The Fifth Queen: And How She Came to Court. Ford Madox Ford
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Council! My Council!' The King seemed to bay out the words. 'There shall some mothers' sons rue this!'
Norfolk muttered that he had spoken of it with no man not a Councillor. The King's Highness' self had moved first in this.
Henry suddenly waved both hands at the sky.
'Take you good order,' he said heavily into the lean and yellow face of the Duke. 'Marshal these ceremonies fitly from henceforth. Let nothing lack. Get you gone.' An end must be made of talk and gossip. The rumour of last night's Council must appear an idle tale, a falsehood of despairing Papists. 'The Queen cometh,' he said.
With the droop of the Duke's long arms his hat seemed to brush the stones, his head fell on his chest. It was finished.
He had seen so many things go that he loved. And now this old woman with her Germans, her heresies—her children doubtless—meant the final downfall of the Old Order in his day. It would return, but he would never see it. And under Cromwell's sardonic gaze his head hung limply, and his eyes filled with hot and blinding drops. His face trembled like that of a very old man.
The King had thrust his hand through Cromwell's arm, and, with a heavy familiarity as if he would make him forget the Council of last night, he was drawing him away towards the water-gate. He turned his head over his shoulder and repeated balefully:
'The Queen cometh.'
As he did so his eye fell upon a man tugging at the bridle of a mule that had a woman on its back. He passed on with his minister.
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