A Rose for the Crown (19 page)

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
, after her music lesson, Kate stayed behind in Richard’s office to write a letter to George Haute. Her writing was improving, but it was a laborious task for her. Her brows were knit and her nose almost touched the page as she dragged the quill across the vellum. As she remembered George walking through the doorway into the hall for the first time, her expression softened. She gazed through the embrasure down into the great hall, willing him to walk in again, and she touched the back of her hand where he had kissed her. A dribble of ink fell and obliterated her last word, and Kate came back to reality with a “Fiddle-faddle!” as she tried to wipe the blob off the porous vellum. She ended up with a worse mess, and tears of frustration mingled with the ink, rendering the page illegible.

Richard entered the room and was surprised to see Kate diligently at her letters. Jumping guiltily, Kate tried to hide her letter, but Richard was too quick. Despite the blobs and chicken scratches, he was able to see enough and gave her another lecture about duty and the unfairness of life.

“Just how did you propose to get this missive into George Haute’s possession,
Kate? Brother Francis is charged with sending out all of Ightham’s letters. Do you not think he would have come to me with this? Or did you think to poke it into the messenger’s saddlebag when he looked the other way?”

He could see by the expression on her face that she had not thought her plan through to its conclusion, and her swollen face told him she had cried well into the night. He gently pushed her out of the room and said they would speak no more of it. And as an afterthought, he added as he turned back to the table, “Your bridegroom dines with us today, so you must make yourself lovely for him, Kate.”

Dismayed, Kate ran out of the room and straight up to the safety of her chamber.

7
Ightham, Winter 1463

T
he morning frost was like swansdown on the grass. The hard ground jarred the feet and legs of the two woodsmen cutting logs for the Mote’s kitchens and great hall, and the men’s heavy woolen leggings were no match for the icy wind. It put a raw flush on their cheeks and numbed their chapped fingers. Winter had set in early that year, and a fragile crust of ice covered the lake.

So intent were the woodsmen on their work that neither of them noticed Kate as she walked past them, wrapped in her new beaver-lined cloak. She was carrying a handwarmer in her gloved hands, and the coals inside were giving off a steady warmth. She had always loved these icy mornings. She used to imagine she was seconds behind Jack Frost as his spindly fingertips turned the landscape into a magic world of sparkling crystals. But today she hardly noticed the beauty; her heart was encrusted with ice, like the blades of grass under her feet.

Only one more week. Seven short, sweet days before I am wife to a dreary old man, she thought. Her ordered, pleasant life at Ightham was coming to an end. All she could think of was the miserable fate of being controlled—not to mention fondled—by a man three, nay, perhaps four
times her age. She shuddered each time she imagined being imprisoned in a house with a doting, aged husband, who drooled every time he looked at her. Elinor had schooled her well in household duties during her years at Ightham, and she was not apprehensive about those. In fact, she would enjoy holding the housekeeping keys. Thomas Draper had four servants, an apprentice and a journeyman, who all lived on the premises. She knew Thomas would clothe her in his choicest fabrics and that she would be a showpiece for his merchandise. All this she could accept with a deal of equanimity. It was the physical part of the contract that froze the blood in her veins.

Once the betrothal agreement was reached, Thomas had come courting and, she had to admit, he had been kind and courteous. He lacked the gentility she had acquired in three years at the Mote, but he was an excellent match for a penniless farmer’s daughter. Moreover, he loved her music and was eager to have it to comfort him as he grew older.

She brought the handwarmer nearer her face to thaw her nose and cheeks. One of the hounds was keeping her company, and it kept disappearing into the underbrush, picking up the scent of squirrels and hares. A squirrel streaked out of one pile of moldering leaves, startling the big dog, who fell over his own gangly legs trying to turn and chase the panicked creature. But the squirrel was chattering from far up a tree by the time its pursuer had reached the foot. The scene made Kate laugh, and her naturally positive spirits were uplifted again. She turned and was hurrying back along the path when out of the corner of her eye she caught a sudden movement behind a tree. A stab of fear went through her, for she could not imagine why someone would hide from her. If the man—she was almost sure she had seen a man—was not from the house, then he must be a vagabond and might mean her harm. She called the hound to her. It bounded back, tongue lolling and tail wagging, but gave no indication that it had either seen or smelled anything unusual, and so she dismissed her fancy. She was out of the wood now and running along the upper lake’s reedy bank, the house in front of her a comforting bastion of safety.

Pandemonium reigned in the kitchen when Kate stepped into the house and took off her cloak. Elinor’s piercing shrieks of rage rose over the general hubbub of voices, and Kate heard the unmistakable sound of
birch rod on flesh. It took her a fraction of a second to recognize the source of pathetic weeping that accompanied each stroke.

“Geoff!” she whispered. She picked up her skirts and ran through the servants’ entrance into the kitchen house beyond. Elinor had her back to Kate and was administering the beating herself, her voice rising to a crescendo every time she brought the whip down on poor Geoff’s raw, bare buttocks. The kitchen staff seemed divided into two factions: those who shouted encouragement at the irate Elinor and those who huddled together, concerned for the boy. Kate did not wait to ask any questions. She ran past Elinor, removed Geoffrey from harm’s way and stood there daring the older woman to strike her in the face. Elinor’s raised arm quivered as though she would call Kate’s bluff, but then she lowered it. Instead, she grasped Kate’s wrist with her free hand and marched her from the room. She would not dare strike Kate with the wedding to Draper imminent and her dream of ridding Ightham of the girl about to come true. All would know from whence the welts had come. Instead, she dragged Kate back through the hall and straight into Richard’s office, where he was dictating letters to Brother Francis. He looked up, annoyed at the interruption.

“Well, madam,” he said without any of the usual sentiments. “What was that din in the kitchen? It would appear you lost your temper again. Pray tell me the nature of the hurt to you.”

“Hurt to her!” expostulated Kate, as she shook off Elinor’s grip. “’Tis Geoff who is hurt! She whipped him until he nigh bled to death!”

“Hush, Kate! Do not speak until you are addressed. I would hear my wife’s explanation.” He planted his elbows on the table and clasped his hands tightly to stop himself from throwing something at her. Kate saw the white knuckles and backed off, staring at them. “Well, Elinor?” Richard asked again, sharply.

Elinor was not so prudent. “That young varmint!” she railed. “He was caught stealing some gingerbread that was put up for the wedding feast. The boy is a thief, I tell you, and I punished him right well for it! He has caused trouble from the moment he set foot in our house, ungrateful knave!” She stamped her foot, her black eyes glinting with hate.

Richard glowered at her over his folded hands. Then he rose slowly to his feet and gave his verdict. “A boy stealing a piece of gingerbread in my
house is not a crime to be punished by beating. Standing in the corner for an hour, cleaning out stables for a few days, going to bed with no supper, perhaps, but beating—a child! Nay, you unnatural woman! And Geoffrey is our kin. You had no right to humiliate him in front of the household. I am ashamed of you, Elinor! Now remove yourself, I pray you, and accompany Brother Francis upstairs to the chapel for penance. I am done with you.” He waved her away and nodded to the chaplain, who followed the chastised woman out of the room. Kate turned to leave, but Richard stayed her with a look. She stood stiff before him.

“Kate, has this happened before now? I fear Elinor has some quarrel with you and Geoff, but I cannot tell what. Speak, child. Don’t be afraid.”

Kate sank down onto a footstool. Her heart was still pounding from her daring in the kitchen. She had thought Elinor would strike her and was surprised when she had not. Now Richard was asking her to denounce three years’ worth of ill treatment by Elinor, and she was torn between wanting to protect her young brother from further humiliation and a certain pride in not tattling. She played with the knot at the end of her belt and pondered her response.

“You have been so kind to afford Geoff and me this opportunity, Cousin Richard. How can you think I could say aught against your lady? Perhaps ’tis difficult for Mistress Elinor to care for one who is not her own. ’Tis natural for her to guard Anne’s interests first. But I am not complaining, sir.” She paused, studying his face and hoping he would accept her statement at face value. She saw that his mouth had softened and he no longer looked angry, so she ventured on. “As for the beating in the kitchen, I thought it was too harsh a punishment for a boy to take, even though I had no knowledge of his crime. I think my wedding is giving Mistress Elinor much concern and likely her temper is stretched at present.”

Richard was not fooled by this pretty speech. He knew she was covering for Elinor, but his respect for the girl’s loyalty stopped his questioning. “Aye, lass, you are probably right. ’Tis the excitement of the wedding that has Elinor agitated. Go see to your brother and beg him to stay out of trouble—at least until after the event.”

Richard pulled a piece of vellum towards him and picked up his goose quill, signaling the end of the interview. Kate escaped gladly, her lips
mouthing a
paternoster
for her lie as she ran back to the kitchen. Geoffrey was helping one of the kinder lackeys clean some turnips, his face tear-stained and his mouth downturned. This pitiful picture gave Kate a pang of grief, for this is how she remembered Geoff after their mother’s death. She went and hugged him, being careful not to touch his sore backside, and whispered to him that Richard had chastised Elinor for the beating.

“I beg of you be good. In a week I shall not be able to defend you, Geoff, and it makes my heart sick to think of you unhappy in this place. I believe Richard knows of Elinor’s hatred of us, and he will watch her, mark my words.”

Geoff smiled wanly, a vacant look in his eyes. His fellow turnip-washer gave him a smile. “Come, come, young ’un, be glad you be well fed and have a roof over your head. ’Tis not so bad here, in truth.”

Kate saw Geoff’s mouth pinch into a thin line and a stubborn look settle in his eyes. She knew not what was going on in his mind, but she was happy to see the anxiety leave his face. She hoped he would not, as usual, seek to even the score with an act of defiance.

She left the kitchen and went to the dispensary, where Anne was busy grinding dried chamomile heads into a powder with her mortar and pestle. Kate gave Anne a brief description of the scene in the kitchen, and Anne’s eyes opened wide with disbelief at Kate’s daring to confront Elinor. Kate decided she would also relay her conversation with Richard in the office, and Anne was as confused as her father had been as to why Kate would lie for Elinor. She surreptitiously put her thumb up through her index and middle fingers to form a cross to protect her friend, while Kate measured herbs into a pestle to make a poultice for Geoffrey’s welts. Hyssop, touch-and-heal and St. John’s wort would soothe the inflammation and stop it from festering.

At the midday meal, the family sat at their high table in silence. Richard was still ruminating on his difficult letter to the king, requesting once again some office at court that had been promised him at the long-ago coronation. Elinor was too angry with Richard to speak. Brother Francis looked bored, while the girls took stock of the adults and meekly ate their portion of hare steeped in a rich herb sauce with turnips and fennel. Anne stared at her food for the whole meal with nary a glance to the left or the right. Kate kept her eye on her favorite wooden gargoyle
and occasionally glanced down the hall. She did spot Geoff at the table near the front door, but she could not tell from his demeanor whether her salve had helped him or not. Then she saw him squirrel away a hunk of bread and some cheese into his wide sleeve when he thought no one was looking. She resolved to take him to task afterward for so quickly forgetting his promise to stay out of trouble. She never had the chance for Will came to the girls as soon as the hand-washing was over and told them he had a new song for them to learn. Kate forgot all about Geoff.