A Love Most Dangerous (43 page)

'They have to seek you out, to get near to you. They
are driven to see you more closely, to feast their eyes upon you. They yearn to
get close enough to hear your voice. They want, of course, to get even closer.
They itch to get close enough to smell you, to touch you, to taste you.

'For make no mistake, every man who comes into contact
with you desires you. Every man becomes desperate to lie with you, to make love
to you. They hold in their heads the conceit that by doing this they will
conquer you, possess you. But they know, to the depths of their being, that in
reality they will utterly surrender themselves to you.'

He fell silent for a moment before turning to look at
me out of the corner of his eye.

'You beguile men, Alice, you enchant them. No, it is
more than that. You cast a spell over them. Every man, Alice, every man. You
snare them, hold them in a net, bind them to you with invisible threads.'

My heart beat faster at his words though I did not
know whether through fear or exultation.

'I did not know,' I began.

'Of course you didn't. It is not something you choose
for yourself. It is part of your nature. As much a part of you as the colour of
your eyes or the sound of your voice.'

He laughed quietly. 'You see Alice, even I am beguiled by you.'

I turned from him and stared into the fire. The flames
licked at a log like a dog licks at a bone. The crack of the burning wood
sounded in my ears but could not still the whirling thoughts which Cromwell had
awakened.

'Why are you telling me this?' I asked at last.

He leaned back in his seat and regarded me.

'I said that one in fifty thousand women possess this
power, one in five hundred thousand. It was a guess. How could I possibly know
the number? But I have known one other woman who possessed the power that you
do.'

The silence fell between us like a cloak dropped upon
the floor.

'Who was that?'

'Anne Boleyn.'

I gasped and my hand went to my throat in dismay.

Cromwell chuckled. 'It is ironic that you reach for
your throat, Alice. For that is what the King did and after him the
executioner.'

I tried to swallow but could not. Cromwell looked at
me, studied me, observed me as if I was some painting on the wall.

'That is why I tell you this, Alice,' he said. His voice took on a gentler tone. 'Anne Boleyn had this power. And with it she
snared the King. But she did not know how to use it as she should. She used it
capriciously, without thought, sometimes with malice. And she did not realise
that different men respond to this power in subtly different ways. Most, as I
have said, believe they want to conquer the woman who has such power, while
knowing that they will abandon themselves to her.'

He paused a moment and his quick tongue came out and
licked his lips as if they had suddenly grown dry. 'But some men,' he
continued, 'want only to conquer. Still others foresee only the surrender and
dread it. Both these types of men may prove dangerous to the woman. The last
will prove deadly.'

I did not answer for a long while. My mind was in
turmoil. For now that Cromwell had said these words the scales fell off my
eyes. I could see the truth in what he said. And I feared it. I rejoiced in it
and I feared it. This is what a woman must feel when she gives birth, I
thought. Overwhelming joy and a terrible, terrible fear.

'So which of these types of men was the King?' I said
at last.

'With Anne Boleyn? All three. At first he thought he
could conquer her. Then he came to realise that in conquering he would be
defeated. And in the end he came to loathe each surrender, to despise himself
for it and to desire vengeance upon his mistress.'

The silence lapped across the room, a ripple of water
in a pond.

'Will the same happen to me?'

Cromwell shook his head and reached for my hand. 'I
hope not, for all our sakes,' he said. 'That is why I have told you.'

I frowned. 'Is that the only reason?'

His eyes glittered and he shook his head. 'I said all
men, Alice. You beguile and snare all men.'

And then he leaned closer to me, pressing my hand
tighter as he did so. His face moved close to mine and I heard him give a long,
deep sniff. And then he bent and kissed me on the cheek, his tongue dipping out
for the merest touch, the merest taste.

'All men, Alice,' he repeated. 'All men.'

So a little while before the eleventh hour struck the
three of us could be found loitering close to the landing stage in front of the
Palace entrance. We were not alone. An army of servants lined the walls of the
Palace either side of the entrance, heads craning towards the river. An
official who I took to be the palace steward paced backwards and forwards,
wringing his hands with anxiety and occasionally shouting at one or other of
the servants. A dozen or so minor officials hung about on the river bank beside
the steps which led up from the river.

We waited for more than half an hour and then there
came a blaring of trumpets from the west. Every head turned in that direction,
every eye strained. The officials by the river bank grew straighter, their
hands fluttering over their clothes, wiping and re-arranging. The steward
looked as though he would faint and scurried to and fro with little mincing
steps, his hand on his mouth.

Suddenly behind him there came another stir and a
figure appeared in the entrance, dressed in black, blinking his eyes in the
autumn light. People fell back and bowed low as he walked past them.

'Is that the King?' Sissy asked, awe-struck.

'No,' I answered. 'Almost. That is Thomas Cromwell,
Lord Privy Seal.'

Cromwell strolled closer to the river, the crowd of
officials parting for him like the Red Sea did for Moses. As he came close to
where I waited he shot me a quick glance. He was appraising me, making sure of
me, commanding me. I did him a curtsy and he nodded, apparently satisfied.

The trumpets called once again, much louder now, and
sweeping into view came a flotilla with the Royal Barge in its van. My heart
went into my mouth at the sight of it. The last time I had been in the Barge
was when I returned from the Royal Menagerie having just witnessed the death of
Tom Pepper's little daughter.

But that was not the only reason my heart was in my
mouth. For even from this distance I could see the overpowering figure of the
King, standing high and mighty on the deck waving at the crowds cheering
enthusiastically from both riverbanks. The King was immensely popular with the
English people and he knew how to encourage this; two small boats sailed close
to the banks and officials hurled showers of coins towards the cheering crowds.

I saw this only vaguely, however. My whole thought was
concerned with the King and how he would receive me.

A few minutes later the Barge tied up and the King
walked across the gangplank.

The steward flung himself close to the ground, like a
hound which had done something to displease it's master and was desperate to
ingratiate itself. The King deigned to take a little notice of him and he stood
up, his hands wringing in ever more frenzy.

Then the Lord Privy Seal stepped close and gave the
King a low bow. Henry touched him on the shoulder, once briefly, as if blessing
him, and then master and man turned and walked the few steps towards the
entrance of the Palace.

And then it happened. Cromwell slowed his walk a
little, enough for the King to notice and slow himself. He glanced in my
direction and he saw me. He paused for just a moment, turned his face
resolutely to the entrance and strode forward. Cromwell gave me a quick glance
and gestured with his head for me to follow.

My heart was galloping like a stallion and swarms of
butterflies careered around my stomach. I followed after the King, with Sissy
and Humphrey several steps behind. The steward tried to stop me but I ignored
him and hurried past.

And then, just as I was walking past a doorway, I saw
him. King Henry stood framed in the door, glaring at me. He crooked his finger
and I followed him into the room beyond.

'What do you mean coming here at Greenwich?' he cried.

His face was red with rage and he paced about like a
bull about to charge.

I flung myself on the floor. 'I beg pardon if I've
displeased Your Majesty by being here,' I said.

'You displease me by your very presence,' he boomed.
'Your very presence annoys and infuriates me.'

'I beg pardon,' I said. My head drooped to the ground
and I gave a silent curse at Cromwell.

'Infuriates me, madam,' the King continued,
'infuriates and enrages me.'

He stamped upon the ground, his fists clenched and
working.

My head drooped lower and I began to weep. I did not
mean to but I did.

The King ceased his tirade and I felt him step closer.
His hand reached for my chin and he jerked my face up so that he could look at
me.

His eyes were cold as the sea. 'I am sorry you are
weeping,' he said. 'Dry your tears.'

I dabbed at my eyes, thankful that his rage had
abated. And then he pulled a purse from his belt and flung it at my feet.

'I want my luncheon,' he cried, disappearing from
view. 'I want my luncheon.'

I stared at the purse. I could not believe he had
thrown me a purse. The rest of the room seemed to fall dark and the only thing
which was bright was the purse. It seemed to throb and pulsate with a cruel and
mocking disdain. It was a vile thing and if I had the strength I would have plucked
it up and flung it into a corner of the room.

Thomas Cromwell glanced at me and gestured me to stay
on the ground. Then he whispered something in Humphrey's ear and followed after
the King.

'Come, Alice,' Humphrey said gently, helping me to my
feet. 'Sir Thomas says you are to return to your apartment and to make ready to
depart.'

I left the purse where it lay and allowed Humphrey to
lead me to the apartment where I slumped down on the couch. I felt exhausted,
as though I had run ten miles and then been forced to engage in a fight with
Philippa Wicks and Dorothy Bray. My tears had stopped but I felt numb from my
feet to my head. I felt more than numb. I felt as though I was not a part of
myself any longer.

'Should I pack up your gowns?' Sissy asked.

'They're not my gowns,' I answered in a dull voice.
'Nothing here belongs to me.'

'I don't think anyone will miss a couple more gowns,'
Humphrey decided. 'Here, Sissy choose two and pack them up. Nothing too fancy,
mind, but nice enough ones.'

I smiled weakly at his concern and his good judgement.

Within an hour everything had been made ready for our
departure. When all was done it seemed suddenly to strike Humphrey that it
would not be me alone who would leave. Sissy would as well.

'Where do you live?' he asked her.

'Hundreds of miles away,' she answered.

'So I may not see you again?'

She glanced at me and then shook her head. 'I don't
think it will be possible. I am sad about it.'

'Me too,' he said. And then he turned away and
whistled but with no discernible tune.

We sat like this for an hour longer and then a knock
came on the door. Humphrey opened it to find a messenger standing at attention.

'She's wanted,' the man said and he crooked a finger
at me.

I rose, straightened my dress and hurried after him. I
supposed I had to see the Lord Privy Seal and be given instructions concerning
where I was to go. I hoped he would show a little charity to me but I doubted
he would show much.

I followed the messenger, not paying any heed where I
was going, and at length we stopped outside a large door. He knocked once,
opened it swiftly and told me to enter.

I stepped inside and found myself face to face with
the King.

'I have dined,' he said. 'And now I would make your
acquaintance once again, Alice Petherton.' He turned and led me into his
bed-chamber.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Peering at the Future

17th September 1538

There was much passion in the King's love-making. Much
passion but precious little affection. He ordered me to strip and then climbed
upon me without a further word. He was hungry for me, right enough, and I felt
him enter me at once. I was dry and yelped in pain which seemed to act like a
goad to him. He forced  himself to ever greater exertions, the sweat coming out
on him like a river in flood.

All the time his face was like a mask. His bed-mate
could be anybody, I thought. But then the realisation came that no they
couldn't. It could only be me. Only I could incite this mix of emotions in the
King. For there was passion, anger, desire for revenge, desire to hurt. But
over all of this I sensed, or thought I sensed, there was an overriding emotion
of hurt.