'Quite easy,' I replied, pushing back my chair and standing up. 'It can be done in four crossings. First, the man takes the chicken to the other bank and returns to collect the grain. Secondly, the man takes the grain to the other bank and returns with the chicken. Thirdly, the man leaves the chicken and takes the fox to the other bank where he leaves the fox with the grain. Fourthly, the man then returns to collect the chicken. At no time,' I concluded triumphantly, 'is the fox left alone with the chicken or the chicken left alone with the grain.'
My master clapped his hands. The rest, slightly befuddled, scratched their heads as they tried to work it out for themselves. Henry glared at me from under lowering brows.
'Correct, Roger,' he purred. 'So there will be no "Mummer's Boy" for you. Let me show you your prize!'
He clicked his fingers at a servant who went to the far doors and flung them open. I heard a baying like the tolling of a bell, the sound of paws scraping the tiled floor, before the shaggiest, largest hunting dog I have ever clapped eyes on lurched into the room, two grooms hanging on to its leather leash for their very lives. The dog chased straight as an arrow to Henry, jumping at the table, knocking pots and dishes, trying to lick the fat bastard's face. Naturally, Henry loved the adulation and his mastery over the dog, popping pieces of meat into its mouth, even allowing it to drink from his water cup. The ladies screamed with delight as Henry scratched the dog's ears.
'Lovely boy!' he yelled. 'Lovely boy, get down!'
Henry Norreys, emboldened by the dog's obvious affection, leaned across to give him a piece of meat. The change in that huge mastiff was chilling: ears back, lips curled over his huge teeth - I'd never seen Norreys move so swiftly in my life. Henry stroked the dog, smiling maliciously down at me.
4Your present, Roger!'
I just sat dumbstruck. The dog was massive: at least six to seven foot from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail. He stood four feet high, with a mangy grey coat, massive head and jaws like a huge pike. As the King spoke, the dog turned its head, tongue lolling, eyes gleaming as it glared at me. What could I do? To refuse a King's gift in public was lese-majeste" and, if I did, God knows what delights Henry would have ready for me?
'This is too much,' my master whispered.
'Take him away!' Henry shouted. 'Take Castor away to the chamber. Roger, make friends with my gift!'
I felt like running straight for the nearest jakes but I had deliberately not drunk too much. I remembered Cornelius's words and, whilst the King was engaged, I'd taken a piece of steak from the plate, opened my pouch and dusted it with some of the powder Cornelius had given me. It smelt sweet and cloying. I closed my eyes and prayed it wasn't poison. Wolsey was hiding the lower half of his face in his hands. Benjamin's fingers were not far from his dagger. Boleyn was no longer laughing. Even Norreys leaned over and murmured something in the King's ear. However, the King was obdurate: Castor the great mastiff was taken away and I had to follow.
The antechamber had two doors. As I went in they were closed and locked behind me. The grooms holding Castor glanced pityingly at me, released the leads and went out of the far door leaving me and the dog alone. The chamber was lit by sconce torches along all four walls: these cast the dog's huge shadow against the wall. Now, it is a universal belief of Shallot: I, who have been hunted by wolves, leopards and, on a number of occasions, flesh-eating rats, still believe that the most cruel animal on earth is of human kind. Moreover, I knew enough about dogs not to move quickly but tried to stare it out. The hound was a good-natured soul. It didn't bound towards me but squatted down on all fours, head up, tongue lolling, watching me intently. I crouched down as well, and took the piece of meat from my pouch. It was tender, easy to pull apart. Castor stood up. I stretched out my hand.
'Come on, lad,' I murmured. 'Don't eat old Shallot. Here's a nice piece of juicy meat.'
The dog padded across. It stopped, sniffed at the meat, the saliva pouring like water from its huge jaws. The meat disappeared, another piece was given. Now, everyone likes a piece of steak, but Castor ate it as if his life depended on it. At last there was none left and he began to lick my hands. He growled at me. A growl that seemed to come from his very belly. I stood up and looked down at him.
'How dare you!' I declared, keeping my voice steady. 'Sit!'
Well, down he went, whimpering ingratiatingly, eyes beseeching. I opened the pouch Cornelius had given me. I shook some powder on my fingers and allowed him to lick it.
'Good dog!'
I walked to the far end of the room. He made to follow.
'Sit down!' I shouted.
Down he went like a whore's knickers.