The Other Henry VIII

All These Stolen Moments

12 March 1523
"Contrary to popular belief, James, I genuinely miss my father."

Even Clara could not keep a straight face and the two of them erupted into laughter. "I am serious," she tried to add. "Really, I am."
"Really, I believe you," James replied, earning a slap on the shoulder. He lay back down on the icy grass, partially to avoid further damage from a hysterical princess and partially because he was exhausted. "I'm probably the only one, though."
"Stop teasing me, you know what I mean. Papa is probably miserable today and court is the worst place to be miserable in," Clara said, only half-jokingly. She brushed the skirts of her gown, though it was more for something to do with her hands then actually caring about the dirt. "After all, today is—"
"Your mother's birthday, yes, I know," interrupted James, folding his arms behind his head as a support.

Rather than carrying on with her meaningful speech, the princess simply sighed dramatically; she was not bothered anymore.
The weather in March in the kingdom has never been particularly decent, nor had it even endeavoured to improve during Clara's lifetime. Her hair was constantly swept up with the harsh, changeable wind and her fingers were almost numb with the cold in her thin servant's dress. Perhaps it would be smart to wear a shawl next time.
"You've got that look in your eye," said James suddenly.
"Which look?"replied Clara, shaking away her dreaming thoughts and turning back to her companion. He certainly seemed comfortable on the ground, considering it was damp and crawling with small creatures. "Like there's something on your mind but you don't want me knowing." She had to admit that his speech patten, unlike English weather in early springtime, was becoming noticeably better.
"I am thinking, let me be."
"Y'know thinking's bad for you."
This time, Clara could not resist laughing a little and playing along.
"If you do not want to know, I shan't tell you." He groaned in frustration, rubbing his face with one hand.
"Come on, y'know I was joking."
"Do I?" One brief glare from James nudged her off of that path. "Alright. I... That tree, the one we always meet by. It looks like it could be good for climbing. You know I've never been allowed, so I was wondering.... could you teach me? Just a little?"
Although he knew that Clara's mind definitely had not been on that, James decided to oblige her. "Sure." He leapt to his feet with surprising stealth. "First one there wins... bragging rights?" And then, the stablehand was off sprinting down the slope as if he was born to run.
"That is not fair!" exclaimed the Princess, standing up and gathering several folds of her skirt in one hand. Then, she began to chase after him. "If he is a rabbit then I am the fox," she muttered to herself in determination. The pair were oddly competitive.

At last, Clara approached the clearing near to the oak tree, yet she had still not overtaken her opponent. There was no sign of him anywhere, but she forged on until...
James sprung out from behind a large tree and ran across her path, pushing the princess down into the bushes on the other side with him. Together, they crashed into the leaves and rolled over with Clara in the stable-boy's arms, cackling with laughter.
"What did you do that for? That was a terrible ambush!" she gasped, tugging her dress away from the thin branches and sharp leaves. "And how did you get so far ahead of me? I was close behind you the entire way and now, I shall win!" Clara cried out triumphantly, her face and eyes as bright as the summer sun.
With that, she disappeared into the trees.

The Princess realised, only later in the same day, that she should not have been ungrateful for the chill of March days when there was something far worse waiting in the wings: rain.
It had all seemed sensible when Lady Bryan had suggested Clara should take her little sisters on an afternoon walk to enjoy the fresh air for once in their lives and she, smiling at the irony, had agreed. Lizzie was the most enthusiastic a companion that anyone could ask for, nearly enough to make up for Esther's lack of it. The youngest princess had proclaimed quietly that she was tired and wished to remain inside but a hard stare from Lady Bryan was enough for her to behave otherwise.
Clara even thought it nothing when the rain came pouring down upon them about half an hour after they had left the manor; she did not mind being wet and neither did Lizzie. Carrying Esther underneath her luxuriously warm overcoat seemed effective enough and the three of them returned in reasonably good time.
"Dear Lord, Your Grace, why did you not send a servant in your stead to fetch a carriage?" cried Lady Bryan as she beheld the soaked-through princesses traipse into the main entrance hall. "What would His Majesty say, if he knew that I allowed you to go outside in such weather as this? You will all catch a fever, I am sure of it! And it shall be your doing, Princess Clara."
"Then let it be so," was the calm reply. "We enjoyed the experience, didn't we Lizzie?" The red-haired girl clapped her hands together, good-spirits not dampened at all.
"Yes! Look Lady Bryan, my dress is darker now! You were complaining yellow wasn't my colour."