Katherine

They ask me Padre what I see
as I look out into the leprous English winter.
I don't see the future... of that I am certain
- no return to Court
- no contented 'nun' walking here in the gardens in summer.

I don't see my present either the sodden fields of the Vale the church tower of Houghton Conquest All this has become invisible to me. I see only the sierra - capped in ermine and the bright banners of knights raising dust as they ride to tilt across the wide fields of Aragon. I see the face of a withered spanish woman reflected by the glass. They ask me Padre - why then do I prefer to look out? I can only tell them this:- in the flames that dance with the shadows of the hall I see the flashes of a young King greeting his Lady. In the laughter and games by the fire I hear only his voice whispering, always whispering, a courtly poem of love. Gavin Stewart

Houghton House Linda Markham