Two more chariots, similarly decorated, followed, this time from the direction of the chapel. These, the herald told them, carried the spirits of Peace, Law and Justice, who descended from the chariots to honour the king and queen in speech and song. While they were doing so, a second troupe of courtiers entered the now rather crowded courtyard. These too wore a variety of dazzling costumes and headdresses. The herald helpfully informed the audience that these performers represented Opinion, Fancy, Jollity, Novelty, Confidence and assorted other qualities, as well as the customary tradespeople. One of them, who Thomas thought might be Jollity, was dressed as a morris dancer.
Poems and songs, all declaiming the many virtues of their majesties, and expressing the loyal wish that they be swiftly restored to their thrones in London, occupied most of the allocated hour. The finale, against the backdrop of a windmill, featured an elderly Don Quixote, his plump steward Sancho Panza and an unnamed knight. Between them, they staged a brief mock battle, much appreciated by the audience. As they left the courtyard, followed by the chariots and horses, the procession of musicians, singers and courtiers bowed low to the king and queen, and waved gaily to the delighted audience. It was hard to be sure, but Lady Romilly did not appear to be among them.
Despite the queen’s avowed sensitivity to the needs of her citizens, Thomas thought, the masque must have cost a tidy sum to stage. Taking his lead from his large neighbours, he rose and wandered into the middle of the courtyard. While their majesties, beaming and waving, remained seated, an army of servants arrived to clear away the seats of the audience, and to bring out from the college kitchens trays laden with claret and hock, pastries, fruits, sweetmeats and cakes. Thomas took a glass of hock and edged round the crowd towards the gatehouse. Not wanting to be drawn into discussion of the entertainment, or indeed of anything else, he planned to slip away unnoticed. He was about to make his escape when he glimpsed Jane Romilly. She was on the far side of the courtyard, deep in conver sation with a tall man in a dazzling blue coat and crimson breeches. Thomas peered through the crowd. It was Francis Fayne. Jane Romilly and Francis Fayne, and giving every appearance of being well acquainted. How unexpected — and how disappointing. He turned to go. Then, from behind him, a voice he knew at once said quietly, ‘Master Hill. I had not thought to meet you in such a place.’ She had seen him and walked over.
Thomas turned back, and took the outstretched hand. ‘Lady Romilly. An unexpected pleasure.’ Today she wore a pale blue skirt, embroidered, as before, with tiny flowers, and with a low neckline and narrow sleeves decorated with royal blue ribbons. Her black curls tumbled about her bare shoulders. The lady Thomas had chanced to meet in the street was a very beautiful lady indeed.
‘And how do you come to be at the masque, Master Hill?’
‘I was invited by Master Tobias Rush. No doubt you know him.’
Jane’s eyes narrowed. ‘Indeed I do, sir. You are well connected.’
‘Not really, madam. Master Rush is acquainted with my old tutor, Abraham Fletcher.’
‘I recall that you are visiting him at Pembroke. How is he?’
‘Blind, madam, and a little infirm, but his mind is as sharp as ever.’
‘And how long shall you be staying?’
‘That I am unsure of, madam. There are affairs that may detain me.’
‘I see. And what did you make of the masque?’ asked Jane, changing the subject.
‘I found it, ah, extraordinary.’
Jane laughed lightly. ‘Nicely put, sir. I am devoted to Queen Henrietta Maria, a gentle and pious lady, but her masques are indeed extraordinary. She was a dear friend to Master Rubens, you know, and to Inigo Jones, who designed the original set for The Triumph of Peace. Her majesty takes a great interest in the arts of painting and drama.’
‘Your devotion does you credit, madam.’ Thomas hesitated. ‘And I see you know Captain Fayne.’
‘Slightly. Oxford is not a large town and we all move in small circles. Captain Fayne and I have met before.’
‘Quite so. May I ask you a question?’
‘Certainly, sir, as long as it is a respectable one.’
‘I think it is. What exactly does a lady-in-waiting do?’
Again Jane laughed. ‘She waits, mostly. Waits for her majesty to call upon her services. Then she attends to her majesty’s needs, and sees that she is comfortable and content. Sometimes she is also required to attend to the queen’s spaniels.’
‘And her dwarf?’
‘Mr Hudson, thankfully, looks after himself.’
‘Thank you, madam. Was the question respectable?’
‘It was. I thought you might ask about my eyes. They are frequently asked about.’
‘I had noticed them. Most unusual, if I may say so.’
‘I’m fortunate to have been born the daughter of a squire. My father says that, had I been born to a carpenter, I would have been burned as a witch long ago. No one in Yorkshire had ever before seen eyes of different colours on the same face.’ Jane put out a hand to pick a stray thread from Thomas’s coat. As she did so, she noticed Tobias Rush looking at them with interest. ‘I see Master Rush is observing us closely, Master Hill. He is a loyal friend to the king, yet he always reminds me of a raven. Black feathers, black eyes, long beak. He stands out in a crowd of peacocks.’
Thomas turned and bowed to Rush, who acknowledged him with a tip of his black hat. ‘Master Rush has been most solicitous to me. But I know what you mean. There is something unsettling about him. Do you know anything of his history?’
‘Very little, except that he’s highly regarded by the king. The queen, on the other hand, does not care for him. I did hear that he is of humble origins, and that his father was a turnkey in London. If that’s true, he’s come far.’ Jane looked over his shoulder. ‘Here is Captain Fayne. Allow me to introduce you. He too is staying in Pembroke.’ Thomas turned to see Fayne striding towards them. ‘Francis,’ she said, ‘allow me to present Master Thomas Hill, in Oxford to visit an old friend. Master Hill, this is Captain Fayne.’
‘Captain Fayne and I are acquainted, Lady Romilly,’ replied Thomas with a smile. ‘We happened to meet in the college.’
Fayne’s hooded eyes narrowed. ‘Indeed we did. A bookseller, was it not?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘A bookseller with a comfortable room to himself.’
‘I am fortunate in that respect.’
‘You are a bookseller, Master Hill?’ asked Jane.
‘I am, madam. I have a small shop in Romsey.’
‘I recall your mentioning Romsey.’
‘I cannot imagine what a little bookseller is doing in Oxford at such a time, Hill. Can you enlighten us?’ asked Fayne.
‘I am on the king’s business. I can say no more.’
Fayne bent his head to put his face in front of Thomas’s, and hissed, ‘Well, make haste and do the king’s business, Hill, because I want my room back.’
Thomas retreated a step, and looked enquiringly at Jane. How did she come to know this creature? Fayne sounded as if he would like nothing better than to tear Thomas into small pieces and, if they had been anywhere other than at a royal masque, he would have done so. Jane glanced to her left. ‘Master Hill, the queen is signalling. She requires my presence, and, if I’m not mistaken, yours too.’
‘Mine? Surely not.’
‘Her majesty takes a close interest in her staff and their friends. She probably wants to know who you are. Come. I shall present you.’ Together they left Fayne standing on his own. Thomas sensed dark eyes boring into the back of his neck. Just as well the king and queen were present or he might by now have been disembowelled.
Before the queen, Jane curtseyed and Thomas bowed.
‘And who is this, Lady Romilly?’
‘Your majesty, this is Master Thomas Hill, in Oxford visiting his old tutor. We met by chance in the town.’ Thomas bowed again. The queen peered at him. She looked a formidable lady. No wonder some called her the ‘Generalissima’.