Читать книгу The Agincourt Bride онлайн | страница 71
In due course a loud fanfare of trumpets announced the grand entry of the royal party, which processed slowly down a covered wooden stairway, specially erected to give access from the soaring walls of the castle. One by one the king, queen and their eminent guests acknowledged the crowd and then seated themselves on cushioned thrones and benches set under an emblazoned canopy. Heraldic banners fluttered from the pavilion’s roof, depicting the personal crests of every seated celebrity and somehow lilies had been grown in mid-winter, which nodded their noble heads solemnly along the parapet. From our lowly viewpoint the royal family and their guests resembled a row of gorgeous dolls, clad in brilliant hues, sable-lined against the cold and so laden with precious stones that they glinted blindingly in the flat February sun.
It was no easy task for Catherine to stand out amongst this muster of peacocks, but in the end her beauty and simple elegance paid off. The fabulous gold gown, flowing and pearl-trimmed, glowed serenely against the scintillating glitter of her parents’ showy magnificence, and her gleaming pale gold hair, falling loosely from a pearl-studded circlet, rippled down her back like a silk oriflamme. (And so it should. God knows I had brushed it hard enough!) It was the custom on formal occasions at the French court for unmarried girls to leave their hair loose and uncovered, which meant that beside the queen and the other royal ladies with their elaborately veiled and jewelled headdresses, Catherine looked fresh and nubile and, to put it bluntly, eloquently marriageable. I have to confess that while my heart swelled with pride at the sight of her beauty, my stomach churned at her vulnerability.
‘If this king does not get her, then the next one will,’ I whispered to myself, brushing a sudden tear from my eye.
‘She looks like an angel!’ cried Alys, her sweet round face flushed with adoration. ‘There can be no lady in the world more beautiful than Princess Catherine!’