Read Online The Autobiography of Henry VIII: With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers by Margaret George - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret George
Ads: Link
seemed an interminable time, all the while conversing in regal tones.
WILL:
When Henry became King, he tried to outdo his father in everything, and particularly in this area. He had a truly celestial “privy stool” (as he named it) constructed for his own use. It was so decorated, so studded with gems and padded with goose-down, that using it must have been a dazzling experience. How Harry restricted himself to retiring to it only once a day (unless he had some digestive upset, of course) is just one of the many puzzles about him. I would have arranged to spend half my day upon it.
In spite of this—now that I think of it—Harry was abnormally fastidious about this subject. He never allowed me to make any references to those functions (a crippling injunction for a jester), nor even to use the good old words “piss” or “fart,” or—as he used to say—“the word that rhymes with hit.”
HENRY VIII:
“I did not summon you here to talk about crow-nets or mad Henry VI, but about marriage,” the King said. I could hardly hear him above the furious sound of his body function.
He turned and I stepped back, making sure my eyes were turned respectfully away. “Marriage!” he repeated, rearranging his robes. “It is much on my mind these days.”
He smiled that thin-lipped, smug smile he affected when he thought himself clever. “Margaret will do for me what armies cannot.”
He had just arranged the marriage of my sister Margaret to King James IV of Scotland. She would wed the middle-aged but lusty Stuart, and go to live in that barbarous, cold country, whether or not she fancied it (or him). A union of sorts between England and Scotland would result.
He went to his dee, their daughter.”
I try now to remember my first honest thought. And it was horror, a shrinking. Then, quickly—pleasure. “Arthur’s widow?”
“Is there any other Katherine, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella? The same.”
“But she is—she was—”
“The Pope can give a dispensation. That is no obstacle. Would it please you? Would it please you, boy?”
“Yes,” I breathed. I did not dare to think how much.
“It pleases me as well. To keep the alliance with Spain. To keep the dowry.” He shot a look at me. “A woman warms your bed, but money eases your mind. And can buy the woman for the bed to boot.”
He disgusted me. And dishonoured my mother, whom he had certainly never bought. “Perhaps,” was all I could trust myself to say.
“I will arrange the betrothal, then. And now you had best leave me to the plaintive cries of other crow-net men.” He turned back to his work table in exasperation, and indicated to his guard that he was ready to receive the next plaintiff.
I was glad to be gone. I was hungry and knew Father never ate until late afternoon. Once I was back in my own chamber, I asked for some bread and cheese and ale to be brought. While I waited, I walked about restlessly, thinking about Father’s proposal. I picked up my lute, but could bring no good music from it. I looked out the window, onto the snowy palace orchard. The trees were writhing black lines against the flat white snow.
A soft sound turned me round to see a server with a tray laden with food. I took it and sat at my small work table and ate. The cheese was exceptionally good, golden and mellow, and not hard as the cheese had been recently. The ale was dark and cold. I finished it all. No matter how much I ate, I never seemed to grow wider, only taller. I was hungry all the time, and at night sometimes my bones seemed to hurt. Linacre, one of the King’s physicians, said it was caused by my rapid growth. He said the bones were aching from being stretched. In the past year I had grown almost five inches. I was now taller than the King; I lacked only a little of the six-foot mark.
My favourite time of day approached: the late afternoon, when the boys and young men at court gathered in the enclosed exercise area (yet
WILL:
When Henry became King, he tried to outdo his father in everything, and particularly in this area. He had a truly celestial “privy stool” (as he named it) constructed for his own use. It was so decorated, so studded with gems and padded with goose-down, that using it must have been a dazzling experience. How Harry restricted himself to retiring to it only once a day (unless he had some digestive upset, of course) is just one of the many puzzles about him. I would have arranged to spend half my day upon it.
In spite of this—now that I think of it—Harry was abnormally fastidious about this subject. He never allowed me to make any references to those functions (a crippling injunction for a jester), nor even to use the good old words “piss” or “fart,” or—as he used to say—“the word that rhymes with hit.”
HENRY VIII:
“I did not summon you here to talk about crow-nets or mad Henry VI, but about marriage,” the King said. I could hardly hear him above the furious sound of his body function.
He turned and I stepped back, making sure my eyes were turned respectfully away. “Marriage!” he repeated, rearranging his robes. “It is much on my mind these days.”
He smiled that thin-lipped, smug smile he affected when he thought himself clever. “Margaret will do for me what armies cannot.”
He had just arranged the marriage of my sister Margaret to King James IV of Scotland. She would wed the middle-aged but lusty Stuart, and go to live in that barbarous, cold country, whether or not she fancied it (or him). A union of sorts between England and Scotland would result.
He went to his dee, their daughter.”
I try now to remember my first honest thought. And it was horror, a shrinking. Then, quickly—pleasure. “Arthur’s widow?”
“Is there any other Katherine, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella? The same.”
“But she is—she was—”
“The Pope can give a dispensation. That is no obstacle. Would it please you? Would it please you, boy?”
“Yes,” I breathed. I did not dare to think how much.
“It pleases me as well. To keep the alliance with Spain. To keep the dowry.” He shot a look at me. “A woman warms your bed, but money eases your mind. And can buy the woman for the bed to boot.”
He disgusted me. And dishonoured my mother, whom he had certainly never bought. “Perhaps,” was all I could trust myself to say.
“I will arrange the betrothal, then. And now you had best leave me to the plaintive cries of other crow-net men.” He turned back to his work table in exasperation, and indicated to his guard that he was ready to receive the next plaintiff.
I was glad to be gone. I was hungry and knew Father never ate until late afternoon. Once I was back in my own chamber, I asked for some bread and cheese and ale to be brought. While I waited, I walked about restlessly, thinking about Father’s proposal. I picked up my lute, but could bring no good music from it. I looked out the window, onto the snowy palace orchard. The trees were writhing black lines against the flat white snow.
A soft sound turned me round to see a server with a tray laden with food. I took it and sat at my small work table and ate. The cheese was exceptionally good, golden and mellow, and not hard as the cheese had been recently. The ale was dark and cold. I finished it all. No matter how much I ate, I never seemed to grow wider, only taller. I was hungry all the time, and at night sometimes my bones seemed to hurt. Linacre, one of the King’s physicians, said it was caused by my rapid growth. He said the bones were aching from being stretched. In the past year I had grown almost five inches. I was now taller than the King; I lacked only a little of the six-foot mark.
My favourite time of day approached: the late afternoon, when the boys and young men at court gathered in the enclosed exercise area (yet
Similar Books
