B-9 - Erulisse - Dancing Fingers
Mar. 20th, 2012 03:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Challenge: B-9 – Maglor in History 1 – In the Court of Henry VIII, Artifacts and Weapons – Fëanorian Lamp, Art Supplies – Paper
Format: Short Story
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Maglor
Pairings: None
Word Count: 1807
Summary: Maglor, after working for Copernicus, has ended up at the English Court of Henry VIII. Will he survive the mood swings of this infamous autocrat?
Dancing Fingers
“Sirrah,” the Page panted, holding a stack of paper in his hands and trying to bow without dropping them. “The King sends these for your use and perusal.”
I gently put my lute on the bench to my side, reaching out to take the pages before they ended up scattered all over the floor. “My thanks to the King. I shall look these over immediately.”
I lifted the first page to read, then noticed that the Page was carefully waiting, obviously not yet finished passing on his message. “Yes?” I asked.
“His Highness also summons you to attend him in his chambers at two bells after None. He would spend an hour with you and your lute before Vespers and asks you to choose two of these pieces to play with him.”
“I am at his service and will attend him promptly as he requests,” I told the young boy and off he ran to deliver my message and take up the next task. Henry had no fat pages, he had them running errands for him all over the buildings and outbuildings at both Windsor and Hampden Court. But right now it was high summer and Hampden Court was where the King was in residence. As Royal Lutenist, I also went wherever the King desired.
I took another look at the stack of music that the King had sent. Some of it was of his own composition, for he was an accomplished lutenist in his own right. Others were pieces that he had commissioned to be composed for him. I looked carefully through them all, playing short bars of a few choices, humming melodic lines of others. I was totally engrossed in what I was doing when I finally realized it was getting dark. Surely it was still early in the day? I rose from my bench and went to the mullioned window.
My window faced west. This was by my choice, although sometimes it made my room almost unbearably hot. The bright afternoon light rarely bothered my eyes, after all, my eyes had been raised in the light of the Trees. I knew that I could not pass to the West, but neither could I bear to be separated from it. Thus when I had options, I always chose the west facing rooms.
Through the window I saw that it had darkened considerably and thundering rolling clouds had gathered in the distance. A storm was blowing in quickly, dousing the sunlight of Hampden Court. I hoped that it was not an indication of the King's moods. Under the best of conditions his moods were mercurial. Under the worst of conditions his suspicions could lead him to imprison, torture or execute the person under his eye. The word of the monarch was absolute and if the King was out of sorts, people walked gingerly around him.
Turning back to the musical pages, I lit candles wishing, not for the first or last time, that I had one of my father's lamps instead of candles which create an uncertain and flickering light that was always in danger of setting my documents on fire. Shaking my head to push thoughts of my family away, having learned by now that my longing to be with them once more was a futile wish, I pulled a standing candelabra of lights closer to my music stand and recommenced playing.
Before I knew it the bells had sounded once and I needed to gather my music and instruments to attend the King. He always had his own lute, an instrument of superb quality, Italian made, in his suite of rooms, so I carried my own lute, an alto recorder in a side pocket just in case it might be needed, and the pages of music. The two musical selections I had chosen for the day were at the top of the stack of paper.
Wandering through the darkened halls, listening to the wind and rain from the outside, I wondered at the strange fate that had brought me to the English Court. I had been working with Doktor Copernicus, but had left him after several years and wandered West to Germany. My musical skills had opened doors of the German courts to me, and most specifically had caught the notice of Anne of Cleves, the woman who was chosen by Thomas Cromwell to be Henry VIII's fourth wife. She begged me to go with her to the strange land, and I consented being curious about this already infamous English monarch. But the marriage turned out to be a disaster and within six months they were divorced. King Henry had ordered me to stay with his Court, however, because he enjoyed our musical interludes. In fact, he had me play at his next wedding, that to Queen Kathyrn Howard.
She was young and vivacious, and thirty years younger than he. It did not take long before rumors of extra-marital affairs and pre-marital relations had been brought to the King's attention. As much as he might have cared for her, he would not stand for being cuckolded and his Queen was currently in the Tower awaiting execution. It seemed to be highly unsafe to be the Queen of the King of England.
There were two alert guards in front of the door to the King's suite of rooms. At their nod, I moved forward and rapped at the door which was opened by a manservant. He waved me in, closing the door behind me. I then progressed through the opulently decorated waiting room towards the King's day room and was announced and proceeded inside. Just inside the threshold I bowed deeply, rising when Henry told me to come forward. He was seated on a smaller throne than the one in the main audience chamber, his lute held by a manservant standing next to him.
“Master Maglor,” he boomed. “Have you chosen our music for the day?”
“I have, your Highness. Although if there would be another you would prefer more, there were several of great merit in your offerings today.”
“No, no, I trust your musical sense,” he retorted and waved me forward to show him which compositions I had chosen.
I had picked one by an Italian lutenist that would challenge his skills, and one that was his own composition which I thought quite lovely in both its simplicity and tonal air. I thought we would begin with the simpler piece and then progress to the Italian one. I showed the two pieces to him and he chuckled.
“Choosing one of my own to make me feel good about my musical skills?”
“No, your Grace. I chose one of yours because it is a lovely tune that I cannot get out of my head. I would like to hear it performed by the composer.”
He smiled broadly and waved me to a chair that was awaiting me. Taking his lute from his servant, he dismissed everyone from the room and we settled down to the music.
He played through the first tune fully, then turned to me and we began a second time through. This time we both played the tune, but we exchanged the lead and secondary responses, harmonies and descants. The song of our lutes chased each other through the simple tune, making it something quite extraordinary We ended on a downbeat, together as only several years of regular playing could achieve.
“Superb, your Majesty. You are surely playing better than just a few short days ago,” I exclaimed. I wasn't overstating the case. The King was highly competitive and practiced when he could.
He smiled broadly in response to my praise. Then he put aside the first piece and settled the second one on the music stand instead. “I felt that you might choose this one, Maglor. I've been practicing it, the fingering is quite tricky in the passage here,” and he pointed out the troublesome area.
“Yes, I can see that. How were you choosing to attack it, Sire?”
“I went like,” and he demonstrated. “Then I did this, and right here. Here is where I ran into a problem. If I keep my hand in this register I have a long stretch to the one note here. But if I move my hand up on the neck for the one note, I loose the tone on the back notes.”
“I see. Why not try moving your hand up for the one note, but then change the register on the third string group instead of dropping down to the second? Like this,” and I demonstrated my thought.
“Yes! Yes that will do nicely. Let me try that.” He quickly ran through the difficult passage with the new fingering, slipping back down the lute's neck for the next passage. His fingers flew, his eyes were bright and his smile never ended. This was the King Henry who had entranced his people when he was a much younger man before health and political issues had brought him low.
The storm intensified, the rain providing a counterpoint rhythm to our own, and we played the new piece together in harmony, my lute playing a secondary melody to his main one. Towards the end of the piece and our time together, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and started to pick up the tempo. By the time we finally got to the end of the piece we were picking the strings as quickly as we could, a sheen of sweat was on his forehead, and I had snapped my lower F string. We finished with a flourish, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. The rain had suddenly stopped and the sun had come out. As I stood up to bow and take my leave, I glanced out of the window.
“Sire, come and look. Surely God Himself has smiled upon your playing today. See? A rainbow has come to visit your Grace,” and I pointed out of the window towards the eastern close.
He rose from his chair with difficulty which I studiously ignored. If he wanted assistance, he would ask for it. To offer would be to give insult. But he was obviously in pain from his leg ulcer today. He gamely limped over to the window and threw open the casement. As we stood there together breathing in the fresh air and looking at the colors that were almost painted onto the heavens, I thought that nothing could be much better.
Within a year, however, I barely escaped England ahead of the King's men, sailing to seek refuge from his long-time enemy, Carlos V, the Holy Roman Emperor. As I said, King Henry's moods were mercurial.
Format: Short Story
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Maglor
Pairings: None
Word Count: 1807
Summary: Maglor, after working for Copernicus, has ended up at the English Court of Henry VIII. Will he survive the mood swings of this infamous autocrat?
Dancing Fingers
“Sirrah,” the Page panted, holding a stack of paper in his hands and trying to bow without dropping them. “The King sends these for your use and perusal.”
I gently put my lute on the bench to my side, reaching out to take the pages before they ended up scattered all over the floor. “My thanks to the King. I shall look these over immediately.”
I lifted the first page to read, then noticed that the Page was carefully waiting, obviously not yet finished passing on his message. “Yes?” I asked.
“His Highness also summons you to attend him in his chambers at two bells after None. He would spend an hour with you and your lute before Vespers and asks you to choose two of these pieces to play with him.”
“I am at his service and will attend him promptly as he requests,” I told the young boy and off he ran to deliver my message and take up the next task. Henry had no fat pages, he had them running errands for him all over the buildings and outbuildings at both Windsor and Hampden Court. But right now it was high summer and Hampden Court was where the King was in residence. As Royal Lutenist, I also went wherever the King desired.
I took another look at the stack of music that the King had sent. Some of it was of his own composition, for he was an accomplished lutenist in his own right. Others were pieces that he had commissioned to be composed for him. I looked carefully through them all, playing short bars of a few choices, humming melodic lines of others. I was totally engrossed in what I was doing when I finally realized it was getting dark. Surely it was still early in the day? I rose from my bench and went to the mullioned window.
My window faced west. This was by my choice, although sometimes it made my room almost unbearably hot. The bright afternoon light rarely bothered my eyes, after all, my eyes had been raised in the light of the Trees. I knew that I could not pass to the West, but neither could I bear to be separated from it. Thus when I had options, I always chose the west facing rooms.
Through the window I saw that it had darkened considerably and thundering rolling clouds had gathered in the distance. A storm was blowing in quickly, dousing the sunlight of Hampden Court. I hoped that it was not an indication of the King's moods. Under the best of conditions his moods were mercurial. Under the worst of conditions his suspicions could lead him to imprison, torture or execute the person under his eye. The word of the monarch was absolute and if the King was out of sorts, people walked gingerly around him.
Turning back to the musical pages, I lit candles wishing, not for the first or last time, that I had one of my father's lamps instead of candles which create an uncertain and flickering light that was always in danger of setting my documents on fire. Shaking my head to push thoughts of my family away, having learned by now that my longing to be with them once more was a futile wish, I pulled a standing candelabra of lights closer to my music stand and recommenced playing.
Before I knew it the bells had sounded once and I needed to gather my music and instruments to attend the King. He always had his own lute, an instrument of superb quality, Italian made, in his suite of rooms, so I carried my own lute, an alto recorder in a side pocket just in case it might be needed, and the pages of music. The two musical selections I had chosen for the day were at the top of the stack of paper.
Wandering through the darkened halls, listening to the wind and rain from the outside, I wondered at the strange fate that had brought me to the English Court. I had been working with Doktor Copernicus, but had left him after several years and wandered West to Germany. My musical skills had opened doors of the German courts to me, and most specifically had caught the notice of Anne of Cleves, the woman who was chosen by Thomas Cromwell to be Henry VIII's fourth wife. She begged me to go with her to the strange land, and I consented being curious about this already infamous English monarch. But the marriage turned out to be a disaster and within six months they were divorced. King Henry had ordered me to stay with his Court, however, because he enjoyed our musical interludes. In fact, he had me play at his next wedding, that to Queen Kathyrn Howard.
She was young and vivacious, and thirty years younger than he. It did not take long before rumors of extra-marital affairs and pre-marital relations had been brought to the King's attention. As much as he might have cared for her, he would not stand for being cuckolded and his Queen was currently in the Tower awaiting execution. It seemed to be highly unsafe to be the Queen of the King of England.
There were two alert guards in front of the door to the King's suite of rooms. At their nod, I moved forward and rapped at the door which was opened by a manservant. He waved me in, closing the door behind me. I then progressed through the opulently decorated waiting room towards the King's day room and was announced and proceeded inside. Just inside the threshold I bowed deeply, rising when Henry told me to come forward. He was seated on a smaller throne than the one in the main audience chamber, his lute held by a manservant standing next to him.
“Master Maglor,” he boomed. “Have you chosen our music for the day?”
“I have, your Highness. Although if there would be another you would prefer more, there were several of great merit in your offerings today.”
“No, no, I trust your musical sense,” he retorted and waved me forward to show him which compositions I had chosen.
I had picked one by an Italian lutenist that would challenge his skills, and one that was his own composition which I thought quite lovely in both its simplicity and tonal air. I thought we would begin with the simpler piece and then progress to the Italian one. I showed the two pieces to him and he chuckled.
“Choosing one of my own to make me feel good about my musical skills?”
“No, your Grace. I chose one of yours because it is a lovely tune that I cannot get out of my head. I would like to hear it performed by the composer.”
He smiled broadly and waved me to a chair that was awaiting me. Taking his lute from his servant, he dismissed everyone from the room and we settled down to the music.
He played through the first tune fully, then turned to me and we began a second time through. This time we both played the tune, but we exchanged the lead and secondary responses, harmonies and descants. The song of our lutes chased each other through the simple tune, making it something quite extraordinary We ended on a downbeat, together as only several years of regular playing could achieve.
“Superb, your Majesty. You are surely playing better than just a few short days ago,” I exclaimed. I wasn't overstating the case. The King was highly competitive and practiced when he could.
He smiled broadly in response to my praise. Then he put aside the first piece and settled the second one on the music stand instead. “I felt that you might choose this one, Maglor. I've been practicing it, the fingering is quite tricky in the passage here,” and he pointed out the troublesome area.
“Yes, I can see that. How were you choosing to attack it, Sire?”
“I went like,” and he demonstrated. “Then I did this, and right here. Here is where I ran into a problem. If I keep my hand in this register I have a long stretch to the one note here. But if I move my hand up on the neck for the one note, I loose the tone on the back notes.”
“I see. Why not try moving your hand up for the one note, but then change the register on the third string group instead of dropping down to the second? Like this,” and I demonstrated my thought.
“Yes! Yes that will do nicely. Let me try that.” He quickly ran through the difficult passage with the new fingering, slipping back down the lute's neck for the next passage. His fingers flew, his eyes were bright and his smile never ended. This was the King Henry who had entranced his people when he was a much younger man before health and political issues had brought him low.
The storm intensified, the rain providing a counterpoint rhythm to our own, and we played the new piece together in harmony, my lute playing a secondary melody to his main one. Towards the end of the piece and our time together, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and started to pick up the tempo. By the time we finally got to the end of the piece we were picking the strings as quickly as we could, a sheen of sweat was on his forehead, and I had snapped my lower F string. We finished with a flourish, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. The rain had suddenly stopped and the sun had come out. As I stood up to bow and take my leave, I glanced out of the window.
“Sire, come and look. Surely God Himself has smiled upon your playing today. See? A rainbow has come to visit your Grace,” and I pointed out of the window towards the eastern close.
He rose from his chair with difficulty which I studiously ignored. If he wanted assistance, he would ask for it. To offer would be to give insult. But he was obviously in pain from his leg ulcer today. He gamely limped over to the window and threw open the casement. As we stood there together breathing in the fresh air and looking at the colors that were almost painted onto the heavens, I thought that nothing could be much better.
Within a year, however, I barely escaped England ahead of the King's men, sailing to seek refuge from his long-time enemy, Carlos V, the Holy Roman Emperor. As I said, King Henry's moods were mercurial.
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