The Imposter

The Royal Court

The past cannot be cured.  -Elizabeth I

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts....- William Shakespeare.

Neville and Lady Kat had arrived at Hampton court just in time for the start of Christmas Holiday. Greenwich's great halls were decorated with festive boughs of dried fruit, berries, and candles, while a great Yule log crackled merrily in the hall's main hearth. Over three hundred servants had prepared for the one thousand guests that would arrive here during the twelve days of Christmas. As they  navigated the busy scene, Neville inhaled the rich scent of forest greenery the season emanated. "It's magnificent!" Neville noted how his companion's eyes shone with memories as she surveyed the castle grounds. "Do you miss living at court, Lady Ashley?"

"No, I don't. Try not to be seduced by the beauty and glory of this royal facade. No one can be trusted here, only myself and Sir Parry. Remember, nothing is as it seems. Letting your guard down can easily get you killed."

It was Christmas Day, and the strict Advent fast had just ended. Neville was soon distracted by a delicious aroma of herbed meats, pastry and foul that wafted by his nose. His mouth started watering. "I could eat a whole horse."

Lady Kat couldn't help her mood from lightening at the boy's enthusiasm for food and holiday fun. No matter how much he consumed, he stayed skinny as a rail. "No doubt you could. You're going to fit in here like a finger sewn into a glove. She took his hand. "Now, your grace, let us get changed for dinner."

In the middle of court, bells chimed. They rang through the air as the children of the Chapel Royal sang carols, candles lighting up their cherubic faces. "They look like angels." Neville beamed at them.

"Yes, they're singing one of Anne's favorite hymns."

Suddenly, Neville felt a dark cloud hovering near by. When he turned, he saw a richly dressed girl with dark hair, about the same age as him, eying him coldly. "Lady Ashley." He discreetly nudged the guardian. "Who is that?" Why is she looking at me so fiercely?"

Lady Ashley covertly looked, without turning her body. "That is your step sister," she whispered. "The Princess Mary. You'll have an opportunity to speak with her later. The King wishes you to become closer to her."

Neville smiled at the princess. He was rewarded with a fierce scowl. "I don't think she likes me."

"Don't worry. If she's as bright as I remember, she'll soon realize she needs to associate herself with you to please her father. You're both outcasts."

During dinner, Neville was mindful to appear ladylike. He abstained from too much wine, but the tempting Wassail bowl was hard to resist. Whenever he reached for the pungent Christmas drink, Lady Ashley sharply kicked him under the table. After dinner, there was a play about Father Christmas which Neville found enchanting. The Lord of Misrule, a commoner, regaled the crowd with his mild anarchy. Around midnight, the Princess Mary made her way over to him.

"I'm tired of sitting alone in the corner. Would you like to play a game of chess, Elizabeth?"

With a pleased smile, Lady Ashley rose to excuse herself, "I'll join in a game of cards while you two play."

Neville sat down in front of the chess board, across from his half-sister. There were dark circles under her eyes, but Neville thought if she had smiled, she would have been quite pretty. He hid a white and black pawn behind his back. "Choose, Sister." He held out his fists, the pieces hidden from view. Mary chose his left hand, which turned out to be the color white.

As she started the game, Neville picked his brain for conversation. "I've barely spoken to Father, he's been so engrossed with his new wife."

"Welcome to court." Mary said bitterly as she castled.

"Have you seen the royal gifts laid out on the presentation table?" Mary nodded, unenthusiast. Noting she had positioned her pieces defensively, Neville almost felt sorry for her.  He discreetly observed her nails were bitten almost down to the quick. Underneath her surly attitude she was a grieving child. Her mother had died alone in exile last year, without Mary there to comfort her. Now her father openly ignored her. She must be the loneliest person in the world.

"Mary, I'm sorry your mother's not here to be with you."

Mary stood abruptly, knocking the chess pieces over. "Whore!" She hissed under her breath. With the drinking and loud revelry, no one besides Neville heard her insult. "My mother wouldn't be dead if yours hadn't poisoned my father's heart against her!" She was gone before Neville could respond. He touched his breast expecting to pull a dagger from it.

"What are you doing?" Lady Ashley stood before him taking in the upset chess pieces scattered over the board.

Neville looked over at the King, oblivious to his eldest daughter's pain. He was laughing merrily with his new wife, Catherine Parry. "Princess Mary certainly hates me. I can't say I blame her."

"The King will be displeased." Lady Ashley frowned at him.

Neville picked up two white and black chess pieces. He advanced them on the board to be crowned. "Wait, I have an idea."