Behind the palace gates

“Noooo!” yelled Catherine Howard, the fifth queen of King Henry VIII as soldiers dragged her to the dungeon. Beheaded on the charges of adultery in 1542, many say they can still hear her screaming in the corridors today..

This excerpt from a dramatized documentary version depicts the brutality of life, even at the Royal level, in English history. The narrator’s ability to raise the hair at the back of my neck had me promising that some day I would visit Hampton Court, London.

Two years later, an opportunity pounded on my door for a trip to the United Kingdom and the hallways walked by the doomed Catherine herself.

The well-planned, magnificent city of London has a wonderful way of making tourists feel comfortable. Detailed bus routes, metro maps and helpful passer-byes made a single girl’s travel easy, and the train journey from Waterloo station to the architectural marvel of the Tudor-era Hampton Court Palace is no exception.

On my way, I note the travel brochure details. “Thomas Wolsey had bought the site in 1514 on the river Thames to build his home. But his dreams remained incomplete when it was taken over by Henry VIII. Then started the re-building process. Wolsey’s 280 rooms were given new styles and the palace was extended to create more kitchens, library, towers to suit the needs of Henry VIII and his six wives.”

“Last stop, Hampton Court,” announces the train driver.

A five minute walk from the station and the castle gates loom before me. Strong winds welcome me and I bow my head, accepting the harsh greeting. Snarling gargoyles carrying royal emblems stand guard at the doorway, watching with piercing eyes.

The 500-year royal history of Hampton Palace is divided into sections; the best way to explore is to use the audio guide, available in six different languages. Each room has a specific number which is punched in to the machine. Like a ghost in your ear, a friendly voice then explains the history relating to each room.

Before I start my exploration from the centre courtyard, my attention is caught by a gilded clock on the tower. In 1540, Nicholas Oursian crafted this magnificent astronomical timepiece which shows the hours, days of the week, the month, the time of high tide, the phases of the moon and the zodiac signs.

Nearby, people dressed in period costumes pose with tourists, re-creating a bygone era. The Tudor Kitchen seems like as good a place as any to begin the tour. A replica of the kitchen is placed in the centre of a room to explain how the 3000 square foot area was compartmentalised to accommodate 200 cooks and helpers who prepared meals for over 800 people. Spotlights highlight each section such as the Spicery, the cellars, the meat-boiling area and confectionary while the audio guide explains how the work was smoothly carried out each day.

The State rooms are next. The Great Hall is the largest room of the palace and its walls are adorned with rich tapestries. It’s hard to imagine the amount of time the weavers must have taken to create something so intricate and lifelike. The enormous beam roof is decorated with batches, medals and royal emblems, adding to the lush ambience.

The rooms where royalties waited to meet the king feature large chandeliers, plush velvet chairs, beautiful Oriental vases and tapestries. My eyes feast on the fine intricate warp and weft which depict wars, while others show Greek gods and angels. The gilded framework of the paintings and ornate designs on the ceilings are beyond a common man’s imagination.

On the way to the next room I come across the Chapel Royal where services are being held. I bow my head and quietly continue on.

Nearby, a painting workshop has been organized for children. The little ones are provided paper and colored pens and they enthusiastically paint emblems of the Kings and make badges from them. It is a wonderful way to keep them entertained while teaching a little of the palace’s history.

I come to a sign that reads ‘Haunted Gallery’. It was here that Catherine Howard was dragged to her death. I perch on a window seat and cast my gaze over the portraits adorning the walls. The attire, jewelry and hairstyles of the Queens come to life on canvas. Mesmerized by the mystical voice of the audio guide, I view the garden outside. Then, as I turn my attention back to the room, I freeze.

The eyes in the painting blinked, I swear.

My mouth dries up as I slowly rise from my seat.

“Excuse me,” I ask a man standing in front, “Did you see the eyes of the Queen Lady shift?” I point to the portrait. But he motions that he has little grasp of English.

Maybe I should ask a guard. Having spent so much time watching over the portraits, maybe they can confirm my vision.

But then I back out. After all, they don’t call this gallery haunted for nothing. That’s enough confirmation for me.

The Wolsey Closet is another area where many have reported spooky events. It is believed that people have on occasion felt something quite evil and sinister here. I wait for a while hoping to sense the unknown. However the only thing that groans is my stomach, which urges me on to the Tudor dining area. It is furnished with long tables and benches, candles mounted on wooden frames hanging from the ceiling, a rustic fireplace and photographs of the palace adorning white walls. Tourists sit reading brochures, mothers watch over children and I look in my bowl of steamy potato soup wondering how haunted the Palace actually is in the still of an empty night.

A tour of the gardens is the next. Large statues adorn the lawns along with orange trees dotted around the vast and ornate expanse of lush, green grass.

If I could, I would change into one of the garden’s bees and hide in the gardens. When the place closes and all the tourists leave, I would slip into the palace and explore the hidden chambers to see what lurks.

I laugh at my far-fetched imagination and walk back through the garden. Then, as I take photographs, I see movement in one of the castle’s windows. I focus my zoom lens. My fingers tremble as I watch with baited breath. The curtains shake again. Then I see a hand. Now it is a slender, fair arm. As the curtain is pushed aside, there stands a woman dressed in a white-laced blouse. Her long-wavy hair covers her face and I snap pictures at full speed.

This could be it. She could be a…ghost.

The woman turns to look out into the courtyard. It’s then that I realise she has a cell phone at her ear. Then I note that it’s the window to the souvenir shop.

As darkness slowly captures the evening sky and the moon peeps through the clouds, it’s time to leave Hampton Court. I look at the palace for one last time.

The wind blows, disheveling my hair and I feel a slight tug. But there are no ghosts here. Just me and my imagination fired by dramatic television documentaries.