A Rose for the Crown (76 page)

Joanna’s mouth was agape. “Those children are the king’s niece and nephew? In our house? Here, upstairs in bed? It be hard to believe.”

Johnny shook his head. “My scrawny sister, a duke’s mistress! That is harder to believe, Joanna.”

“Whyever not?” Kate was indignant. “Richard thinks I am beautiful.”

“Are you certain you did not dream this whole story?” Johnny was frankly disbelieving.

She took off her ring and showed him the inscription. “See. Loyalty binds me,” she translated. “’Tis Richard’s own motto. Ask anyone at court.”

Geoff nodded. “’Tis true, Johnny. Gloucester is known to be true to his pledge.”

“’Tis still hard to conceive, Geoff. Our big sister and a royal duke!” Johnny was grinning now. Geoff was loud in his agreement, and both got black looks from Kate.

After plying her with further questions about her liaison, events she had attended and personalities she had encountered, Joanna asked one final question. “I understand you need to keep the babe’s birth a secret, Kate. But what will become of it after you have birthed it?”

Kate’s face revealed the answer. She had no idea. She turned helplessly to Geoff.

“We have not found a satisfactory solution yet. Perhaps a holy house,” he announced. “Kate must return to her father-in-law at some point, but he does not know of her condition, and she cannot take this child back to him.”

Joanna looked thoughtful and then made up her mind. “We must raise the child here. After all, he—or she—will be a Bywood, too, for all its royal blood. Margery and I will look after it, and there’s an end to it.”

It was Kate’s turn to be dumbfounded. She turned from Joanna to Johnny. She watched her brother’s expression anxiously. In truth, she did not know what to expect from him after all these years. Perhaps he was envious of her and Geoff’s good fortune. He had a perfect right to thwart the plan. As master of the house, his decision would be final.

He ruminated on Joanna’s statement for a few moments before nodding slowly. “Aye, Joanna. It will be a Bywood, and it be right we should help.”

Kate was overjoyed. She hugged Johnny and Joanna—and Margery for good measure—and looked happily at Geoff.

She was humbled. “I cannot thank you enough,” she whispered and then brightened. “One way I can is to contribute to my child’s living. I shall give you payment now in full, or I can send you an amount quarterly. That is only fair, and you must tell me what you need.”

Johnny looked interested but said he would think about a sum and let her know. For now she should rest easy and give her attention to birthing a healthy child.

Geoff frowned. “What will you tell the children? If they are here for the birth and you leave without the child, what prevents them from telling your father-in-law—or anybody. John is too young to understand,
but Katherine certainly is not. Perhaps I should take them back to Ightham and put them in Anne’s keeping. She will understand.”

Kate had gone pale at Geoff’s first question. She had not considered the other children. She had not talked to them about the child she was carrying, but they would surely see her nursing the baby. Katherine would not shy away from asking awkward questions. She had already asked why her mother had grown so fat, and Kate had fobbed her off with a fabrication. She nodded. “’Tis a good solution, Geoff. I will write to Anne, and you may carry the letter with you when you return. She knows my dilemma—but she must not know who is the father.”

G
EOFF GAVE IN
and wrote the letter to Martin.

“’Twill sound better coming from you, Geoff. You can tell him ’tis your belief ’twould be better for my health to remain at Bywood Farm and not attempt the journey back to Suffolk until I am recovered. Please, oh, please, my dearest brother. ’Tis not exactly a lie. My physical condition is such that I should not travel until after the birth. Tell him I will write as soon as I am able.”

Wat took the letter and rode into Tunbridge to find a messenger. Kate finally began to enjoy the simple, bucolic farm life, helping Joanna and Margery with the daily chores. It was strange to know they all were ignorant of many of the events that had occurred in England over the past few years. Of course, several men from the village—and certainly from Tunbridge, which gave fealty to the duke of Buckingham—had taken part in some of the battles and been killed or wounded. The country folk had heard of the deaths of the earl of Warwick and King Henry but not of the intrigues surrounding those deaths. As long as their crops grew and there was enough food on the table, most peasants and townsfolk did not care who wore the crown. Kate and Geoff spent many hours after the evening meal enlightening the family.

“So many dukes and earls and lords, it be enough to make your head spin right off and roll out of the door!” Joanna exclaimed. “And I have no doubt, earl or no, they all stand to piss just like you, Johnny. We be all the same in God’s eyes. I be just as glad to be Joanna Bywood, I thank you.”

It was time for bed. Kate shared Joanna’s bed, and she was grateful
that the older woman never complained of her tossing and turning. In the last weeks of her pregnancy, she could not get comfortable, and the oppressive heat did not help.

One night, she got up to use the pot and did not return to the bed. Instead, she went for a walk, looking at the familiar landscape silhouetted in the moonglow. She jumped when she heard her name and saw a figure step from the shadows.

“You did frighten me, Geoff,” she said on a laugh. “I was in no mood to tussle with a robber at this time of night and in my condition. Are you, too, having trouble sleeping?”

“Aye, Kate. ’Tis so hot upstairs. I wonder how they can bear to live here. Ten years away, and I am used to the living at the Mote. ’Tis hard to return, is it not?”

“Aye. But in truth, I like the simplicity in many ways. Although it does seem there are twice as many fleas here as our new homes. And I think Ben and Tom have lice. I check myself carefully every day, but I have no doubt I shall have a case before long.”

They walked arm in arm through the wood and down the field to the river. At its lowest ebb now, its murky waters moved slowly through the reeds. Kate gave Geoff a tiny push to remind him of their muddy experience that day almost a dozen years before.

“Ha! I remember it as if it were a week ago. Who would have believed how our lives would change, Kate. If it had not been for your boldness or this,” he put out his shortened arm, “we would still think there was no bigger river than the Medway or town than Tunbridge. Now look at us, and Johnny is a farmer and little Matty is married with a child.”

“God moves in mysterious ways, in truth. I wish I knew what He had in store for this babe, Geoff. As Joanna says, we are all equal in His eyes, but am I right to leave a royal child in the care of a farmer?” Kate turned her head to look at Geoff. The moon was sinking, and they started walking back.

“The child will not know the difference, Kate. And I have been thinking. Once my studies are finished, Cousin Richard plans to set me up as schoolmaster in Ivy Hatch. I shall have my own schoolhouse and shall take in boys from merchant families. Why not your child, if it is a boy? What say you?”

Kate stopped and took his hands in hers.

“Why, Geoff, ’tis a wonderful plan if ’tis a boy. If she is a girl, well . . . we shall think of something. How can I ever repay you?”

“You repaid me tenfold when you rescued me from certain branding as a murderer. I do not forget my debts.”

Kate stroked his cheek tenderly. “Never was a girl so lucky in her brothers.”

K
ATE’S THIRD CHILD
came into the world in a rush. Kate had her first pain not long after the breakfast dishes had been cleared, and her water broke almost immediately. The contractions came fast, and Margery had scarcely enough time to boil one pot and Joanna to place Kate comfortably on the birthing chair when it began. Geoff had left two days before with Katherine and John, who fussed at the parting but did as they were told. Molly would take care of them Kate promised, and she would join them soon. She felt quite alone in her old world as she waved farewell to the little party representing the new.

In two hours, it was all over and another chestnut-haired baby was placed in his mother’s welcoming arms. As was customary, he had been washed and rubbed down with salt and tightly swaddled.

“He be beautiful, Kate. Small but beautiful.” Joanna beamed at her stepdaughter.

The baby was nuzzling at his mother’s chemise, and Kate prepared her breast to feed him. “Anxious young pup! As you are my witnesses, I shall name him Richard, after his father. But to avoid confusion, he shall be Dickon.” The women nodded approvingly. “What say you, Dickon? Do you like your name?” Kate whispered into the downy head.

But all little Dickon cared about was satisfying his hunger.

19
Suffolk and Lincolnshire, 1472–1476

K
ate did not dare stay at the farm longer than two weeks. She was afraid she would become too attached to the baby, and she felt guilty about leaving the children with Anne. Joanna found a wet nurse in the village, and Kate arranged to pay her. She wept when she kissed Dickon for the last time, for she did not know when she might see him again. Margery took him from her, and the look of joy on the young woman’s face reassured Kate that she was leaving Dickon in kind hands.

“I give you leave to have the baby know you as his own mother and father,” Kate told Margery and Johnny when she bade them farewell. “I would like him to have as normal a life as possible. When the time comes—if it does—I will reveal myself to him. God keep him safe with you, my dear brother and sister. I shall be for ever in your debt.” Her voice quavered and she strode to Cornflower, tears welling. At the end of the lane, taking one last, long look at the cozy farmhouse and the family gathered to see her off, she sent up a prayer to the Virgin for the safekeeping of her child.

*   *   *

M
ARTIN WAS DELIGHTED
to welcome her home. She had been away four months, and he had sorely missed the children. Katherine and John ran into his embrace as soon as they dismounted and with Katherine on one arm and John’s hand tucked in his other hand, he entered the hall.

“Daughter, you look well again, I am happy to see.” He set the children down and embraced Kate. “A little taste of home was what you needed, I dare say. All that warm Kentish air and good farm food.”

Kate laughed. “Aye, Father. It helped me recover my good humor. But I am glad to be home. ’Twas a long journey, and the rain made the road impassable at times. The children were long-suffering and good little travelers. I have no complaints. And you, how are you?”

“’Tis tranquil here, Kate. I liked not the London bustle, and I am feeling stronger again. See, I believe my arm is completely healed.” He flexed his shoulder and stretched up his arm. “As soon as you have shed your wet clothes, I have a letter for you.” He drew a letter from the pile on the table and turned it over. “I think you may recognize the Blanc Sanglier seal!”

He laughed as she snatched it and ran across the hall and upstairs to her chamber.

“Molly, take care of the children!” she called to her maid, and stared with joy at the White Boar seal.

“My trusty, well beloved Kate, I give you greeting from Pontefract. My window looks out on the green hills of Yorkshire, not so different from the land near Tendring. I heard a blackbird today, and it did put me in mind of you. I trust you know from Rob that Anne and I were married in the spring, and we grow to like each other more each day. I do not wish to hurt you with this, but I would like you to know that I am not unhappy. I hope this letter finds you in a similar state. As time goes on, we shall grow dim in each other’s memories, but I shall not forget you. I long to know how my children are faring. I am to be in London in October, but Anne stays here. You may write to me at Crosby Place, if you are inclined and give me news. I will instruct my secretary to watch for your seal and not disturb it. While I am in London, I shall think more on the matter of your remarriage. I will send you word when I am successful. Embrace the children for me, as I do you, ma belle. R. Gloucester.”