The Lady in the Tower (10 page)

‘The king approaches!’ we heard the herald cry.

‘Quick, quick!’ cried Maria, quite distracted. ‘We must be in the great hall before he comes! No time for the paste.’ She snatched the hood from the maid and hastily placed it onto my head herself, pinning it into place. I winced as the pins stabbed at my scalp. ‘Let us just hope that keeps it in place for the evening. Come, we must go.’

‘The king will only just be riding into the stables now,’ I protested. ‘What’s the hurry?’

‘You have much to learn, Eleanor,’ Maria told me sternly. ‘The king may keep us waiting for as long as he chooses, but we must not be even five seconds late for him.’

‘He’s not going to care about me,’ I grumbled under my breath. ‘I shouldn’t think he’ll even notice I’m there.’

With my headdress in place and my dress adjusted, I felt prepared to meet a dozen kings if need be. We hurried to the great hall, our skirts hushing as we walked.

‘For pity’s sake, do not hold up your skirts like that, Eleanor,’ said Maria.

‘But the floor is dirty. They might become soiled.’

‘That is your maid’s business, not yours. At least
try
to act like a lady.’

I pulled a face behind her back.

We were not the first to arrive in the great hall by any means. There was a large crowd already gathered to greet their monarch and more people arriving. The ladies glittered with gold or silver cloth and jewels, the men were equally grand in their extravagantly padded doublets and their tight hose.

When the king entered at last, my father at his side, everyone bowed or curtseyed low. It was a fine sight, and I was just a split second late dropping into my own deep curtsey. I peeped up at King Henry and experienced a shock. Gone was the tall, handsome man of my memory. Gone was the carefree smile and glow of health and happiness. Instead, an immensely fat old man waddled into view, leaning heavily on a stick. His cheeks drooped and his once merry mouth pouted discontentedly. His eyes, formerly full of energy and joy, now gazed on the world with suspicion and cynicism.

He was approaching, and Maria nudged me to curtsey deeper. I knew I should not gaze upon the king thus, and I dropped my head lower, watching his feet approach, noting the swollen ankles and also the terrible smell that hung about him. The feet stopped right in front of me.

‘My daughter, Your Majesty,’ I heard Sir Walter say. I peeped up again, and my father motioned me to rise. I straightened up and found the king gazing intently at me. There was something other than world-weariness in the eyes that lingered on my face and figure.

‘Charming. Quite charming, Hungerford,’ he said. I felt my face grow hot under the royal scrutiny, and was glad when he nodded and walked on.

‘You have caught the notice of the king, Mistress Eleanor,’ hissed Maria, wasp-like in my ear. ‘That is fortunate but also dangerous. He has always an eye for the young and pretty.’

I glanced at her and saw envy. He had passed her by without a look. Could she not be content with her conquest of my father? I considered her dispassionately. She was young, though not as young as I, but was she beautiful? I thought perhaps she was, in a strong-featured way that I did not admire.

‘I do not want the king’s notice,’ I said shortly.

‘Oh, I doubt you need fear greatly,’ she sneered. ‘I hear he is much taken with one of the young Howard girls. Catherine, I think she’s called.’

‘But he’s not divorced yet.’

Maria regarded me coldly. ‘My, what a child you are, Eleanor.’ Then obviously feeling she had been too harsh, she slipped her arm through mine, gave it a squeeze and smiled. ‘He is the king. He can choose another wife, or take mistresses as he pleases.’

I shuddered at the thought.

The banquet that night was splendid in its extravagance. There were tables all the way round the hall and every seat was full. There were deer roasted on a spit, swans and peacocks dressed again in their splendid plumage. A sucking pig roasted whole in the kitchens, and carried in on a huge tray decorated with fruit. I had never seen such a selection of pies and pastries and the array of sweetmeats and fruits made my mouth water.

The king presided over all this, one leg laid tenderly upon a footstool, eating steadily. He ate for over an hour. When at last he sighed and pushed his plate away, everyone in the great hall stopped eating at once. I regretfully relinquished the dish of sweetmeats, from which I had been about to select another marchpane confection, to one of the many servants who hurried forward to clear the tables. Never mind, I comforted myself. I could always visit Betsey in the kitchen on the morrow.

Dishes were cleared from the top tables. At the lower tables, where the guests had made do with trenchers instead of plates, crusts and bones were thrown to the dogs. An unlucky servant tripped and fell while removing the king’s dishes. There was a huge crash that caused a sudden hush in conversation at the top of the hall. The incident would have been soon forgotten but for my father’s conduct. He leapt to his feet and began beating the unfortunate man with a tall wooden candlestick he had snatched from the table.

‘You clumsy oaf!’ he screamed. ‘What do you think you are doing causing such a commotion before His Majesty?’

The man cried out apologies, but he was ignored. Sir Walter continued to strike him and berate him at the top of his voice.

‘Lord Hungerford,’ rumbled the king into the shocked silence. His voice brought my father up short. He looked around him, as though dazed, and let the candlestick fall.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said with a deep bow. ‘I could not watch the clumsy fool insult you so without becoming enraged.’

‘It is well,’ nodded the king, and waved dismissal to the servant, who fled at once.

The king invited my father to sit beside him, and engaged him in conversation. I watched them for a moment, Sir Walter inclining his head respectfully.

It had been a dangerous moment, but it had passed. I wondered yet again whether my father really was insane. I blushed at what the other guests must think.

Gradually the noise of conversation increased once more, until there was a lively buzz around the hall. The guests appeared to have put the incident out of their minds for the time being.

Sir Walter rose to his feet and hammered on the table. My heart jumped into my mouth, but he seemed quite controlled again.

‘My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,’ called Sir Walter. ‘In a few moments a play will be performed for His Majesty’s entertainment. But first of all, His Majesty has graciously agreed to bestow his approval on the formal betrothal of my daughter, Eleanor.’

My knees turned to water. No, please, no, not here in front of all these people. Not in front of the king.

I became aware of an excited whispering in the background. Sir Walter had paused, no doubt for dramatic effect. He was looking around at his guests, obviously enjoying being the centre of attention. Maria prodded me in the side.

‘Go on,’ she hissed in my ear. ‘He’s waiting for you. Hurry!’

I wasn’t sure that Sir Walter was waiting for me, but as I was about to argue with Maria, my father turned and held out his hand to me. An affectionate gesture, hardly suited to our feelings for each other. I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. I was trembling uncontrollably and could scarcely summon either the courage or the strength to walk across the front of the hall. I could feel all the eyes of the guests boring into me, and felt my face flame.

As I reached Sir Walter, he took my hand and patted it, as though he really was a loving father. I felt too numb to feel angry. My hands were cold as ice.

I curtseyed deeply to the king, and then faced the hall, careful not to turn my back on His Majesty. I looked out over the assembled faces before me. Which old fright have you chosen for me this time? Will he be older and fatter than the king? The defiant thoughts gave me some courage, and stilled my trembling for a moment.

‘My precious daughter, Eleanor, is to be pledged to a member of one of our oldest and most respected families,’ announced Sir Walter. ‘The betrothal will unite the Hungerford and the Ashington families with even closer ties of friendship and alliance.’

There was a murmur of interest from the guests at this point. They knew more than I, for the name meant nothing to me. I was not acquainted with any of that family to my knowledge. Who could it be?

‘Lord Stanton.’ My father bowed and a familiar figure rose from a nearby bench, stepped forward and bowed.

My heart sank into my fashionable new shoes. I could hear applause around us, but I felt nothing but dread. Lord Stanton was standing before me. The very same man who had asked me for a kiss on the stairs. It was almost a greater shock than if it really had been some octogenarian with the gout and a wooden leg.

I had heard only his title, not his family name, before. He was young and handsome, true enough. But I had already such a dislike for him. What was worse, I knew him to be scheming with my father against Mother. To become betrothed to him was insufferable. I fear I was glaring at him, because I saw an amused smile creep into his eyes. I averted my own hurriedly.

Sir Walter was speaking. I heard nothing, my mind a turmoil of anger and fear.

‘Eleanor Hungerford,’ I heard the king say, and I struggled to gather my scattered wits. ‘Do you plight yourself to Philip Ashington, Viscount Stanton, and are you ready and willing to marry him in accordance with your father’s wishes?’

What choice did I have?

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ I murmured, dropping a respectful curtsey. I heard Stanton make some similar response. It was done. We were betrothed.

‘And when does the wedding take place?’ asked the king.

Sir Walter bowed. ‘In a month, sire, if it pleases you.’

The king nodded his approval.

So soon, I thought, panic rising in me again.

The entire hall rose to toast us and wish us health and happiness. My heart was hammering with fear. It was like being married already. And if the wedding was planned for just a month away, I might almost as well be.

Sir Walter put my hand in Lord Stanton’s, but Stanton dropped it almost immediately. It was the first thing he’d done since I met him that I was glad of.

Worst of all we were seated side-by-side at the king’s table after the betrothal. We sat in silence, avoiding each other’s gaze, as the hall was rearranged for the play. I was painfully aware of his presence throughout the performance. I did not follow a word of the entertainment, though usually I would have been greatly amused by such a thing.

A month. I had a month to somehow persuade Mother to run away with me. We had to escape from Farleigh, before I could be married off. I could see no other solution.

Dearest Mother,

I am betrothed again, to a scheming demon of a man. We are to be married in a month. I am afraid. Mother, will you consider running away with me, if I can free you? I long to be with you.

Alice tells me you did not let down your basket again last night. So they could not deliver my note or the food I sent. What is wrong? I will ride past the window every day till I see you. I pray you get this note.

Eleanor x

The inner court was crowded with men, horses, and dogs. I had saddled Arianna myself and hidden in a stable. I was waiting to join the hunt at the very last minute. My main reason was to avoid Lord Stanton who I had managed to ignore since our betrothal two days ago. But I also wanted to prevent my father catching sight of me just yet.

It had been my original intention to stay behind, and see whether I could get to Mother somehow. I was worried sick about her. She had only once before failed to wave to me or accept notes. That was the time she had been poisoned. But that could not be the case now. Not when we sent her food. Surely she had not been foolish enough to accept anything from the chaplain? My stomach tied itself in a knot of fear at the thought. I longed to speak to her.

Maria had foiled that plan.

‘Eleanor, do you not hunt? Strange! I’ve heard you are such a fearless horsewoman. Never mind,’ she said, slipping her arm through mine. ‘Let us go to my room and have a cosy chat while we sew. Then perhaps later we can take a little walk together in the garden.’

Horrified, I cast around in my mind for an excuse. ‘No indeed, Maria, that will not do. For I fear I have the headache, and mean to lie down in my room.’

‘Oh, you poor child!’ she cried at once, all tender concern. ‘I’ll send my maid to you at once to lay a cool flannel on your brow and burn feathers in your room. That is the best cure for a headache, trust me!’

‘No really, please, I could not put her to so much trouble. And I do not like a fuss made. Perhaps I should hunt after all. The fresh air might clear my head.’

So saying I made off in the direction of the stables at once. I could achieve nothing by staying behind.

I watched the king get into his saddle. It took the united efforts of several strong men to hoist him on to his poor horse. I wondered whether he would turn back with the ladies after the first few fields. I myself had every intention of staying the pace and seeing the kill. We were to hunt deer so that the king could eat venison that night.