One lad held out his hand to Amethyst and she quickly summarized his
features, the already hardened face, the squinting eyes, never
having known pleasure, only hunger and misery. She reached into the
bag and tossed him a coin. He bit it with rotted teeth and scampered
away.
More shops lined the streets, merchants calling out to the
passersby, trying to lure them in to sample the wares. The odors of
fish, meat and the stench of refuse began to turn her stomach as
Topaz quickly yanked her out of the stream of a pail of slops coming
from a second-story window.
"These people don't have garderobes, Amethyst. This is not
Warwickshire. You will be very lucky indeed if you get through today
without having to comb a turd out of your hair."
After that, she kept her eyes riveted to upper-floor windows for
flying slops.
"The almshouse is on the corner of Whitechapel Road," Topaz called
over her shoulder.
Amethyst was relieved, because the bag was getting heavy, and it
banged against her side with every step. She nearly tripped over a
pile of excrement in front of her as she witnessed two men fighting
in a narrow alleyway between two shabby houses, tearing at each
other's filthy shirts and breeches, the sound of bone cracking
against bone sickening her. What could they be fighting over? There
was so much poverty and starvation here, it could have been a piece
of stale bread they were battling to the death for.
They reached the corner of Whitechapel Road and Topaz kicked open
the door of a run-down timber-framed house. A bit larger than the
others and freestanding, it still exuded that rancid air of poverty.
The stench of unwashed bodies and urine hit Amethyst in the face as
they entered the dark hall single file. Her eyes adjusted to the
light and Topaz turned into a small room, Amethyst and the groom
following.
They dumped their bags on the dirt floor, strewn sparsely with dry
rushes, and in seconds a crowd of stinking ragged bodies converged
upon them, tearing into the bags, stuffing handfuls of bread and
cakes into their mouths with filthy hands, as if they hadn't eaten
in weeks, which they probably hadn't.
It reminded Amethyst of Topaz's animal shelter—they were animals,
having lost all human dignity and pride long ago, or never having
known it at all, born within the confines of this pathetic squalor.
"Topaz, do they
live
like this?" Amethyst whispered,
watching the scene all around her, people of all ages, from babies
barely crawling, to the middle-aged and beyond.
"What do you think, you innocent little ball of fluff? They are born
this way and die this way, with no hope for escape whatever, through
the howling winds of winter and the searing heat of summer. They eat
what they can beg, steal, or what I and those as kind as I bring
them."
"But...there are so many farms in the kingdom. Why is there not
enough for everyone to eat?" She knew how ignorant she sounded,
never having known hunger, not even in the Tower. Topaz had told her
of the hard straw pallets, the lack of firewood and the cold they'd
endured, but somehow there had always been enough food at mealtimes.
"Because they haven't the money to pay for food, because they
haven't the work to do in order to earn any money. 'Tis a vicious
circle, Amethyst, and one which I plan to break. If they are lucky,
they can be apprenticed to a chimney sweep or a blacksmith or scale
fish for the fishmongers, but there is no steady work here. None of
them can read or write. They live by their wits. The girls become
whores around age eleven and the boys, well, they either kill or
steal for their sustenance, or they die out in the streets, mostly
in the winter. Do not be surprised if you see the corpse of an
infant on a rubbish heap along with a dog or cat carcass. I told you
it would be a shock."
Amethyst fought down the sick churning inside her at the sight of
these wretched creatures. She watched a girl and a much younger boy
smacking each other, rolling to the floor, kicking and gouging.
"What are they fighting over, Topaz? Stop them!"
"You stop them! I'm feeding this infant here!" she shouted from
across the room.
Amethyst glanced over at her sister, a tiny baby in her arms, gently
spooning food into its mouth. She sprinted over to the children and
threw herself on top of the girl, yanking her off the boy, his face
beaten and bloody, a few teeth knocked out, on the floor beside him.
"What is your problem! Is there not enough for all of you!"
"'E took me jar 'a pickles, the bleedin' sod!" The girl rose to her
feet. She was scrawny and emaciated, her ragged skirt was torn and
bloody, and she wiped her hands on the hem. The boy sat on the
floor, whimpering, rubbing his swollen eyes.
"Here," Amethyst said, reaching into the pocket of her robe, knowing
she had some coins there. "Take this, go to the shops and buy
yourself a decent meal."
Amethyst's heart cried out for this poor girl, and she would have
given her the robe off her back if she'd had something else to wear.
"Buy something to eat for your friend there, too, and no more
fighting!"
"'E ain't me friend, 'e's me brudder," she mumbled, holding her hand
out for the boy, who grasped it hesitatingly.
"Then all the more reason not to fight your sibling, but support him
if you can," she said with feeling, looking over at her sister.
"Come on, Jack," the child said, turning back to Amethyst. "Ta,
Lady, for the money."
The crowd by now had quieted down. Several more urchins had entered
the almshouse from the street, and many had left, after Topaz had
given them sufficient money to buy food or cloth or shoes or
whatever they felt they needed most.
Amethyst crossed the room and found Topaz sitting among a circle of
children, their grubby but captivated faces turned up toward her as
if she were a princess right out of a fairytale.
She moved a bit closer and crouched next to Topaz to hear the tale
she was telling them. It was probably the tale of Robin Hood, one of
her childhood favorites. It always brought her back to the magic and
intrigue of the enchanted medieval forest.
But Topaz was spinning no tale. "...and we were born in that
horrible dungeon, that place crawling with rats and bugs, the cries
of torture echoing through the dark and musty halls. Then when I was
four and my sister two, we went to visit my father, who was a
handsome young man, a dashing lad indeed. I saw them dragging him,
in chains, and screamed 'Where are you taking my Papa!' I never
found out, for my mother never told me, but I never saw my Papa
again.
"Then we left the Tower, and I had my first glimpse of the
countryside. I did not find out until I was a big girl, what had
happened to him. King Henry the Seventh had killed him! He chopped
off my father's head!"
"Topaz!" Amethyst interjected, giving her sister's arm a slap. "What
are you telling these children that blasted story for!"
"So they will know the truth! I am giving them a history lesson!"
"History lesson, my arse!" she hissed as the circle tightened, the
curious ears poised for a juicy story. "You stop poisoning these
minds right this instant or I shall never help you again! Do you
hear me! I shall not plead your case before the King and I shall not
give you one ounce of support! Ever!"
"Then I am sorry I brought you here," Topaz replied evenly, her arm
protectively around a dirty little boy sucking his thumb. "If you
have no compassion in your heart then I shall not seek your help."
"I am leaving," Amethyst announced, "for I am not getting mixed up
in this. If the King finds out you are spreading these treasonous
tales throughout the commons, he will have your head!"
"And who is going to tell him? My dear sister, his future concubine,
if not his present one?"
"How dare you, Topaz! I am not his concubine! I shall not have you
coming here spreading your treasonous beliefs round London and round
court. As if I didn't know what you tried to do to me in
Warwickshire. As if I can't see through your real reasons for coming
here to see me! You are pure poison, sister, in every sense, and I
want no part of this any longer."
Topaz glared at Amethyst and stared with narrowed eyes at the word
poison. She turned to the children. "Children, I must go away and
gather up some more food and cloths and coins for you, but I shall
be back here long."
They gathered round her and tugged at her skirts, begging her not to
leave. It was a touching, pathetic sight. Even the adults looked
sorry to see her go, if they could ever look more forlorn than they
ever did.
Amethyst emptied the contents of her other pocket and gave it to a
middle-aged women who gave her a toothless grin and many blessings
for her generosity.
They exited the almshouse and the air still carried the cloying
stench of the streets. The odors clung to her robe, her hair, her
body. She couldn't wait to get back to her apartments, burn the robe
and slippers, and scrub her body down in a hot steamy tub.
The heat had given way to a cooler breeze as the sun began to sink,
throwing long pointy shadows of the peaked roofs into the narrow
street. The bustling pace of business hours had quieted down, but
the gutter was still filled with refuse, and the denizens still
trudged along, their eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. It
depressed her sharply, and she wanted simply to be alone with her
thoughts, to talk to no one.
They turned back toward the Thames and waited for a barge to take
them back to Whitehall, the sisters silent, neither giving an inch
as they stood, convinced of their own correct opinion. They crossed
over and remained silent until the barge touched down on the
opposite bank.
Amethyst turned to Topaz and said quietly, "I am sorry we seem to do
nothing but quarrel these days, but your blind hatred of the Tudors
blinds you to all else, even proper family feeling. I am your sister
and will always care for you and your family, but please do not come
to visit me again if your only intention is to trick and deceive me,
or spew poison."
"But, Sister–"
"You have heard me. Please respect my wishes. I hope one day to see
you more contented, but not at the expense of all I cherish.
Goodbye."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The King and court returned a month after they had departed on their
summer progress. The first night after his return, Amethyst sat up
in the gallery with the King's Musick and played her much-practiced
renditions of several of his own compositions as the King and Queen
danced, surrounded by the admiring, fawning courtiers.
The King and Queen did not dance together all that much, however.
She noticed the frosty distance he was keeping from Catherine but
concluded that affairs of state were burdening him.
He challenged Amethyst to a game of tennis one afternoon and she
accepted, having played a few times on Matthew's court at
Kenilworth, for Matthew shared the King's passion for tennis.
He arrived in a light linen shirt and white breeches over white
hose. He was a striking vision of athletic endurance, his thighs
hard and muscled, his strong arm whacking the ball with a graceful,
practiced swing.
She was no match for him as he had her running from one side of the
court to the other, chasing the ball, barely able to return it. At
the end of the match he wiped his brow with a linen towel, and
laughed as she loped off the court, spent.
"So tennis isn't your game, is it, Lady Amethyst?"
"I scored but one point, and that was because you weren't looking!"
"You put up quite a fight, and as the only female member of court
who dared challenge me, you must be rewarded."
Her reward was the seat to his right on the dais that evening at
supper in the great hall. The Queen was absent, and Amethyst felt
all eyes upon her as she self-consciously picked at the sumptuous
dishes of pheasant, quail, partridge, steaming vegetables, and the
luscious pastries and tarts, ten courses in all.
Proudly displayed around her neck was a three-tiered strand of gems,
diamonds alternating with rubies, emeralds and sapphires with a
pearl clasp. Circling her wrist was a bracelet of the same design,
and on two of her fingers sat rings of fiery amethysts and diamonds
set in gold, her rewards for having challenged him to tennis.
"I cannot imagine what you would have given me had I won!" she
marveled at her new gifts, setting off the radiance of her new
crimson velvet gown sprinkled with tiny pearls and diamonds. Her
discomfort easing at having taken the seat of the absent Queen, she
admitted Henry made her feel like the queen of his own heart.
Once again they danced together that night, and he leapt and
twirled, not missing a beat of the lilting music from the gallery
above. As the great hall emptied, he did what she had been waiting
months for him to do: he invited her to his chambers.