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hovered?
    â€œI want to find out who this page is,” I said, “but not through an official inquiry. “ My head cleared. “You know the court well. I know it not at all. Will you help me learn this man’s identity?”
    â€œMistress Stafford, you are a cousin to the Earl of Surrey, a man I’m proud to call a friend, and so of course I will help you in any way I can,” he said, straightening. “My name is Thomas Culpepper.”
    â€œI thank you, Master Culpepper,” I said. “What course of action should we pursue to learn this page’s name?”
    He caught my eye, held it, and then laughed. “I don’t know yet,” he said with disarming honesty. Just as under close scrutiny I’d realized the page was older than I first thought, Thomas Culpepper was younger. I would have put his age at about twenty-five. Even when laughing, his face was eerily perfect. With such symmetry of features, he resembled one of the king’s tapestry figures more than an earthly man.
    â€œUntil we form some sort of plan, you’ll have to come with me, since I can’t leave you alone and unprotected,” he said. “I must attend this special convening at Westminster.”
    â€œWhat sort of convening?” I asked, apprehensive.
    â€œJust yesterday, the king called for his council, the nobles, and the commons to appear at Westminster Hall this afternoon. He intends to make Thomas Cromwell the Earl of Essex.”

5

    M aster Culpepper was in a hurry to witness the elevation of Thomas Cromwell, but I was not.
    â€œYou would not see the actual ceremony,” he said. “There will be no women present, certainly. I know Westminster Hall well, and there is a small room you can wait in, undisturbed. When the ceremony finishes, I will reclaim you.”
    â€œI do not want to be seen by any member of the king’s council.”
    Glancing again at my filthy kirtle, Culpepper said, “I can’t blame you for that.”
    I was content for him to believe that it was fashion which motivated me to steer clear of such men as Bishop Gardiner and the Duke of Norfolk.
    â€œIf you can guarantee concealment, I will accompany you,” I said. “But are you certain that afterward we will be able learn the name of this page?”
    With great confidence, Culpepper assured me he would find a way. And so I followed him down the walkway past the gardens of Whitehall, toward Westminster Hall, struggling to keep up, since my hip and my shoulder throbbed.
    But what troubled me more was Master Culpepper’s popularity. While no one had spoken to the page who led me across the grounds to the room of my attack, every single person we passed on this walkway called out a salutation, or made a quick bow. Who was my young protector? I had come to harm by not exercising all caution. That practice must change.
    â€œA moment, sir?” I called out. “I must speak to you.”
    He swiveled around. “Could it be later, Mistress Stafford? The Great Hall is not directly connected to the residence, and I fear we have not much time.”
    â€œNo,” I said, stopping. “It must be now.”
    Concern outweighed impatience, and Culpepper drew me off the walkway, to a path to the garden, presently chained.
    â€œI can see you are a respected courtier, but I must know your exact position here before I accept any further assistance,” I said, despising my awkward little speech.
    Master Culpepper took no offense, though. Drawing himself up with pride, he said, “I have the great fortune to be a gentleman of the privy chamber to His Majesty.” He scrutinized my face and then chuckled. “The minute most people discover that, I am buried in petitions and requests for favors, grants, if not marriage proposals. You look as if I’d just declared I were a rag-and-bone man.”
    As always, my face betrayed my feelings. I was indeed dismayed that a