The Last Wife of Henry VIII [antikvár]

I M- .y earliest memory is of a windswept plain in flanders called the Golden Valley. I was seven years old, a blue-eyed, fair-haired child in the retinue of Queen Catherine, and I rode into the valley on the back of a small cart fdled with trunks and baskets and cages of squawking chickens and ducks. A Hght rain was falling, I remember, and I put up the hood of my cloak to cover my head. As we trundled and rattled down through the hills the rain suddenly ceased and the sun came out. I could see the entire plain spread out before me, with the little town of Ardres beside the river on one side of the valley and the smaller settlement of Guines on the other side. Rows and rows of tents had been erected near each of the towns and a huge tent of gold cloth with a shiny statue atop it loomed over them like a broody mother hen over her chicks. It was near sunset and the late afternoon sun struck the golden tent and turned it to fire, its red-gold glow spilling out over the nearby rooftops and gilding the river water. As I watched, all the windows in a nearby stone pavilion began to glow red, reflecting the setting sun, and I thought to myself, this must be the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.