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being called a boy. I was very glad I hadn’t chosen the dagger now; who wants to be married to a bully?
    Then the crowd parted, and there stood the Queen. Those who knew Her Majesty well could see that, inside, she was furious. “If you need wine to drown your sorrows, Sir Gerald, I am sure that the winner of Lady Grace’s heart will be magnanimous enough to offer his own,” she said lightly.
    Lord Robert went a darker red and his fingers clenched on the goblet in his hand.
    Lord Worthy hurried forward and took SirGerald’s arm. “No need, no need,” he said comfortably. “Come, nephew, I think you’ve had enough already.”
    “If Sir Gerald is in need of wine, then wine he must have,” declared the Queen, in the tone that nobody likes to hear. “Perhaps you won’t accept it from your victor, Sir Gerald …,” she added, as she glided across the floor and held out her hand for Lord Robert’s cup.
    I stood on Lord Robert’s toe and he bowed jerkily and handed his goblet to the Queen.
    “But surely you will accept it from me,” she finished.
    As she glided back I realized Her Majesty was being very clever, smoothing over the quarrel, perhaps preventing a duel. She handed Lord Robert’s cup of wine to Sir Gerald and of course he had to bow to her and then he really did have to drink it.
    “From so fair and merciful a hand, what can I do but accept?” he asked, and drank it all down in one go. Then he made to bow again, lost his balance, and fell flat on his nose!
    I laughed and the Queen laughed, and so did everybody else, especially Lord Robert. Only Lord Worthy was still upset. He rushed over, pulled Sir Gerald to his feet, and hissed something in his ear.
    Sir Gerald bowed again, this time less unsteadily. “Your Majesty, by your leave, I think I had best get to bed,” he mumbled.
    “Yes,” said the Queen pointedly. “I think that would be wise, Sir Gerald. The oblivion of the wine cup is no real cure for a broken heart, but at least there can be the oblivion of sleep, and all shall be forgotten in the morning.”
    I thought she was being very nice to him; she is normally much sharper with anyone who drinks enough to fall over. Though I was very surprised that Sir Gerald was upset enough at my rejecting him to get so drunk.
    “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said.
    Lord Worthy went with him to the door, but the Queen summoned him back. “Come, my old friend, my Lord Worthy,” she called. “As long as my lord the Earl of Leicester is away, I need a partner. Come dance with me.”
    He could hardly refuse, but he didn’t look very happy about it as he took the Queen’s hand, bowed, kissed it, and then led off with her in the French Farandol.
    After all that, I was feeling so hot in my rose-velvet gown that I decided if I didn’t cool off, I’d melt. So I slipped my pattens on and went out of theBanqueting House into the Privy Garden, where it was quite cool and dank. I passed several bushes rather full of people, two by two, and one with a young gentleman flat on his back singing to the stars. I walked quickly on past the maze, to the part that gives onto the kitchens and the buttery.
    Ellie was there with someone I recognized as Pip, Sir Gerald’s manservant, who was flapping his hands about.
    “I only wanted to brush it out,” he was saying. “Just shake it and brush it and perhaps dust it with rose-leaf powder before hanging it, so it would be fit for the Court another day. But he was in a rage, you know, quite beside himself….”
    Ellie tutted and popped into one of the store sheds to emerge with a bucket. “Where did you say he was sick?”
    “On the edge of the mat,” Pip told her. “I’m sorry, I would do it myself, but…”
    “Not to worry.” Ellie made a wry face. “I’m used to it after feasts.”
    She caught sight of me and grinned, rolling her eyes. Her sleeves were rolled up and she had her apron on.
    “… so I’m sure the canions will be crumpled and his ruff