The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [254]
“Your Grace.” The captain, Viscount Lisle, Lord Dudley, bowed to us. I acknowledged him. But for this moment I did not wish to speak of common things. The sky was half on fire with the reflection of the setting sun. I went to the rail and looked out to sea, where the waters were flat and untroubled, and there was no wind. At this moment England seemed inviolate, protected by all the elements.
Kate stood beside me. The calm I felt in my person, a sort of afterglow like the departed sun, was crowned in her presence.
“Your Majesties!” A raucous voice sounded behind us. I turned to see Tom Seymour, bending one knee, his plumed hat held at an angle. His uncovered hair glowed, reflecting the red sky.
“Thomas.” I held out my hand, indicating that he should rise. “We are pleased that you could join us.” I used the royal we. The truth was that I never consulted Kate about these things. She was usually amenable to guests; therefore I was acutely aware, by her quick stiffening, that she did not wish Thomas Seymour to be present at this private occasion.
“And I am deeply grateful that you should invite me.” He sauntered over to us and took his place at the rail, letting his muscular arms hang over the side. “Are you trying to sight the French?” he said. “They are coming from the south, if they come at all. Such poor sailors!” He shook his head, and all that mane of hair swayed.
“We talk not of the French,” said Kate. “We are here to celebrate a private matter, and to inspect the King’s flagship.”
“Peace be unto you,” said an old, familiar voice. Brandon was aboard. I turned to see him, standing bearlike on the oiled deck.
“And unto you.” I held out my hands. “We sound like bishops.” I laughed.
“Not quite,” he said. “We are not discussing property.”
We embraced on the deck. “How is your army?” I whispered, for Kate would have no politics to spoil this evening.
“Well,” he said. “We are at the ready in Kent to defend England against whatever comes our way. I think they will most likely land there.”
“If they do, you know when to light the signal fires?” I had ordered a system of beacon fires to be laid all across the entire southern coast of England, the first torch to be touched as soon as a Frenchman was spotted.
“Aye. There’s a great heap near my encampment, and willing torch-bearers to spread the flame.”
I was loth to release him. “Think you all of this shall come to pass? Will we truly be invaded, for the first time in four hundred years?”
“I fear so,” he said. “The invasion fleet is on its way.”
“Invasions fail,” I said. I could not hold myself apart from the others much l them, and are filled with malice and rancour. You need not be; you have your own gifts, which they have not.”
“And what are they?” He shrugged. “They win me no glory.”
The gift of attracting women, I thought. Not men, but women. Even Elizabeth had shown herself susceptible to his charm, which puzzled me. “Your immense energy,” I said. “You are like a thousand suns.”
Like all shallow men thrown a sop of flattery, he smiled, took the bait to his den, and subsided.
A slight breeze stirred, and we felt it on our cheeks. It was not a soft caress, but a warning. I fill the French sails, it whispered. I shivered and looked out at the horizon.
The master-cook brought out the fanciful dessert: a great pastry, in layers, replicating Great Harry. Tiny pennants flew from her four masts, and exact miniatures of cannon were mounted on her main deck and gun deck. As the ship was placed before me, two of the cannon “fired,” making a snap and a puff of smoke.
“A salute for each of our years of marriage,” I said to Kate.
She burst into rare laughter. “O Henry!”
That address between us was forbidden