In his inner chamber he had a small stone bench, with a little fireplace hollowed out of the stone. He would light a charcoal fire, and suspend above it great glass vessels filled with herbs in water. A complicated network of glass tubes would drain liquor from one bottle to the other and then would stand and cool. Sometimes he would be in there for hours and all I would hear, as I copied page after page of numbers for him, was the quiet clink of one flask against another as he poured liquid into a vessel, or the hiss of the bellows as he heated the little fire.
In the afternoons Will Somers and I practiced our sword fighting, leaving aside the comical tricks and concentrating on proper fighting, until he told me that I was a commendable swordsman for a fool, and that if I ever found myself in trouble I might use a sword to fight my way out: Like a proud hidalgo, he said.
Although I was glad to learn a useful skill, we thought that the lessons would have been for nothing since the king continued to be so sick; until in May we were commanded to the great wedding feasts at Durham House in the Strand. The duke wanted a memorable wedding for his family and Will and I were part of an elaborate dinner entertainment.
You would think it a royal wedding, Will said slyly to me.
How, royal? I asked.
He put his finger to his lips. Janes mother, Frances Brandon, is King Henrys niece, the daughter of his sister. Jane and Katherine are royal cousins.
Yes, I said. And so?
And Jane is to marry a Dudley.
Yes, I said, following this not at all.
Who more royal than the Dudleys? he demanded.
The kings sisters, I pointed out. Janes own mother. And others too.
Not if you measure in terms of desire, Will explained sweetly. In terms of desire there is no one more royal than the duke. He loves the throne so much he practically tastes it. He almost gobbles it up.
Will had gone too far for me. I got to my feet. I dont understand, I said flatly.
You are a wise child to be so dense, he said and patted my head.
Our sword fight was preceded by dancers and a masque and followed by jugglers, and we acquitted ourselves well. The guests roared with laughter at Wills tumbles and my triumphant skill, and the contrast between our looks: Will so tall and gangling, thrusting his sword wildly this way and that; and me, neat and determined, dancing around him and stabbing with my little sword, and parrying his blows.
The chief bride was as white as the pearls embroidered on her gold gown. Her bridegroom sat closer to his mother than to his new bride and neither bride nor groom spoke so much as one word to each other. Janes sister had been married to her betrothed in the same ceremony and she and he toasted each other and drank amorously from the same loving cup. But when the shout went up for a toast for Jane and Guilford, I could see that it cost Lady Jane an effort to raise her golden goblet to her new husband. Her eyes were red and raw, and the shadows under her eyes were dark with fatigue; there were marks on either side of her neck that looked like thumbprints. It looked very much as if someone had shaken the bride by the neck till she agreed to take her vows. She barely touched the bridal ale with her lips, I did not see her swallow.
What dyou think, Hannah the Fool? the Duke of Northumberland shouted down the hall to me. Shall she be a lucky bride?
My neighbors turned to me, and I felt the old swimming sensation that was a sign of the Sight coming. I tried to fight it off, this court would be the worst place in the world to tell the truth. I could not stop the words coming. Never more lucky than today, I said.
Lord Robert flashed a cautionary look at me but I could not take back the words. I had spoken as I felt, not with the skill of a courtier. My sense was that Janes luck, at a low ebb when she married with a bruise on her throat, would now run ever more swiftly downhill. But the duke took it as a compliment to his son and laughed at me, and raised his goblet. Guilford, little more than a dolt, beamed at his mother, while Lord Robert shook his head, and half closed his eyes, as if he wished he was elsewhere.
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 hawks 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.
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 fathers 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 fathers spy, his fathers agent, if he was not accompanied by a wife whose face might betray them.
Whats 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 Dudleys 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 dont think I can.
Are you afraid of the mirror?
I shook my head. Im 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, dont you, Mistress Boy?
I shook my head. No, sir.
You didnt 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. Dont 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 dyou 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 moments pity. The poor lad wont miss you, he said. I shall tell you all of it. Come to Greenwich tomorrow, with the rest of them, and Ill 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 masters 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. Dees 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?