A Love Most Dangerous (29 page)

'The child,' I cried.

She lay upon the dust, kicking her feet and screaming.
It was a dreadful sound. And then I saw why. The lion had torn off her arm at
the elbow. Blood poured from her like water from a pump.

I did not think of what I did but ran towards a gate
upon the wall. I pulled it open and tore down a steep staircase to the Bailey
below.

'No, Alice,' cried the King. 'The lions are still at
large.'

His warning was too late. I reached the Bailey and
raced towards the child. I picked her up and pulled her to my chest, my hand
trying to staunch the blood from her mangled limb. Who would have thought such
a tiny child could have so much blood within her. I pulled out a handkerchief
and pressed it against the stump to try to stop the flow. The only things I
could see was her dreadful wound, all that I could hear her shrieks of agony
and the roaring of the lions. I found myself weeping as I tried to staunch the
blood.

'You'll be all right,' I repeated through my tears,
'you'll be all right.' I knew she wouldn't but I had to tell her so.

A keeper took the child from me and ran with her in
his arms up the stairs to seek a surgeon. I knelt upon the ground and wept.

I felt a hand upon my shoulder and knew it was the
King.

'That was courageous of you,' he said.

I nodded but could not look up. I could focus on one
thing only; that Anne Boleyn's cloak was covered with blood and gore.

I sobbed and clung onto Henry's legs as if they were
the only thing which kept me from hurtling off the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Confronting the Royal Beast

23rd April 1538

I could not leave my chamber for two days after the
visit to the Menagerie. The surgeon had worked with feverish skill but had to
amputate the little girl's arm above the elbow. She still lived but it was
doubtful how long she would last.

I could not shake her screams from my head. Nor the
sight of her tiny arm lying in the dust.

The King, enraged, had ordered that the keeper who
unlocked the cages be thrown into a cell. If the child survived he was to
linger there five years. If she died he would be hanged.

His fury was so intemperate that no one dared tell him
that the keeper had been obeying his command. The King was not the man to be
reminded of his own folly.

The other one who felt his wrath was Will Sommers. I
assumed this was because the King thought him complicit in the opening of the
cage. But then I wondered if the Fool's comparing the lion keepers to the
King's advisers had been too brutally honest. At any rate he was banished from
the King's presence and sent to Richmond Palace to play the Fool for the Lady
Mary. A fitting match for both of them, I thought when I heard.

I think it was this news which freed me from my
torment. At last my mind grew calm and I was able to leave my chamber. I found
Susan with Lucy in the Maid's sitting room.

'Are you recovered?' Susan asked gently.

I nodded. 'Is there news of the child?'

Susan and Lucy exchanged quick looks and Susan reached
for my hand.

'She died this morning,' she said. 'It is probably a
mercy.'

Lucy began to weep soft tears.

'And the young keeper?' I asked. 'The one who opened
the cages?'

'He is to hang tomorrow,' Susan said. 'His family have
been imprisoned and all their goods confiscated by the King.'

I shook my head wearily. How slender do our fingers
grip this world.

'And what of the lions?' I asked. 'What has happened
to them?'

'They have been punished also,' Susan said. 'They have
been starved of food and the one that attacked the girl has been flogged.'

'Without so much as a trial?' I asked with grim irony.

Lucy looked perplexed. Susan patted her on the hand.
'It is a jest on Alice's part, Lucy. Only a jest.'

'And the King's blacksmith has made a wonderful device
to control them,' Lucy said. 'It is a yoke with two poles which can be extended
and held by two men to control the animal's head. Strong men I should imagine.'

At that moment Wicks and Bray skulked into the room.

They stared at me for a moment and then stepped
closer.

'You have been unwell?' Wicks asked. 'I can see it in
your face.'

Bray laughed; a donkey's laugh.

'I hear rumours the plague has returned,' Wicks continued.

I raised my eyebrows with weary contempt. 'Rest
assured, dear Philippa, that if I had the plague I would rush to your arms to
seek comfort. To hold you tight as tight can be.'

Bray looked confused by my response but Wicks
grimaced.

'And be assured that I would shun you, Alice
Petherton. Shun you even more than I do now.'

'That may make the plague a price worth paying,' I
said.

Wicks made as if to answer me but could think of no
reply as cutting. Her face worked in frustration and she turned towards the
door.

'Why would she seek your arms to comfort her?' I heard
Bray ask.

Wicks snorted at her in contempt for her stupidity
before storming out of the room.

I laughed aloud. 'It is goodly to return to the
comfort of one's friends,' I said.

But then I remembered the little girl screaming in the
lion's jaws. How the innocent are punished and how the guilty gain reward.

I sat in silence for a while with my friends for
company. Finally I made up my mind.

'I must go and see the King,' I said.

He was in his privy chamber with Sir Thomas Cromwell.

Nicholas Frost had tried to prevent my entering but I
would not be gainsaid. I saw him calculating the scale of my determination
against the potential ire of the King and decided that to agree with my demand
might be the lesser of two evils.

'Alice,' the King said in surprise. 'What brings you
here?'

Cromwell looked startled for a moment and covered over
the parchment he had been showing to the King. He leaned back in his seat and
looked at me with cool regard.

The King rose and took me by the hand, staring
searchingly into my eyes. 'I trust you have recovered from your indisposition?'
he asked.

'I had,' I answered. 'Until this morning.'

'Ah,' he said, 'you have heard the sad news about the
child.'

Cromwell sighed.  I thought it not from sorrow at the
death but more from being interrupted by what he considered such a trivial
matter.

'That is one reason for my disquiet,' I said, 'but not
the only one.'

I wondered at my bold words and was not the only one.
Cromwell put down his pen and placed his fingers on his lips as if he were the
audience of a fascinating play.

I felt a sudden chill clutch my heart but steeled
myself to continue.

'I have heard that the young keeper is to hang for
opening the doors of the cage.'

The King's eyes narrowed, all concern for me replaced
by a reptile suspicion I had never seen before.

'And what of it?' he asked. 'It is my will. I promised
as much, as you will recall.'

'It will be wrong to execute him.' I said.

I noticed Cromwell's look of astonishment at my words.
He turned towards the King to see how he would react.

The King's face grew rigid, as if it were transmuting
into stone. He seemed to have stopped breathing and his face grew red with
rising rage. I gulped in fear as I saw his hands begin to tremble with a
violent, barely repressed fury.

To my surprise, Cromwell spoke in soft, emollient
tone. 'Perhaps, Your Grace, Alice is still troubled by news of the child.'

The King did not answer but gave a quick shake of his
head. He never took his eyes from me and his rage looked like it would explode.

'You question your King?' he cried at last.

I took a step backwards. Even if he had not been King
I would have been terrified by the thunder of his fury. It was almost a
physical blow. Coming from the King it was enough to make me turn and flee the
room.

But I stood my ground though my stomach felt icy and
fear shook me like a leaf caught in a gale.

'I do not question you, Henry, but I say you are
wrong.'

His mouth opened as if he were about to bellow. But no
words came.

He looked at me in utter disbelief. Cromwell had half
risen from his seat, his hand outstretched as if to try to halt time.

'You are wrong to hang this man,' I continued,
'because it was you who ordered him to open the cage. He was only obeying your
command. As a loyal servant should.'

I flung myself upon my knees and held my hands up to
the King.

'You did not realise the child was there, Your
Majesty. You had not seen her and had you done would never have ordered the
cages opened. The terrible attack must have erased this from your memory. How
else would the most loving and just king in all the world order the execution
of this poor man?'

I reached for his quivering hand and kissed it. He
would have removed it from me but I held firm and at last his shaking began to
calm.

Eventually I felt his other hand reach beneath my chin
and pressure me to rise.

I chanced a look at his face. It was changed now,
quiet and thoughtful.

'You are right, Alice,' he said.

I took a little breath.

'You are right,' he continued. 'I am the most loving
and just of kings. And I had forgot that I commanded the man to open the cage.'

He slumped down, his eyes seeming to recall the scene.

I stood anxiously over him, searching his face.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cromwell move,
signalling me to sit down.

The King began to play with his beard, deep in
machination.

At last he looked over to Cromwell. 'Is there time to
save the man?'

'The execution is due for tomorrow at dawn, Your
Grace. Plenty of time to show the world your clemency.'

'My clemency, yes.'

A silence descended upon the room. The same thought
must have come to all of us.

'He must suffer some punishment for his crime,
however,' Cromwell said. 'Fifty lashes for mistaking your command to keep the
cage door shut.'

The King turned wolf eyes to his minister.

'And a grant of twenty pounds, perhaps,' Cromwell
added, 'to ensure his silence.'

The King waved his hand and Cromwell hastily scribbled
a note which he stamped with the King's own seal.

I found myself shaking uncontrollably and thought I
would vomit over the King.

'I need the bath chamber,' I gasped.

'You know where it is,' the King said.

I fled the room and heard Cromwell say, 'Remarkable
girl, Alice Petherton.'

I did not hear the King's reply.

When I returned from the bath chamber to the Privy
Chamber it was empty save for Nicholas Frost.

'The King has left,' he said. 'He has gone riding.'

I nodded. I could not find my voice.

I leaned against the window-sill to steady myself. I
thought I might faint at any moment.

I could feel Frost's eyes regarding me. I took a
breath and looked up.

'Whatever have you done, child?' he asked. There was a
look of concern upon his face.

It was that look which did it. I burst into tears; the
tears I had been struggling to keep in check. They were born of terror of the
King and fear for my life. And they were also born of rage. Rage that the King
could contemplate executing a man merely for obeying him. And rage at myself
for ever becoming the King's lover. For ever becoming close to him.

I felt a handkerchief being pushed into my hand. For a
wild moment I thought the King had returned and was comforting me. I looked up
to see it was Frost who was kneeling beside me.

'Hush, Alice,' he said gently. 'He has gone. You are
quite safe.' He patted my hand, stood up and poured me a glass of wine.

'Drink this,' he said. 'And when you are composed and
have dried your tears you should return to your chamber.'

He gave me a smile like a kindly uncle might and left
the room. I gulped down the wine and poured myself a second glass. I found
myself shaking uncontrollably; the glass quivered in my hand and some of the
wine spilt on my gown. I rubbed at it carelessly, barely aware I was doing so.

I thought back to what had just happened. What had I
done? How would the King deal with me now?

I sat for a few minutes and then went into the bath
chamber and wiped away my tears. I looked awful, face pale as the moon, eyes
red from weeping. The sooner I was in the privacy of my chamber the better.