by Devin Morgan
“She and Bob are doing fine. I had dinner with them last week. She thinks she might be pregnant.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wondered if she had made a slip by telling their friend. “Well, she doesn’t really know yet. It’s way too soon to tell.” Sarah took the small hand towel off the console of the treadmill, wiping the perspiration from her forehead.
“I won’t mention it. There’s no reason to upset her if she isn’t sure.” Sarah thought she caught what Bonnie said through the noise.
“She’s not upset, Bon. I think she’s made up her mind that either way, it’s okay. Colleen’s finally adjusted to married life. I think she may even be ready to have a baby.”
“That’s so cool. She and Bob are going to have one beautiful kid. Smart too.” She cranked up the resistance. She started to breathe a little bit harder. “What about you? You seeing anyone?”
Sarah thought a moment, wondering what her friend would think if she said yes, a gangbanger and a vampire. She chuckled as she shook her head, “No, no one right now. I just don’t seem to have any time available for that.” She increased her own resistance, grabbed the rail and began to jog in place.
CHAPTER 28
CARLOS HAVARRO, transcript, session 18, July 16
It was dawn as I made my way through the garden from the chapel. There had been but a handful of the court present at the secret ceremony. I wondered why I had been one of the chosen few to witness the wedding between Henry and Anne, no longer Lady but Queen. Christmas day was a mere few weeks away and now, the new Queen would preside over the court. Katherine was banished long ago and Anne would never again have to sit quietly in her rooms while Katherine shared the festivities with the King. Now, she could Queen it over the whole court and Queen it she did.
As Christmas day approached, the court was decorated with holly and ivy. There was mistletoe, laurel and yew branches scattered everywhere. The pungent fragrance filled the halls and great rooms of the castle, an air of excitement hovered even in the darkest corners. True to the spirit of the season, everyone fretted over the gifts they would give and wondered at the gifts they would receive.
Anne chose her gift to the King with special care. Her ladies wrapped the two beautifully decorated boar spears in the finest velvet then tied them with the most ornate ribbon that could be found. They were set aside for the first day of January, the day of gift giving.
I knew the feast of Christmas would be one I had to endure pretending to enjoy the vast choices of food prepared just for the holiday. It was the same each year. The traditional boar’s head garnished with rosemary and bay as the centerpiece of each table, a feast for all after the restricted dining following Advent Sunday. It was Anne who single handedly orchestrated the celebration and all was perfection. It was said to be the grandest Christmas of Henry’s reign. The King laughed and stroked her and showed his love in his every glance. She was brighter than the grandest jewel and her dark eyes returned his affection.
The King ate copious amounts of food and drank a greater quantity of wine than the strongest youth of the court. There were Christmas poems and stories and music. A lovely melody was played, composed by the King himself. Everyone cheered at Henry’s genius. It was late when the royal pair rose from the dais to bid the court good night. Anne placed her small hand on his arm as he led her to their rooms. As they left the hall, Anne nodded her head to me, smiling. I wondered at her meaning.
I had not long to wonder. The very next day she called me to her. As I entered her audience chamber, she dismissed her ladies so we sat alone except for her lute player. He was seated in a far corner playing softly as if to himself. His attention was on his instrument and the sounds his fingers made as he stroked the strings.
“Aris, I have called you to me for a purpose.” She sat with her hands folded on her lap and the toes of her golden satin shoes peeking out from her emerald green velvet skirts. “I know not what you are but I know you are more than a man.”
I was startled but held my tongue. I waited for her to continue.
“I watch the court and I see how strange and unique you are among the other courtiers. You hold yourself above the petty small talk and court intrigue. You seem a man without ambition. At court that is rare indeed. What is your true purpose here?”
“Majesty, my purpose is to serve the monarchy and my sovereigns, nothing more.”
“Yes, Aris, a rare man indeed. And serve me you did. I wish to repay you.”
“My Queen, you have paid me over and over again by allowing me to be in your presence, by the luxury you afford me in my rooms and by the glorious horse and saddle that you made my gift. I ask for nothing more than to continue to serve you.”
“And you will. Your service to your Queen is greatly valued.”
I was relieved my Queen had not seen the true difference between me and the rest of the courtiers. Her summons had been for an audience of praise. She told me there would be a special present for me on New Year’s Day then dismissed me.
The days were short and cold and soon New Year’s Day, the day of giving of gifts at court, was upon us. I was invited to the King’s chamber in the morning to attend his dressing. It was an honor to be invited and I knew Anne had a hand in it. It took a great deal of time and many servants. Just as his shoes were placed on his feet, a fanfare sounded. The door to his chamber was thrown open. A servant appeared, one of Queen Anne’s ladies, she carried the gift the Queen had so carefully chosen for her husband.
He unwrapped the spears, laughing out loud with pleasure. If a gift was given and the King rejected it, the giver was known to be in deep disfavor. Each year a few were sent from court. They knew they would be sent away when the King sent their gifts back to them. If he accepted the gift, he would send something to the giver in return much more valuable than that which he received. If that was the occurrence, they knew their place at court was secure.
Servant after servant appeared before the King, each with a gift from their master. Each waited to see if the gift was well taken. They were dismissed to return with the verdict, accepted or rejected, in favor or out.
As he sat in the midst of all the gold and silver plate, the jewels and the shirts, the spears and a gilded saddle, a servant of Katherine was bid to enter. A scowl appeared on the face of the monarch as he realized from whom the gift was sent. He unwrapped the golden cup, threw the wrapping cloth on the floor then handed the cup back to the shivering man. He refused her gift just as he had cast her out. He shouted at her servant to be gone. Before the man reached the hall, word was circulating through the court of the King’s action.
The King’s man then handed me a huge trunk, telling me to make haste to Queen Anne. It was Henry’s gift to her. I was grateful for my unrivaled strength as I hurried down the corridors carrying the heavy weight on my shoulder. I knocked on her door. I was bid to enter.
Her eyes were bright with excitement as she opened it. Inside rested the most beautiful bed hangings my eyes had ever seen. Cloth of gold and silver embroidered with crimson satin threads, made and fit for a Queen. She threw her head back with a triumphant laugh. Her long black hair swung to her waist as she held one of the hangings to her breast, dancing about her room.
She whispered to me as she spun close. She whispered that her greatest gift to the King was yet to be given. I wondered at what it might be but she twirled away before I could ask.
There was feasting, joy and a masque for the New Year. The twelve days of Christmas were a time when all court business was set aside. Instead there were plays with fine actors, music, dancing and romance, candle flames, roaring fires, holiday smells and thick rich velvets.
It was the very next day she called me to her rooms. I was ushered into her bedchamber. She sat before a mirror, one of her ladies brushing her luxuriant hair. She was clothed in a black satin robe lined with opulent fur. I heard her humming softly to herself.
Smiling, she spoke to me. “Ah Aris, I have watched you watch the
ladies at the festivities and so as your special gift, I wish to help you find a wife.”
“Wife?” The word was choked from my throat. No human wife could ever be mine. I wanted no maiden. “My lady, you are all that I adore. I see no other woman in court except your Majesty,” I bowed my best courtiers bow.
She laughed out loud. “And how do I persuade you, my dear Aris?”
“Your Majesty, please, do not even make the attempt. You are the sun and the moon in my heaven. I may enjoy the sight of other women but your wit and beauty far outshine all others. I am loyal to my Queen in all things.”
Her eyes flirted with me as she laughed. “You are all I expected you to be. Now you may go. Your solitary life is granted you for the time being.” Turning back to her mirror, she once again began to hum. I backed from her room, grateful to have escaped so narrowly that which would have been my uncovering and feeling that I had passed some test of hers as to my loyalty to her alone. There could be no human love in my life. All hope of that died with Elizabeth Wyatt.
Quickly, twelfth night was upon us. Westminster was ablaze with candles and jewels. The King escorted Anne to the Tower of London where she had her pick of the treasury of England. Needing refreshment, she called for the wassail bowl. As she tipped her head to sip, a ruby the size of a robin’s egg, a gift the King had placed in the bottom of the bowl, caught the light and turned her face a blazing scarlet. She was beautiful, vibrant and the King had eyes only for her.
The Lord of Misrule arranged a bawdy play. Anne arranged a glorious masque with dancing and costumes. The King presented himself in disguise as he loved to do and we all feigned surprise when he unmasked. It was the finish to a Christmas season such as the court had never known.
At the end of the festivities, I saw Anne lean into the King with the look of a special secret in her eyes. She whispered into his ear. Suddenly he threw back his head in a roar of laughter, rose from his chair to pick her off the floor then spun her in circle after circle. Just as suddenly, he stopped. He placed her gently on her feet then touched her belly. He caressed it softly as he stared into her eyes. He put his arm around her protectively to escort her from the room.
The court was filled with gossip that the Queen was with child. Soon we were to find it was truth.
“I tire from all of these memories. Tell me, Sarah, what do you do for your Christmas?”
She was shocked out of her stupor. She hated to be brought back from the court of the Tudors. When he spoke through Carlos, the sixteenth century came alive to her. It all seemed so familiar. She felt she had actually been there with him, seen the candles, the royalty.
She spoke. “Yes, my Christmas. Well, I don’t think it will be anything to compare with the court.” She laughed at the thought of her mother’s Christmas tree and traditional dinner. It was a time of year when she loved being with her family. A time when she missed her father very much.
“I would very much like to share a Christmas with you.”
“I believe you would be bored.” She shut off the recorder. “We do have turkey but it is nothing like your Christmas pie. Of course, we do have a Christmas tree but nothing as grand as the palace filled with winter boughs.”
“Nonetheless, I would like to be there with you. Your present time is very interesting to me.” His voice became very quiet, very intimate. “You are very interesting to me.”
As always, there was silence as he waited patiently for her to speak. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “And now sweet Sarah, it is time for this young man to awaken. I bid you farewell.” She knew that he was gone until their next session.
CHAPTER 29
Sarah was excited to go camping with her girlfriends as she dragged her tent out of her storage unit to air it on her balcony. It had been packed away for almost a year. She washed her sleeping bag hoping it wouldn’t be lumpy. As they packed everything in the back of Bonnie’s SUV, they were all in high spirits.
The windows in the car were down, a fresh, clean breeze ruffling their hair. The three women laughed and talked as the highway took them out of town to a campground in Wisconsin. It was the third camping anniversary of a lifetime of camping anniversaries to come.
This was Colleen’s first get-a-way since she and Bob were married. She was happy to have a few days with her friends yet she still missed him like crazy. Sarah lost count of the text messages she sent to him and caught her looking wistfully out the window.
“Are you kidding, C?” She teased her friend. “You haven’t been gone a day and you’re already homesick.”
“Yeah, well I miss the guy. Sucks, doesn’t it? I really do love my husband and being married to him.” She laughed out loud. “Who would ‘a thought?”
“Yeah, well I did.” Bonnie spoke up.
“Yeah, and so did I.”
“Yeah?” Colleen closed the subject as she settled back into the seat to watch the landscape change outside her window.
The drive was under three hours so by mid-afternoon, they were pulling into the Wahaname Campground.
“I swear, if you text him again, I’m going to throw your phone away.” Sarah opened her door. She stepped out of the car.
“This is the last time, I promise. He wanted me to let him know when I get here. He’s just more cautious because of the baby.” She closed her phone before she slid it into her jeans back pocket. “See?” She held out her hands, palms up. “See? No phone. I promise, no more texts.”
Sarah looked skeptical.
“I said I promise. You’ll see.” She began to unload their gear. “I need this time to myself. I just miss the guy, that’s all. I haven’t been away from him a night since we’ve been married.” She shook her head in wonder. “Amazing. And I like it that way.”
“So, I guess you did the right thing?” Sarah picked up the cooler. She carried it to the picnic bench then went back to the van to grab the sleeping bags. The three friends had the camp set, ready to take a hike long before twilight.
The late afternoon sun was warm on their backs as they climbed to the top of a small grassy hill looking for a comfortable place to have their light picnic supper. They traveled light. Sarah carried a bottle of wine, a bottle of water for Colleen and a corkscrew in her backpack. Bonnie carried three glasses and napkins. Colleen carried cheese, some apples and an army knife. They delighted in the place they found. The opposite side of the hill was covered in summer wild flowers. In the warmth of the setting sun, the fragrance filled the air.
They settled down as each one of them did their chore. Sarah opened the wine and the water. Bonnie held the glasses as she poured. Colleen sliced thin pieces of the wonderful smelling Italian cheeses and apples.
“This is perfect. Wow, I can’t believe this is so close to home. It’s a different world.” Colleen held her glass high for a toast. “And here’s to this weekend.” Her friends agreed. They all touched glasses, then took a sip.
“Do you guys know where the term ‘toast’ came from?”
They both turned to look at her as if she was a bit crazy. “No, where?”
“Well,” She tipped her glass to them again taking another sip. “Back in Tudor England, when they passed around the wassail bowl at Christmas, the most important person at the party got to eat the piece of toast that was floating around in the bottom of the wine. It was supposed to be an honor.”
Colleen looked at her friend with incredulous eyes. “Where the hell did you find that out?” She paused. “And why?”
Sarah sat quietly for a moment, and then answered. “From a friend.” She nodded her head, “Yes, a friend.”
#
Sarah woke up to the smell of coffee perking. It was the most wonderful smell in the world. Fresh, crisp, cool, morning air and coffee. Who could ask for more than that? She snuggled down in her sleeping bag for an extra moment to enjoy the sounds and smells that surrounded her.
“Hey, you guys, get up. Times a wasting.” Colleen’s voice was wide awake. “Come on,
I’m hungry. Get up.”
Both her friends muttered they were coming. Before long, they both opened the flaps of their tents. The campfire was already lit. Two huge coffee mugs sat on the picnic table. The two late risers picked them up, filling them with the thick, black liquid that came out of the coffee pot. Colleen had a special brew she concocted for their camping trips. It was so black and so strong it could wake the dead.
“Where’s the sugar?” Sarah yawned as she spoke.
“I thought you brought it.”
“I thought you brought it.”
“What, no sugar?”
“Sarah, you’re the only one who uses it. Why didn’t you bring it?”
She yawned again. “Well, I can’t drink this stuff without it.” She placed the mug back on the table.
Bonnie went back into her tent, returning with her car keys. “I think I’ve got some packets of sugar in my glove box. I’ll go look.”
She walked down the path toward the car.
“Colleen. Sarah. Come here quick.” Anger in her voice cut the air like a steel knife.
The two women hurried to the car and found Bonnie crouched down by her rear tire. “Look, these two tires have been slashed.” She pointed to the rear and front tire on the driver’s side. “Who the hell would do such a thing at a campground?” She stood, brushing her dirty hands on her jeans. “I only have one spare. Crap. Now what?”
Colleen took over the situation. “First we go to the ranger and tell him. Then we call Bob to bring us a tire. I’ll tell him to bring his tent. If he’s here, we’ll feel safer and we won’t have to cut the trip short.”
“This isn’t funny. Somebody vandalized my car. And for no reason.”
Sarah wondered silently if there, perhaps, was a reason, a very bad reason.
#
“So how was the annual girl’s get away?” He sat in the chair across from her desk as she opened her drawer to retrieve her recorder.
“It was fine. We had a great time.” She kept the tire episode quiet.