Suite101

The Visit.


© Wendy J. Dunn

I laid the final item on the table, and stepped back, looking critically over everything - making sure nothing was left undone. In the silence of the room, rushes crackled loudly underfoot. Inhaling the scent of lavender, I closed my eyes, deliberately treading a little more - hoping a heady intake of the perfume would relax my jittery nerves. In my mind's eye, there took shape a misty vision of gentle, rolling hills backed against scorched blue skies. Hills all purpled with the bloom of lavender.

Opening my eyes, I glanced towards the hourglass; they'll be here soon. My gaze took in the table again. I prayed I made the right choices - all the fare decreed by simplicity. The appetite of the one I serve has no liking for dishes overdone with spices or the complexity of preparation. Walking to the table, I snipped a cherry from its bunch. I bit into it, going to the mirror hanging on the wall, close to the huge hearth, where embers now burnt low. My fingers ran the cherry over my lips, the blood-coloured juice soaking into my skin, reddening my mouth. I dropped the pip down into the rushes, moving my foot quickly to help bury it.

Looking again at the mirror, I slowly fingered one of the deep marks smallpox had cratered into my skin. In the first shock, my lord husband said he'd gone abroad leaving in England a fair lady to return to one foul. But I think the eyes reflected back to me from the mirror are the same, though sadder now, and I know my mouth curves easily into the same loving smile. But still I pick up the mask from the stool - placing it carefully over my ruined nose and cheeks, leaving only my mouth and chin exposed.

Just in time. Two knocks rap sharply against wood.

"Come in, " I say, for I possess no desire for a servant to share my loneliness.

First my brother Robin enters. O - tis no wonder that his enemies call him ' The Gipsy.' He is so dark - his eyes- his hair- but still very, very handsome. But our mother did not fail her children in this - passing on some of her comeliness to all her brood. They once said my mother's beauty lived again with me. Now?yea...now all voices speak loudly in their silence.

I hear the rustle of a silken dress, and drop my body in a deep curtesy, bowing my head low. Inhaling the scent of rosewater, I feel the lightweight of a hand resting on my shoulder. I lift my gaze to the Queen. Her dark hazel eyes look down at me in great tenderness.

Go To Page: 1 2


The copyright of the article The Visit. in Tudor England is owned by . Permission to republish The Visit. in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

Post this Article to facebook Add this Article to del.icio.us! Digg this Article furl this Article Add this Article to Reddit Add this Article to Technorati Add this Article to Newsvine Add this Article to Windows Live Add this Article to Yahoo Add this Article to StumbleUpon Add this Article to BlinkLists Add this Article to Spurl Add this Article to Google Add this Article to Ask Add this Article to Squidoo


Here's the follow-up discussion on this article: View all related messages

3.   Jul 10, 2000 11:48 PM
Sally, Lynne and Bucky- I really value your comments- especially from colleagues who always put together such fantastic work at their own sites. Encouraged by your kind words- I've written another f ...

-- posted by Gwenda


2.   Jul 10, 2000 9:57 PM
I had to bury the newsletter I'm afraid, Wendy. I always enjoy your articles tho, and if my attempt to do too much in my spare time somehow indirectly challenged you to write this, then all my grief w ...

-- posted by BuckyRea


1.   Jul 10, 2000 6:01 PM
What a nice surprise, Wendy. I really enjoyed this fictionalized account of "The Visit." I hope to return to find more captivating creatures at the dinner table. ...

-- posted by Lynne_Remick





For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to Wendy J. Dunn's Tudor England topic, please visit the Discussions page.