A Love Most Dangerous (11 page)

'Alice, my dear,' he cried, holding his hand out for
me.

I took his hand and followed him into his bed chamber.
Frost quietly closed the door behind us. The King gestured me towards the bed.

I started to undress. The groom might be returning to
his book, or so I hoped. Or he might be leaning his ear to the door, waiting
breathlessly to listen to the noises from the bed.

And what noises were about to sound. The King's
potency was no mere adjunct of royalty, I realised. He was burning with desire
for me and had no desire to wait. He flung off his own clothes and almost tore
mine from me. Within moments I felt his bulk on top of me, his tongue, quick as
an eel but hotter, probing every part of my mouth. I felt him force himself
inside me. I was still dry and unused to such intrusion and I yelped a little
in pain.

'What,' he laughed, a virgin once more, Alice
Petherton?'

'No, Your Grace. It's just that you are so thick and
bold this morning. I am quite overawed.'

The King grinned with pleasure, like a boy.

'I am the King,' he said, 'and hot with lust for you.'

'And I am glad, Your Grace. My heart sings to know
this.'

He grunted in satisfaction and went to work with
ardour. My heart began not so much to sing but to yammer in complaint. My
secret parts were raw and painful and then, all at once, I felt them soften and
grow moist. I breathed in relief at the ceasing of the ache and the King
bellowed like a bull, thinking his love-making had transported me to some place
of joy. It felt more like relief from torment, much as a prisoner must feel
when he is taken down from the rack. But the King was delighted with my
reaction and that was good.

I gasped a little more in trial and felt the King
stiffen even more inside me. I turned my head from side to side as if in
abandoned ecstasy and his face grew yet happier. I moaned and licked my lips
and he roared like a boar at sight of it.

And then I found myself purring, like a little cat.
This was not fabricated. It came from I know not where.

The King laughed with joy and spent himself inside me.
The purring continued in my ears, alarming and startling, and then I felt a
ripple pulse through me, from my groin right up to my belly. I gasped in
earnest now, my mouth opening and pursing of its own accord. At last I
shuddered with release and little shivers of delight ran up my skin.

'The King pleases you, dear Alice,' his voice boomed
in my ear.

The noise broke into my feeling of delight but did not
shatter it.

'You do, Your Highness,' I whispered. 'You do indeed.'
And for that moment, for that briefest of moments, I truly meant it.

Many times later in life I pondered how those few
words, spoken in all innocence, may well have saved me from disaster.

I stared out of the window. The last of the rainclouds
broke up and drifted away on a freshening wind.  The sun came out and shone as
brave and strong as it could more than half way through October. I stretched
like a cat, ridding myself of the stiffness which the hard riding of the King
had laid upon me.

I dreaded the thought of winter and had been delighted
last January when I chanced upon the Petty Solar. It was a little chamber but
positioned perfectly to catch the rays of the sun. Even now, this late in the
year, the sun warmed the room if you sat close to the window. A small fire
burned in the grate although I have never yet seen anybody visit the room save
me.

I stared at the River Thames and watched the sunlight
glimmer upon its waters. It turned from grey to silver and back to grey again
within as many heartbeats. Little craft plied up and down it, hurrying back and
forth to London, bringing food and drink, courtiers and diplomats. Tied up
close by was the King's Barge, as rich, opulent and sure of itself as its
master.

I sighed contentedly and brushed my fingers through my
hair. I was surprised to find it tangled and in disarray. I took out my brush
and hurriedly put all right.

I went back in my mind to recall if anybody had seen
me on my journey here from the King's Bedroom. I could recall nobody. And
nobody would know that I was here in a room which seemed to me to be the only
private space within the Palace, apart from my own bedroom and those secret
places inside one's head and heart. No, I could abide here for a little while
longer yet and order my thoughts.

I left the Solar and walked towards the Ladies'
chamber. It was close to noon and I was as famished as I used to be when a
little child.

The room was empty save for one person. Lucy was
standing at the window, staring out at the view of the river beyond.

'You're here early,' I said as I walked towards her.

Lucy turned towards me. Her face looked anxious,
almost frightened.

'Lucy,' I said, 'whatever's the matter?'

She moved behind a chair, as if to place it between
herself and me.

'There's nothing the matter,' she said at last. Her
voice was hard and yet shook as much as that of a child shivering in the cold.

'But there must be,' I said.

She shook her head, once; an angry, defiant movement.

'Even if there were something wrong,' she said at
last, 'I wouldn't ever tell you. Or tell you anything. I never want to be seen
with you again.'

Then she rushed past me and fled the room.

I turned towards the door, my mouth open as if I was
about to call her back, though in truth it was because of astonishment.

I cannot say why but my heart felt suddenly desolate.
I hardly knew Lucy yet it was as if I had been betrayed by my closest friend,
left bereft by a dearest lover. I turned to look at the window where she had
stood as if to find there the reason for her strange reaction. A bitter taste
came to my mouth, a sip of bile as foul and acrid as rotten meat. My hand went
to my mouth and I felt my heart began to hammer out a loud tattoo.

Standing thus I was found by Susan and Mary.

'Alice,' Susan cried. 'What's wrong?'

My friends rushed to my side and stared at me
anxiously.

I shook my head as if awaking from some cloying
nightmare.

'It's Lucy,' I mumbled. 'She was...' I was about to
say she had been cruel to me but I checked my words, seeking for another less
cruel itself.

'She was distant and unfriendly,' I said. 'She ran
from the room when I approached her.' I gestured to the door as if they were
half-wits who needed to have everything pointed out for them.

'Did she say why?' Mary asked.

I shook my head.

'But did you say anything to offend her?'

I shook my head again.

'I found her here, alone,' I said, 'looking anxious. I
asked her what was wrong.'

I stared into Mary's face, dreading to find a look of
doubt or suspicion there. My sense of what was happening had become upset; I
was no longer sure I could trust what I saw and heard. To my relief I could see
only concern from Mary. She touched me gently on the shoulder, as if to calm
and console me.

That touch was enough to unlock the gates upon my
emotions. I shuddered and felt suddenly faint.

'I  must sit down,' I mumbled.

Susan and Mary helped me to a seat and stood over me
anxiously, their gaze turning from me to one another.

'I'm all right,' I said after a moment. 'Just shocked
by Lucy's reaction.'

Susan drew up a chair and looked into my face. 'Tell
us exactly what happened.'

I pushed my hand through my hair, going over the
scene. When I had all right in my head I told them, my words tumbling out in a
rush as if I had to speak quickly or I would not be able to speak at all.

'This is most peculiar,' said Mary. 'It's not like
Lucy at all. She is a good child and very fond of you.'

'Yes,' said Susan. 'Perhaps you have it there, Mary.'

I turned towards Susan, perplexed.

'Think of the words she used,' Susan said. 'Especially
at the end.'

'She said she wouldn't tell me what was wrong' I said.
'Or tell me anything at all.'

Susan shook her head. 'That's not how you recounted it
a moment ago.'

She glanced up at Mary before taking my hand in hers.
'Lucy's final words, if you recalled them right, were that she did not want to
be seen with you again.'

'That's true,' said Mary. 'That's what you told us,
Alice.'

I cast my mind back to the incident. 'You're right,' I
said at last. 'That's exactly what she said. But seen by whom? The King?'

My friends exchanged swift glances, glances which I
decided I did not wish to know the meaning of.

'Enough of the King,' Susan said firmly. 'Think not of
the King.

'Think only of what may have alarmed Lucy,' Mary said.

I shrugged. 'I have no idea.'

Susan sniffed and sat back in her chair. 'Well I
have.'

I frowned in puzzlement.

'Philippa Wicks,' Susan said. 'And Dorothy Bray. They
have played with Lucy's mind, no doubt, and put the fear of the devil in her.'

'But why should they do such a thing?' asked Mary.

'Because they hate me,' I said with deadened words.

'But why?'

I looked up at Mary. 'It is a long story,' I said.

And then I proceeded to tell them about Sir Richard
Rich and how I had tormented him.

That evening Susan gave me a questioning look and took
me on one side.

'I think there must be more cause to your difficulties
with Philippa Wicks than merely her jealousy of Richard Rich's attention to
you.'

I pursed my lips and nodded.

'I couldn't tell Mary,' I said. 'She is too close to
Jane Seymour.'

Susan sat back in the chair and composed her hands.
Her face took on a patient, placid look. But her eyes twinkled, guessing that
there was a tale to be told.

'When first I became a maid of honour,' I began, 'I
was friends with Eleanor Birch.'

Susan nodded. 'I remember her. A pretty girl. Quick to
laugh and chatter.'

I nodded. 'She was fun. She made me laugh a great
deal, at herself and at the antics of others. She was one of the youngest of
the maids, only six months older than me.'

I thought back to that time. Three years ago. It
seemed a time of such loveliness, such excitement, such promise. Anne Boleyn
had been Queen for almost a year. She had given birth to the Princess Elizabeth
who the King was said to dote upon.

Anne gloried in her position as Queen. She was
worshipped by the King, fawned over by some courtiers, feared by the rest. She
was liked by very few.

And loved? Loved by the King of course. And by Eleanor
and me.

I recalled the hours and days the two of us had spent
discussing the Queen, admiring her clothes, her grace, her manners. Wondering
exactly what manner of woman she was inside. And gossiping over what exactly
gave her such power over the mighty King Henry.

'Eleanor and I idolised Anne Boleyn,' I continued. 'I
know you did not.'

'I was older than you,' Susan answered. 'Young girls
are love-sick for glamorous older women. I thought Anne was a breath of fresh
air after the gloom and troubles of the previous years. And she was, without
doubt, a woman of great charisma. But, no, I didn't idolise her.'

I nodded. Why should she, I thought. She did not know
her as I did. Did not know the terrible net she fell into. I felt my heart grow
cold at the tale I was about to tell.

'The other maid of honour I first got to know was Jane
Seymour,' I continued. 'Her fast friend at the time was Philippa Wicks. I don't
know why but they must have decided to take Eleanor and me under their wing. At
any rate, before either of us realised how it had happened, we began to dance
attendance upon Jane and Wicks. They took us into their confidence, introduced
us to important people at Court and generally made us feel more important than
our station strictly warranted.'

'I saw this happen,' Susan said. 'I did not much think
on it for it is not uncommon. But I do recall it.'

'But you will not recall this, Susan,' I said.
'Sometimes I wish I couldn't.'

I thought back to that bitter Christmas. It was
eighteen months after I had become a maid of honour, three years since Anne had
married the King. Eleanor and I were still within Jane Seymour and Philippa
Wicks' orbit and felt we were much more important than we really were.

For some weeks rumour had run around the court that
the King and Queen had quarrelled bitterly once again. The King had loved
Anne's bold, flirtatious impudence in those long years of teasing when she
entranced him and made him hot for her. But such boldness did not suit him in
his Queen. He had, it was said, become thoroughly tired of her imperious ways.