'Master Daunbey, Master Shallot. The king wishes to see you now!'
I caught the stench of fear from the cardinal. A fine sheen of sweat glazed his heavy, quivering jowls. The dark eyes were as hard as slate. He glared at me. I knew why he was fearful. I was a member of his party, one of his retinue, and when the great Henry lashed out it was dangerous even to be in the same room as the king's enemy. We followed the cardinal across the floor. Benjamin nudged me furiously.
'For God's sake, Roger,' he hissed, 'stop this foolishness!'
I had already decided to do that as soon as I entered the darkened chamber where the royal beast sat slouched on a chair. (You had to watch the Great Killer's eyes.
They always reminded me of an angry boar's, small, red-rimmed and vicious – and that's when he was in a good mood! When he lost his temper, and that was often, his cheeks puffed up and his eyes shrank to two small, bottomless black pits. They had that same expression when we entered the room.) Wolsey scuttled to sit down behind him. Benjamin and I needed no second bidding. We fell to our knees, the gold coins clinking ominously in the napkin I clutched.
'Master Shallot, you played well.' The voice was sugar sweet.
'Yes, Your Majesty,' I mumbled, hoping I would not lose control of my bowels or vomit in sheer terror. (I always wore brown breeches.)
'You played against your king and won!'
My mind raced as nimble as a flea in air. 'Of course, Your Majesty,' I stuttered. 'As the wild woman prophesied.'
'What's that?'
I gazed up under my eyebrows. The king was now leaning forward. Wolsey just quivered in terror, shaking like one of the jellies his chefs had so recently served us. Benjamin knelt as if carved from stone.
'What do you mean?' the king repeated ominously.
'Your Majesty,' I stammered, 'when I was young at school in Ipswich, I helped an old lady cross a bridge.' I looked sideways at Benjamin. 'Master, you were with me, you will remember it?'
Benjamin nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground.
'The old woman was a seer,' I continued recklessly. 'She thanked me for my courtesy and prophesied that one day I would play against Europe's greatest prince in a game of hazard, and win. That, she said, would be my moment of glory, to tell my grandchildren,' I added hopefully.
(Oh, what a glorious lie! Shallot at his best, the born story-teller! The only old woman I helped in Ipswich was Bridget the Ancient. I did assist her to cross the river. I pushed the bloody bitch into it after she had cursed me for not handing over every penny in my pockets! But, on reflection, it was a good tale. I liked the bit about grandchildren, a pious hope that the Shallot line did not end there and then!) Well, you could have felt the atmosphere in the room relax as if someone had opened a window, letting in the cool summer breeze. Wolsey's mouth twitched, he once more became the most important person after God. Benjamin's shoulders shook as he controlled the bubble of laughter, but Henry sat back, clapping his hands and grinning from ear to ear like some bloody cat.
'You must tell that to the court!' he roared.
And, without further ado, I was marched back into the hall, placed on the dais, the heralds braying on their trumpets. I repeated my declaration to an admiring court, listening to the plaudits of praise. All the time the Great Killer stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder. When I had finished I turned and, sinking to one knee, dramatically handed the napkin full of gold back to the king. I would have loved to have swung the sodding bag and hit him straight in the balls but the old tight-fist snatched it off me and threw the gold on to the hall floor so he could watch his courtiers scramble. I thought the cunning bastard was finished with me but his hand remained vicelike on my shoulder. For a while he watched his courtiers make fools of themselves, then hissed: 'A word in thy ear, Master Shallot!'
I was force-marched back to the retiring chamber, Benjamin and the cardinal trooping behind us. I wondered what was coming next. Henry sat on the corner of a table, one fat leg swinging.
'I like your wit, Master Shallot,' he said, grinning mischievously at Wolsey. 'I understand you are off to France with Sir Robert Clinton? You are to search out the traitor Raphael and, when you find him, kill him or bring him back for me.'
'Yes, Your Majesty.'
'Look at me, Master Shallot.'
I raised my eyes and stared at that mad, bad face, the fleshy nose, the neatly trimmed gold beard and moustache.
'I hold you responsible, Master Shallot, you and Master Daunbey, for the return of my book from Abbe Gerard. And, one more task…'
'Your Majesty?'
The air in the room became positively icy. Henry leaned forward and tweaked my ear playfully. In actual fact the royal bastard's heavy hand sent an arrow of pain down the side of my face.
'Three years ago, Master Shallot, I was in France. I wore a beautiful ring, a love token made of sheer gold. It carried a silver Cupid, the eyes of which were fashioned out of pure diamonds.' The king licked his lips. 'My brother King Francis and I had a wager on a shy damsel at his court. He wagered a necklace of great value so I proffered the ring on who would win her favours first.' Those dry, prim lips pursed in spiteful annoyance. 'My brother Francis won the wager and I handed the ring over. He wears it always, never taking it off, but he said that if I could steal it back without him knowing, then I could keep it. Master Shallot,' he hissed, 'I want that ring back! You, with your skill at hazard, will bring it back to me. You understand?'
'Of course, Your Majesty!'
(Of course I bloody well did! The fat bastard had neatly trapped me. Not only had I to get his damn' book back but regain his ring. If I failed and the French caught me I would hang. If I won and the French caught me I would hang. And, if I failed and returned to England I would hang. I see my chaplain sniggering! The little turd! Mind you, he's right in what he says. When I look back at my golden youth all I can remember is people trying to hang poor old Shallot. For what? For nothing more than being true to himself.),
Henry smiled and dismissed us with a flick of his fingers. I'll be honest, Benjamin and I scuttled out as quickly as two of the cardinal's bloody spiders. We did not speak until we were back in our garret above the gatehouse.
'Master,' I wailed, 'what can I do?'
Benjamin sat on the side of his bed shaking his head. 'You could use your wits,' he replied sharply, 'and keep a close mouth when you are in the presence of princes. Roger, we stand on the edge of darkness. If we are not successful, we will not see England again.'
On that cheerful note he lay down, wrapped himself in a blanket and pretended to fall asleep. I'll be truthful, I sat quivering with terror until dawn. And why not? I had been drawn into the deadly rivalry, both political and personal, which existed between Francis and Henry. They were both arrogant, both lechers, both saw themselves as the answer to all the problems on earth. They took what they wanted and would brook no defiance. The only difference was that Francis did it with more charm. But for me, in that garret at Hampton Court, I felt like a rabbit having to choose between the jaws of the fox and the talons of the eagle.
Late the next morning we left Hampton Court. Benjamin was subdued. He made his farewells to Wolsey and Doctor Agrippa and we joined Clinton's party as they assembled in the great courtyard. The cries of ostlers, grooms, outriders, Serjeants and clerks rang out. Horses were saddled, sumpter ponies laden, the marshals of the household imposing order with their white wands of office. I glimpsed Lady Francesca, resplendent in a sea-green dress and cloak and small hat of the same colour, but for the moment, my lust had subsided. All I wanted was to be away from Hampton Court before I further incurred Henry's wrath.
Lord, I was pleased to be free of the place, following the white beaten track first west around London, then south across the downs to Dover. Outriders went first then Sir Robert, Master Benjamin and Lady Clinton. The first two soon became boon companions: they shared a common love of alchemy and an all-absorbing interest in plants and their natural remedies. Often our cavalcade would stop so they could both dismount and study foxgloves, fungi on tree bark, or the different types of mushrooms. Though interested in nature, I was still frightened by the demands of the Great Beast and hung back, watching jealously how the coquettish Lady Francesca seemed to take great interest in Benjamin but remained impervious to my own presence. Clinton's chief henchman, Venner, was an amiable enough fellow but his conversation revolved around bear and cock fighting and the virtues of one breed of horse over another. There was not a pretty face in sight so I sulked all the way to Dover. We paused now and again at some hostelry and, on one occasion, a Benedictine monastery, I forget its name. Well, what does it matter? It's only a pile of rubble now the Great Killer has finished with it.