The poisoned chalice

twenty-four-hour pattern which tells the time of day, the position of the moon, the constellations of the zodiac. You must go and see it. It's a work of art!
    Nevertheless, even in my green and salad days (Master Shakespeare has asked to borrow this phrase), Hampton Court was a diamond of a residence. Wainscoted walls. New hangings replaced every week by yeomen and grooms of the wardrobe. Silk coverings on the beds. Massive cupboards which covered an entire wall, all stuffed with silver and gold plate. Fresh water was brought in through leaden pipes built by Italian craftsmen, there were even privies, and underground streams cleaned the sewers. I wandered down to the kitchens where Wolsey's chefs were busy creating subtleties, strange confectionery creations: towers and castles of sugar ready to launch their assault on valiant teeth. The French master chef, dressed in his long bespattered apron, stood by his post chopping, slicing, stirring and mixing with a vigour which drenched him in sweat whilst he swore at his apprentices for this or that. Indeed, with the great roaring fires it looked like hell and the chef, Satan, attended by an army of demons labouring over turning spits and shining platters, interlarding the dripping, roasting lambs and piglets with their own globules of sweat.
    I walked up this way and down that. Now I knew the king was in residence because his gold and leopard standards had been planted all around the entrance. By chance, I found myself in the royal apartments, a long, polished gallery where the freshly waxed wood winked in the sunlight and the walls shimmered with the exquisite tapestries hung there. I thought the king was hunting with his greyhounds or Flemish falconers. There were no guards about so I tip-toed along the gallery. My ear was caught by the sweet sounds of love-making: delicious 'Oohs' and 'Ahs', interspersed with the grunts and deep groans of a voice I recognised as the king's.
    Well, as you know, I am as curious as the devil. I edged along the wall and peered quickly through a half-open door. The small chamber inside was brilliant with differing hues. I saw white wool carpets on the gleaming floor and also glimpsed clothing of the costliest taffeta, lace and cambric, but my eyes were drawn to the great silk-draped four-poster bed. All I could see were a pair of white legs wrapped round a creaking great torso and the royal arse going up and down like a pair of bellows whilst the 'Oohs' and 'Ahs' were chorused by Henry's groans of lustful delight. I wondered who the young girl was, acting the doe for Henry's buck, but I decided not to wait and see and promptly fled. Nevertheless, my excitement was aroused and, when Benjamin left the cardinal's chamber, he glared at my flushed face suspiciously. 'What have you been up to, Roger?'
    'Nothing, master, just a little sightseeing. And what did dear Uncle wish to impart?'
    Benjamin grinned and linked his arm through mine. 'Matters of state, Roger, matters of state.' He stopped, his face long and serious. 'A dance is about to begin,' he murmured as if speaking to himself. 'The musicians in the gallery are about to put flute to lips and fingers to lyre.' He breathed out heavily. 'A sinister dance, Roger.'
    I shivered and wondered if it was time for old Shallot to disappear or go ill with ague, but I remembered my promise. I was Benjamin's man and I was committed, whatever happened. It sounds so brave, doesn't it? If I'd known what was about to happen I would have fled like the wind. (My chaplain squirms on his little bum. He liked my description of royal love-making but that's nothing to what we had to face: murder; secret assassins; blood-thirsty rebels; the gleaming tusks of a wild boar; and that deadly chase in the maze at the Tour de Nesle. And yet these are as naught compared to the sheer wickedness of the Luciferi and the treachery of the masters we served.)
    We spent the next day lolling round Hampton Court. Wolsey's clerks drew up the necessary letters of accreditation, warrants and bills for the exchequer. Grooms and ostlers furnished us with horses for our journey. That evening we attended a royal banquet in the magnificent setting of Wolsey's hall. There were so many wax candles you would think it was daylight and the flames dazzled the gold and silver plate stacked high in the ornately carved cupboards. The carpets on the floor were silk, the hangings on the walls fresh from the looms of Flanders, and the air was thick