There was no other way to describe it, it was a din: astonishing; uncouth; unacceptable. Mary, heady with so many glorious emotions, was blissfully unaware of Philip's discomfort.
It was a royal wedding feast the like of which had not been witnessed for many a year. The bride and groom wore white satin with sleeves paned with cloth of silver beaded with pearls and diamonds. A broad gold chain resplendent with rubies and emeralds reached from Mary’s shoulders down to her waist. Philip also wore a gold chain bearing a gold pendent lamb, the Golden Fleece, the insignia of the knights of Flanders.
English noblemen supported the canopy over the royal couple. Philip had insisted that the honour would be theirs alone and not to be shared with the Spaniards, another of his several attempts to charm the hostile natives.
Seated at the two long tables stretching away from their high table down the entire length of the hall were the many guests, each and every one of them having laid out a small fortune to provide themselves with the best of satins, brocades and damasks of every hue.
The hall with its vaulted ceiling, flags, and banners recording campaigns and deeds of chivalry, and with, until today, an overwhelming aura of chill austerity, was a riot of colours and noises: reds, greens, blues, gold, fought for attention; laughter and raucous voices battled for supremacy; musicians with lutes, virginals, viols, sackbuts seemed but to entertain themselves in the midst of the uproar.
But this uproar, this pandemonium, was alien to Spanish royalty, where the etiquette of meals demanded more formality. For Philip even that held no appeal and, given the opportunity, would always prefer to dine alone. His finer sensitivities were being tested. Today was further proof, if further proof were needed, of his conviction that the English were barbarians.
Mary touched his hand reminding him of her presence. His eyes met hers then moved quickly to rest on her blushing cheeks, experiencing for a moment a wave of sympathy for his bride, this gauche sixteen‑approaching‑forty‑year‑old queen of England; his dear and well‑beloved aunt.
The tables with their snow‑white damask covers and set with gold and silver plate groaned under a vast array of culinary wonders, the pride of several cooks hired for the occasion.
‘We cannot tempt you to one of the fish dishes, my lord? Haddock in ale, or perhaps this cold pike in gelatine? Both are truly delicious, or perhaps some …?’
‘My lady I never, ever, eat fish,’ nor, he told himself, did he wish to discuss his dietary predilections.
‘But on Fridays and fast days?’
‘His Holiness the Pope has granted me dispensation,’ he expected that to put an end to the topic.
The dishes and their leftovers were removed and the stained table covers replaced in readiness for the next course as pastry coats of arms, sugar crowns and other spectacular subtleties for their entertainment were brought in; each one receiving rapturous applause.
Philip turned away from the commotion determined not to criticise. ‘You looked quite charming in church with your hair tumbling like a bronze river over your shoulders.’ What he had seen was, in fact, a vision of his beloved Isabel's wonderful curls cascading over her naked shoulders, arms, and breasts. He closed his eyes the more to savour the image once again.
‘Oh, my lord, had I thought for a single moment you were watching me, why I would have been quite overcome.’ She reddened, giggled before hastily looking away, her wrinkled hand held to her mouth hiding those dreaded gaps.
He rejoined her, reluctantly torn from his reverie, ‘You were too intent on your prayers to be aware of my attentions.’ He considered he had given the words a touching degree of tenderness for this sad creature at his side.
‘My lord, I have so many reasons for giving my thanks to God. He directed the Holy Father to forgive me for my grievous faults: denying my mother's marriage; declaring that I was no more than a bastard; acknowledging that he, the Pope, had no authority and was no better than a pretender. Oh, Philip, I signed three times on that detestable document. Three times I betrayed everything most dear to me; three times I denied the truth.’
Philip had had to listen patiently to this crie de coeur every time they had met, ‘Dear lady, everyone knows you to be entirely innocent in this. You were alone and afraid. But you should not dwell on such thoughts, especially not today. I will not have those pretty cheeks drained of their glorious colour, nor will I have a trace of a frown on so delicate a brow.’
Mary's heart leapt. His voice was the music, his words the psalms her soul had so longed for. ‘And I also had to offer my thanks to God for granting me such a husband. I had prayed to Him for someone from my Spanish family; had thought it would be my cousin, then your dear name was mentioned. You can have no idea how my spirits were dashed when I was told you were already wed. Then my joy was rekindled discovering that the contract had not been completed. Today I gave thanks for you as my husband, coming to me with your support and bringing that of Spain. My lord, my heart no longer thunders with anxiety, but with a joy it has never known.’
‘And all bound by this simple gold band.’
‘Such has been the custom of all English maidens, great or small, when they marry; and before God I am no better than any of them.’
‘An endearing sentiment.’ He gave her hand a paternal pat of blessing.
‘And your gift to me of three handfuls of gold.’
‘We Spanish have customs, too. The arras, those gold coins are my pledge that I will hold and keep you secure.’
‘I almost laughed when Strelly opened her purse and hurriedly scooped it in, fearing for some reason you might want it back; we had been so poor for so long.’ Mary chuckled happily; remembering Strelly’s faux pas. ‘I swear I do not know if it is the wine, of which only a drop has passed my lips, but my cheeks burn so …’
‘And most charmingly. What have we here?’ He released her fingers to watch the arrival of roast quail, larks, and many another tiny bird. These were followed by chickens, ducks, and finally swans, magnificently displayed on their silver and gold salvers. Next came venison, lamb, beef, all on enormous chargers borne shoulder high. Loud cheering saluted every marvel as it appeared.
Philip winced, allowed a few more drops of ale to be poured into his goblet, regretting he had forgone the pleasure of wine but rather hoping that his choice had been noticed by the critics about him.
He added this further self‑denial to his mental list of sacrifices: there wasn’t one soldier accompanying him, excepting the many in the guise of servants, and not one of his company was part of the official entourage; since their arrival in this barbaric land he and his courtiers had eaten and drunk the disgusting fare that had been served up on every occasion; they had all adapted to life without the traditional afternoon siesta and to retiring early at night; he had even permitted the Anglicising of his name. All this was to win the hearts of Englishmen and ensure that one day the English crown would sit on his head. He would not complain. It was his duty as his father's son to make England a firm ally; to bring it back to the True Faith; and, of course, to extend the power of the Hapsburgs.
‘The cooks are to be commended for their imagination,’ he dipped his greasy fingertips in the lemon‑water and dried them on the proffered towel.
The table coverings were removed once again. A fanfare introduced quite a different subtlety this time. Four tumblers dressed as royal pages leapt, rolled, somersaulted their way to the centre of the floor, two, who were dwarves, via the lower tables cartwheeling along them managing to snatch up titbits on the way. Their routine completed they threw themselves down on bended knee to receive their royal bride.
‘Why, it is Little Jane, Jane the Fool!’ Mary laughed and chuckled at her dwarf, the small, plump woman who had come waddling into their midst, her painted red cheeks shining like two rosy apples. The auburn wig was outrageously large and almost fell over her eyes. The chaplet of white flowers set askew minded one of an inebriate as did her hauling in of her wedding veil, done with about as much ceremony as a fisherman with his nets. Everyone laughed.
Little Jane and the wig with its chaplet and veil were, for a moment, separated, revealing a newly shaven head, they were then reunited causing even greater laughter. She responded by throwing her bouquet over her shoulder vaguely in the direction of one of the tables. Now she looked about her, put her hands on her hips and scowled.
‘Where's my Felleepay? Felleepay, where are you? You must be here somewhere.’
She went about the room followed by hoots of laughter as she inspected the gentlemen, grabbing them by the chin, tugging at their beards, twisting their heads close to hers, peering at them closely before pushing them aside in mock disgust, making indistinct but obviously bawdy comments on the gentlemen's physiques.
She and her coarse cackling approached Philip and Mary. She stopped in mock amazement. There was total silence. Her screech of horror at finding her husband Felleepay sat next to the queen sent the whole audience into gales of laughter.
Now the furious miniature bride hurried her wobbling bundle of flesh to Mary's side demanding this impostor remove herself immediately, insisting she should think a thousand shames for having usurped the position of such a one as she. The noise found a new level.
Philip made an excellent attempt at laughter but resolved there and then to write to his sister Juana asking her to give him her dwarf, Magdalena Ruiz. She would have played this role to perfection; very drunk but no bawdy jokes as she searched for her groom, instead a fury flying like arrows from her sharp tongue; and if that didn’t intimidate and entertain then her two fierce little marmoset monkeys certainly would. Now he did laugh remembering her tantrum when he told her everyone was going hunting at El Pardo when she wanted to go to Aranjuez. All three feet of her barred his way and she declared he would have to kill her in order to pass.
Still laughing Philip joined with the rest in tossing coins to the entertainers.
Desserts were served; fig and raisin tarts, cherry potage, fruits from the countryside.
Later came the dancing, the floor rapidly filling with other dancers, amongst them Feria and Mistress Jane Dormer; the Spanish duke had rushed to her side intent on being the first to ask.
Philip invited Mary to join him in a saraband. Her feet floated above the oaken boards, her head in clouds of happiness. She glanced at the young man at her side, delighting in those pale blue eyes, that fair complexion, those lips so full and … this was the husband who had come to love and protect her, to make those decisions she had found too difficult to make on her own, to win back for her the hearts of her people. God had granted her an added favour; He had given her a man to love, to awaken in her such passions that in the cold and bitter world of her past had never existed.
In a few hours time, as soon as darkness fell, Philip would come to her bedchamber.