The King in the Tree by Steven Millhauser

Author:Steven Millhauser [Millhauser, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307428806
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2007-12-18T04:00:00+00:00

The King in the Tree

The Queen is a whore—cut off her nose. The Queen is lecherous—burn her. Such are the interesting remarks one hears at court, from those who dislike the King’s new bride. Others, it is true, speak of the Queen’s exceeding beauty. By this they mean the Queen is guilty and should be hanged. For my part, I believe the young Queen is beautiful and must be watched closely.

I, Thomas of Cornwall, faithful counselor of a once happy King.

The King is a vigorous man, well favored in countenance, deep-chested and hard-muscled, youthful in appearance despite his forty-four years. His forehead is smooth, his eyes large and dark. His broad hands, well tested in the managing of horse and sword, are remarkable for their long fingers, which lend a suggestion of grace and even delicacy, though I have seen him crush a man’s collarbone with a single blow of his fist. When, in his crimson mantle trimmed in ermine, he walks beside the Queen, the eye is pleased with its vision of power joined with beauty.

There is nothing in the King that can incite ridicule.

I have noticed one change. Before his marriage to Queen Ysolt, the King was master of his countenance: no one studying the King’s face could see anything behind the smooth brow, the broad planes of his cheeks, the still mouth, the clear, intelligent eyes. Now, in that well-loved face, one can see adoration, suspicion, jealousy, yearning, sudden doubt.

The ladies of the court speak continually of love.

Love, they say, ennobles the heart and exalts the soul. Love is a divine gift that permits us to enter the Earthly Paradise, from which we have been banished because of our base natures and which is a type and reflection of the Heavenly Kingdom. I have heard the wife of a baron maintain in the middle of a summer afternoon that love is a purifying flame which burns only in a lofty heart, and I have seen that same baroness in the dark of night standing against the wall of the granary with her robes raised above her waist while her gallant lover, grunting like a bull, charms her with his delicate attentions. Love, I have heard the court ladies say, is not a contractual obligation upheld by the brute authority of law, but a form of spiritual consent, freely given. By this they mean that love is possible only outside of marriage. It is these same ladies who whisper about the Queen, glance at her with malicious disapproval, gossip about the King’s nephew, and smile kindly at their husbands while devoting every instant of their waking hours to the arrangement of clandestine meetings with their virile young lovers.

The ladies of the court are very beautiful.

The immediate source of the court rumors is Oswin, the chief steward. It is he who first reported to the King the glances exchanged by the Queen and his nephew. The steward is a loyal servant of the crown, skilled in all that relates

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