And if Fléance, Douceur and I forgot our manners sometimes, and pulled a roast guinea fowl off a kitchen table, why, we were the Queen’s dogs and were forgiven. We could get away with anything, as long as we pleased the Queen.
Sometimes, on the morning walks, we’d catch the smell of deer or rabbit, and run through puddles and under hedges following the scent. We were just like the Earl’s big hounds, whom we sometimes saw or heard or smelt in the distance.
But always we raced back as soon as the servant called. We were the Queen’s dogs, after all. The heart of our lives was our afternoons with her.
A few times during that first summer the Earl gave permission for the Queen to walk out in the sunlight. The walks were slow and a page crept along on either side of the Queen to help her, because her legs were sore and weak. When the Queen was with us, we were never allowed past the courtyard.
Every day was much the same, for us and for my Queen. The seasons changed more than our routines did. The leaves turned red and gold. The cobbles felt frosty under my paws. Out in the park we heard the scent hounds baying at the chase, and the bassets and the deer hounds too, as the Earl and his guests hunted on their fine long-legged horses.
It turned into a hard, cold winter. That was what everyone said, anyhow. It was the first winter I’d ever known. I wasn’t sure I approved of winter. It was too cold, though parts of it were good. The snow was fun, even if it made my paws ache. Things smell different in the snow: clearer and richer, like a tingle in your nose.
The duck pond froze. Even our water froze unless Monsewer ordered the women to place our bowls by the kitchen fire. My tongue stuck to the ice one morning and it hurt when I pulled it off. And all the carpet beetles vanished, so there was nothing to crunch when I was bored.
But every afternoon my tummy was hot on my Queen’s lap, and my fur kept the rest of me warm. And finally, late one afternoon, when even the window hangings couldn’t keep out the cold draughts, my Queen put her cold fingers under my warm tummy. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Warm at last.’
I looked up. ‘Woof,’ I said happily.
My Queen laughed.
‘So, you give me permission to warm my hands on your belly?’
‘Woof woof,’ I said. I wasn’t sure what she meant, or why the others laughed as well.
Even Jane.
Something called Christmas came. A giant log burned in the fireplace in the Queen’s main room. A big roast boar’s head was taken up to my Queen and brought down still nearly whole, so we dogs had a good slice too. I decided roast boar was the best meat I had eaten.
My Queen gave gifts to all her people on New Year’s Day. The birds had fresh silk covers for their cages. Fléance, Douceur and I new cushions for our beds. I pretended to attack mine, just to hear the laughter of my Queen. In truth I didn’t like it much—it had no good rich smell yet, as my old one did.
Fléance and Douceur sat close to the fire that day—the morning’s walk had been cold on our paws. I snuggled in my usual place on the Queen’s lap. I might not be as warm there, but it was the best place in the world.
Master Bourgoine, the doctor, played the lute while my Queen sang, then Master Melville and Master Curle danced with his wife Barbara, and his sister, Mistress Curle. Master Nau, one of the Queen’s secretaries, danced with Jane. Jane was a good dancer. The others went red and breathed like the big hounds after a hunt, but Jane looked like she could dance forever.
My Queen scratched my tummy and watched.
But I could feel that she was bored, and unhappy too. She sighed sometimes, and looked out of the window at the snow and trees.
‘Do you remember how we used to dance each night at Holyrood?’ she began. ‘The old Scottish gossips were horrified at seeing a queen dance past midnight.’
Jane stopped swirling round the room and laughed. ‘The musicians were yawning up on the balcony, Madam…’
I heard the footsteps outside before Fléance and Douceur. I pricked up my ears.
‘Woof!’ I said, but not too loudly or excitedly. I knew who the steps belonged to even before the page announced: ‘The Earl of Shrewsbury, Madam.’
‘Ah, my gentle gaoler. Let him enter.’ My Queen held out her hand for him to kiss.
‘Madam, I hope I see you well.’
‘Well? How can a prisoner be well? I am bound like a bird in a cage, Sir, who cannot stretch her wings.’ My Queen pulled out a little white cloth from near her waist and wiped her eyes, though I couldn’t see any tears, then glanced up at the Earl through her eyelashes. ‘Do you know what it is like to be cooped up in these rooms? Sometimes I dream I am young again and riding across the meadows back in France. Or walking in the palace, perhaps. How many months has it been since I felt the daylight touch my skin? How long must I—’
‘May Jesu have mercy…’ The Earl sounded irritated. ‘Very well, Madam. I give you permission to walk in the park today!’ He gestured out the window at the fields, where the snow lay thick and cold. ‘Does that please you?’
I pricked up my ears. Walk?
‘It is the best New Year’s present you could have given me! Jane, my boots and gloves. My cloak too…’
The Earl stared at her. ‘Madam, are you sure…?’
She laughed. ‘You thought I would baulk at the cold! Well, you are wrong. Even Noah’s flood wouldn’t stop me from getting outside today.’
Fléance and Douceur bounded down the stairs first. The idea of walking with our Mistress was so exciting that they almost bounced like puppies.
I trotted behind them with my Queen. She leant on the shoulders of Master Curle and Master Bourgoine as she was so much taller than them both. Her women clustered around her, sometimes almost treading on me, there were so many on the staircase. But I wasn’t going to leave my Queen’s side.
‘Madam,’ said Jane quietly as they helped her across the slippery courtyard, ‘are you sure? It’s so cold. It may make the pains worse.’
My Queen laughed, just like she did when I chased my tail. ‘It will be worth it!’
The air smelt like cold tin. The snow crunched beneath my feet, an icy crust on top and soggy below. My paws sank down so far that cold fingers of ice brushed my tummy.
My paws began to hurt, then they turned numb. Douceur and Fléance stopped racing ahead. They barked at me to say ‘We’re heading back’, and tramped, more slowly now, back to the warmth of the kitchens. The air felt like it would crack if you breathed too hard.
My Queen walked with only Master Curle helping her now. The others had dropped back. It felt as if the three of us were walking alone in the hard, bright snow, until I looked behind and saw the guards.
‘Magic,’ said my Queen, as she leant on Master Curle’s shoulder. ‘Out here I can dream…’
‘Of what, Madam?’ asked Master Curle.
She laughed again. ‘That I am young, and back in France. Back in the best of times, when all the world was promise. Before my dear François became King, when we were just two children learning our Latin in the schoolroom. François will come galloping across the snow and I will leap on my pony and we will ride—who knows where? There’s always adventure around the corner when you are young. You think the world will always love you. Do you dream, Master Curle?’
‘Yes, Madam.’ He gulped. ‘I dream…I dream that Philip of Spain’s army has landed to rescue you, as he promised all those years ago. That over that hill is a band of soldiers who will bear you away, onto the throne.’
‘Aha,’ said my Queen more sombrely. Her voice shook a little. ‘One of those dreams. That is what I dream of when I cannot sleep. I hear hoofbeats outside and think, Have they come? This time have they really come? But then I hear the voice of a carter bringing sacks of flour, or the brewer with his barrels. And I think, Next time. Maybe the rescuers will come tomorrow, or the day after. But they never do.’
‘They will one day, Madam!’
‘One day,’ said my Queen. There was desperation in her voice now. �
�If I didn’t believe that, Master Curle, I do not think I could go on.’
‘Woof,’ I yelped. I wasn’t joining in their conversation—if it wasn’t about food or walks or bath or bed it didn’t interest me—but my numb paws had stumbled over a branch hidden in the snow.
My Queen looked down. ‘Folly!’
‘Woof,’ I whimpered miserably.
Master Curle laughed. ‘He looks like a wet rat!’
‘A cold wet rat. The ends of his fur are frozen!’ My Queen leant on Master Curle’s arm as she bent and picked me up. ‘My poor Folly!’ Her fur gloves were frosty too, but it was warm being held next to her body. Slowly I stopped shivering. This, I thought, was the way to walk through snow! Carried by a queen! Up high enough to see and smell everything, kept warm by my Mistress.
The shadows grew long around us. The sun was a distant fire, its gold flames lighting the snow on the horizon. ‘Time to go back,’ said my Queen softly, still holding me in her arms. ‘I wonder when I will have this treat again.’
‘When you are free, Madam,’ said Master Curle stoutly.
‘Ah, yes,’ said my Queen, holding me close, as though she needed my warmth as much as I needed hers. ‘Then.’
There was a bath waiting when we got back—for my Queen, not for me! It was of warm white wine, but I didn’t suppose it was any better than my bath, down in the kitchens, of water that smelt of roses. But my Queen seemed to look forward to it.
Humans are strange, sometimes. Even queens.
She handed me to Jane, and let Mistress Curle take off her cloak and gloves. Jane handed me to one of the underservants, who carried me down to the kitchens. I felt quite warm by now, but was glad not to chill my paws on the cold stone of the stairs.
Fléance and Douceur were already in their baskets. The first of the Queen’s supper dishes were ready. I endured a rub-down by one of the kitchen women, then ate my supper—a dish of bread soaked in warm milk and sheep’s marrow, prepared by Monsewer himself. It wouldn’t do, he said, for the Queen’s favourite to come down with a cold.
And then I went to bed.
The next day I was none the worse for the chill. I bounded through the morning walk; the weather kept us to the courtyard and the front road, which had been swept clear of snow. And after my Queen’s midday dinner was brought down (it was custard made of nuts, not cream, and lots of fish today, so there were no big leftover bones to chew) I raced happily up the stairs to her chambers.
‘Woof!’ I called. ‘Woof, woof!’ I stood at the door expectantly.
Jane laughed. ‘Silly little Mouse! He thinks he’s going to get another walk with you, Madam.’
My Queen patted her lap, which was her signal for me to jump up. I did, and licked her face. ‘No, quietly! Quietly! Folly, I am sorry. The Earl hasn’t given me permission to walk outside today. Jane, take Folly for another walk, will you? Take Fléance and Douceur too. It’s not fair to imprison the dogs, even if I must keep indoors.’ She smiled. ‘It is not fair to you either. But you never complain.’
‘All I want is to serve you, Madam,’ said Jane softly. Then she added, ‘But I don’t think Folly’s legs will manage the snow.’
‘Then you must carry him,’ said the Queen.
Jane sighed, but not so loudly that the Queen heard. ‘Very well, Madam.’
We were bouncing about her heels now. The word ‘walk’ was enough to set our paws dancing.
Jane strode out of the room. Fléance and Douceur scampered at her side.
‘Folly!’ called Jane, annoyed. ‘Come along!’
But I looked back at my Queen. ‘Woof?’ I said. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t come too. Didn’t she want to smell the fox again, to see the bird prints in the snow?
And then I saw her face. Saw how she longed for the fresh smells of outside, just as much as I did.
I could go. But she could not.
I whined. I crept up to her, lay on my stomach and put my head on my paws. Jane peered back into the room, puzzled. ‘What’s the matter with him? Folly! Come here, you silly Mouse! Behave yourself! Folly!’
I whined again.
‘Leave him here,’ said my Queen softly. ‘Take the others for their walk.’
‘But, Madam…’
My Queen patted her lap again. I leapt to my feet, my tail wagging, then jumped up onto the slippery silk and settled down, into the warmth and sweet scent of my Queen.
My Queen looked at Jane. There was more in that look than I could ever read. ‘I think Folly is like you, Jane. Both of you could have your freedom. Have a proper life beyond these walls. But you have both chosen to stay with me instead.’
‘I will stay with you no matter what, Madam,’ said Jane steadily. ‘Forever, till world’s end.’
My Queen watched as Jane left the room, the spaniels dancing at her heels. Then she looked down at me, and smiled. The tears on her cheeks sparkled like the diamonds on her dress.
I licked my Queen’s hand, to show her that we understood each other. Then I closed my eyes to doze while she took up her embroidery again.
The afternoon grew colder. Master Curle threw more wood on the fire. The flames leapt and snickered up the chimney. Despite the fine glass in the windows and the mats on the floor and walls, cold draughts whispered about our toes.
Fléance and Douceur bounced back in with Jane, all three smelling of dead leaves and snow. An icicle of longing pierced me for the fresh scents of outside. But only for a moment. I was with my Queen.
Finally I could smell supper, hot and fragrant downstairs. Jane stood up. ‘Will I take the dogs down, Madam?’
Fléance and Douceur trotted over to her. I prepared to jump down from my Queen’s lap. But she stopped me. ‘No, Folly,’ she said. ‘Stay.’
Jane blinked. ‘But they will be bringing supper, Madam!’
My Queen smiled. ‘Folly stays.’
I sat down on her lap again and watched Fléance and Douceur leave the room. I heard the tables being brought into the outer room, the cloths laid, the dishes put out one by one.
My tail began to wag. Drool gathered in my mouth. I stared at the doorway, waiting, waiting…
I had thought the scraps in my bowl were good. The smells out there hinted at even better to come.
Now came the most exciting moment of my life!
CHAPTER 13
I First Eat a Queen’s Dinner and All the Turkey that I Want!
The Manor, Winter 1584
My Queen stood with me tucked under her arm and walked into the outer room. Her chair with its red and gold canopy sat at the biggest table. There was another table, too, well away from hers, with stools all around it.
First of all one of the men held out a silver bowl, filled with water that smelt of flowers and that steamed in the cool air. My Queen handed me to Jane, then washed her hands and held them out while one of her women gently dried them.
My Queen smiled. ‘Do you think we need to wash his paws too?’
Jane eyed me. ‘I wager, Madam. And his mouth too.’
‘Woof,’ I said. The food smelt wonderful. But I wasn’t sure about the word ‘wash’. I wriggled out of Jane’s hands, just in case, and ran under the table and next to my Queen’s chair.
My Queen laughed. ‘You’d think he had been dining at a royal table all his life!’
‘Begging your pardon, Madam,’ said Jane. ‘But you don’t need to be clever to know that meals are served at a table.’
My Queen sat on her chair, and patted her lap for me to jump up. ‘She is insulting you, Folly. What do you think of that?’
‘Woof,’ I said, but that was because I was eyeing the dishes on the table, not as a reply to Jane.
It seemed we were not to start eating yet. First Master Pages draped a big linen cloth over my Queen’s shoulder, then Jane and her other people sat on their stools at the smaller table, except for some of the men, who remained standing behind us.
I stared at the dishes on the table. I couldn’t h
elp it. I know I drooled onto my Queen’s skirt because she laughed and signalled to Master Pages to wipe the drool away.
I had never known there could be food like this, so much in just one place! And here I was next to it, not sitting longingly on the floor looking up. Dish after dish…
‘Woof,’ I said. ‘Woof woof!’ My Queen laughed again, and patted me. ‘Well, Sir Folly, what will you choose?’ she asked.
‘Woof?’ I said. I wasn’t sure what she meant.
My Queen gestured at one of the dishes. It smelt like meat, but not that of any animal I’d ever tasted. At once one of the men who stood behind her dipped a silver spoon into the dish she’d pointed to. He ladled the food onto the big slab of bread on the gold plate before my Queen. Someone else dribbled some sauce on it. My Queen took one of the silver spoons, filled it with the meat, and held it out to me.
I had never eaten from a spoon before. It was strange, to taste and smell the metal as well as meat. It meant I had to lick rather than gulp. But it was good!
‘Woof!’ I said.
‘Ah, you’re fond of turkey!’ said my Queen. ‘Well, so am I. And would you like to try blancmange, Monsieur?’ She fed me another spoonful, of soft nutty-tasting stuff this time, and then more meat all rich with gravy, while the men behind her waited to see what bit of meat she would like them to carve next and which sauce should go with it, or whether she’d like a drink.
More gravy and dog drool dribbled onto my Queen’s silk lap. She used the linen cloth to wipe it, then picked up another spoon and started to eat too.
Peacocks roasted till they were brown, with apples inside them and their tail feathers sewn back on; roasted plovers and a big haunch of venison that Master Curle carved for me—a great big slice, all oozing juice.
A sort of jelly made of meat that dissolved on my tongue before I could even bite it, bowls of green leaves and others of stewed fruits…and all the while we ate, Master Pages stood beside us to hand my Queen her cup (a glass one, with silver on the rim) when she needed to have a drink.
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