Gloriana

ever careful to lock his door behind him; and Lord Gorius Ransley, at different times, lurked the passages of the old palace; and Master Florestan Wallis came weak and breathing very heavily to his own duties, when beholden. Even loyal Lord Rhoone spent more of his hours in private company with his wife and children than was usual, but this was to be expected.

And when the Queen missed Master Wheldrake or Lady Lyst, she knew what they feared and did not ask for them. Besides, Master Wheldrake was still at work on his last verses for Accession Day. Lord Shahryar returned from Baghdad, bearing the compliments of his master, Hassan, the Grand Caliph, and bringing expensive gifts, but he would say nothing of a rumour concerning a duel forthcoming upon the deck of a ship. And Lord Montfallcon was hard put to smile on the man who had robbed him of his best servant, Quire.

Sir Vivien Rich took part in a tilt and won it, but was much bruised, complaining he would not be able to sit a horse for a month and would therefore miss the early September hunting. Sir Orlando Hawes challenged a cousin, the Nubian knight of great renown, Sir Vulturnus, and, by chance, defeated him, thereafter going about the Court in something of a daze.

There were expeditions to the fields beyond the city and great open-air evening feasts, much drunkenness, so that some of the guests were lost, to be found next day in haylofts, ricks, hedges or ditches, or, upon two or three occasions, the comfortable beds of farmers’ widows.

The August air burned, but it also soothed; and if tempers rose they were soon shrivelled by the universal good cheer. Parties of courtiers, out riding early, or at twilight, could look across the beautiful hills and see the corn being gathered, see the richly decorated barges on the long straight canals leading to the river, and the city and the ships loading and unloading the cargoes of a wealthy world; and they could see a peaceful, happy, industrious Albion, and know that the Queen’s rule was good. The shades of Lady Mary and the rest had vanished. News reaching the Perrotts caused a weakening of their general hatred, and some Perrotts counselled their kinsmen to consider making peace with the Queen, who had always been their friend. Poles, Saracens and Tatars mingled with the folk of Albion, proving themselves human, decent men and women, and Mars fell back below the horizon.

Accession Day itself dawned, and in the morning the last four fights were fought, to decide the two Champions who would, that evening, tilt once more before the Queen and the winner receive the garland from the Queen’s own hand. Between these two events would come the Masque, attended by the Queen and members of her Court, to personate the characters and speak the lines. There was much happy anticipation of this event, the peak of the celebrations. Praise for Gloriana was on all lips; scandal was banished; the morality, bravery and piety of the Realm was assured, so that Lord Montfallcon’s stern features bore an expression that was almost pleasant.

In her apartments, surrounded by companions, by maids and pages, pale Gloriana suffered herself to be painted and disguised in the magnificent, glittering costume of her role: damask silk and starched linen, velvet and brocade, stitched with thousands of jewels-sapphires, amethysts, turquoises, rubies, pearls and, predominantly, diamonds. On her stranded head was a tall, pointed crown, with a thin veil of lace, to add mystery to her countenance. Behind her head rose a wired collar, so high as to give an overall stretch of seven feet, so that she would tower over every knight. Corseted, bound, entwined with ribbons, weighted with metal and precious stones, embellished with rouge and kohl, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and silently yearned for Una, who would laugh with her, make a joke of what she did, yet never seem cynical, always be sympathetic to both her private feelings and the demands of her public duties. Her bright, lonely grieving eyes stared from within the paint and gradually grew hard.

She was ready.

Led by attendants, she entered Master Tolcharde’s carriage, which would bear her to the island, where Master Wheldrake already proclaimed the story of the Masque.

“Now that great sorceress, Urganda, did she come,

As ever from her Land Unknown,

In sea-borne chariot, a fiery sphere,

To our Firm Isle, where every year

Twelve paladins of bold renown

Assembled them a fight to make

And fame to take as Champion.”

Master Wheldrake’s voice lacked its usual steadiness as he piped his lines to a respectful crowd. He wore a simple toga, a laurel crown and sandals, and was perhaps the most comfortably clad of all the people there, whether they watched from the gallery, the surrounding pavilions or the roofs and walls of the palace itself. He read from a scroll, and, as he read, the participants began to ride over the little bridge from courtyard to island-each knight in a predominant colour, each bearing a large shield charged with the device of the character he represented.

“These famous knights each bore great arms:

The first he was the Knight of Silver Charm,

The second the Knight of the Flaming Brand,

The third was called the Jewelled Hand,

The fourth was named the Unthron’d King,

The fifth the Knight of the Broken Spear,

The sixth, of youngest year, was Golden Ring.”

As Wheldrake spoke, the named knight raised his lance-Sir Amadis Cornfield in silver mail; Lord Vortigern of Glastonbury, in scarlet armour, his shield charged with the flaming sword; Sir Orlando Hawes, in greens and red, with the jewelled gauntlet upon his right hand and the same motif on his buckler and surcoat; Sir Felixmarte of Hyrcania, whose arms were a divided crown, and whose armour was of brass; Master Auberon Orme, in blue edged with silver, with the broken lance as his badge; and Master Perigot Fowler, in golden armour, with the ring as his charge. Facing these six, on the other side of the island (now fringed with small imitation trees, over which the horsemen loomed), were the remaining six knights, and it was to these that Master Wheldrake now pointed.

“The seventh brave knight was Raven Head;

The eighth was the Son Consider’d Dead,

And nine the Knight of the Moon was he,

While ten was call’d Prometheus Set Free,

The eleventh was he of the Misty Foss

And the twelfth, whose eyes had lost their sight,

Was the noble knight of the bright Black Cross.”

Here was Master Isador Palfreyman, with his black armour and his raven crest; Master Marcilius Gallimari, in unmarked armour; Sir Sylvanus Spence, brother of young Sir Peregrine, with his pale yellow armour and his arms displaying a radiant moon; Lord Gorius Ransley, in fiery scarlet, with appropriate symbols; Sir Cirus of Malta in pale grey; Sir Vivien Rich was last, in pure white armour bearing black crosses, his helm already closed to signify his blindness.

Master Wheldrake withdrew across the bridge as a trumpet was blown-a signal for the knights to charge, couple by couple, with specially weakened lances which broke at once. Then all dismounted and began to fight, with monstrous clashing broadswords, on foot.

For a while this mock battle continued to be waged, with several of the contestants showing every sign of fatigue, until suddenly, from a silken pavilion close to the West Wing, there appeared a vast bronze sphere, rolling on mighty wheels of brass, decorated with raised motifs of myriad description, rumbling and groaning and pulled and pushed by dwarves dressed in grotesque dolphin costumes so that they seemed to slither along the ground. From the sides of the sphere, in cunning sockets, fireworks fizzed and screamed as the elaborate contraption was trundled towards the bridge, while Master Wheldrake, his voice almost a gull’s shriek above the noise, continued to