A Love Most Dangerous (13 page)

At least Humphrey seems to like me, I thought
miserably. I put my head to my hand. How low have I fallen, I thought, to seek
consolation from the admiration of a roguish Page.

I kept to my chamber for the next five days, pleading
an indisposition. I had already had enough of the mourning and mumbling from
the maids of honour. Those who had liked Jane Seymour least were now loudest in
their praise of her. Those who had been most fond kept their own counsel.

I kept to my own bed. It felt safer there. Some at
court might even have thought my indisposition was caused by grief. In a way,
perhaps it was. I grieved that my plans had been thwarted so early.

The day of the funeral came with cold wind and squally
rain. Mary Zouche travelled in one of the five carriages but I rode with the
remainder of the maids on horseback. I was a competent horsewoman and preferred
to ride rather than be jolted along the bumpy road to Windsor Chapel. In any
case, I had no choice in the matter. The Duke of Norfolk had arranged all, even
down to the matter of who should ride where. I was not surprised by his
diligence. It was said that each evening he checked his wife's needlework to
make certain she had done it right.

The funeral service was dreary but then I suppose it
should have been. I mulled over thoughts of my own funeral as I stood there. I
should like it to be a great and glorious occasion, full of light and laughter.
I want people to celebrate my life not to mope over it. Though of course I
meant to live a good few years more than Jane Seymour. And I meant to enjoy
every one of them, to suck from each hour all its gifts.

I closed my mind to the sighs and the wails. A new
time was coming.

I grew suddenly reconciled to the fact that the King
had thrown me over. A feeling of deep relief descended upon me. I would find
another way to achieve my destiny than between the sheets of an ageing monarch.
Farewell, Your Majesty, I thought. Hello to a new life.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Christmas Festivities

25th December 1537

The King decided to celebrate Christmas at Greenwich Palace, always one of his favourites. I thought it likely that he also wanted no
reminder of Hampton Court where Jane had died. Despite the fact that she had
been in her grave for only five weeks, the Christmas festivities were more
extravagant than any I had seen in my four years at Court. Or maybe it was
because she was in her grave. Her mask of rectitude and piety had begun to taint
the very air of the Court and now the inhabitants of the Palace began to suck
in a sweeter scent than before.

I joined Susan and Mary and arm in arm we made our way
to the Chapel. The crowd of courtiers and servants were already tingling with
the thought of the festivities ahead and not even the thought of listening to
the Bishop sermonising for an hour could quite dampen their spirits.

Wicks and Bray were already seated with Lucy crammed
in between them. Poor child. I was still perplexed about the exact poison which
had been dripped into her ears but I had not entirely given up on her. We had
been friends and at court friends, however humble, are not to be lightly
discarded. One never knows when the humble shall suddenly transmute into the
great.

I spent the sermon as I usually did, thinking of the
happiest days I had known and trying to arrange them in degree of happiness. A
futile task, I know, and one which gave a different result every time I did it.
But it was much better than listening to the mumbling and moralising of the
Bishop. I liked the story of Christmas more than most in the Scriptures but in
truth I had heard it before and much better told.

After the service the maids and ladies repaired to the
Dining Hall for the Christmas feast. The huge number of people in the Hall gave
it a warmth which it did not have when empty. The noise was deafening, with all
sense of decorum thrown over in the joy of the moment. The court had
experienced a hard two months since the Queen had died, including the enforcement
of the St Martin's Fast. Now the rigour and constraint were thrown over and
everyone seemed determined to squeeze every moment of pleasure they could from
the day.

The feast was the most magnificent I had ever seen in
my time at Court. It was as if the Master of the Household had grown frenzied
in his attempts to make up for the straitened days we had all just endured.

The hall at Greenwich was normally arranged into two
long lines of tables with benches either side. Today, however, it had been set
out differently.  The tables had been placed in a square with spaces at each
corner so that the servants could enter the centre of the square and so speed
up the serving of the food.

In the middle of the square was a huge table crammed
with bread, fruit, conserves, ale, wine and cheeses. In the centre of the table
lay a roast boar, the scent of its rich meat wafting across the Hall, enticing
the taste buds like no other fare can. Next to the boar was a glistening swan,
roasted and embellished with fruit and sweetmeats. I guessed that stuffed
inside it would be an aviary of birds: goose, chicken, partridge, pheasant,
woodcock, snipe, pigeon, heron, capon and song-birds. But no quail. Queen Jane
had become addicted to the eating of quail in her confinement and since her
death the consumption of the bird had been forbidden in any of the Royal
Palaces.

On either side of the swans were two huge pies with
smaller ones atop them making them look like the turret of a castle. I guessed
that inside would be various meats and game: beef, lamb and pork, hare, rabbit
and venison, kid, gosling and kidneys.

Platters were already set out at each place and once
we had said grace the servants hurried from the kitchens laden with fresh roast
meats and fowl. There was every conceivable meat available. I took a slice of
lamb and one of hare. Susan chose pork, beef and ham, Mary capon, cony and
pheasant. We also took some cabbage and beans but not too much, for risk of our
digestions.

We set to with a will. The noise of the hall grew
quieter as people bent to their work. I suddenly realised that musicians were
playing on a dais on one side of the hall. I hadn't noticed them at all until
this moment.

The first course over the servants came into the centre
of the hall and proceeded to carve and hack at the boar, the swan and the pies.
I allowed them to load my plate near to over-flowing. I had already drained my
cup of wine and was determined to have still more. I was intent on putting paid
to the greyness of these last few months with as much bravado as I could
manage.

I was half way through this course when a figure
pushed itself in between Susan and me. I turned to see who it was.

'I'm so sorry, Alice,' Lucy said. 'I'm so sorry but
Philippa and Dorothy told me so many things about you and I've just now found
out that most of them were falsehoods.'

Her face was crushed with misery and her eyes brimming
with tears.

I wanted to slap her.

Instead I took her in my arms and kissed her upon the
cheeks.

'It's over now,' I said lightly, forcing a warm glow
into her eyes. I shall use you little chit, I thought, to get my revenge on
those harpies. But even as I thought this my heart began to thaw. Lucy was a
delightful girl and I realised I was glad that we were friends once more.

I glanced across at Wicks and Bray who could not keep
from glaring at me. I gave them a gracious smile and they seemed to hiss back
at me like angry geese. I wondered who had enlightened Lucy about the
situation. I doubted it was either Susan or Mary because they seemed as
surprised as I was at Lucy's return to the fold. Perhaps it was merely that she
had thought out the matter for herself and come to her own conclusions.

We finished the food on our platters and I replenished
everybody's cup with wine. I raised my cup in the air.

'To Christmas,' I said, 'and to friendship.'

Lucy was so swift to clink cups with mine that she
spilt much of her wine on the table, some of it splashing on her dress. She
barely seemed to notice and gulped at the cup as though it contained milk.

I had to find out. I put my hand on hers and leaned
close towards her.

'Tell me Lucy,' I whispered. 'Who told you that
Philippa and Dorothy were telling you lies?'

'Nobody,' she answered.

I frowned. 'Then what made you realise that they
were?'

'I worked it out,' she said. 'They told so many tales
about you that eventually I began to notice they'd begun to change. Philippa
would say one thing if we were alone together and later Dorothy would talk about
the same matter but say it quite differently. As soon as I'd noticed this I
began to watch out for more discrepancies. Dorothy even contradicted herself a
couple of times. It was then I realised they were not recounting the truth.
They were lying and sometimes they forgot the tales they'd spun.'

You're a clever girl, I thought. I must watch you.

'Well, all's mended now,' I said, patting her on the
arm.

Tears filled her eyes once more and two tiny tears
trickled down her cheeks.

'You say that, Alice, but I've been dreadful to you.
How can you forgive me?' She snuffled and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
'How can I make it up to you?'

I'll find a way, I thought, never you fret.

I picked up a piece of crackling and crunched upon it.
Then I felt an urgent finger prodding me in the back. I turned around in
astonishment.

Page Humphrey crouched behind me, a smirk upon his
face.

'The King wants you,' he whispered. 'He's feasting in
his Dining Chamber with the Dukes and Earls but he appears to have decided to
take his dessert in private.'

He jerked his thumb in the direction of the King's
private chambers and stood up, waiting for me to rise.

I could not believe him for a moment but he nodded his
head and gave a knowing little grin.

'I must go,' I whispered to Susan and Mary.

'Merry Christmas,' Susan said, a mischievous smile
dancing on her lips. 'We'll see you in January.'

Humphrey led me to the King's Privy Chambers. It was
cold and he put another log on the fire.

'I'm glad you're back, Miss. And not only because I
won the wager.'

'What wager,' I began but he darted out before I
finished my words.

A slow smile came over my face. So I have one champion
at court, albeit it a little cheeky one.

My smile deepened. So, the Pages had been wagering
whether or not I would return to favour with the King. I walked up and down,
pleased with myself. I had never attracted such notice before.

I paused in my walking and looked around. It was the
first time I had been alone in the Library. I wondered how large it actually
was. It must be ten times the size of my chamber at Hampton Court. I looked at
the book-shelves lining the walls. How many books must the Library hold?

My eyes ranged across the shelves, marvelling that so
many words had been written, that so many clever men had chosen to spend hours
and years of their lives in conjuring up ideas from their minds and displaying
them for all to see, like merchants laying out their goods in a market.

I bent closer and sniffed at some of the volumes. They
smelled of great age and wisdom. A mixture of leather, wood, paper and mildew.
I wondered how old they might be. I'd heard that in the past there were very
few books, that monks had laboured many years to copy and embellish just one.
What dedication they must have needed. What futility. Except they must have
bound up their hopes and dreams within the book, bound them up until they
became as much part of it as the parchment they scribed upon.

Like courtiers really. Bound to the King by silken shackles.

And King's favourites?

At that moment the door opened and Nicholas Frost
stepped into the room. He gave a smile as wintry as his name and crooked a
finger at me.

I followed the Groom into the bed-chamber. A huge fire
roared in the hearth, logs cracking in the heat, pine and apple-wood scenting
the smoke with a sweet fragrance. The room felt much warmer than the Library
and I stood in front of the fire, allowing its heat to caress me. I loved heat,
loved the balmy days of summer. My mother said this was because I'd been born
on Mayday and sucked in the delight of summer with her milk.

I stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and
leap. I used to spend hours staring into our fire when I was a child. I thought
the flames were little creatures, sporting for my entertainment. At first I
thought them birds and cats and mice, all creatures I was familiar with. Later,
once I had begun to read, I populated the fire with more exotic creatures,
dragon, phoenix and salamander. I made up stories concerning them. Sometimes
the creatures hunted me, sometimes they imprisoned me. I was always a Princess
and the brightest flame was always the Prince. Always, always, he would defeat
my tormentors and carry me away on his white horse.