Philippa Gregory - The Queen's Fool

There was dancing, and a bride had to dance at her own wedding, though Lady Jane sat in her chair, as stubborn as a white mule. Lord Robert led her gently to the dance floor. I saw him whisper to her and she found a wan little smile and put her hand in his. I wondered what he was saying to cheer her. In the moments when the dancers paused and awaited their turn in the circle his mouth was so close to her ear that I thought she must feel the warmth of his breath on her bare neck. I watched without envy. I did not long to be her, with his long fingers holding my hand, or his dark eyes on my face. I gazed on them as I might look on a pair of beautiful portraits, his face turned to her as sharp as a hawk’s beak in profile, her pallor warming under his kindness.

The court danced until late, as if there were great joy from such weddings, and then the three couples were taken to their bedrooms and put to bed with much throwing of rose petals and sprinkling of rosewater. But it was all show, no more real than Will and I fighting with wooden swords. None of the marriages was to be consummated yet, and the next day Lady Jane went home with her parents to Suffolk Place, Guilford Dudley went home with his mother, complaining of stomach ache and bloating, and Lord Robert and the duke were up early to return to the king at Greenwich.

“Why does your brother not make a house with his wife?” I asked Lord Robert. I met him at the gateway of the stable yard, and he waited beside me while they brought out his great horse.

“Well, it is not unusual. I do not live with mine,” he remarked.

I saw the roofs of Durham House tilt against the sky, as I staggered back and held on to the wall till the world steadied again. “You have a wife?”

“Oho, did you not know that, my little seer? I thought you knew everything?”

“I did not know…” I began.

“Oh yes, I have been married since I was a lad. And I thank God for it.”

“Because you like her so much?” I stammered, feeling an odd pain like sickness under my ribs.

“Because if I had not been married already, it would have been me married to Jane Grey and dancing to my father’s bidding.”

“Does your wife never come to court?”

“Almost never. She will only live in the country, she has no liking for London, we cannot agree… and it is easier for me…” He broke off and glanced toward his father, who was mounting a big black hunter and giving his grooms orders about the rest of the horses. I knew at once that it was easier for Lord Robert to move this way and that, his father’s spy, his father’s agent, if he was not accompanied by a wife whose face might betray them.

“What’s her name?”

“Amy,” he said casually. “Why?”

I had no answer. Numbly, I shook my head. I could feel an intense discomfort in my belly. For a moment I thought I had taken Guilford Dudley’s bloat. It burned me like bile. “Do you have children?”

If he had said that he had children, if he had said that he had a girl, a beloved daughter, I think I would have doubled up and vomited on the cobbles at his feet.

But he shook his head. “No,” he said shortly. “You must tell me one day when I shall get a son and an heir. Can you do that?”

I looked up and tried to smile despite the burning in my throat. “I don’t think I can.”

“Are you afraid of the mirror?”

I shook my head. “I’m not afraid, if you are there.”

He smiled at that. “You have all the cunning of a woman, never mind the skills of a holy fool. You seek me out, don’t you, Mistress Boy?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“You didn’t like the thought of me married.”

“I was surprised, only.”

Lord Robert put his gloved hand under my chin and turned my face up to him so that I was forced to meet his dark eyes. “Don’t be a woman, a lying woman. Tell me the truth. Are you troubled with the desires of a maid, my little Mistress Boy?”

I was too young to hide it. I felt the tears come into my eyes and I stayed still, letting him hold me.

He saw the tears and knew what they meant. “Desire? And for me?”

Still I said nothing, looking at him dumbly through my blurred vision.

“I promised your father that I would not let any harm come to you,” he said gently.

“It has come already,” I said, speaking the inescapable truth.

He shook his head, his dark eyes warm. “Oh, this is nothing. This is young love, green-sickness. The mistake I made in my youth was to marry for such a slim cause. But you, you will survive this and go on to marry your betrothed and have a houseful of black-eyed children.”

I shook my head but my throat was too tight to speak.

“It is not love that matters, Mistress Boy, it is what you choose to do with it. What d’you choose to do with yours?”

“I could serve you.”

He took one of my cold hands and took it up to his lips. Entranced, I felt his mouth touch the tips of my fingers, a touch as intimate as any kiss on the lips. My own mouth softened, in a little pursed shape of longing, as if I would have him kiss me, there, in the courtyard before them all.

“Yes,” he said gently, not raising his head but whispering against my fingers. “You could serve me. A loving servant is a great gift for any man. Will you be mine, Mistress Boy? Heart and soul? And do whatever I ask of you?”

His moustache brushed against my hand, as soft as the breast feathers of his hawk.

“Yes,” I said, hardly grasping the enormity of my promise.

“Whatever I ask of you?”

“Yes.”

At once he straightened up, suddenly decisive. “Good. Then I have a new post for you, new work.”

“Not at court?” I asked.

“No.”

“You begged me to the king,” I reminded him. “I am his fool.”

His mouth twisted in a moment’s pity. “The poor lad won’t miss you,” he said. “I shall tell you all of it. Come to Greenwich tomorrow, with the rest of them, and I’ll tell you then.”

He laughed at himself as if the future was an adventure that he wanted to start at once. “Come to Greenwich tomorrow,” he threw over his shoulder as he strode toward his horse. His groom cupped his hands for his master’s boot and Lord Robert vaulted up into the high saddle of his hunter. I watched him turn his horse and clatter out of the stable-yard, into the Strand and then toward the cold English morning sun. His father followed behind at a more sober pace, and I saw that as they passed, although all the men pulled off their hats and bent their heads to show the respect that the duke commanded, their faces were sour.

I clattered into the courtyard of the palace at Greenwich riding astride one of the carthorses pulling the wagon with supplies. It was a beautiful spring day, the fields running down to the river were a sea of gold and silver daffodils, and they reminded me of Mr. Dee’s desire to turn base metal to gold. As I paused, feeling the warmer breeze against my face, one of the Dudley servants shouted toward me: “Hannah the Fool?”

“Yes?”

“To go to Lord Robert and his father in their privy rooms at once. At once, lad!”

I nodded and went into the palace at a run, past the royal chambers to the ones that were no less grand, guarded by soldiers in the Dudley livery. They swung open the double doors for me and I was in the presence room where the duke would hear the petitions of common people. I went through another set of doors, and another, the rooms getting smaller and more intimate, until the last double doors opened, and there was Lord Robert leaning over a desk with a manuscript scroll spread out before him, his father looking over his shoulder. I recognized at once that it was Mr. Dee’s writing, and that it was a map that he had made partly from ancient maps of Britain borrowed from my father, and partly from calculations of his own based on the sailors’ charts of the coastline. Mr. Dee had prepared the map because he believed that England’s greatest fortune were the seas around the coast; but the duke was using it for a different purpose.