This Scepter'd Isle (59 page)

Denoriel shook his head. "I am the last person to advise you. For one thing, I know little of the court, and for another, I've been far too busy to take the temper of the Lady Anne's feelings. But I should say, Lord Henry, that I would trust your instincts. If I were the king, no matter how fond I was of my lady, I would be hurt if my son ran to her instead of to me after our long separation. But put that aside. His Grace knows both choices. I am sure His Grace will know what to do when he actually steps out of the Mound. What I've come for is to show him the hall and the Mound and how the mechanism that opens it works."

He had instant and fervent acceptance of his offer and they all went down to the main floor and then trailed through the building to the Great Hall. This was closed with guards before the doors, but Denoriel led them to what looked like a stable off to the left. There were no horses within and the floor had been carefully cleaned. In the middle sat . . . FitzRoy gaped at what looked like a small grassy hill.

Lord Henry only gave it a single glance. He had seen it often before. Nonetheless, he followed eagerly when Lord Denno picked up a lantern, lit it, and then pulled at what looked like a small bush, which permitted him to lift away a panel through which they entered. There would be room for ten to fifteen people, FitzRoy thought, depending on how tightly they could be packed.

The curved ceiling and walls, which ran into each other, were painted dark blue on which appeared many silvery stars. Here and there hung light-green gauze curtains on which were painted trees with flowers at their roots.

Denoriel gestured to Nyle and Dickson to move right and left and directed them together to press down on the levers attached to the wall. When they did, a split appeared in the center of the Mound directly ahead and the walls slid back smoothly. Denoriel set the lantern down on the floor and beckoned everyone out, then told them to turn and look back.

FitzRoy gasped and tears stung his eyes. For a moment he felt as if he were looking out from the Gate at Elfhame Logres into the dim twilight in which one could make out only a distant vista of large trees, the ground carpeted with nearly colorless flowers. But he could not speak. Whatever it was that had touched him when he stood before King Oberon in Llachar Lle still bound him to silence.

Denoriel gripped his shoulder and explained that he would hold the place just before the central opening; Nyle and Dickson would work the levers and he would step out. There would be a loud bang and thick, colored smoke—the trick he had had Sir Edward copy, only the smoke would be thicker because he knew better how to work the trick. His eyes met Harry's and Harry nodded. He understood that true magic would thicken the smoke and enhance the color, but that did not matter.

FitzRoy was warned not to tear the gauze curtains, not to move until most of the smoke cleared, and not to fall down the steps, which were hidden in green cloth that had cut loops protruding from it so that it really looked like grass. The cloth also hid the wheels on which the Mound rolled. It would be pulled into the Great Hall by six royal guards dressed as wild men, their swords concealed in their fur robes.

Then Denoriel led them out, carefully closing the stable doors behind him. A guard stepped out of a small shelter and Denoriel nodded at him. The guards in front of the Great Hall, stepped aside for Denoriel, and he shepherded Lord Henry and FitzRoy and FitzRoy's ever-present personal guards into the chamber. All of them stopped just inside the doorway, staring first out and then upward and then around at the busy crowd rushing this way and that, carrying and dragging great bundles of greenery.

The hall was more than forty feet long and perhaps twenty-five wide and the arched and beamed ceiling soared up a full two floors. Large as the chamber was, it was well lit near the middle of the day by large glassed windows between the arches. And it would be as well lit after the dark of the short winter's day had fallen by the huge chandeliers that hung from every cross beam and the candelabra that were fixed to the walls.

Because of its height and width, it was not as noisy as one might expect from the activity. Men perched on high ladders attaching swathes of ivy and branches of pine and hemlock to the beams. Others hung precariously over the railings of the balcony that ran around the far end of the Hall over the dais, hanging bay and holm, more ivy and mistletoe, which would permit the king to steal a kiss or two from any maiden coming near.

"Your Grace," Denoriel said—apparently not for the first time from his tone of voice. "The Mound will be drawn forward to between that second pair of windows facing the dais. The king will be seated on a throne in the center. Lady Anne will be standing just to his right, at the foot of the dais."

"Yes. I was supposed to start toward the king and then, as if I caught sight of her and was irresistibly attracted, I was to turn aside and ask her to dance." He shook his head. "I won't do that—as if a pretty girl were enough to distract me from my father."

Although he had made up his mind and was not tempted to change it, FitzRoy was still uneasy about Lady Anne's reaction. He had gone to considerable trouble to make a good impression on her and had, he thought, succeeded. But it made no difference. It felt wrong to be turned aside from his king and his father to flatter a woman.

So the rest of the day passed and the next day was taken up with going to church and trying on clothing and costume. Still if FitzRoy had known the effort Lady Anne was putting into her appearance for that moment, he would have been even more uneasy.

On Christmas day, an hour before Lady Anne Boleyn went down to the Great Hall, Lady Lee and Lady Alana, both stood examining her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Lady Lee merely looked with fatuous fondness. Lady Alana nodded curtly, and Anne sighed softly.

She knew she was pushing the limit in her dress. Her hair was not hidden completely beneath cap-and-gable headdress. The band and headdress were there, but had been pushed back to sit on the crown of her head, exposing the rich mass of her hair, parted in the center, smooth and shining. The gable itself was sewn with pearls on two golden bands and raised up on a base of stiffened buckram. That was normal, and when it sat forward on the head it merely framed the face; pushed back as Anne had set it, it hinted at a crown.

Her gown was rich nearly to ostentation, saved only by the color, which was a quiet mulberry. It was the only thing that was quiet. The square neck was bordered by a thin band of gold lace set with tiny garnets. Around her neck was an elaborate necklace of cunningly worked gold interspersed with larger garnets and from the center hung down a pendant, also worked gold, set with three dark rubies. A longer chain of garnet-set gold made a wider circle around her neck, dipping into the front of her gown to lie on her breasts. Around the outside of the square neckline, on her shoulders, lay three more chains of gold, and from the center of the neckline hung a heavy gold pendant, a conjoined
AB
with another large ruby dropping below.

Alana nodded again. "In a general way, I would say it was too much, but for today, when it is very important for the king's attention to be riveted upon you—"

"You think the boy is a danger to me?" Anne asked.

Alana laughed softly, which softened her otherwise solemn expression. "Oh, no. Not at all. I think he will be helpful and will put Princess Mary completely out of his father's mind. But—everything is different this Christmas, so if the king should think of Lady Catherine, let his eyes come to you and tell him how rich a prize he has in exchange."

In so much Lady Alana seemed to have judged correctly. When Anne entered the Great Hall it was too crowded already for the king to see her at once, but she saw the uneasy movement in those who approached the dais and when she reached it herself she saw the petulant droop of her Henry's mouth. She knew how to deal with his petulance, but there was something else, a kind of sadness for something lost, in his small blue eyes. Anne swallowed a sharp remark and smiled and held out her hand.

She was relieved when she saw admiration replace petulance, and she stepped up onto the dais and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Then, laughing, she kissed his other cheek. He looked surprised. Anne was not often so demonstrative. Then she looked up above his head and seemed to count, and at last bent lower and kissed his lips, explaining that there were no less than three bunches of mistletoe over his head. "I must needs pay the sweet forfeit thrice, you see," she explained.

King Henry laughed, and seeing him pacified, the parade of courtiers began again. Before those pressing about him with good wishes could thin, trumpets sounded, the great doors were flung open, and Denoriel came through, flourishing a golden staff from the head of which came a sizzling noise and popping little stars of brilliance. He wore a tall pointed hat, all hung with arcane symbols and a black robe on which glittered more symbols. Then he pointed the staff at the doors; there were gasps of surprise and a few small cries of fear when everyone realized that the courtyard was no longer visible. Beyond the doors was nothing but blackness.

Another flourish of the staff. The blackness was gone and the Fairy Mound appeared, drawn by groaning and cavorting wild men, each of whom were followed by another in fantastic garb, cracking a whip. Behind the Mound, the doors closed. The staff pointed. In the balcony above the dais, musicians struck up a lively melody. Denoriel approached the throne, his magician's staff lowered so that its glowing knob trailed on the ground in submission.

As the Mound approached, Denoriel backed away from the king until he stood near the center. He swung the staff, striking the Mound with a resounding crash. A huge billow of smoke gushed from the broken head of his staff, enveloping him. Denoriel muttered the Don't-see-me spell and stepped quietly away. As the smoke dissipated, the Mound cracked open. Sighs and murmurs of astonishment passed through the crowd as they seemed to look into a moon-lit, tamed forest of great trees and pale flowers.

Before the falseness of that vision could become apparent, FitzRoy leapt out of the Mound with ten courtiers behind him. All wore leaf-green hose topped with tunics of various light and bright colors. The tunics, square-necked, worn over white shirts with high collars, came to mid-thigh and were double-sleeved, the undersleeve, tight to the arm, of the same leaf-green as the hose, the oversleeve wide and trailing with dagged hems.

FitzRoy paused and looked around; behind him the courtiers made a low, musical sound of awe and pointed. FitzRoy looked ahead at the dais and cried out, "Father!" and ran.

King Henry, who had been watching the performance with unalloyed pleasure, started at FitzRoy's voice. The boy had reached him and fallen to his knees before Henry could rise.

"Harry?" he said uncertainly.

FitzRoy looked up, tears marking his cheeks. "Yes, Your Majesty, Harry . . . your son."

The king pulled the boy up from his knees and into his arms. "Harry!" He bussed FitzRoy soundly on one cheek and then on the other, then pushed him a little away so he could look at him. "You have grown so much. I almost did not know you."

FitzRoy took the king's hand and kissed it without reply. What could he say? That it had been years since his father had tried to see him? He would sound resentful, and he was not, not really. Denno had told him over and over that the separation was more for his own safety than because of political problems.

"I was worried about you," the king added, frowning. "I knew when you started for London, and guessed about when you should have arrived but when I asked for you all my accursed councilors would tell me was that the roads were terrible and you were delayed."

"They were. I was." FitzRoy grinned. "But I have been here a few days. Everyone thought a day or two more or less would not matter if you could have a pleasant surprise for Christmas. Was it a pleasant surprise?"

King Henry kissed him and laughed. "I was surprised all right. That magician . . . My hair stood up when he smashed that scepter and the smoke rose. And then he vanished." He looked around. "Where is he?"

"It's all tricks," FitzRoy whispered into his father's ear. "He is a very nice man and later he'll show everyone how the tricks are done. If you will be good enough to grant me an audience, Your Majesty, I can tell you all about him. And I have so much more to tell you, but now—" FitzRoy straightened up and raised his voice "—now I wish to beg you to allow me to ask Lady Anne Boleyn, the most worthy, the loveliest, and the purest maiden in this company, to dance with me in your name."

The crowd had been hushed while FitzRoy clung to and talked with his father. Now his voice rang clear through the hall. The courtiers, who had followed him out of the Mound and had been standing in graceful poses, raised their arms, their trailing sleeves falling back to show bright contrasting linings. With raised arms, they circled twice on the floor before the Mound and then opened their circle and flowed toward where Lady Anne stood stiff and silent at the edge of the dais. They bowed. They made an aisle through which, having received his father's laughing permission, FitzRoy made his way to his partner.

He swept off his cap and flourished it as he bowed, its long, brightly colored plume sweeping the floor. For a moment he thought Anne would refuse him, but Henry, laughing still, begged that she would not refuse him, else he would be forced to die of shame, and she held out her hand. The musicians struck up just the tune Lord Henry had played. FitzRoy made a wide, slow circle in the space before the Mound, giving plenty of time for the watchers to bow to Anne.

They did the first figure of the dance alone, which gave FitzRoy time, when he and Anne came together, to apologize. "Lady Anne, I am so sorry," he said, "I know that I have spoiled what was planned, but when I saw my father—" Tears came to his eyes, and he blinked them away. "I have not seen him for so long! I was overpowered by my desire to greet him." Tears came to his eyes again as he begged her to forgive him.