Falling For Henry (13 page)

Kate thought the fellow had likely had enough of anything alcoholic, but saw a serving maid bustle over with what appeared to be a full tankard. Kate stood, mesmerized, staring first at the man as he tipped the container and guzzled noisily its contents, next at the jester, now making his way back to the front of the room, and then at the throng that obviously had all been taught the same unusual table manners. People left and right were chewing loudly, spitting, and scratching various body parts.
My father the King
, she thought.
Prince Henry. Princess Katherine.
Parallels to the characters in Willow's play rushed at her.
Henry and Katherine
.
Katherine the Queen
, who died from cancer of the heart.
King Henry the eighth to six wives he was wedded: one died, one survived, two divorced, two beheaded.

She forced herself to observe the people in the room, taking pains to learn their habits. Until she could get away, she'd better know how to behave, or the superstitions about witches would be her downfall. She remembered reading somewhere that witch-hunts used to be common. But she couldn't remember the time period when witches were hunted down and killed. Just how. And it was gruesome. People tied a bag of stones around the neck of an accused witch and threw her into a pond. If she floated, she was a witch and then had to be burned. If she sank, she was not a witch but had probably by that time drowned.
What century am I in
? she thought, unsuccessfully trying to remember what Willow had told her about Tudor times.

If she could pass successfully for Katherine just for a while, it would give her the chance to find a way to escape. And it was just a matter of studying people, she mused. Doing what others did. Trying to fit in. You ate with a knife and your fingers, using the left hand to take food from communal dishes and extending the thumb and first two fingers of the right hand for bringing the food to your mouth. The knife was also used for serving and cutting meat, and helping yourself to salt bowls.

Kate suddenly remembered that she hadn't tried very hard to fit in when she'd moved to London.
Big Apple
; the name still stung. Had she been the snob that her sister accused her of being? But that familiar London world was not part of this world at all. With sudden relief she realized that all the old heartaches—her mother's abandonment, her father's death—were part of another life. Almost as if they had never happened. And, in truth, if she were in some past time, they really had not happened. Not yet. The thought brought a kind of freedom and, with it, great peace.

As she watched even more closely the events in the dining hall, she began to identify the courses that servants carried to the tables. First had been a number of different types of meat; there were hefty legs of lamb, long trays of meat pies, and the venison she'd seen the woman eating, as well as baskets of round, dark loaves of bread. After the first serving dishes were taken away, she saw plates of fish and other meat, as well as more bread, and then tarts and white pudding in small pottery bowls. And when people finished their meal, it wasn't uncommon for diners to use a toothpick while sitting at the table—even while leaning over serving bowls from which others were still eating—talking and laughing with friends.

One thing she noticed was that people didn't consume the shells when they ate the meat pies. It looked as if the crusts were used as bowls. After people had eaten out the filling, they threw the rest on the ground for dogs to eat, and there were a great number of dogs to oblige.

A woman in a fine low-cut silver dress was paying a great deal of attention to the large dog leaning at her legs. A greyhound, Kate identified by its slender body. Every now and then the woman would pass it a tidbit of meat, which it ate very delicately. The woman stroked its silky neck and then suddenly turned aside, holding a pomander to her nose. Apparently, Kate guessed, as others from the table fanned the air and drew away from the animal, the dog had passed gas.

“Got yourself a live one there,” someone at the table called out.

“My aunt had a greyhound that could clear a whole room,” called someone else.

Kate thought of her history teacher and smiled.

“So there you are,” came a voice from behind her in the corridor, startling her out of her reverie. “Are you feeling better?”

She turned and felt her cheeks tingle pleasantly at Henry's tone. Then she nodded, glancing shyly into his electric blue eyes.

“There's … there's a great deal of meat served here,” she stammered. Why could she never think of the right thing to say to a boy?

“But of course. We must show visitors the King's power,” he said, looking at her curiously. She pressed her lips together. Of course, this was something Katherine would know.

Thoughts that were Katherine's impressed themselves on her consciousness.
When one considers the work that goes into roasting meat, and sees the results on fine tables, one cannot help but be impressed.

Kate looked up again at the high ceiling of the hall, feeling small and insignificant, as she was meant to do.
This fine hall was built to show the King's power and might, and cause people of the court to feel mean in comparison
.

“Why are those roses all over the ceiling?” she blurted.

“Did not Arthur explain any of this?” Henry asked slowly, guiding her back into the hall, intent on the subject of her question.

“Your Highness, it is wonderful to see you this evening,” said the woman with the greyhound, and others at the tabled murmured agreement, bowing their heads and otherwise showing deference by clasping their hands over their hearts.

The mention of Arthur's name had sent a chill down Kate's spine and her legs felt weak. Again she saw the black carriage drawn by dark horses and felt an awful shuddery feeling inside her chest. Henry, still intent on her, was expecting an answer, so Kate shook her head. “The Tudor rose represents two great families coming together,” he went on. “Lancaster, my father, and York. York for … for my mother.” The way he said
my mother
made Kate glance at his face. It was suddenly drawn with a pain Kate recognized from her own heart's past. His mother's dead, she said to herself.

“I have arranged for food to be brought to your chamber, thinking you might not want to be in company,” Henry said, in quite a different tone. “I understand that you are here in secret from the King, as it was at his bidding that you went away. And your secret can be kept a little while longer, as His Majesty is busy with guests from France. Don't worry. No one else will care that you have returned a bit early.” He drew her back into the corridor where he stopped and looked at her with fondness. “Did you miss me that much, then?”

She blushed harder.

“Confound it, I would like to know you better!” he exclaimed. “You are quite extraordinary.”

If I'm dreaming, I should just wake up,
she thought.
Wake up before it's too late!
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. When she opened them after a few tense seconds, she was still standing in the passageway, light from the torches casting dancing shadows along the walls. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

“Do you have something in your eye?” Henry asked, offering her a white handkerchief.

She shook her head and he took a step closer. There it was again—a fresh smell of sage and mint that made her knees feel like jelly. He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face up to his. Their lips touched. She felt the world around her sway. Then she drew back.

“Maybe we should return to …” she began weakly, her head throbbing. This wasn't at all like kissing Hal. It was a hundred times better.

“Yes, yes, and get you your dinner. You must be starving.” Henry led the way back down the narrow corridor, and soon Kate was dining on thick slices of bread, cabbage, baked apples, and pieces of tender, salty meat. Since there were no forks, she used her fingers as she had seen the people do back in the hall. Her hunger from hours earlier was finally eased, along with her headache, and she thought that never had she had a meal as good as this.

“What meat is this?” she asked, her mouth half-full.

“Peacock,” answered Henry jauntily. “Can't you tell?”

14
The memories

“PEACOCK!” CHOKED KATE, but Henry went on, oblivious to her reaction. “I would have brought you the tail but that swine of a tutor carried off the feathers to make pens.” He suddenly stopped and looked at her more seriously. “Your horse is well attended in the stables. The grooms have given her a fresh stall.”

“My horse?” exclaimed Kate.

Henry sent her a measured glance and she quickly added, “Thank you,” remembering the dappled gray mare
that I have ridden these last six years
. Again, another memory had magically superimposed itself on her own. She had to be very careful. Who knew what these people would do if they thought she really was a witch?

“You've been kind,” she said simply, with as much dignity as she could muster.

His appraising glance made her blush again and look down at her plate.

“Women generally do not have such courage,” he said. “But I must know about your hair. Why has it been cut?”

Kate reached up and touched her hair. It was shorter than Katherine was used to, but the same as always to Kate. Was it possible to live so divided?

“I … I wanted to pass about more freely,” she mumbled, touching the offending strands of auburn.

“You are not feeding her, Henry?” Doña Elvira bustled in with a tray. “I brought a white custard, which would have been softer on the stomach.”

“I'll have it, too,” Kate said, wanting to oblige. She thought about this other Katherine whose world had blended so crazily with her own. While Kate had entered Tudor times, where had Katherine gone? Had she left the tunnel at Kate's point of entry and then stayed in Kate's time, to live with Willow? Kate shoveled in a spoonful of pudding, and then another, wondering suddenly how Katherine would be managing with the soup.

Doña Elvira raised her eyebrows. “Don't make a hog of yourself,” she said tartly, “or you will spoil your figure. What you need is a simple diet, rest, quiet, and some exercise. I'll take that”—she added, grabbing Kate's half-full pudding dish—“for the voider. The Almoner is waiting to feed the beggars and we all must do our duty. Now: rest, quiet, and exercise,” she repeated, giving Henry a sharp look. Henry took the hint and stood.

“We will play tennis in the morning,” he said, “and see if you are still a match for me. And I must show you something I have acquired,” he whispered softly when Doña Elvira stepped deferentially into the other room. Kate raised her eyebrows as he added, “An astrolabe!”

“An astrolabe. What's that?” she asked. He looked oddly shaken at her words. “Oh, an astrolabe,” she repeated. “I misheard you, at first. I thought you said …” she struggled to think of a replacement. “Something else.”

“Being that it has such amazing accuracy in calculating a ship's position,” he looked at Kate even more searchingly, “you do remember us speaking of it, don't you?”

“Of course,” Kate said. He nodded and then spoke more brusquely.

“I was thinking of your birthday … when is the actual date, Katherine?”

“December 16,” Kate said automatically. This seemed to surprise him, but he looked relieved and then smiled.

“Ah, yes, the correct date,” he murmured. “All is well, then, with your memory.”

Kate swallowed hard. He was certainly testing her. But all was clearly not well with her memory! Her fifteenth birthday was on Monday, October 16. Not December 16. Why had she said
December
? It was the same as when she'd known the way to these rooms, and when she'd recognized the gray pony, and when she'd felt that, indeed, her hair
had
been cut. She was confusingly two different people, Katherine and Kate, inexplicably entwined.

Henry turned to Doña Elvira, who had bustled back into the room. “Get her a different dress,” he commanded. “With her hair short, and Grandmother's ladies busy with the King's visitors from France, and the King himself similarly engaged, she will pass about without drawing their attention.”

Doña Elvira nodded, her sharp eyes flickering back and forth between Henry and Kate.

Henry continued in a gentler tone. “By the time her presence is noticed, the reasons for her going may be out of date.”

“Lady Margaret, no doubt, will be too busy to consider more servants for us now the princess has returned?” said Doña Elvira.

“Indeed, my grandmother is at the moment fully occupied,” Henry replied regretfully but with authority.

He's good at making hard decisions, Kate thought. Reminds me of Willow. And suddenly Willow seemed very far away. Then she realized that Katherine would have to go to the Camden school on Monday in her place! They might not burn her at the stake, but they surely could make her roast a little. She felt dangerous laughter bubbling up in her throat.

“See you in the morning?” said Henry.

“Tennis,” Kate answered, swallowing hard and catching Doña Elvira's sharp look. “Uh … thank you for the ride back today, and for your … uh … consideration.”

“I did nothing that any honorable man would not have done,” said Henry gently. “Sleep well.” His gaze made Kate want to throw her arms around him, but she caught a glimpse of an item on a leather thong around his neck and looked at it curiously. It was the tooth of some predatory animal. A shark, or perhaps a lion.

Henry looked at Kate for another moment and she felt his magnetic power. When she made no motion to step forward, however, he reluctantly turned and left the room. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she gave herself completely to the thoughts she'd been harboring all day. Prince Henry. Princess Katherine.