The Nameless Day by Sara Douglass

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen

We wish you a happy May

We’ve come to show you our garland

Because it’s the first of May.

A May garland I have brought you,

And at your door I stand.

It looks very nice

And smells very sweet

And it came from the Lord’s right hand.

Richard accepted a posy from the eldest and prettiest girl, and then the girls stood aside as a servant led forth Richard’s white stallion, all bedecked in green tracery. He mounted, and rode the last distance into Westminster followed by the great nobles, now mounted, who had

previously carried his canopy. The procession did not turn straight to the Abbey, but to Westminster Hall, where Richard dismounted and entered to be ritually bathed by the Abbey monks.

Washed of sin, he could now be crowned.

In another procession, solemn where the previous had been riotous, Richard walked to the Abbey along a pathway of red cloth. Again he walked under a canopy, this one of silver gilt and edged with tiny bells, and carried by the four Barons of the Cinque Ports. Behind him walked the prior of the Abbey, as well as several monks, carrying the altar cross, the scepter and the orb.

The instant Richard set foot inside the Abbey, the choir broke into an anthem of praise and joy.

Richard proceeded to a chair set to one side of the throne—a great wooden seat that had borne the weight of the kings of England since late the previous century when it had been specially built to house the Stone of Scone.

Once Richard had sat, Simon Sudbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury, stepped forth and asked in loud voice the will of the people touching the coronation.

Richard! roared the assembled lords.

And so Richard moved now to his throne, where he stood, and where the

ceremony continued apace.

THOMAS STOOD to one side of the nave, grouped among members of Lancaster’s and Bolingbroke’s households. In accord with every other person in the abbey, he was richly appareled and jeweled; unlike most other people, his face was set into a carefully neutral expression.

Margaret, also richly dressed in a gown and headpiece of azure-embroidered ivory cloth, stood among the ladies of the Duchess of Lancaster, watching Thomas far more than she watched Richard’s triumph.

Lancaster and his son, Bolingbroke, were far closer to the proceedings, among the other high nobles seated on the cushions that had been scattered about the throne.

After two more anthems and a hymn, the archbishop solemnly anointed Richard, who had laid aside his tunic to receive the holy blessing in his shirt and bare feet.

Then the Abbot of Westminster, aided by two monks, dressed Richard in the robes of state. Once he had done, the bishops presented Richard with his sword, which he girded about his body.

Richard then sat upon his throne as the archbishop blessed the crown of state, and set it upon his head. Then the archbishop leaned forward, and kissed Richard, and as he stepped back, so did all the great men of England, led by Lancaster, step forth and do their new king homage.

To Thomas it all seemed surreal. He waited throughout the entire ceremony, half expecting Hal, as he stepped up to the new king, to run him through with his sword, but Hal merely leaned forward, bowed, kissed the new king’s ring, and spoke the oath of homage and fealty.

Having received both crown and oaths of fealty from the great nobles, Richard then sat back on the throne, swearing his own oaths as prompted by the archbishop: firstly, that he would keep full peace according to God’s law; secondly, that he would rule his realm with mercy and truth; thirdly, that he would defend the rightful laws and customs of his people.

And then the final oath, spoken in both English and French: “I become your liege man in life and limb and truth and earthly honors, bearing to you against all men that love, move or die, so help me God and the Holy Dame.”

And so, after yet more anthems and hymns and sundry other oaths and promises and the bearing of numerous swords and spears and ceremonial cloths, Richard II began his formal reign as King of England.

AS RICHARD finally left the Abbey in grand and solemn procession, he turned his head, saw Thomas, and smiled.

Today Richard had enjoyed his own wedding, to his throne and to power, so long as he should live.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

After Vespers on the third Sunday after Easter

In the first year of the reign of Richard II

(evening 1st May 1379)

— MAY DAY —

— II —

RICHARD HELD HIS CORONATION court in the Painted Chamber that evening.

It was not to be an overly long nor grand affair—everyone from Richard to the lowliest page was exhausted after the day’s ceremonies—but there were the niceties to be observed, and the traditional gestures of goodwill to be made by the newly installed monarch.

The Painted Chamber was one of the three main halls of the Westminster Palace complex, and the traditional domicile of the king while in London. It was a vast chamber— although still smaller than the main Westminster Hall—and of such surpassing beauty that visiting ambassadors had declared it one of the wonders of Europe. On the left-hand side of the entry door was a long wall whose entire length was pierced with graceful, arched windows filled with the best examples of English stained glass. Three windows pierced the wall which ran across the head of the chamber above the royal dais. The two larger windows took up the lower two-thirds of the wall, and a smaller but no less beauteous window sat between the arches of these two lower ones filling the center of the top third of the wall and leading the eye to the wooden ceiling decorated with cunningly carved rosettes.

But it was the decorations along the right-hand wall that gave the chamber its name, and which made new visitors gasp.

The entire length of the wall—some three hundred feet—had been painted with glorious enamels to depict all the tales of war contained within the Bible. French text accompanied all the painted scenes, explaining their meaning and purpose. Above the dais and beneath the three windows at the top of the hall were scenes depicting the life and coronation of the royal saint, Edward the Confessor. Sundry other saints looked down on gatherings within the chamber from the very top of the long wall.

Filled with light, whether natural, or candle and torch, the chamber formed an extraordinary framework for the power of the English monarchs.

Although Thomas had been here previously, the evening court was Margaret’s first experience of the chamber.

Thomas physically had to pull her to one side as she paused in the entrance doorway to gasp in astonishment.

“It’s so wondrous!” she said.

“Isn’t it?” Hal said. He was just behind the Nevilles, accompanied by several squires and servants. He waved them on as he paused to talk with Thomas and

Margaret.

“Lady Margaret,” he said, smiling gently, “not even this chamber can outshine you for beauty.”

Thomas looked at him sharply, then studied Margaret closely; she was returning Hal’s smile with something far more than courtly politeness.

“Tom,” Hal said, turning away from Margaret, “I congratulate you once again on your choice of bride.”

He looked back to Margaret. “And I congratulate you, my dear, on tearing him free from the Church when none of us could provide enough persuasions to turn him.”

Again Thomas noted the look that passed between them, and remembered the tenderness with which Hal had kissed her at the conclusion of their marriage in the chapel… and the concern with which he had lifted her, fainting, from her horse to his on that exhausting ride into la Rochelle.

“You must take Margaret to Halstow Hall soon,” Hal said to Thomas. “The court shall prove a dangerous place for her, I think.”

“Yes,” said Margaret, turning a little so she could take Thomas’ arm in hers and look him in the eye. “This is no place for a wife, nor for a daughter.”

Whatever suspicions had been fermenting in Thomas’ mind dissipated. They were both right. Margaret should be taken to Halstow Hall soon … away from Richard.

And away from Raby… and Hal.

“Do not fear Richard’s reaction,” Hal said, watching Thomas’ face as if he could truly read the thoughts within. “You are my man, and answer to me. You have a new wife, and daughter too-soon born; both need to rest awhile away from the tumult of court life. You also have a new manor and estates to inspect. I shall therefore inform Richard that I have asked you to escort them home before you return into my service. He cannot object without creating a fuss.”

“And when you do return into my service,” Hal suddenly grinned, his eyes mischievous, “I shall give you leave to take as many liberties with my new wife as I have taken with yours.”