A Rose for the Crown (79 page)

“And you, Mother? Do you not miss my father?”

Kate looked away. She adjusted her wimple and gritted her teeth. “There are times when I miss him with all my heart, Katherine. But he is married to a great lady, and I cannot think on him in any way now except as your father.”

“But Mother, if he loved you, why did he not wed you?” The inevitable question.

“’Twas not possible, and you are still too young to understand, child. Do not question me further, I pray you. When you are older, you will come to know more. Come, let us find John.”

“I understand I am something shameful for him.” Katherine’s mouth drooped and her eyes were bright with tears.

“Never say that, sweetheart! He loves you, truly he does. You were born of love, do not forget that. It makes you very special.” Kate cupped her daughter’s face in her hands. “If he was ashamed of you, he would never have agreed to send you to his sister, a royal duchess, now would he?”

“Perhaps ’tis true. I know not. I will hate to leave you and John and Grandfather Martin and Molly and Chelsworth and . . . ohhh . . .” Her little face crumpled and she burst into tears.

Kate took her in her arms to comfort her. “Have I ever told you the story of how I came to be sent away at almost the same age as you?”

Katherine shook her head. She loved her mother’s stories. Her tears
were forgotten as Kate began to describe her arrival at Ightham Mote so many years ago.

T
HE
H
AUTE PARTY
wended its way north through Stowmarket and past the village of Gipping, where Martin pointed out the road to Gipping Hall, home of his friend James Tyrell.

“’Tis an isolated spot, Kate, but the hall is truly beautiful. Master Tyrell was making his presence felt at court before I left. He was one of Lord Richard’s circle and is now in the north with Richard.”

Kate nodded absently. She was focused on making Katherine’s ride to her new home as pleasant as she could and pointed out trees and flowers as they passed. This part of Suffolk was far less populated than the area lying between Bury, Ipswich and Colchester, and they saw more sheep than people. Katherine had been excited yet apprehensive in the last few days, and she had alternated with mercurial swiftness between tears and laughter. The parting from John had been particularly heartrending, despite assurances that they would see each other in July. Molly would not let Katherine go when the time came, and her weeping caused Kate to chide her for upsetting the little girl. Deep down, she was just as devastated and was touched by Molly’s love. The whole household had turned out to see them off.

The Wingfield church bell was ringing for none when their escort led the Hautes into the courtyard of the rambling manse that the de la Pole family called home. The great hall was quiet. At midafternoon, most of the servants were working outside, in the kitchen, alehouse or butteries. The groom of the hall, a tall, spare figure with a bald pate, approached Martin.

“Her grace, the duchess is walking in the garden. May I take you to her, sir?” He spoke with the slow Suffolk burr.

Kate looked about her with interest. Although the hall was quite large with an imposing vaulted roof, the hangings and furnishings looked shabby compared with the Howards’ accoutrements. Nor were the de la Poles blessed with coffers as deep as those of the duchess’s brother, the king, and Richard’s Crosby Place spoke of far more affluence than this, she thought.

Out in the sunlight once again, the trio followed close behind the steward, down paths between the immaculately manicured shrubs and bushes of the knot garden and into a bower, where the rambling roses were in bud and threatening to burst forth in the unusually warm weather. A group of women sat talking and sewing.

“Your grace, the Haute party, if it please you.” The steward bowed himself away.

Kate was taken aback by the stunning similarity between Elizabeth de la Pole and her eldest brother, Edward. Big-boned, Elizabeth had weathered nine pregnancies, and she undoubtedly had a hard time taking off weight. She was a bloated version of her brother, but still handsome. With a simplicity that Kate did not expect, she stopped talking with her gentlewomen and rose to her feet to greet her visitors. Kate and Katherine swept low curtsies. Martin bowed and kissed her outstretched hand.

“God give you welcome, friends,” she said in a pleasant, musical voice. Her bright blue eyes surveyed Kate and then came to rest on Katherine. She smiled, inviting the girl to come and be kissed. Katherine looked at her mother, who nodded, and allowed herself to be crushed in the large woman’s embrace.

“So, you are Richard’s Katherine! ’Tis no wonder he speaks so glowingly of you, my child. You are a beauty, to be sure.” Elizabeth noted the fashionable gown Young Martin had arranged to have made. “Are you ready to be in the service of your dreadful old aunt?”

Katherine’s eyes were wide as sundials. She was not expecting to be addressed like this by a duchess. “If it please you, madam.” As Kate had instructed her, she curtsied low. Kate smiled her approval. But Katherine had not finished. “But I do not think you are dreadful or old.”

“Katherine!” Kate expostulated, and Martin burst out laughing.

Elizabeth threw back her head and neighed her delight, putting Kate in mind of a mare in heat. “Oh, good. Someone who is not afraid to talk to me. You and I will go along famously. Now, run and play with the other children there while I talk to your mother. Mistress Ratcliffe will take you to meet them all.”

Elizabeth watched Katherine skip off to join her children. “My brood, you know. Too many of them, I fear. But I love them all dearly. Come and
sit here with me, Mistress Haute. Sir, perhaps you would like to explore the estate for a spell.” It was a command not a choice, and Martin bowed and left immediately.

“Now, Kate—I may call you Kate, yes?”

“With plea—” Kate started to say.

Elizabeth put her hand up. “Richard has written to me about you, so you need not explain further.”

“I—” Kate tried again.

“I do not expect you remember me from young Meg’s wedding celebrations,” Elizabeth continued, “there were so many people, but as soon as I saw you today, my dear, I remembered ’twas you who sang so prettily for Edward. I am right, am I not?”

Kate hesitated to reply, expecting to be cut off. But Elizabeth appeared to have finished and was awaiting a response.

“You are right, your grace. And sore afraid I was, too.” Kate chuckled at the memory. “Jack—Lord Howard—took me by surprise, but I could not gainsay him.”

“Aye, he is a force to be reckoned with, that man. But one to be trusted, as I have heard the king and my husband say, and who holds the office of treasurer better than any before him. Richard, too, seems much taken with him, which is odd—there are many years that separate them.”

“He is as fine a man as one could meet, your grace. He and his wife, Margaret, have been very kind to me and the children.”

“Ah, yes, you have another bast . . . child of Richard’s,” she corrected herself. “A boy as I understand. Where is he today? I would like to have met my nephew.”

“John is but six, madam, and he is content to stay at Chelsworth. But you will see him at Fotheringhay later in the summer, for Richard would have me take him there to join his household.”

“John! The same as my eldest, a good solid name. At Fotheringhay, you say? Then I shall look forward to it. Does he resemble Katherine, who, certes, is your image but with Richard’s eyes.” Elizabeth gave Kate an admiring look. Kate’s hand flew to the scar on her nose left by a well-worried pox.

“Nay, John is his father in miniature. His expression and temperament
are all Richard. He is good-natured and loving, and he is beloved by all who know him.” Kate’s eyes shone as she spoke of her son.

Elizabeth spoke gently. “I can see ’twill be difficult for you to let him go, my dear. We all must face that. My John and three of his brothers are all away from home. But have no fear. Richard is a kind boy, always has been. John will be cared for at Middleham . . . or Pontefract. I can never remember where Richard spends his time these days. The north is as foreign to me as France.” Her neigh split the air again, and the gentlewomen looked up and smiled indulgently.

The visit went smoothly enough. Kate spent many hours talking to the duchess, who seemed not to mind associating with a commoner—or as some might even say, a whore. Wingfield was far enough removed from the pretensions of Westminster for Elizabeth to keep a more casual court. She had purposely picked a time to welcome Katherine when her husband was away in London. She did not want the child to feel threatened by the bustle that always accompanied the duke. Katherine’s manners and her naturalness made Kate proud, and she quickly made a friend of one of the younger Suffolk girls. The duchess was pleased with her niece and told Kate she would be treated as family.

“God keep you, my dear child,” Kate whispered into Katherine’s thick hair the morning of the departure. “Remember, I am not far away, and her grace has given me leave to come again to see you. Make me proud, Katherine, and know that I love you.”

“Farewell, Mother. I shall be a good girl, fear not. I love you, too,” she said on a sob and clung tightly to Kate. Kate gently pulled the girl’s hands from her neck, kissed her one more time and turned to her horse. Martin hugged Katherine next, and Kate was touched to see tears in his eyes when he took his reins from the groom. Their escort started trotting down the driveway with Martin following. Kate nudged her horse into a walk and turned to wave once more to the small figure standing on the steps. Elizabeth and her children crowded round Katherine to wave, and Kate was cheered to see her daughter accepted so readily by her new family.

She let her horse lead her, for she could not see the path.

*   *   *

T
HE CAVALCADE WAS SAID
to be a league long, the dust from which was seen for miles around as it progressed south to Fotheringhay. Decked out in their finery, the king and many members of the York family accompanied the sacred remains of Richard, duke of York and his son, Edmund of Rutland, from Pontefract in Yorkshire, where they had been meagerly interred following the battle at Wakefield fifteen years earlier. Edward was to give his father and brother a fitting funeral at Fotheringhay, the favorite of the York family residences and Richard’s birthplace. The churchyard there was also the site of the York family vault. The funeral procession had taken six days to pass the spot where Kate and John now stood on the last Saturday in July in the small walled city of Stamford. Jostled among the curious crowd of citizens, Kate clung tightly to John’s hand.

The musicians entered the square first, their fanfare raising the hairs on the back of Kate’s neck. Shawms, pibcorns, trumpets, sackbuts, drums and cymbals made quite a racket as they passed, and Kate was glad when their music faded and the dozen or so bishops and abbots in their rich pontifical robes rode through the Clement Gate and into the city. Next, heralds trotted towards the heart of the town, banners and pennants waving gaily. The citizens cheered, but soon the noise died down as a line of somberly clad drummers, stepping slowly to their pounding funereal beat, preceded a massive pillared chariot, pulled by seven horses covered with black velvet, carrying the royal bones. The hearse was also covered with black velvet, on which were embossed the White Rose of York and Edward’s own Sunne in Splendour. The carriage was adorned with pennons and banners and the pillars decorated with many gilded wax images of kings and angels. From the steps of All Hallows Church, a bishop blessed the remains with holy water. The bells of all the churches tolled mournfully as the catafalque was pulled past the market cross and eventually to the Grey Friars priory a stone’s throw from the city. Here the coffins would rest for a day and a night before their final journey to Fotheringhay on Monday.

As the chief mourner, Richard of Gloucester rode behind the hearse clad in a voluminous black robe, a hood shadowing his face. Even Kate did not recognize him. There was a hush of expectancy, and people
pushed forward. They were immediately urged back by foot guards who cajoled rather than coerced with their pikes. An unabashed cheer went up as Edward appeared, clothed in the traditional blue mourning clothes reserved for the king and mounted on his big black charger. Then the crowd resumed a reverential silence.

Kate stared in disbelief. “Why, he has grown fat!” She had spoken aloud, and a few people turned to stare at her. For most, this was the first time they had ever seen their king. “I saw him many years ago in London,” she hurriedly explained in a whisper, and they nodded and turned to gape at him.

Kate did not wait to watch the entire cortège of men, all clad in black habits, that followed the king to Grey Friars. She went back to the White Boar to await Richard’s summons. She was unsure what form it would take. From the window, she could see the end of the procession, like a black snake wending its way over the hill and into the town, and she was disappointed Richard did not appear to have had a part in it.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, a very different cavalcade left the priory and made its way back into Stamford to attend mass at All Hallows. Word had spread through the town that others of the royal family would join the king and his party for the celebration of mass. Kate and John had worshipped at terce earlier that morning and now were among the onlookers close by the church. John was dismayed he could see nothing but the backside of a large woman in front of him, and he jumped up and down to get a better view. “Mother, I cannot see anything. Can you lift me up?”