Виктория Холт - The King's Secret Matter

He was smiling to himself now because he knew of the activities which would be going on in the great kitchens. There was a special banquet this day; the King would be present in some disguise. Wolsey had not been specifically told that Henry would come; he had merely heard that a party of gentlemen from a far country planned to test the hospitality of Hampton Court, for they had heard that it vied with that to be enjoyed at the King’s Court.

Wolsey laughed aloud. Such childish games! One among them would be the King, and the company must express its surprise when he discarded the disguise, and then the great delight and pleasure all felt in the honor of having their King with them.

“A game,” mused Wolsey, “that we have played countless times and will doubtless play countless times again, for it seems that His Grace never tires of it.”

But was His Grace tiring? Had there been an indication recently of a change in the King’s attitude to life? Was he taking more interest in matters of state, a little less in masking?

The longer the King remained a pleasure-loving boy the greater pleased would the Cardinal be. Those workmanlike hands of his were the hands to hold the helm. He wanted no interference.

Let the golden boy frolic with his women. Wolsey frowned a little. Boleyn was growing somewhat presumptuous on account of that brazen girl of his; and the man was becoming a little too important. But the Cardinal could deal with such; it was the King’s interference that he most feared; and while the King was concerned with a girl he could be expected to leave matters of state to his trusted Chancellor.

The guests were already arriving. He would not join them until the coming of the party of gentlemen in disguise, for that was beneath his dignity. His guests must wait for him to come among them, as at Greenwich or Westminster they waited for the King.

He knew that they would whisper together of the magnificence they saw about them, of the manner in which he dressed his servants, so that many of them were more richly clad than his guests. In the kitchens now his master cook, attired in scarlet satin with a gold chain about his neck, would be directing his many servants as though he himself was the lord of this manor; and that was how Wolsey would have it: that each man—from his steward who was a dean, and his treasurer who was a knight, to his grooms and yeomen of the pastry and his very scullery boys—should know, and tell the world by his demeanor, that it was better to be a page of the pantry in the household of Cardinal Wolsey than a gentleman steward in the house of any nobleman under the King.

As he brooded, his man Cavendish came to the door of the apartment and craved his master’s indulgence for disturbing him, but a certain Charles Knyvet, late of the household of the Duke of Buckingham, was begging an audience with him.

Wolsey did not speak for a second. He felt a surge of hatred rise within him at the mention of the hated Buckingham. There was a man who had been born to wealth and nobility and who never failed to remind the Cardinal of it. It was in every look, every gesture and, often when he passed, Wolsey would hear the words: butcher’s dog.

One day Buckingham was going to regret that he dared scorn Thomas Wolsey, for the Cardinal was not the sort to forget a grudge; all insults were remembered in order to be repaid tenfold; for that dignity which he had had to nurture, having cost him so much to come by, was doubly dear to him.

This was interesting. Knyvet to see him! He knew that the fellow was related to Buckingham—a poor relation—who had been in the Duke’s employ until recently. There had been some difference of opinion between Master Knyvet and his rich relation, with the result that Knyvet had been dismissed from the ducal household.

So he came to see the Cardinal.

Wolsey regarded his hands thoughtfully. “You discovered his business?”

“He said it was for the ears of Your Eminence alone.”

The Cardinal nodded; but he would not see the man—not at the first request. That would be beneath the dignity of the great Cardinal.

“Tell him he may present himself again,” he said.

Cavendish bowed. The man was favored. At least the Cardinal had not refused his request for an interview.

So Cavendish went back through the eight rooms, which had to be traversed before the Cardinal’s private chamber was reached, and in which none who sought an audience might wait.

Now Wolsey could hear shouts on the river, the sound of music, and he decided it was time for him to leave his apartment and cross the park to the water’s edge, there to receive the party, for it would contain one before whom even a great Cardinal must bow.

He made his way down his private staircase and out into the sunshine; standing at the river’s edge he watched the boat approach the privy stairs. In it was a party of men dressed in dazzling colors, all heavily masked and wearing beards, some of gold wire, some of black. The Cardinal saw with some dismay that the masks, the false beards, and caps of gold and scarlet which covered their heads were all-concealing, and this was going to be one of those occasions when it was not easy to pick out the King.

Usually his great height betrayed him; but there were several who appeared to be as tall. A faint irritation came to the Cardinal, although he hastened to suppress it; one of the first steps to disfavor was taken when one betrayed a lack of interest in the King’s pastimes. That was one of the lesser ways in which the Queen was failing.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” he cried, “welcome to Hampton Court.”

One of the masked men said in a deliberately disguised voice which Wolsey could not recognize: “We come from a strange land, and news of the hospitality of the great Cardinal has been brought to us, so we would test it.”

“Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to entertain you. Come into the palace. The banquet is about to be served, and there are many guests at my table who will delight you as you will delight them.”

“Are there fair ladies?” asked one.

“In plenty,” answered the Cardinal.

One tall man with a black beard came to the Cardinal’s side. “Fair ladies at the table of a Cardinal?” he murmured.

Wolsey spread his hands, believing he heard mockery in the voice. This disturbed him faintly for he fancied it might well be the King who walked beside him.

“My lord,” he answered, “I give all I have to my guests. If I believe the company of fair ladies will enliven the occasion for them, then I invite fair ladies to my table.”

“’Tis true you are a perfect host.”

They had come to the gates of the palace beside which stood two tall yeomen and two grooms, so still that they looked like statues, so gorgeously apparelled that they looked like members of the nobility.

“Methinks,” said the black-bearded man in an aside to one of his companions, “that we come not to the Cardinal’s court but to the King’s Court.”

“It pleases me that you should think so, my lord,” said Wolsey, “for you come from a strange land and now that you are in the King’s realm you will know that a Chancellor could possess such a manor only if his master were as far above him as you, my lord, are above my grooms whom you so recently have passed.”

“Then is the King’s Court of even greater brilliance?”

“If it were but a hut by the river it would be of greater brilliance because our lord the King was therein. When you have seen him you will understand.”

He was feeling a little uneasy. It was disconcerting to be unsure of the King’s identity. The game was indeed changing when that golden figure could not be immediately discovered.

“It would seem that you are not only a great Cardinal but a loyal subject.”