The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [15]
I wished I could be a sailor and live on one of those ships; spend my life on the water, sailing all over the world. Being a prince—the sort of prince I must be—was dull by comparison. I would ... I would start going down to the docks and learning about ships. I would go secretly! That way, Father could say nothing against it. I would disguise myself... and then, when I had become an expert sailor, I would sail away, forget my life here, disappear, become a vagabond prince—have high adventures! They would never know what had become of me; onnterrupted me.
I turned, guiltily, and saw the Queen.
“Henry, what are you doing here all alone?”
“I am planning my future.”
“Your Father has already done that.”
Yes. He thought to make a priest of me. Well, they would have to fit the chasubles and albs and cinctures to someone else. I would be sailing the high seas!
“You must not worry about your place,” she said, thinking to soothe me, “nor hide yourself from the festivities.”
“The festivities bore me,” I said grandly. “And the costumes for the masque were moth-eaten!” Somehow this one thing had greatly embarrassed me. I knew that the Spanish ambassador had seen, and laughed at us.
She nodded. “Yes, I know. They are so old—”
“Why doesn’t he get new ones, then?” I burst out. “Why?”
She ignored the question and all that lay behind it. “There will be dancing soon. Please come. You are such a talented dancer.”
“A talented dancer!” I said grumpily. “I must forget dancing—unless Arthur will permit the clergy to dance in their vestments. Do you think His Holiness might give us such a dispensation?” It was hopeless; it must be the sea for me, that was clear.
Suddenly the Queen bent toward me and touched my face lightly. “Dear Henry,” she said. “I disliked it, too. So much.”
So she knew, she understood. She had been the eldest, but only a daughter. Unable to be Queen in her own right. Unable. And waiting. Always waiting—to be assigned her secondary role.
I nodded. And obediently followed her down to the Great Hall.
The Hall was hot and crowded, with everyone dressed in satins, stiff jewelled brocades, and splendidly coloured velvets. I was only too aware of my plain clothes. I had been allowed only three new outfits for the wedding and Christmas festivities, and I had long since appeared in them.
Arthur and Katherine sat at one end of the Hall. Arthur was gotten up like a jewelled idol, and he looked frail and doll-like in the overpowering chair. He kept glancing nervously at Katherine. He and his new wife were to leave London as soon as the holidays were over, and go to a cold, horrid castle on the Welsh border to play King and Queen in training. This was entirely Father’s idea; he believed in toughening Arthur, tempering him.
Arthur clearly did not want to be tempered. Yet he was willing, because it was his duty. Arthur always obeyed his duty. He seemed to feel that was what distinguished a king, or even was the essence of kingship.
The minstrels took their assigned places in the stone gallery. There were fifteen of them—double the usual number. Their leader announced that they were honoured by the presence of a Venetian lutenist and a shawm player from Flanders. There was a murmur of appreciation. Then he added that a French musician, well versed in French court dances, would play, as well as another artist who had trained at the Spanish court.
Initially they played only English dances, and almost all the lords ansence of aalmain.
Arthur would not dance. He just sat, still and solemn, in his great chair, deliberately ignoring Katherine’s restlessness and tapping feet. She was longing to dance—it was evident in every line of her body.
Suddenly I was determined to satisfy that longing in her and in myself as well. We were both prisoners of our station: she, wed to a husband who refused to dance; I, a future priest. It was decreed that we must spend the remainder of our lifetimes without dancing. Perhaps so, but there was still a little time....
I made my way over to her and, bowing low before