My fictionalized version of the first meeting between Katherine Howard and her famous lover, Thomas Culpepper. This extract is taken from a novel I am currently writing on Katherine Howard, the fifth and often most neglected of Henry VIII's queens. Not much is known about Katherine's life in comparison with the five other queens, simply because her life and reign were so short and her impact on history was very little. However, her story's importance should not be forgotten - She was a young girl, pushed into a role that no-one in her life had prepared her for, and her tragic end should not be taken light-heartedly. Her story will be told from both Katherine's and Thomas Culpepper's point of view. This scene is told from Thomas' point of view, and takes place when Katherine is a still a maid to Queen Anne and newly come to court. The King has not yet seen her, and as of yet, Thomas and Katherine are unknown to each other. This meeting between the two will change the courses of their lives forever, and ultimately lead them to their untimely fate. I hope you enjoy! :)
Thomas
This evening the King is holding a masquerade to celebrate the coming of May. It seems as though he is in high spirits again despite still being tied to Queen Anne and a great feast has been laid out in the banqueting hall.
Upon the largest table set before the King is what appears to be a miniature garden, though I am not sure miniature is the correct word since it takes up almost the entire table! It is a scene from Eden supposedly; The table itself has been hollowed out to accommodate the fresh grass used to fill its centre, and growing from the earth are trees half the height of a man with trunks of gold, fashioned to look like real bark. The trunks split off into smaller branches and then into twigs, each adorned with a handful of delicate silver leaves, the detail so intricate that even veins and little stems could be seen. Each nest of leaves had their own collection of fruit; apples, strawberries, pomegranates and figs were all to be found on the same branch, and all were painted silver like the leaves. The King gave a great gasp of surprise when, after being offered a silver strawberry, he bit into it to find the inside quite juicy and red, and declared that nowhere in the taste was a trace of silver paint!
Amongst the trees were the birds, not live of course, but sculpted from the most beautiful parts of the most beautiful birds; the swan's majestic head with its long and slender neck, and its white feathered wings too. The body was the iridescent blue of peacock's and the tail was from this same bird; fanned and dazzlingly coloured, glimmering in the evening light like something divine. Three wild boars nestled together underneath one golden tree as if asleep in the midday sun, and the goddess Aprhodite presided over a white marble fountain, which itself overflowed forming a river, wine-dark, and lasting the length of the table. It was a marvellous sight.
The King was pleased. He sat at the head of the table raised above the rest of us and smiling widely; a glittering figure in purple and gold cloth. I realised looking at him then that no matter how much affection he dealt to me, I would always be here in my place and he would always be far away in his - the two could never cross. Closeness to this King is only an illusion, a trick of the eye. Sometimes it is easy to be fooled into thinking that your circumstances may be different; when he calls you his favourite of all young men you see the genuine affection in his eyes, the companionship that he so craves - especially this late in his life - and you begin to think that, like you, he is just a man - rich and powerful - but just a man. However, sitting here at a table like this, his table, in his palace, with his wealth and luxury dripping from him like honey, you could forget that you and he ever shared companionable thoughts together, for how would a companionship go between a King such as him and a man such as I?
The King rises up, and the lively hall is suddenly silent as the night outside. "My ladies and gentlemen, you are welcome!" he announces in a voice laden with wine and pleasure, "We must now make room for our young dancers!" He claps his huge hands together and the sharp sound echoes throughout the great hall. The servants busy themselves with removing tables and chairs to empty the floor and I realise that I only have a small amount of time to collect my mask and arrange my disguise. "I regret that tonight I shall not dance..." the King continues, and as expected, his crowd sounds their outcry of disappointment. He gives a happy chuckle at their reaction and raises his hands as if in protest "I am long past my dancing days!" his laughter booms about the room as he sits down and claps his hands once again for the entertainment to begin.
The dance has been well choreographed, of course, and we each of us know the steps very well, but the excitement still remains since our partners are a mystery. Not only is tonight's event a masque, but this first dance is an opportunity to introduce the new ladies of the queen's service who have recently arrived at court.
The fire was doused by order of the King since the room had grown too hot, and all that was left were a few candles lighting the length of the silent hall. We gentlemen formed a line straight down the middle all dressed similarly in black cloth, so that we almost disappeared into the darkness cloaking the room; our identities shielded from the crowd by our decorated masks. The ladies filed in to partner us, masked the same as we, so that only lips and eyes, shining in the candlelight from beneath our painted faces, were revealed.
As expected, a girl stops in front of me. She keeps her head bowed shyly so that I cannot glimpse either her eyes or her lips...All I can see is her lovely hair; fine like pale silk and braided beneath her hood. So entranced am I by its appearance that I almost reach out to touch it, but stop myself just in time.
Willing my brain to concentrate on something else, I let my eyes settle on the rest of her figure that is available to me; pale skin smooth as butter, her body is slender, that of a girl's verging on womanhood, encased like some cocooned butterfly inside a long dove-white gown. She fairly shines, jewel-like, with a light of her own in this darkened room. Only at the last moment before our palms touch does she raise her eyes to mine, and I find that they have the richness of honey; so dark and delicious compared to her pale hair that I could willingly drown in them.
She smells like sunlight, warm and bright. Her touch burns my skin. Since she first laid eyes on me her stare does not waver from mine. I find her strangely bold considering her earlier shyness, yet inquisitive also. Without thinking, I am staring at her in the same way, willing my eyes to look away but finding no strength or real desire to do so. I feel as though I could look at her eyes and nothing else for the rest of my life; those alluring eyes, rich as amber...and her lovely hair, which almost begs to be caressed.
The dance is over before I know it, and too soon her honeyed gaze and lovely hair are gone from my sight. Rather than face being partnered with someone other than she, I excuse myself from the next dance and lean myself against a corner – the only place in this vastly occupied hall where one can hope to be alone - and feel the cool sweat trickle down my back; the hot skin from my palm still smarting from where it met hers.
I cast my eyes once more over to the floor where she is now partnered with a young knight, and I find myself incensed with a peculiar jealousy that he may look on her as I just did, and be as close to her as I just was. A serving boy whistles past me with a dozen heavy and dirty plates in his arms and I fairly grab him by the cuff without a thought or care; the plates almost clatter to the floor but for his steady hand. "Who is that Lady?" I whisper, pulling his ear close so as not to be heard, still entranced by her figure moving slowly and gracefully in the candlelight. The servant turns to spy for himself and I know that I need not clarify which lady I am talking about because she shines above all others. "Lady Katherine Howard, Sir." The servant stutters, clearly struggling under the load he is carrying. I release him from my grasp and he hurries away without another word.
"Katherine..." I tested her name on my lips, and found it sweeter than honey...