A Love Most Dangerous (15 page)

Not that the King appeared to to me to be experiencing
either distemper. Far from it. He romped with me like the fattest and most
boisterous puppy in a litter and gazed upon my face with the lovelorn yearning
of a country youth. And he made love to me with a heady brew of tenderness and
passion as if this were the only way he could keep the advancing years from
galloping towards him and trampling him underfoot.

The few hours that we had not been occupied in his
chamber had been spent in the riotous entertainments of the Court. And every
hour I could snatch from King or festivities I spent in feverish making of my
gift to him.

Ladies in Waiting and Maids of Honour gave gifts only
to the Queen and to their friends so I was taking a gamble so gigantic that my
needle quivered in my hand as I sewed. I was making a gift for the King; a
thing unheard of for any except a courtier or his Queen. I was making him a
shirt and with each stitch, each cut of the cloth, I knew I was making either a
gown of glory for myself or, alternatively, my very own shroud.

'What have you got there?' Mary asked as we made our
way to the Great Hall in the late afternoon.

I hugged the parcel close to my chest. 'It's nothing,'
I answered.

'A large thing for a nothing,' Susan said. I saw her
bite her lip a moment, a sure sign of her darting thoughts.

'It is nonetheless nothing for either of you to
concern yourselves over,' I said.

My friends exchanged glances which I chose to ignore.
I could feel the sudden nervousness of them. I had been troubled for days about
how I would take the gift with me to the Hall without attracting attention. I
had to take it with me for I knew that the King would most likely summon me to
his chamber directly after the gift-giving and I did not wish to arrive there
empty handed. But the parcel looked conspicuous, far more conspicuous than I
had imagined.

We took our seats in the Hall. The giving of gifts to
the King was a spectacle of rare quality and those who were not obliged to give
any were delighted by the whole performance. Those who had to participate were
sick with apprehension.

The first six dozen courtiers had an easy time of it.

Each man in turn handed his gift to the Lord Steward
who held it out for the King to examine. The King would cast a glance towards
it and then smile. He had accepted the gift with good grace. The courtier would
retire with a bow. He could now breath easier, knowing that the year ahead
would be manageable. Some men found the ordeal so alarming they had to slip
away and hurry to the privy to relieve themselves.

Thomas Cromwell. Lord Privy Seal, approached the King
and gave a deep bow. I craned my neck to watch him for I found myself oddly
fascinated by his dark reputation.

'Your Grace,' he said, 'felicitations upon you on this
glorious day.'

He held out a box of wood so dark it was almost black.
The Lord Steward took it, opened it and took out a manuscript which he passed
unread to the King. The King broke the seal, beamed with delight and waved the
manuscript in the air.

'Master Cromwell has given me lands,' he cried. 'I
have here the deeds of Charterhouse, that nest of vipers and malcontents. And
the deeds of Castle Acre Priory.'

The Court murmured in appreciation.

'He has also given me six manors which were formerly
in his own possession.'

Cromwell bowed low at this. 'All that I have is yours,
Majesty,' he said.

'That is nonsense and you know it,' boomed the King.
'And to prove it I give to you two dozen manors, in Sussex and in Essex.'

Cromwell bowed still lower and loud applause broke out
across the Hall. The conceit was that the applause was in honour of the King's
generosity. In reality it was designed to curry favour with Thomas Cromwell.
His snake eyes swept over the crowd, marking out who was clapping with the most
enthusiasm and who with least.

Next, the Duke of Norfolk approached the throne.
Everybody scrutinised the King's face. The relationship between monarch and
premier noble of the land was complex and never easy.

'I have not lands to give you, Majesty,' Norfolk said, 'unlike friend Sir Thomas.' Here he bowed politely to Cromwell though with
the merest trace of warmth upon his face. 'I have instead sent ship to the dark
lands of Africa and brought back these.'

He turned, held high his arm and the doors of the Hall
were flung open.

A few of the women behind me screamed. For walking
down the Hall came two big strong black men, thick leashes in their hand. But
it was not the sight of the exotic men which had alarmed the women.

It was that they were hauling two huge lions towards
the King. The beasts were more fabulous than any illustration in a book. They
were huge, their manes flamed like clouds of gold, their bodies rippled with
power and malice. Suddenly one opened its mouth and bellowed a ferocious roar.
Every lady in the room screamed at the noise and a few of the more foppish men
put their hands to their mouths to stifle theirs.

But the King was on his feet, his face aglow, his
mouth as wide open as the lion's, but in delight.

'My humble gift to His Majesty,' said the Duke with a
bow.

For once the King was speechless. He could not take
his eyes from the lions; could not even acknowledge the Duke. For long moments
he stared at the beasts. I imagined his eyes turning wanton green, lust-heavy
and yearning.

He took his throne once more but he continued to stare
upon the lions up as if to persuade himself that they were real, that they were
here and that they were his.

At last he tore his eyes away and addressed the Duke.

'Such noble gift deserves a Kingly one in return,' he
said. He picked up the manuscript which Cromwell had just presented to him.

'I give you Castle Acre Priory, in the County of Norfolk.'

Applause thundered across the Hall, making both lions
roar with rage.

I glanced at Cromwell. He could not quite hide a
momentary spasm at seeing one of his gifts to the King so speedily bestowed
upon his rival. But then he smiled like a viper and applauded more loudly than
anyone else in the Hall.

The Duke turned to Cromwell and stared at him with a
gaze as blank and unfathomable as the moon. The applause across the hall
faltered for a moment and then continued with renewed intensity.

Finally, Thomas Boleyn, father of Anne, approached the
throne. He looked bewildered. He had been kept back from offering his gift to
the King at the time appropriate to his station. He had, inexplicably, been
held to the very end.

He was an old man and he seemed to tremble as he
walked, struggling to carry a heavy box, bound with silver and studded with
gems.

He approached the King, bowed and presented the box.
The Lord Steward took it, opened it and showed the contents to the King. But
the King turned his face away, without giving the slightest look. He waved his
hand to dismiss the gift.

Boleyn fell to his knees. 'I beseech you, Your
Majesty,' he cried.

'I want nothing of yours, Sir Thomas,' the King
replied. He gave an irritated gesture and the Lord Steward thrust the gift back
into Boleyn's hands.

The old man struggled to his feet. His hands began to
tremble uncontrollably. For him the year ahead meant at best disgrace. At worst
it might mean confiscation of his lands, imprisonment in the Tower and perhaps
even death.

There came an inward sigh from all the spectators,
which though silent, surged around the Hall as loud as a storm at sea.

In truth everyone at Court had been anxious that they
might see such a terrible thing happen to one of their friends. Yet at the same
time they had been thrilled at the thought that it might just happen to
somebody; agog with anticipation.

And now it had, and they all, everyone of them, felt
the more alive for it.

I hurried out of the Hall along with the rest of the
Court.

'What will this mean for the Boleyn family?' Susan
said, her face grown pale.

'Never mind what it might mean for them,' said Mary.
'What might it mean for you?'

It was well known that Susan had been one of Anne's
special favourites and anybody connected with her might now be in danger.

'I don't want to think about it,' Susan answered. 'I
feel sick.'

I swallowed hard. I realised, as if a sudden downpour
had soaked me to the skin, that I might possibly be able to relieve my friends'
fears. But I decided to say nothing of this. For who knows, what I was about to
do might lead to as deadly a path as Thomas Boleyn had just trod.

'Here,' came a familiar voice.

I turned towards the voice and saw Humphrey leaning
out from behind a pillar. He so loved the sense of intrigue his role had given
him.

I said farewell to my friends and stepped across to
Humphrey who put his finger to his lips and then ducked into a door.

I followed him and found myself at the foot of a small
set of stairs. They were narrow and steep and with a window so tiny the steps
seemed sunk in gloom.

'Now, Miss,' Humphrey said. 'This here staircase if
very private, very hush hush. A few of the King's most trusted servants know it
exists.' Here he puffed out his chest and rolled his eyes before stepping close
to me. 'But not many of us know. Not many at all. So you must promise, no you
must swear, that you will keep it secret as the grave.'

'I swear,' I said although it was all I could do to
keep my face straight, so comical were his airs and graces.

'Come on then, Miss. His Majesty awaits his pleasure.'

I followed Humphrey up the stairs. He moved very
swiftly and I struggled to keep up with him. I had the King's gift in my left
hand and, for fear of tripping, had to lift up the bottom of my gown with the
right. We reached the top of the stairs and then walked along a narrow corridor
which seemed to go the length of the Hall before taking a sudden right turn. We
hurried along an even narrower corridor and then stopped at a tiny door.

Humphrey pulled out a key and unlocked the door. I
followed him through and gazed around.

'Where are we?' I asked.

'The King's Presence Chamber' Humphrey answered.
'We've just come through a secret way where the most high and mighty of the
land are led. So as the guards don't always see who's coming and going to the
King's presence.'

'Isn't that a bit risky? For the King, I mean?'

Humphrey jerked a thumb behind him. 'That's where the
King's guards are stationed. Seventy of 'em at the very least. When the rebels
was stirring in the north there were near two hundred of them. So all he has to
do is call, even if they don't know that's he's got a visitor.' He grinned at
me.

'Anyway, Miss, in you go. He's waiting for you.'

I wondered at why the King had decided to have me
visit him by this circuitous route. My heart began to beat more swiftly.
Perhaps he had become bored with me and required me to take this clandestine
way in order to dispense with me in secret, to banish me from court without a
penny or a testimonial.

I turned to ask Humphrey if he had any inkling of the
reason but the boy had disappeared. My heart leapt to my mouth at this. The
circumstances seemed ever more sinister.

At that moment a figure appeared in the doorway. It
was the King's Groom, Nicholas Frost.

'Be quick,' he snapped. 'His Majesty cannot be kept
waiting all day.'

I hurried after him, through the Presence Chamber and
into the Dining Room. The sideboards were covered with dishes and the air was
heavy with the aroma of their contents.

'In there,' Frost said. 'He's in his Privy Chamber.'

I nodded and pushed open the door.

The King was sitting by a huge fire, his foot propped
on a small stool. Beside him was a little table with a jug of claret and two
glasses. He stared at the window lost in his thoughts but when he realised I
had arrived he gave a smile and indicated that I should join him.

'What did you think of the lions, Alice? Weren't they splendid?'

'They were indeed, Your Grace. If a trifle fearsome.'

'For women perhaps. And for cowards. Not for me,
though. For I am a lion as well. Did you not see how the beasts recognised this
in me, how they called out in fellowship?'

'I did, Your Grace, although I thought the cry more
one of salutation to their superior.'

The King's head tilted to one side as he considered
this.

'I do believe you're right,' he said after a moment.
'You're such a clever girl. All of my wives were clever but your cleverness I
much prefer. You see the sense of things better than they did. You see things
as I see them.'

'I'm glad you think so, Majesty.' I had to fight down
a sense of rising panic. I had noticed that he had compared me with his wives.
Whether the comparison was favourable or ill I wanted none of it. I desired
neither to be his Queen nor his victim.