes.