The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [240]
She turned away, embarrassed; and in truth, I sounded like a suitor. The only persons I wished to woo now were my children. No more women. I was done with them.
Others were listening. “If you wish to attend to the beast,” I finally said, “it could have no wiser or kinder nurse. Only I pray you, be careful—as once its strength returns, it will grow vicious. Never approach it alone, without Master Quigley.”
I turned to the gathered company. “Well, we have seen it now. Truly it is a formidable beast, but in need of nursing. Let us leave it.” I shielded my eyes against the ever-hotter sun. “ ’Tis no time to be out of doors in direct sun. Come—join me in the banqueting house at Hampton. We shall pass the summer afternoon as summer afternoons are meant to be passed.”
This impromptu gathering would be the first heartfelt social gesture I had made since Catherine’s ... since the winter. Hitherto I had gone through the motions, in hopes of feeling something; today I longed to luxuriate in the intensity of high summer. A long afternoon in the banqueting house—the banqueting house which had not been used for several summers—appealed to me, appealed with no thought of whether it was right, whether it would help me, or whether my physicians would recommend it. It appealed on its own terms.
The banqueting house in question crowned the manmade “mount” at the far end of the Hampton gardens. Anne had laid out all the plans the year Elizabeth was born, but as they were elaborate and called for a great deal of labour, the construction had required another year or so, and the growth of the plants even longer. Only now was it all as we had envisioned it, that summer so long ago, when I had thought Anne Boleyn would always be beside me, and the banqueting house would hear her ringing laughter....
Ghosts, ghosts. I wafted my hand before my face as if to clear the way of cobwebs. They blocked everything, everything, entangling me, dimming my vision of what lay ahead.
The mount, then: it was raised on a brick foundation, and then, atop that, the great sixty-foot mound of earth heaped there by workmen to make an artificial hill. It was now covered with a carpet of thick, fine grass, planted all over with fruit trees—cherry, apple, pear—and with myrtle, box, bay, and laurel cunningly clipped in topiary fashion to resemble beasts and other fancies. Scattered amongst these was a collection of rare sundials I had acquired from the monasteries, as well as gaily painted wooden beasts—dragons, lions, unicorns, greyhounds, griffms—holding shields and vanes for royal arms. The pathway up to the top wound gently round the mount and was planted with daisies, marigold, snapdragon, rosemary, camomile, and lavender. The gravelled path was only wide enough for three or four abreast, and so, as we climbed it, the party stretched out far behind me, like children trooping through the woods.
On top stood the summer banqueting house. It was built on a stone foundation, with wooden trelliswork sides; already, climbing vines and flowers entwined themselves on the inviting ladders, so that inside the house it was all greenish light, and the faint stirring of leaves, which served as a cool filter for the glaring sunlight. Here we would pass the afternoon, supping on strawberries and drinking Verney, a sweet white wine.
I had sent word back to court that some ladies should join us. The only ladies left at court were the wives of my councillors, and some who had official functions, and a few of Catherine’s leftover attendants.
No more could the Queen;
They sent for the wise men
From out of the East,
Who said it had horns,
But was not a beast.”
The King ...