A Love Most Dangerous (5 page)

My breath was coming fast as I crossed the Great Hall,
whether from my speed or from thought of being alone with the King. I turned
left and passed by the Watching Chamber where I could hear the low conversation
of bored men. I forced myself to walk even faster as I passed the Pages'
Quarters for I knew the Pages' eyes were quick and their tongues even quicker.
No doubt the boy who the King had sent to summon me was even now the centre of
attention, basking in temporary notoriety from the gossip he brought to his fellows.

I turned right into the Gallery and slowed my walk. It
would not do to arrive at the King's Study with heaving breast and reddened
face. I could not afford to tarry long, of course, but I forced myself to stop
and took breath. I leaned my face against a window to try to cool it. The
gathering wind rattled the glass in its frame and it vibrated against my skin.
I waited until I felt the flush leave my face and continued towards my
rendezvous. All too soon, I stood outside the door to the Study. I composed
myself, patting at my hair and checking my bodice to make sure it was not in
disarray.

I knocked upon the door, a knock as quiet and gentle
as my heart was loud and hammering. I waited for a moment in the silence and
then I heard the single word, 'Come.'

I entered the Study and curtsied. My eyes blinked in
amazement. The walls were lined with books. I had never seen so many in my
life, could barely imagine that so many had been written and printed. The smell
of old leather was heavy in the air yet not unpleasant. A large table stood in
the middle of the room with four chairs placed around it. In the far right was
another door which led, I imagined, to a second chamber. On the longest wall
stood a large fireplace with a fierce blaze burning in a deep grate. To one
side of this were two easy chairs, with a small table between them. The room
was as warm as an August afternoon.

There was no sign of King Henry or so I thought at
first. Then suddenly I saw him. He was standing in an alcove in one of the
bookshelves, an alcove so deep it almost hid him. If he had kept the figure of
his earlier years it would indeed have done so.

'So you have come at last, Alice Petherton,' the King
said.

What did he mean by this? Was I supposed to come to
him the week before, after our meeting in the garden? Had I been expected to
come to him without his command?

'I came immediately I was summoned,' I said.

'We sent our Page to you some while ago,' he said.
'Your King is surprised he has been kept waiting.'

'It is a goodly way from my chamber, Your Majesty,' I
said. 'And it took me a while to find my book of verse.'

'It took you a while?' He held out his hand for the
volume. 'I assumed it would be your constant companion.'

'I read many books, Your Majesty.'

I paused, wondering whether to risk saying what was in
my thoughts. I took a deep breath.

'And besides, I had to wash myself.'

He stared at me, his eyes suddenly hard. 'You kept
your monarch waiting while you washed yourself?'

He walked away from the alcove and flung himself into
one of the chairs by the fire. I bit my lip, aware that tears were forming in
my eyes.

Henry saw this and I saw his eyes flicker with
amusement.

'The King is glad of it,' he said at last. 'He
applauds you for it. Cleanliness is something the King takes very seriously.'

He gestured towards the other chair. 'Sit, Alice
Petherton, and tell me which of Sir Thomas Wyatt's poems you best like.'

I sat down but for a moment could not find my tongue.
I found my body shaking as if with ague and my wits appeared to have quite
deserted me. How would I answer him now?

The King appeared not to have noticed my confusion; he
flicked swiftly through the book, barely pausing at any page.

'We did not know Sir Thomas had made a book of his
poems,' he said.

I sighed for my tongue was suddenly released. 'He did
not have it made, Your Majesty. His friend took a fancy to have some of his
verses printed. The book contains a dozen or so, I believe.'

'Then how have you to come by such a precious jewel,
Alice Petherton?'

'Sir Thomas's friend is second cousin of my mother,
Your Majesty. We knew each other a little as children, and we have renewed our
acquaintance since we both came to Court.'

'Ah, Elizabeth Darrel,' the King said. 'She is pretty,
is she not?'

'I believe she is Your Majesty.'

'Beauty appears to run in the family, wouldn't you
say?' His eyes lifted from the book a moment and examined me.

'I don't know what to say, Majesty.'

'Come Alice Petherton, no girlish wiles with us. You
know full well you have a good face and figure.'

I glanced up at him. 'No man has told me so, Your
Majesty,' I said. 'Until today.'

He put his finger to his bottom lip and began to tap
it gently. He appeared amused by my words and I thought for a moment he would
respond with some quip or comment. But instead he returned to his perusal of
the book.

'Let us read together, Alice Petherton,' he said at
last. 'For that is the reason I have summoned you here.'

With one hand he lifted the table between the two
chairs and threw it behind him and across the room. I jumped at the sound but
jumped even more at what he did next. He leaned towards me, lifted both chair
and me and placed me closer to him. I gasped in astonishment.

He laughed when he saw my reaction. 'You seem
surprised by my strength,' he said. 'Are you?'

'I am Your Majesty,' I said. My hand went to my mouth.

He laughed once again and patted me on the knee. 'I am
a man of great strength and great zeal,' he said. 'You will learn this over
time.'

He opened the book of poems in the middle. His thick
finger jabbed at a poem as if he were a merchant pointing out some piece of
cloth on a stall. 'Here, Alice Petherton, let us read this poem together.'

 I glanced down at it and began to read it along with
the King. He read in a voice not quite as deep as his normal speech, with a
surprising lightness of tone, almost as if he were singing.

They flee from me, that sometime did me seek,

  With naked foot stalking within my chamber :

Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,

    That now are wild, and do not once remember,

    That sometime they have put themselves in danger

To take bread at my hand ; and now they range

Busily seeking in continual change.

He paused and glanced at my face. 'We like this, Alice
Petherton, we like this greatly. And how do you like it?'

I blushed under his fierce scrutiny. 'I like it very
much as well,' I said.

He nodded thoughtfully and then turned his face from
me.

'And yet,' he said.

I swallowed nervously.

'And yet,' he continued, 'I like not the thought that
lovers can be so cruel as to turn from the hand that feeds them.'

He turned expectantly towards me.

His eyes were fierce and suddenly became sharp and
livid like those of a cat which is readying itself to catch a bird or mouse. I
knew that I could not, must not, dare not argue with him.

But I mustn't give way too soon. That would be fatal.
Twenty seconds I must disagree with him, to prove myself not overawed. Fifteen
seconds, ten.

'I do not see it that way, Your Majesty,' I said,
forcing my voice to sound strong.

He looked confused. It must have been a long time
since anyone had dared to contradict him. Perhaps Anne Boleyn had been the
last.

'Continue,' he said. His voice was cold.

'A lover who is tame is not one to relish,' I said.
'Far better to have a woman so wild the hunter must hunt for her again and
again.'

He licked his lips. The intense blank stare remained
in his eyes.

'And yet,' I said, putting a thoughtful tone to my
voice,'I see now what Your Majesty means.'

I paused to make certain he had heard me. I felt him
watch me as I pretended to gather my thoughts.

'Forgive me for not understanding the words earlier, I
continued. 'A woman who refuses love from her master is foolish.'

I bit my lips.

He nodded his head, very slightly, very slowly.

'I think you are right with both your observations,
Alice Petherton,' he said at last. He snapped the volume shut. 'We will read
more. Tomorrow evening. Come to my Study at seven.'

He waved his hand to dismiss me. I reached out to take
the book.

'Leave this with me,' he commanded.

I curtsied and fled the room.

CHAPTER SIX

 Envy

I stumbled along the corridor until I had turned again
into the gallery. I could barely see where I was going. My head was whirling,
my thoughts overcast.

My mind went back to the recent conversation. Had I
been right to argue against the King, even for the little time that I did?

My head said that I was right for I must prove to him
that I could think for myself and not fall down in some cowardly swoon at his
merest frown of displeasure.

But had I argued too long?

And then to talk so foolishly of dead lovers. At best
it would have reminded him of Anne Boleyn. At worst the thought I had implanted
in his mind might prove father to a future child, might link love and death and
me in an embrace which would prove fatal.

I shuddered. Could a girl such as me tend a furnace
like the King without being consumed?

I walked back to my chamber and spent a sleepless
night, my mind ridden by hags and demons.

The next morning I breakfasted early for the sleepless
night had made me unusually hungry. It was a cold, damp morning. The storm of
last night had come and gone but it left behind a dank, drizzly day which
gloomed over the Palace. I wanted to go for a walk to clear my head but the
weather looked all together too wretched to venture forth.

I repaired to the Queen's Ladies' bower at eight.
Normally it was fairly quiet at this hour with only one or two of my companions
here at most.  But today there were half a dozen of them.

I bade them good morning and wondered at the lack of
reply. I soon realised why. The ladies were grouped in a crescent watching the
entrance to the room. Philippa Wicks was at the centre of the half-circle, her
bodkin stabbing though her needle-work with force and spite.

As soon as she saw me she put down her work and stared
at me with with wondering eyes.

'Well look who has deigned to show herself this
morning,' she said.

I smiled as if not aware of what she meant.

'And look,' Wicks continued, 'she smiles, content and
smug, like a cat that has swallowed its fill of rich cream.'

'I do not smile so,' I said. 'I smile only with
pleasure at seeing you, Philippa.'

Her eyes narrowed. And she had the gall to call me a
cat.

'How is His Majesty this morning?' she asked. 'We hope
he has risen with joy and vigour.'

I placed my hand against my breast and looked bemused.
'I cannot say, in truth.'  I glanced around. 'Are you saying that the King has
been in our quarters this morning? Have you seen him at this early hour,
Philippa Wicks?'

One or two of the other maids giggled at my words but
Wicks silenced them with a look.

'You know of what I speak, Alice Petherton,' she
continued. 'The last we saw of you was when you raced away in summons to the
King's Chamber. And with the Queen close to her time at that. A common harlot
would have more consideration of her mistress.' She paused. 'But I am mistaken,
of course. A common harlot would have most regard for her master. Would she
not, Alice Petherton?'

My heart grew icy at her words. I felt the warmth flee
from my lips which clenched as if I was holding back the spit from striking at
her face.

'I know nothing of common harlots,' I said. 'I bow to
your superior knowledge of them.'

I pointedly looked from her face to her lap.

Her face grew hard and pale. When she spoke again it
was in a voice like a saw made blunt from over-use.

'I know you, Alice Petherton. I know well young girls
like you.'

'I protest,' I interrupted, in a tone I made seem
surprised. 'I like not ladies in that manner. I am not schooled in it.' I
turned my eyes on Bray for a moment.

Mary Zouche held her work up to her face, trying her
best to hide her amusement. Wicks hissed for her to be silent but never took
her eyes from me.

'A pert miss you have become, Alice Petherton. You
think, no doubt, that when the sun shines full upon your form you can frolic
and flaunt yourself with impunity. But you are watched, Mistress Petherton, and
you are not the first of your ilk to be watched by me.'