The Taming of the Queen [antikvár]

HAMPTON COURT PALACE, SPRING 1543 He stands before me, as broad as an ancient oak, his face like a full moon caught high in the topmost branches, the rolls of | creased flesh upturned with goodwill. He leans, and it is as if the If^ tree might topple on me. I stand my ground but I think - surely W he's not going to kneel, as another man knelt at my feet, just yes-terday, and covered my hands with kisses? But if this mountain of a man ever got down, he would have to be hauled up with ropes, like an ox stuck in a ditch; and besides, he kneels to no-one. I think, he can't kiss me on the mouth, not here in the long room with musicians at one end and everyone passing by. Surely that can't happen in this mannered court, surely this big moon i- face will not come down on mine. I stare up at the man that my ^ mother and all her friends once adored as the handsomest in England, the king that every girl dreamed of, and I whisper a r prayer that he did not say the words he just said. Absurdly, I pray ^^ that I misheard him. >; In confident silence, he waits for my assent. I realise: this is how it will be from now until death us do part, 'n be will wait for my assent or continue without it. I will have to marry this man who looms larger and stands higher than anyone . else. He is above mortals, a heavenly body just below angels: the King of England.