Her hand still tingled where he'd touched it. She opened her mouth
to reply, nodded and finally found her voice. "Oh, yes, your grace.
I would enjoy playing for your grace during your visit, as I've
composed several songs just for the occasion."
She hadn't meant to blurt it all out at once. But at this point she
was beyond thinking, and her mouth and brain were two separate
entities.
"We would be pleased. It would be an appropriate accent to these
splendid festivities."
As the King moved on, she suddenly realized how cold her fingers
were and she hoped he hadn't noticed. She scurried over to the fire
and warmed her trembling hands.
The festivities began in earnest the next day. The Yule log was cut,
and the King, with the immediate members of his party, attended Mass
in the chapel along with Amethyst, Sabine and Emerald. Later they
enjoyed masques, miming, and songs and jokes by the jesters and
fools.
The great hall was ablaze with thousands of candles in their talons
fixed in the chandeliers above. The royal dais was laid with fine
linen upon which were set plates and goblets of gold. Fires blazed
in the hearths. Minstrels played in the loft overlooking the great
hall.
To Amethyst, this was the next best thing to actually being at
court. Warwick Castle glittered like a palace, graced by royalty,
and she felt as if she'd been born to revel in it all.
The King invited Amethyst to join the King's Musick, the company of
court musicians, for a few pieces. There were thirty members of the
current King's Musick, several lutists playing the treble lute, the
larger arch lute, a theorbo and cittern. There was a harpist; a
recorder and hornpipe player; two clarions; three musicians each
playing the virginals; a dulcimer; three viola-da-gambas; two viols;
and a rebec. The gallery also had a clavichord; Amethyst doubled as
the clavichordist, and thrilled at its somber strains that echoed
and swirled through every corner of the great hall.
When the King signaled his chief steward that he wanted to begin
eating, the party took to the tables and feasted. The servers
brought game: venison, crane, quail, duck, rabbit, goose, seafood:
oysters, crayfish, prawns, and the King's favorite, baked lampreys,
all upon gold trays. All this was washed down with wine, and once
everyone had eaten their fill of the savory dishes, dessert was an
assortment of pastries, fruit pies, and a sugar sculpture of Warwick
Castle.
When that was all cleared away, dancing began in the great hall.
Amethyst finished playing and came down to watch as the courtiers
danced to the sprightly tunes coming from the loft above. Tonight
she was eager to dance, with someone, anyone... The thought of
dancing with the King crossed her mind and she giggled. How absurd!
He led out the first dance with Queen Catherine, in a pavane, and
Amethyst couldn't take her eyes off the King's strong leg muscles as
he led the Queen around the floor. The King's Musick then played a
few motets composed by the King himself.
He was now dancing with Lady Margaret, exchanging small talk as they
pranced along. Margaret, though getting on in years, had no trouble
keeping up with the energetic King, and it was obvious he had great
admiration and respect for her.
Then the King approached Amethyst, and her heart simply stopped. The
music swirled round them and the candles' glow spun over her head
like a thousand dazzling suns. "Would you care to dance, Lady
Amethyst?"
"I would be honored, your grace, but my dancing leaves much to be
desired."
"Simply follow me, then." She could have sworn that his smile lit up
the entire great hall.
As their hands touched lightly, a thrill emanated from her every
pore and rushed through her body. They moved together so naturally,
becoming one with the music, and he led her gracefully, his sense of
rhythm and timing flowing through to her, as the music captured
their souls and brought a harmonious blend to the spark already
glowing between them.
Yet the King made her feel at ease, for his youth and enjoyment of
the moment pervaded any authoritative sternness one would expect of
a king. They danced and enjoyed each other as two young people
sharing their love of music and movement. She was sure she was in
heaven, and that nothing could ever mar such perfect happiness.
The following day, a page brought Amethyst a message from the King
to her chambers. He wanted her to meet him in the conservatory for a
musical afternoon!
Without sensing anything unseemly in the invitation, she ran for her
lute, her music, and asked her chambermaid to lay out her burgundy
velvet gown with the rabbit-trimmed square neckline. It was elegant,
not flashy enough for evening wear, yet just appropriate to join the
King for an afternoon.
He had not yet arrived when she entered the conservatory. Of course
not. Why would a king sit waiting for one of his subjects? Protocol
demanded that she arrive first. She spent the next few moments
tuning her lute and practicing scales on the virginals.
He then joined her, dressed simply in a cream chemay over which he
wore a satin doublet, velvet breeches and silk hose shot with swirls
of gold embroidery. He was completely devoid of jewels except for a
square ruby ring on his thumb.
He greeted Amethyst politely, commented on the lovely weather, and
took his harp from its velvet-lined case. "I would play a little
ditty I wrote whilst riding here to Warwick."
"You wrote a song upon your horse? How do you compose without an
instrument, my lord?"
He waved away her comment airily. "'Tis nothing. The notes enter my
head, the melody plays to me over and over, and by the time I can
sit down to a sheet of parchment, I can simply write them down.
There is no need for an instrument. Not until the actual playing."
"That is magnificent, my lord. I cannot compose without the
instrument."
"Ah, perhaps you shall learn. Try it. All gifted musicians have the
ability. Do you not ever have melodies playing through your head?"
She nodded. "Oh, all the time! Especially in dreams. Beautiful
melodies visit me in my dreams. But I awaken and forget them so
quickly. It would never occur to me to write them down."
"Try it next time. Keep parchment and pen by your bed. Write the
notes down whilst they are still in your head."
"I shall try that, sire." She'd always had the desire to compose all
the time rather than just play the music of others—she simply didn't
think she had the ability.
He positioned his fingers on his harp and she noticed that his hands
were so big, his ring didn't even touch the delicate strings. The
harmonic strains of his simple tune filled the room.
She began strumming chords with her plectrum, accompanying his
melody. The strains blended, creating a complete tonal consonance
that only musicians completely in tune with each other could
deliver.
His eyes closed and on he played, his body swaying with the music, a
dreamlike expression on his face, making his entire being one with
the instrument. On they played together, exchanging each other's
music, adding notes here and there, changing a chord or two, and the
King accompanied her on the harp while she played the virginals.
She was especially proud of her singing voice, a clear sharp
soprano, and prided herself on her ability to sing such high notes.
The King, a resonant baritone himself, harmonized with her
beautifully. This was just as she had dreamed so long ago! To sit
with the King and share her love for music... This was more of an
honor that any titles or riches!
Later they sat on the plush chairs facing the windows overlooking
the River Avon. "Now that we're aware we can share the language of
music so well, what about a verbal exchange?" the King asked
suddenly, breaking into the silence left as the last note died away.
"What is it that you would know of me, your grace?" she asked,
sincerely. What would King Henry want to know about the daughter of
a murdered heir to the throne?
"Have you any prospects of marriage?" he asked, catching her off
guard. She'd expected him to ask her about her Latin studies or her
religious inclinations, but not this!
"Why, nay, your grace. I would like to continue my studies for a bit
longer before I consider marriage. We have had wonderful tutors,
several from Harrow and Eton, and although I enjoy creating fancy
patterns with my needlework, I so enjoy learning, about history, and
about arithmetic because I like numbers. I find the Latin language
fascinating because so many of our own words come from Latin.
"My sister Topaz loves animals, and my youngest sister Emerald is
most interested in botany, about how plants reproduce and whether
they have feelings, but most of all I prefer to learn about music.
It is so much like arithmetic, the way the quarter notes and half
notes all must add up to fit the time signature, the number of beats
you must put in each measure. 'Tis very much a blend of body and
soul."
"Aye, Lady Amethyst, 'tis a harmonious blend of science and art, but
one need not be a scientist to enjoy it," he said, looking at her
with a renewed interest she could not fail to notice.
"So, with all my studies, attending services at five, and falling
into bed quite tired at night, I have not given much thought to a
parti
.
I would finish one chapter of my life ere opening another."
He smiled, and the smile touched his eyes. Yet he had not a wrinkle.
"Quite wise, Lady Amethyst. One or two more years will not hurt. My
Queen Catherine was but thirteen when she married my departed
brother Arthur, and royals are known to be betrothed virtually at
birth as a matter of necessity. But I have always relished the idea
of marriage following love, instead of the other way round."
"Aye, your grace." Very noble sentiments, indeed, she thought
inwards, and they were almost the same words spoken by Topaz. But
coming from Henry, they seemed to have more credibility.
"I trust you will find a suitable
parti
, Lady Amethyst. For
one thing, your dowry chest must be quite generous."
She blushed. "Oh, aye, your grace. Thanks to you and your kind
benevolences, having given us back...er, giving us Warwick Castle."
"Aye, your grandfather and father might have been king," he said
matter of factly. "But I am King and I must do my best. You see,
Lady Amethyst, my father ran the realm a different way than I. He
won the crown by fighting. A poor, struggling pretender, he
virtually plucked it from the head of Richard's corpse.
"My father sought to dispel the disorder of his time and selected
his councilors for their ability and loyalty instead of military
prowess. His was the last reign of his kind, and I plan to be known
as the first king of what I like to call modern times. The Dark Ages
are over, Amethyst. This is the rebirth...the renaissance, if you
will."
"I am glad, your grace. I would marry a man for love, rather than
the union of our lands."
"And what of your sister?"
"Oh, Emerald is too young yet to..."
"Nay, I meant your older sister, Topaz," he said with a shake of her
head.
She was hoping he wouldn't ask. She was hoping he'd forgotten Topaz
even existed. "She lives at Kenilworth with her husband Matthew
Gilford. She runs an animal hospital and distributes alms to the
poor."
"Ah, yes, Gilford, Duke of Lancaster. His father fought beside mine
at Bosworth. Kenilworth and the title were granted to him at that
time." Topaz didn't seem to care how her husband's magnificent
castle, lands, and title had been attained, as long as there was
ample room for her animals.
"Topaz has a boy, Edward, named after our father."
"Pray God he won't follow in your father's footsteps," said the
King, jokingly.
Amethyst laughed uncomfortably, for that was still a very touchy
subject in her family, and was surprised the King chose to jest
about it. Yet that was just one of the things that enchanted her
about him, his ability to laugh—at just about anything.
"I pray for the same, your grace." Oh, God, did she! She prayed God
that Topaz was mellowing with the rearing of her son and the running
of the castle and the tending of her animals and no longer had any
interest in her so-called quest for revenge. "I believe Edward will
become a faithful subject, as will my sons and daughters when the
Lord sees fit to send me some."
His eyes colored darkly then, and he said stiffly, "Indeed. Well, my
Lady, I must bid you Godspeed for now, for we must prepare for the
New Year's festivities on the morrow and the journey back to London
thereafter." He stood and, taking her hand in his, pressed his lips
to it, releasing it quickly.
With a slight nod, he turned to leave. She curtsied stiffly, in awe
of this entire visit, bursting to tell her mother and Emerald all
about it.