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‘The rose was a fine gesture, if a little wayward. My horse and I both thank you, Mistress Alice.’
There was the rustle of appreciative laughter, no longer at my expense. I felt the heat of his kiss against my skin, hotter than the beat of blood in my cheeks.
I am learning to dance. ‘Holy Virgin!’ I misstepped the insistent beat of the tabor and shawm for the twentieth time. How could I excel at tallying coins, yet be unable to count the steps in a simple processional dance? The King’s hand tightened to give me balance as I lurched. He was a better dancer than I. It would be hard to be worse.
‘You are allowed to look at me, Mistress Alice,’ he announced when we came together again.
‘If I do, I shall fall over my feet, Sire, or yours. I’ll cripple you before the night is out.’
‘I’ll lead you in the right steps.’ I must have looked askance. ‘Do you not trust me, Alice?’
He had called me by my name, without formality. I looked up, to find his eyes quizzical on my face, and I missed the next simple movement.
‘I dare not,’ I managed.
‘You would refuse your King?’ He was amused again.
‘I would when it would be to his benefit.’
‘Then we must do our poor best, sweet Alice, and count the broken toes at the end of the evening.’
Sweet Alice? Was he flirting with me? But no. That was not possible. I exasperated him more than I entertained him.
‘By God, Mistress Alice. You did not lie,’ he stated ruefully as the procession wound to its end. ‘You should issue a warning to any man who invites you.’
‘Not every man is as brave as you, Sire.’
‘Then I’ll remember not to risk it again,’ he said as he handed me back to sit at Philippa’s side.
But he did. Even though I still fell over his feet.
The Queen did not forbid me to dance with the King, but she appeared to find little enjoyment in the occasion.
The Queen has given the King a lion. Ah, yes! The affair of the lion! Observing the damsels with scorn where they huddled, hiding their faces, retreating from its roars in mock fear, keen to find a comforting arm from one of the King’s gallant knights, I walked towards the huge cage where I might inspect the beast at close quarters. I was not afraid, and would not pretend to be so. How could it harm me when it was imprisoned behind bars and locks? Its rough, tawny mane, its vast array of teeth fascinated me. I stepped closer as it settled on its haunches, tail twitching in impotent warning.
‘You’re not afraid, Mistress Alice?’ Soft-footed, the King stood behind me.
‘No, Sire. What need?’ We had returned to formality and I was not sorry. Was he not the King? ‘The girls are foolish, not afraid. They just wish to …’
‘They wish to attract attention?’
‘Yes, Sire.’
We looked across to where the fluttering damsels received assurance and flattery.
‘And you do not, Mistress Alice? Does not some young knight take your critical eye? Is there no one you admire?’
I thought about this, giving his question more consideration than perhaps was intended, appraising the wealth of strength and beauty and high blood around me.
‘No, Sire.’ It was the truth.
‘But you admire my lion.’
‘Oh, I do.’
The lion watched us with impassive hatred. Were we not the cause of its imprisonment? I considered its state, and my own past experience. Both kept under duress, without freedom. Both existing on the whim of another. But I had escaped by miraculous means. There would be no miracle for this lion. This poor beast would remain in captivity until the day of its death.
‘Does nothing fill you with terror? Other than horses, of course.’
He had unnerved me again. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘But it’s a fear you’ll never know, Sire.’
‘Tell me, then.’
Before I could collect my wits I found myself explaining, because he was regarding me as if he really cared about my fears. ‘I am afraid of the future, Sire, where nothing is permanent, nothing is certain. Of a life without stability, without friends or family, without a home. Where I am nobody, without name or status.’ I paused. ‘I don’t want to be dependent on the pity or charity of others—I have had enough of that. I want to make something of myself, for myself.’
Holy Mother! I looked fixedly at the lion. Had I really admitted to all that? To the King?
‘It’s a lot to ask,’ he replied simply. ‘For a young woman in your situation.’
Much as Countess Joan had observed, with far less courtesy. ‘Is it impossible?’
‘No. That was not my meaning. But it’s a hard road for a woman alone to travel.’
‘Must I then accept my fate, like this poor imprisoned beast?’
‘Are we not all governed by fate, mistress?’
Aware that his attention was turned from lion to me, and that the conversation had taken a very personal turn, I sought for an innocuous reply. ‘I don’t intend ingratitude, Sire. I’m aware of how much I owe the Queen.’
‘I didn’t know that you saw your future in so bleak a light.’
‘Why would you, Sire? You are the King. It is not necessary that you either know or care.’ For that is how I saw it.
‘Am I so selfish?’ Startled, his fine brows met over the bridge of his nose and I wondered if I had displeased him. ‘Or is it that you have a low opinion of all men?’
‘I’ve no reason not to. My father, whoever he was, gave me no reason to think highly of them. Neither did my husband, who took me in a sham of a marriage to ward off his sister’s nagging. I did not matter overmuch to either of them.’
For a moment the King looked astounded, as he might if one of his hounds dared to bite him on the ankle.
‘You don’t hold back with the truth, do you, mistress? It seems I must make amends for my sex.’
‘You owe me nothing, Sire.’
‘Perhaps it is not a matter of owing, Alice. Perhaps it is more of what I find I wish to do.’
The lion roared, lashing out with claws against the metal, interrupting whatever the King, or I, might have said next. He led me away as attendants from his menagerie came to transport the beast, and I thanked God for the timely intervention. I had said quite enough.
But the King was not done with me yet. ‘You are not justified in your reading of my character, Mistress Alice,’ he said with a wry twist of his lips as we came to the door. ‘I know exactly what you fear. I lived through a time when my future hung on a thread, when I did not know friend from enemy and my authority as King was under attack. I know about rising every morning from my bed, not knowing what fate would bring me—whether good or evil.’
I must have shown my disbelief that a King should ever know such doubts.
‘One day I will tell you.’
He walked away, leaving me dumbfounded.
I have a gift. From Edward himself. I frowned at my gift, all spirit with a mane and tail of silk, as neat as an illustration from a Book of Hours, as she fussed and tossed her head in the stableyard.
‘You don’t like her?’
‘I don’t know why you should give her to me, Sire.’
‘Why should I not?’
‘And why do you always ask me questions to which I have no answer?’
Edward laughed, not at all disturbed by my retort. ‘You always seem to find one.’
‘She’s never short of a pert comment, that’s for sure.’ Isabella had arrived to stroke the pretty, dappled creature. ‘When did you last give me a new horse, sir?’
‘When you last asked me for one, as I recall. Two months ago.’
‘So you did. I must think of something else, since you’re generous today.’
‘You have never had need to question my generosity, Isabella,’ the King replied dryly.
‘True,’ she conceded, with a final pat to the mare. ‘Get what you can, little Alice, since His Majesty is in the mood for giving. Here’s your chance to make your fortune from the royal coffers!’ And she wandered off, restless as ever.
‘My daughter is free with her opinions.’ He watched her go. ‘I apologise for her lack of grace.’
It had been an unnerving interlude, leaving the King with less of his good humour, but still I asked, ‘You have not told me why you have given me the mare, Sire.’
‘I have given you the mare because you need a mount to take care of you when my son cannot. She will treat you very well, if you will be so good as to accept her.’
His reply was curt, giving me a taste of his latent power, his dislike of being questioned, his very masculine pride. I set myself to charm and amuse, as I knew I could. King or not, he did not deserve that his open-handed magnanimity to a servant be thrown in his face.
‘I am not ungracious, Sire. It is just that no one has ever given me a gift before. Except for the Queen. And once I was given a monkey.’ He began to smile. ‘It was a detestable creature.’
Edward laughed. ‘What happened to it? Do you still have it?’
‘Fortunately not. I fear its fate was sealed at St Mary’s.’
His laughter became a low growl. ‘Then if you are so short of gifts, mistress, I must do what I can to remedy it.’
I considered this. ‘The King does not give gifts to girls of no family.’
‘This one does. He gives what he wishes, to whom he wishes. Or at least he gives a palfrey to you, Mistress Alice.’
‘I can’t, Sire …’ I was not lacking in good sense. It would be indiscreet. The mare was far too valuable.
‘What a prickly creature you are. It is nothing, you know.’
‘Not to you.’
‘I want you to enjoy her. Will you allow me to do that? If for no other reason than that you serve the Queen well.’
How could I refuse? When the mare pushed against my shoulder with her soft nose, I fell in love with her, because she was beautiful and she was the King’s gift.
* * *
The Queen is ill. She cannot move from her bed and begs me to read to her. When the King visited I stood to curtsey, already closing the book and putting it aside, expecting to be dismissed. His time with his wife was precious. But he waved me on and sat with us until I had finished the tale.
It was a dolorous one in which the Queen found particular enjoyment. She wept for the tragedy of the ill-fated lovers, Tristan and Isolde. The King stroked her hand, chiding her gently for her foolishness, telling her that his love for her was far greater than that of Tristan for his lady, and that he had no intention of doing anything so spineless as turning his face to the wall to die. Only a sword in the gut would bring him to his knees. And was his dear Philippa intending to cast herself over his body and die too without cause but a broken heart? Were they not, after so many years of marriage, made of sterner stuff than that? For shame!
It made the Queen laugh through her tears. ‘A foolish tale.’ She gave a watery smile.
‘But it was well read. With much feeling,’ Edward observed.
He touched my shoulder as he left us, the softest of pressures. Did the Queen notice? I thought not, but she dismissed me brusquely, pleading a need for solitude. She covered her face with her hands.
Her voice stopped me as I reached the door.
‘Forgive me, Alice. It is a grievous burden I have given myself, and sometimes it is beyond me to bear it well.’
I did not understand her.
* * *
The King has had his clock placed in a new tower. I stood and watched in awe. His shout of laughter was powerful, a thing of joy, for at last his precious clock was nearly ready. The tower to house it was complete and the pieces of the mechanism were assembled to the Italian craftsman’s finicky satisfaction. Here was the day that it would be set into working order, and the Queen had expressed a desire to witness it. Had Edward not had it made for her, modelled on that of the Abbot of St Albans, with its miraculous shifting panels of sun and stars?
‘I can’t,’ Philippa admitted, ‘I really can’t,’ when she could not push her swollen feet into soft shoes. ‘Go and watch for me, Alice. The King needs an audience.’
‘Thank God!’ Isabella remarked.
‘For what precisely?’ Philippa was peevish. ‘I fail to see any need to thank Him this morning.’
‘Because you didn’t ask me to go to look at the monstrosity.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t. Alice will enjoy it. Alice can ask the King the right questions, and then tell us all about it. Can’t you?’
‘Yes, Majesty,’ I replied.
‘But not in great detail,’ Isabella called after me as I left the room. ‘We’re not all fixated with ropes and pulleys and wheels.’
So I went alone. I was interested in ropes and pulleys and cogs with wooden teeth that locked as they revolved. I wanted to see what the Italian had achieved. Was that all I wanted?
Ah no!
I wanted to watch and understand what fascinated Edward when he didn’t have a sword in his hand or a celebration to organise. I wanted to see what beguiled this complex man of action. So I watched the final preparations.
