The Autobiography of Henry VIII: With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers (89 page)

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Authors: Margaret George

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Spring, 1545. The French invasion was even now being equipped, and it would certainly come before Midsummer’s Day. To ready our coastal defence system, which stretched from Deal to Pendennis, guarding our entire southern flank, I had to extract more money, in the form of loans and taxes, from the people. I expected them to grumble and resist, but they did not.
WILL:
Hal’s enemies expected them to rebel, and were sorely disappointed. The theory went like this: the English people were brutalized by a bloodthirsty, rapacious monarch who denied them the religion they desired (Catholic or Protestant, depending on the speaker); made them sign oaths which they detested; repressed them and robbed them. They but awaited the opportunity to rise up and free themselves from his oppressive yoke. gner, and the Scots traitors. King Hal was right in fighting them, and they would join him in sacrificing to protect their country. Had not the King gone in person to fight? Had he not spent the winter inspecting and fortifying his southern coastal defences? Did he not intend to captain a warship against the Frenchies? Could his countrymen offer less? Gold, jewels, coin, even touching personal possessions like crosses from Jerusalem, ivory combs, and wedding rings arrived every day at Whitehall. Far from revolting against the “tyrant,” the people supported him in his hour of extremity.
HENRY VIII:
 
I stood prepared for war, to the best of my ability. In the south of England, I had almost a hundred thousand men in arms, divided under three commands: one in Kent under the Duke of Suffolk; one in Essex under the Duke of Norfolk; and one in the west under the Earl of Arundel. My fleet of over one hundred ships lay anchored near the Solent.
In the North, against Scotland, Edward Seymour commanded an army poised right beside the Borders. And standing offshore, the Lord Admiral John Dudley was at sea with twelve thousand men, waiting to grapple with the enemy.
At Boulogne, which the French had vowed to recapture, I had put Henry Howard in charge, to fill the position vacated by Brandon. I prayed that when the time came, his valour would not melt into hotheadedness and bravado.
July 18. It was just after the second anniversary of my marriage, and I had prepared a special celebration for Kate. We would dine aboard
Great Harry,
my flagship, which was waiting in the Solent, that channel between the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth, on our south coast.
Great Harry
had gone through many refurbishings and refittings since her launching in 1514. At the time she was built, navies were but “armies at sea” ... floating platforms carrying soldiers to grapple with enemy soldiers at sea. But now ships were converted into fortresses, stocked with rows of cannon, and the job of sailors was not to engage in hand-to-hand combat with enemy sailors, but to man the killer guns and destroy entire ships.
Great Harry,
although a bit clumsy and old-fashioned in her overall design, had adapted herself well to the renovations, which pleased me. I did not wish to scrap her, as others had urged. Her sister ship,
Mary Rose,
had likewise made the transition and was ready to do battle, as soon as the French were sighted. Our information was that Francis had bade his fleet of two hundred thirty-five ships adieu near Rouen some days ago.
Two hundred thirty-five ships ... and we but one hundred. Truly, the hour of testing had come.
Nonetheless I was proud of my forces, proud of my fleet, in a way one can be only when one has offered one’s best. We had poured every sacrifice into our defence and readiness for war; we had stinted nothing. Now God would have to make up the rest.
 
Lamps were being lighted in the July twilight when Kate and I arrived at the pier to board
Great Harry.
Kate had dressed in what she laughingly described as her most nautical costume, and I was touched by her efforts to join in the spirit of the occasion.
Stepping on board, I felt a great surge of near-carnal love for my flagship. The smell of the linseed oil which had been used to rub down the seasoned wood; the almost voluptuous creaking ot rigging and hemp ropes; the stirrings and rustlings of the bleached linen sails, gathered tidily in their bindings: what a ship was she! She and I had grown and changed together, and in her I felt a summary of myself....
“Your Grace.” The captain, Viscount Lisle, Lord Dudley, bowed to us. I acknowledged him. But for this moment I did not wish to speak of common things. The sky was half on fire with the reflection of the setting sun. I went to the rail and looked out to sea, where the waters were flat and untroubled, and there was no wind. At this moment England seemed inviolate, protected by all the elements.
Kate stood beside me. The calm I felt in my person, a sort of afterglow like the departed sun, was crowned in her presence.
“Your Majesties!” A raucous voice sounded behind us. I turned to see Tom Seymour, bending one knee, his plumed hat held at an angle. His uncovered hair glowed, reflecting the red sky.
“Thomas.” I held out my hand, indicating that he should rise. “We are pleased that you could join us.” I used the royal
we.
The truth was that I never consulted Kate about these things. She was usually amenable to guests; therefore I was acutely aware, by her quick stiffening, that she did not wish Thomas Seymour to be present at this private occasion.
“And I am deeply grateful that you should invite me.” He sauntered over to us and took his place at the rail, letting his muscular arms hang over the side. “Are you trying to sight the French?” he said. “They are coming from the south, if they come at all. Such poor sailors!” He shook his head, and all that mane of hair swayed.
“We talk not of the French,” said Kate. “We are here to celebrate a private matter, and to inspect the King’s flagship.”
“Peace be unto you,” said an old, familiar voice. Brandon was aboard. I turned to see him, standing bearlike on the oiled deck.
“And unto you.” I held out my hands. “We sound like bishops.” I laughed.
“Not quite,” he said. “We are not discussing property.”
We embraced on the deck. “How is your army?” I whispered, for Kate would have no politics to spoil this evening.
“Well,” he said. “We are at the ready in Kent to defend England against whatever comes our way. I think they will most likely land there.”
“If they do, you know when to light the signal fires?” I had ordered a system of beacon fires to be laid all across the entire southern coast of England, the first torch to be touched as soon as a Frenchman was spotted.
“Aye. There’s a great heap near my encampment, and willing torch-bearers to spread the flame.”
I was loth to release him. “Think you all of this shall come to pass? Will we truly be invaded, for the first time in four hundred years?”
“I fear so,” he said. “The invasion fleet is on its way.”
“Invasions fail,” I said. I could not hold myself apart from the others much l them, and are filled with malice and rancour. You need not be; you have your own gifts, which they have not.”
“And what are they?” He shrugged. “They win me no glory.”
The gift of attracting women, I thought. Not men, but women. Even Elizabeth had shown herself susceptible to his charm, which puzzled me. “Your immense energy,” I said. “You are like a thousand suns.”
Like all shallow men thrown a sop of flattery, he smiled, took the bait to his den, and subsided.
A slight breeze stirred, and we felt it on our cheeks. It was not a soft caress, but a warning.
I fill the French sails, it whispered.
I shivered and looked out at the horizon.
The master-cook brought out the fanciful dessert: a great pastry, in layers, replicating
Great Harry.
Tiny pennants flew from her four masts, and exact miniatures of cannon were mounted on her main deck and gun deck. As the ship was placed before me, two of the cannon “fired,” making a snap and a puff of smoke.
“A salute for each of our years of marriage,” I said to Kate.
She burst into rare laughter. “O Henry!”
That address between us was forbidden in public. I frowned; Seymour frowned, Brandon frowned. Seymour, indeed, looked angry.
“Nay, gentle wife,” I reproved her smilingly. “That is our private talk.” Then I changed the subject. “Yet I know we shall look back upon this date as marking a great anniversary for our realm. We stand on the brink of a great battle,” I said. “May we prevail, with honour!” I raised my fresh-filled glass.
They solemnly drank. Each of us prayed. For it was a fearful hour for England.
Faces were lit only by the candles set on the table. All around it was now dark, except for the lanterns set up on deck; I permitted no open flames on board ship.
“I must to my post,” said Brandon. “I have a far ride to Kent.”
“It will be a long night,” I said. “My thoughts go with you.”
He grasped my hand. “To be alive is to fight the French,” he laughed. “Remember, Your Grace, how we planned it all, at Sheen?”
Sheen. Vanished palace. Vanished youths. “Old men fight boys’ battles. Well, good night, Charles.” I heard his heavy footfalls crossing the gangplank.
“I must take my post as well.” Tom commanded
Peter Pomegranate,
a fine, new-built ship. He was much more a seaman than a soldier.
“You are anchored one of the farthest out,” I said. “You will see the French first. Set double watches.”
“They won’t approach in darkness,” he said cockily.
“There will be instruments that enable men to come right alongside in darkness, someday,” I said. “Perhaps that day is now.”
“Not for a thousand years. The stars can tell a captain where he’s located on a map, but not what lurks beneath his hull. No, there’s no way night. That is a royal command.”
“Aye.” He bowed, took Kate’s hand. “I will obey all His Majesty’s commands. Bless you in your marriage; I pray daily for you.”
His distinctive step, higher and more prancing than Brandon’s, sounded on the gangplank.
“I think he has become light-witted,” murmured Kate.
“I think he has become dangerous,” I said. “Ambitious, cankered, eaten up with envy—dangerous.”
“Nay, Your Grace!” Her voice rose. “He does not—does not deserve such weight. He is too insubstantial ever to amount to anything dangerous.”

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