Gloriana

THE THIRTY-FIFTH CHAPTER

As the warmth of autumn shall give way at last to the cool of winter, so shall the Moon of Romance be married to the Sun of Reason and Gloriana, Queen of Albion, be wed to her Prince Arthur of Valentia, causing much celebration throughout the Empire, for it shall be revealed, by way of Sir Thomasin Ffynne, the Queen’s High Admiral, that Captain Arturus Quire was, in fact, his ward-the last surviving nephew of Lord Montfallcon, whose family was slain by King Hern. The tale of Captain Quire’s commoner’s upbringing and how he came to Court, taking part in a pageant and winning the attention, and later the love, of the Queen, shall be on all lips, as shall its sequel, of how Quire’s enemies grew jealous of him, how poor Lord Montfallcon, not realising Quire’s true birth, schemed against him and others, including Sir Thomas Perrott, then killed himself when he realised the truth, that he had sought to destroy his own nephew. It shall be told how Quire almost singlehandedly saved the Realm and brought reconciliation to the Queen, to the rival factions, to Albion and to the world itself.

Chivalry shall flourish again, but it shall be of a more practical order under Prince Arthur’s influence, for he will reduce a little of the romance (feeling his own tale, perhaps, to contain enough of that) and increase the realism, so that honour shall be seen to be at once a stranger and more ordinary thing than many previously knew.

They shall be married in November, in time to begin a Progress throughout the Realm, to span the Yuletide season. And, while they are gone, the walls of the great palace shall be revealed, with all their antique rooms, and light brought to every corner, and the vagabonds still dwelling there shall be made comfortable in hostelries especially prepared for them, and large parts of the once hidden palace shall be opened to the citizens of London, for their recreation.

Prince Arthur and Queen Gloriana shall begin their Progress by taking the State Barge, the old Golden Barge of the Queen’s ancestors, down the river towards the sea, there to guest with Sir Amadis Cornfield and his Perrott kinsmen, whose lands abound the great estuary. They shall sail from the dock at Charing Cross, on their high, golden galley, between embankments lined with bare elm trees. Through the rich, dead leaves hiding the hooves of their brown and black horses, knights shall ride on both sides, escorting the barge. The knights shall wear armour of dark gold and silver, their surcoats shall be russet, and their upright lances shall bear all the great Chivalric arms of Albion. And the Queen shall look down the river, beyond London’s walls, to where the hills are, dark green and yellow, and she will turn to her Consort, who shall wear black velvet and an awkward crown of near-black rubies and gold, and she will hug him and say to him: “Oh, my love! What a sober little King you have become!”

And behind them will be the palace, with its glinting domes and roofs rising and falling like a glamorous tide; its towers and minarets lifting like the masts and hulks of sinking ships.