A Rose for the Crown (91 page)

J
ACK AND
M
ARGARET
were in residence at Stepney for Christmas of 1483. Kate was invited to join them for the festivities, which she accepted happily. Winter in Suffolk was a bleak season, and without the Howards at the Hall, it loomed long and lonely. Margaret confided to Kate on the journey to London that Richard found Jack’s presence in the city of great comfort after the nightmare of Buckingham’s treachery.

“Richard’s trust in Jack is well placed. My husband is as straight and true as an English bowman’s aim, and his respect for Richard has grown greatly over the years. ’Tis an unusual friendship ’tween a pup and an old dog, but both draw strength from it.”

“It gives me comfort to know Jack is on Richard’s side. He has his old
friends Rob Percy and Francis Lovell, ’tis true, but Jack is perhaps the father he has needed.”

“Aye, you may be right, Kate. The queen confided to me at Windsor before the progress began that the hardest thing about their new life is being parted from their only child. They dared not subject him to the rigors of the progress, she said. He is a fragile reed, so it seems.”

“As was Richard when he was a boy. And now look at him.”

Margaret laughed, peering out of the carriage curtain that sheltered them from the rain. “I for one am grateful not to be astride a horse today. In truth, my bones are getting old and like not the saddle nor the rain.”

“Fiddle-faddle, Margaret, you are only forty.”

“Forty-four,” Margaret said. “You just wait another ten years. You will see.”

Kate teased her for the rest of the journey, and the outriders were kept entertained by the sound of merry laughter from the coach.

K
ATE HAD THOUGHT
the Howard barge luxurious, but when she stepped into the richly decorated royal barge, she could only stare about her in awe. Richard had sent Rob Percy as her escort to Baynard’s Castle, and when Rob greeted her inside the Howards’ town house, he kissed her affectionately.

“’Tis good to see you again, Rob,” she said, noting a few gray hairs. “I hear from Jack you are now torturing a second wife.”

Rob laughed. “Such tales they spread about me! Aye, Joyce died suddenly of a fever, God rest her soul. My new wife waits for me at Middle-ham—if I ever return.”

They walked together down the path to the pier, where the royal barge lay. Kate stepped onto the gangplank with Rob’s help. “Let me congratulate you on your position at court, Rob. Controller of the household, is it not? A high honor indeed.”

As the oarsmen drew them swiftly through the water, Kate was offered wine and wafers, another pleasure she was unaccustomed to on board the Howard barge. The lions of England fluttered over the canopy, the pennants proclaiming the identity of the vessel, as if the carved golden prow and canopy’s columns were not enough.

“Do you have a notion why Richard wants to see me? The messenger did not give me a reason for the summons.”

“Nay. I cannot tell you, Kate. Richard has been silent of late. I fear the death of his cousin weighs heavily on him, in truth. Perhaps he would talk to you of Katherine’s wedding arrangements. He has sent William Herbert home to Wales to keep vigil against a possible Richmond invasion and to mend his health. The man has not been well.”

“Has Richard set a time for the marriage?” Seeing Rob shake his head, Kate began to assume this was to be the subject of the audience.

With six men pulling on their oars in perfect unison, the barge docked at the Baynard jetty in quick order. Rob led her to the solar where she and Anne had first met. An usher standing outside knocked on the door and announced her upon hearing Richard’s “Come!”

Richard was alone, standing in front of the fire, a silhouette against its bright glare. She sank into a curtsy.

“Kate, welcome! ’Tis good of you to come.” He walked forward and took both her hands, raising them to his lips. “When I knew that you were Jack’s guest at Stepney . . .” He stopped when he saw her expression. “What is it, Kate? Have I offended you?”

He looked at her anxiously. What he had seen was her reaction to him now she could see him clearly. He was thinner and his shoulders markedly stooped. But it was the pain in his face that shocked her. His eyes had lost their humor, the deep lines on his brow and around his mouth gave an impression of a far older man and his expression was one of anguish despite his smile of welcome. She wanted to put her arms around him and lead him from this place to somewhere far away from the cares of kingship.

“Do I look so different? Come, ’tis only six months since we saw each other last. I cannot look so different.”

“Ah, but you do, Richard. I wish I could relieve you of your pain, whatever it is, for it is consuming you, ’tis certain.” She reached up and stroked his cheek, tracing her finger down the lines by his mouth. “It has something to do with your cousin Harry, I will wager. Your letter was puzzling, I must confess.”

He stiffened at the mention of Buckingham, turned and walked back
to the fire. His fingers gripped the mantel, his head drooping towards the flames.

“Sit” was all he said, but she obeyed instantly.

She waited patiently while he sorted through his jumble of thoughts for a coherent explanation of his cryptic written remark. When he began to speak, she could barely hear him and strained to catch every word.

“Nothing of what I say must ever leave this room. You must give me your solemn oath,” he said, not moving. “Only Anne knows what you are about to hear. But telling Anne was not the same as telling you. She is good and kind, but she has not your way of understanding me. You were always my wise counselor, Kate, and I found myself wanting to hear your voice every day, giving me practical advice. ’Tis selfish of me, but I hoped that sharing my burden with you would help me sleep again. Especially after Harry’s death. I pray you, swear you will never speak of this to anyone.”

“I swear on everything that is holy.” Her heart had begun to thump uncomfortably. She felt beads of sweat form on her upper lip, and her mouth was dry. What could have happened to cause him to want her so after all these years. She stared at his back.

“My brother’s sons are dead.” Richard spoke the words in a monotone as though he was a soul devoid of hope. Kate recoiled in horror, her hand over her mouth. He had purposely turned his back to her so as not to see her reaction. His shame was palpable, and she could not add to it by questioning him. He would tell her in his own way, she knew.

“’Twas Harry who foully murdered them one night in late July. He came to me in Gloucester—aye, my own city—with the ‘good’ news. He was positively brimming with it.” The sarcasm dripping from him made Kate shiver. “The fool thought I would reward him for his trouble, for ridding me of these two pests, he called them. My own nephews! Edward’s only sons. I know not what I said to him, but he removed himself from my presence in all haste, his expression dumbfounded. I managed to smile when I followed him from the chamber, hoping to signal to those present that all was well. What was I to do? Announce to all that my cousin of Buckingham had murdered Edward’s bastards? How many among them would believe I had not ordered it? Not one, I will wager. Not one.”

He covered his face with his hands and began to cry softly.

Kate slipped out of her chair and laid her cheek lightly against his back, her hand stroking the soft fabric of his doublet. She felt him stiffen, but she stayed where she was and let him cry.

“I am so ashamed for you to see my tears.”

“It takes a strong man to express his emotions, Richard. Why should God have given us tears if we are not to shed them? They are naught but a way to cleanse our hearts of grief. Come, my love, sit and tell me the rest.”

She led him to a chair and sat him down. He clung to her hand like a child. She used her toe to move a footstool closer and lowered herself onto it without breaking his hold.

“All that night I agonized with Anne over what I must do. We prayed together for guidance, but in the end, we had no answer but to remain silent. We did not wish to alarm the people, and so many were expressing their happiness at the peace I seemed to bring them. My audience with Harry had not been long enough for me to find out what I now know. I believed he acted alone misguidedly to protect me. Kate, I did not want to take the blame for such a hideous crime. Therefore, I remained silent. My anger at Harry turned his love into hatred, I can see that now. But ’twas more insidious even than mere anger that made him rebel. Now he has gone to his grave leaving me to be blamed if ever those boys’ bodies are found. Now you see why I fear the flames of Hell.” He grimaced as he said the words.

“Nonsense, Richard! ’Twas not your deed. I cannot say if you should have told the truth and taken the consequences, but you have chosen this way and those consequences are terrible, too. See what it has done to your poor body. Your punishment is here and now on earth. God sees all and knows you did not murder your nephews—or have a hand in it. If you can go to your Maker with a pure heart, He will recognize it. You must have faith.” Her absolute faith in her words calmed him, and she felt the intensity of his grip on her hand lessen. She gave him a minute to recover his composure before she coaxed him to continue the tragic tale.

“Can you bear to tell me what happened to the boys? If your cousin . . . removed them, how did he accomplish it without arousing suspicion? Why does not all of London question their whereabouts?”

Richard snorted. “Ha! For once Harry used his head, more’s the pity. He arrived one dark night from Brecknock and, as constable of England, his entry into the Tower was not questioned. He convinced Rob Brackenbury—he is the Tower constable, you know—that I had sent him to carry the boys to a safer haven. He told Brackenbury of a plot afoot by the Woodvilles to seize the boys, get rid of me and place young Edward on the throne. Foolishly, Brackenbury believed him, though why he did not remember that Edward was a bastard and could not be king, I do not know. All I know is that Brackenbury was sworn to secrecy, the boys were given into Harry’s sole keeping—now there was a point Bracken-bury might have questioned, had he not been half asleep—and Harry hurried the children into a waiting boat and disappeared on the river. You may well look astounded, Kate. But ’tis the truth as Harry told me.”

“Then where did he take the poor children? They must have been terrified.”

“It seems both boys, believing they were on some sort of adventure, fell in with Harry’s secretive behavior and enjoyed creeping past their sleeping attendants without disturbing them. Harry had slipped into their room, placed his hands over their mouths to awaken them. He whispered ’twas a game and that they were to be taken somewhere pleasanter to live but the journey might put their lives in danger and would they play along with him. Those innocent boys jumped joyfully into the spirit of the game, Harry proudly told me. He smuggled them out with nary a flicker of an eyelash from any guard.” He stopped and unceremoniously wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I know not the ways of royal commands, but is it not customary to send a written document with your seal for something as important as the removal of the princes?”

“Certes! But Harry had a reason for the lack of one. ‘’Tis so secret, the king’s grace wants no tangible trace of the mission to spoil the chance of its success,’ he told Brackenbury. He thought of everything,” Richard admitted. “I would not have credited him with so much common sense. I later found out ’twas not his own idea but that of someone far more intelligent. More of that later. Let me go back to the Tower story.”

He took a deep breath through clenched teeth and came to the tale’s tragic conclusion. “Harry had the boatman row them up the river to a
spot past Westminster, where he had the boatman go ashore. He paid the man off and told the boys to wrap themselves in their cloaks and try to get some sleep for the journey in the morning. He fooled them into believing they would be met there by one of my men with fresh horses. While the boys were sleeping, he smothered each in turn and covered their bodies with bracken and undergrowth”—Richard’s voice rasped as he controlled his anger—“and left them there to rot, unshriven. ’Tis certain the dogs or other creatures would have helped to dispose of them. ’Tis unbearable to even speak of.

“At this point in the story,” he went on, “I fear I lost my temper and sent the murderer away without questioning him as to the exact site. ’Tis doubtful Harry even knew. He said he instructed the boatman to stop rowing as soon as he could no longer see the lights at Westminster. Then he made his way back along the riverbank to the palace, pretended he was drunk and was put to bed in his apartments. The next day, he took a fresh horse and rode to me at Gloucester. The reception I gave him was not what he expected, in truth.” He gave another snort. “He rode off immediately for Brecknock, and I never saw him again.”

Kate sat riveted to her stool. She saw the dreadful deed unfold in her imagination and felt a constriction in her chest when she thought of the two boys innocently sleeping under the trees, unaware of their imminent danger. Their naïve trust in their affable “rescuer” distressed her beyond words.

“I am glad you executed him!” she cried, when she found her voice. “I hope he was afraid!”