This Scepter'd Isle (62 page)

Henry also felt that political events were pushing the pope in his direction; Francis had offered to marry his second son to the pope's niece—a strong tie there. But even if Francis could not push the pope into agreeing to the divorce there was a lesser matter that he could forward. With Warham dead, an archbishop of Canterbury sympathetic to Henry's view that he, not the pope, ruled the Church of England was possible. And once that new archbishop was consecrated by the pope, Henry's marriage to Catherine could be reexamined by English clerics, in which case Henry was assured that the marriage would be declared null and void.

The king's party had finally managed to cross on the twelfth of November, although it was a horrible voyage of nearly a whole day and night. However, they arrived safely at Dover and rode back to London where there was a joyous thanksgiving in St. Paul's. Henry and Anne could each retire to their luxurious apartments to rest and think over what had occurred.

By then it was too late to preserve Anne's virginity, of course. Aleneil knew when Anne finally succumbed and knew too that the coupling had not been much of a pleasure from Anne's point of view. That, at least, Anne had sense enough to keep to herself, possibly even—as the soft-voiced Lady Alana advised as soon as she had a chance—had sense enough to cover with a false enthusiasm. In any case, Henry seemed happy enough and eager enough to seek more of the same even when there was no longer a forced propinquity.

By the middle of December, Anne was pregnant. That rumor flashed around the court like wildfire in a dry summer. Some said it was fed by Anne herself, or by her most intimate ladies, and Anne only laughed; she did not deny. On the twenty-fifth of January, in a very private ceremony, Anne and Henry were married. The marriage was kept secret for the time being, while Cranmer was proposed and, by the end of March, consecrated archbishop of Canterbury by the pope.

Only twelve days after receiving the pallium, Cranmer requested permission to examine the matter of the king's marriage and by the twenty-third of May Henry's marriage to Catherine was declared null and void, making his marriage to Anne valid and the child she was carrying legitimate. Six days after Cranmer's judgment was made public, Anne was crowned queen.

The coronation had been planned well in advance, of course. The archbishop considerately informed the king of each step in the examination of his marriage and an estimate of how long it would take. Thus it was possible to recall FitzRoy and Lord Henry from France in time to take part in the coronation. Denoriel had been about to slide away into obscurity as soon as his young companions were safe ashore, but to his dismay Norfolk was in the welcoming party.

Instead of a cold dismissal—which he was afraid would inspire an equally cold (or worse yet, a hot) rejoinder by FitzRoy—for at fourteen and with the experience of life in two sophisticated courts behind him, Harry was no one's boy any more—Norfolk seized upon him with expressions of delight.

"Lord Denno. Just the man I was hoping to see. I was going to ask Richmond whether he was still in touch with you—" those words caused a fleeting expression of dissatisfaction to flicker across Norfolk's face, but it was gone as soon as it came, and he continued "—so I could get your direction. I remember when you played King of Misrule the Christmas of '32. You are the man to create the spectacle we need to lead the water pageant for the queen's coronation."

Denoriel groaned aloud and without any pretense. "Your Grace, that was one small device to make a smoke. I am not a magician and the man from whom I learned the tricks is—"

"No matter. No matter. Then you made smoke. And I remember you made sparkles leap from the staff you carried. We need much the same—sparkles to fly from the torches of the wild men and flame to belch from the throat of a dragon. Come to me when you are returned to London so I can show you the boat that will carry the spectacle. You will, of course, let me know what help you will need."

Over the next two days as the party returned to London, Denoriel tried in vain to escape his fate. It was Lord Henry who saved his groats by introducing him to the producers of masques, who in turn led him to the artificers who created the spectacles for the masques. Fire-breathing dragons were all in a day's (or at least two weeks') work to them.

Since Denoriel could enhance the pitiful foot-long tongue of fire to several yards of brilliant pyrotechnic without even being near enough for the metal inside the mechanism to cause him discomfort, the show was a resounding success. His wild men waved their sparkling torches and their bellowing could be heard not only on the barges that followed his light wherry, but on both banks of the river. And the barges that followed, all fifty belonging to the great London guilds, were bright and glittering with bunting, gold foil, and silver bells.

They had four days of it, processions and pageants and people in the street. If there was no wild enthusiasm for Anne, there was no protest either. Free shows and free food were welcome on any account. It was, all in all, a much grander coronation than that of Catherine, and even more impressive than the celebration held for the visit of Charles V. To any observers, except perhaps the Imperial ambassador, it was clear that the king had had his way; Queen Anne had been crowned with the assent of the people.

Free of duty, after a few days' rest, FitzRoy and Lord Henry returned to France, but this time they knew they could not remain long. The queen was already big-bellied with the child she carried and it was said she would be delivered by the end of September. The ten weeks that the young men had were spent in a round of visits of farewell and hearty invitations to the friends they had made to come and visit them in England—FitzRoy at least had his own establishment in which to make them welcome.

FitzRoy also had a private reason for suspecting he would not soon return to France. He had become reacquainted with Lord Henry's younger sister Mary in Calais, where she had been one of Anne's ladies. And he had spent more time with her in London as they waited endlessly to rehearse their roles in the coronation events.

FitzRoy had found being with Mary very pleasant; he liked her soft voice and gentle manner and their ties as children made for easy conversation. She was pretty, too. Thus, when Norfolk had approached FitzRoy on whether he would be willing to have Mary to wife, he had asked for some days to think, had consulted Denno, and had agreed.

He understood that the marriage was primarily designed to declare publicly that he was no longer a possible choice for the throne. While there remained the possibility that his father would name him heir, marriages to French and Spanish princesses had been considered. To bind him to an English nobleman's daughter implied that he was no longer a bargaining chip.

A secondary purpose, which Denoriel pointed out, was to extend Norfolk's influence over him. The third duke of Norfolk was not particularly astute in his relations with people, but he had realized, Denoriel said, that he could no longer simply order FitzRoy to do anything. Harry had not only the king's ear but Lady Anne's as well. If Norfolk needed to direct Harry's behavior, it was easier to do so through a wife. FitzRoy had almost balked at that, but Denoriel laughed and said it was no bad thing, since messages could be transmitted both ways.

In general FitzRoy was not particularly enamored of the idea of being married—he was only fourteen years old and had been relishing his freedom—but he understood the political reasons. In addition he was as eager as his father, if not more eager, to see himself removed from the royal line.

As to the particular bride chosen for him, he was well enough pleased. He had seen most of the ladies of suitable birth, and Mary was the best of them.

Of course, no mortal woman could compare with the beauty of the elven ladies he had met Underhill. In truth, it was the elven ladies for whom he yearned, for whom, in dreams, his loins burned, of whom he thought when he needed to rouse his body. But he knew any hope of an elven lover was impossible. His life and his duty were here in the mortal world, and part of that duty was marriage to Mary.

It was not so terrible; actually it would be pleasant to have an agreeable constant companion in Baynard's castle to read with and talk with and play at cards with. FitzRoy said his good-byes in France and headed back to England cheerfully enough.

Lord Denno was waiting for him at Baynard's Castle and invited himself to dinner. They were alone, except for Sir Edward, who excused himself early to go out and notify some friends of his arrival.

"There is a plague among your wine casks," Denoriel said. "I will show you some surprising ways to amend it if you will come down into the cellars with me."

"With all my heart," FitzRoy replied, his eyes brightening. "Nothing is more of interest to me than learning more about my cellars."

In an arch behind one of the great tuns, the bricks were blurred by age and shadow and were quite solid—unless a Sidhe lord held one's hand. Then the shadow deepened to featureless black and if one's courage did not fail, one could step through. To Denoriel's eyes the black was not featureless. In it appeared a bright blue diamond with a round picture at each point. One was the silver trees and star mosaic of Elfhame Avalon Gate. That he chose.

Lady Aeron and Miralys were waiting. FitzRoy first bowed profoundly to the elvensteed and then threw his arms around her neck and kissed her muzzle. Denoriel suspected that Lady Aeron felt much the same affection for her rider; there was no need for her to have come. Miralys could have carried both of them the short distance to the great Mirror of the FarSeers.

Four ladies waited. FitzRoy slid down from Lady Aeron and bowed to each in turn. The eldest spoke to him.

"This is no new thing we are showing you, but a Vision that came to our youngest, the Lady Aleneil, more than eight of your years ago."

The lens rose and the first image that appeared was the face of the scowling red-haired babe. FitzRoy breathed "Henry" when he saw who held the child, but a sharp gesture silenced him and in the lens the different futures of the realm of Logres unfolded.

A breeze came up, seeming to blow away the pictures. It fluttered FitzRoy's hair so that the blue six-pointed star glittered and flashed on his forehead. Slowly the lens sank down again. Aleneil stepped forward.

She said to FitzRoy, "You understood?"

"That the red-haired child is linked to a golden future, yes. I understood that. And I understood, too, that without that child, misery and horror will overtake my country. What I do not understand is what this has to do with me."

Aleneil sighed. "Neither do we—except when I Looked at England without you in the future, it was all smoke and screaming and burning, and Elfhame Logres itself was empty, Llachar Lle a tumbled ruin."

"No!" FitzRoy exclaimed.

Denoriel put a hand on his shoulder. "That was what won you a fairy guardian. You soon became precious to me for yourself, Harry, but I was sent to you because we knew you could not be risked. For the sake of England and Logres, both in the mortal world and Underhill you had to grow to be a man."

"So that was why those men tried to kill me and over the years . . ." He looked from Denoriel to Aleneil. "I will do what I can, whatever I can. Indeed, my life would be a very small price to pay to save the beauty of Elfhame Logres and Llachar Lle. Just tell me what I must do."

"We do not know," Aleneil admitted. "That is the danger in FarSeeing. It often tells you just enough to drive you to act but does not show the right action. I hope that when you see the red-haired child, you will know."

"The babe that will be born to Queen Anne?"

Slowly Aleneil shook her head. "There has been no Vision but—but my heart says yes."

FitzRoy's heart said yes too, and he settled down to wait for Anne to deliver her child. Not, of course, that he was not occupied with other matters. Although there was no possibility of going north to take up his duties there, he began to take an interest in them and to read the reports of the councilors. Norfolk invited him to discuss his forthcoming wedding, telling him with a sour expression that final arrangements would be made only if the babe lived through the delivery and was healthy. If it died, FitzRoy would be restored to his old ambiguous position as possible heir.

Although FitzRoy was no more eager for being a married man than in the past, he infinitely preferred that state to possible heir. His attention fixed even more firmly on Anne and her offspring. Prodded by Denoriel, he sent messages and presents to Mary, but the truth was that he was he hardly thought of her. He was far more interested in the birth of Anne's child than in his own marriage.

Anne retired "to her chamber" as was the custom for women about to deliver at the end of August. Usually about six weeks were allowed before delivery, but Anne surprised everyone by giving birth—with surprising ease—to a baby girl on September seventh.

It was not only the king and court who were surprised by Anne's early delivery. Vidal Dhu had also been caught unprepared. He and Aurilia had had a difference of opinion about when to snatch the child. Vidal insisted on organizing a force to abduct the new-born baby during the excitement and confusion of the delivery. He insisted that Sidhe could be disguised as maids and midwives. These attendants often carried bundles of sheets, large covered bowls, and a variety of other cloths, boxes, and garments among which a changeling could be concealed and a mortal child carried away.

No long elaborate preparation would be necessary for this changeling. Newborns all looked pretty much alike, wrinkled and red with eyes swollen shut and near bald-headed. And it would not matter how long the changeling lived; many of the king's children had been dead within hours of their birth.

Aurilia continued to oppose the idea, pointing out that "at the time of delivery" was very uncertain. Exactly when the changeling had to be created was totally unknown; were they to make one every week until the lady went into labor? And how would they know what sex? That, the midwives and attendants would know for certain even as the child emerged from the womb.