A Rose for the Crown (94 page)

“Captain of Calais! What a perfect birthday present for him. How good of Richard to remember in the midst of his sorrow.”

Jack did not think Richard had remembered at all, it was an expedient move and one approved by the council. But he said nothing.

“If you will counsel me on my mission to Richard, I will have Molly pack.”

“Are you certain he will see you?” Jack was pensive now, thinking of the many times he had failed to gain an audience in the past week.

Kate turned the gold filigree ring on her finger. “As certain as I can be.”

S
HE RETURNED TO
S
TEPNEY
with Jack and was greeted with a squeal of joy from Margaret. The two women clasped each other tightly. Kate was aware of another increase in Margaret’s girth while Margaret marveled at Kate’s ability to stay lithe. Jack smiled at the scene and allowed the friends a few minutes to exchange pleasantries.

“My dear, I hesitate to spoil such a moment, but I must hurry to Westminster before dark and deliver Kate’s message.” Jack kissed his wife affectionately and offered Kate his arm. “If you please, Kate.”

Once again the token ring was slipped inside a message to Richard, and soon Jack’s boatman was pulling hard on his oars in the twilight towards Westminster.

Not long after breakfast the next day, when Margaret and Kate were walking arm in arm along the riverbank with Agnes and Edith in attendance, talking of the disturbing rumors surrounding Richard and his niece, they were interrupted by Molly hurrying towards them.

“It must mean Richard will see you immediately,” Margaret said. “At this time of day, with the tide turning, it will be faster on horseback, I dare say.”

Kate instructed Molly to fetch the bag she had readied for such a summons and told her servant to ride pillion behind one of the two escorts. Within an hour of the royal messengers’ arrival, the three horses cantered out of the gate towards the city. The white walls of the Tower marked their entry into London, and chickens, geese, cats and dogs scattered as they trotted through the early-morning crowds, which parted respectfully at the sight of the royal lions on the escorts’ tunics. Once through the city and under the Ludgate, they were able to canter the rest of the way to Westminster.

Kate had only seen the hall and an antechamber of the palace on previous occasions, and she was impressed by the sheer size of the rest of the residence. Rob met her with a tense smile and quick kiss on the hand before he led her briskly down dark passages with an urgency that began to unnerve her. At the top of yet another staircase, Rob tapped on a massive, studded door. He opened the door and ushered her in. With a bow to Richard, he backed out, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, Richard! How sorry I am,” she cried. Going to him, she took his blotched face between her hands and gently kissed both cheeks. “How great must be your grief! But you must know Anne walks with God, her sickness cured, her burden lightened.”

He barely reacted. His eyes glittered as he fought back the tears that came when he heard her familiar voice. He tried to smile, but his chin
trembled, and he had to turn away. She waited for permission to sit but saw he was too distraught for those niceties. She composed herself calmly in a chair.

“Why do you not sit, Richard?”

His shoulders heaved in a sigh, and he did as she asked. He withdrew her ring from the tip of his little finger and examined it. He finally managed a smile. “Is this becoming a habit, Kate?” He absentmindedly put the ring on again.

“I thought you might think so, but I had to see you. I hear you have been somewhat . . . difficult of late. ’Tis hard to gain an audience, so I have been told.” She tried a teasing tone. “I should be flattered to be here, it seems.”

Richard looked a little sheepish. “Is that what they say? It just all seemed too much for me to handle. These three months while I watched Anne die were hard. She was so brave and had loved me so well. Some of this is guilt, I confess. I loved her but not well enough. God has punished me. Ah, how he has punished me! He has punished me for all those times I wished I was in your arms and for all those times I prayed John was my heir. He took Anne from me. He took Ned from me. And now I have no heir.”

He stared stoically at her, focusing on—it seemed to Kate—the tip of her nose. He was fighting the anguish, and she knew her unwelcome mission might cause him more. Nevertheless, she capitalized on his last remark and dived in.

“Richard, I beg of you, listen to me. You wonder why I want to see you. Believe me, I would never have sent the ring had my reason not been important. You worry you have no heir, but I worry you have expressed this fear too much and in front of too many.”

She had his attention now. He frowned, waiting for the point to be made.

“There are rumors abroad, Richard.” She wished she had had more time to rehearse, to choose words that would not bring his despair to newer depths. Ah, well, ’twas too late now. “It is said you have a mind to wed your niece, Elizabeth.”

Now she definitely had his attention.

“What!” he shouted at her, leaping to his feet, his eyes glinting like flint and his face white. A silver cup went flying across the room, emptying its contents in a stream over the floor. “What!”

The inner door behind him was flung open and a man strode in, his hand on his dagger. Richard swiveled round and pointed an imperious finger at him. “How dare you interrupt us! I did not hear your knock. You presume too much, Will Catesby. Now, get out! Out, I say!”

Kate shivered at the ghost of a smirk that crossed the man’s handsome face as he looked past Richard at her. Then he gave a stiff bow and backed out of the room, murmuring apologies.

“God’s nails! Can a king not have privacy?” Richard growled.

“Perhaps he did not know you had company and thought you called for him. Master Catesby is someone you trust, is he not? You do not need to make an enemy of him.” Kate rose and led Richard back to his seat. “Calm yourself, I beg of you.”

He sneered, roughly shrugging off her hand. “Calm myself, you say! I shall never be calm again. I am doomed, ’tis certain. God in Your heaven, why do You hate me?”

She had seen Richard angry before, but his anger had always been directed at some injustice, a traitorous act or person. This was self-hatred and uncharacteristic. His dejected stance and raillery against God at once reminded her of Martin after Philippa’s death. Then she knew its source. The man was consumed by grief, and she was angry that God was dealing so harshly with this good and honest man. She ignored his ranting and persisted in sitting him down, stroking his hair and allowing him time to recover.

It took a minute or two. “I am sorry, Kate. What is this nonsense about Bess? I swear I will give you my full attention.”

“And not shout at me again?”

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “I promise.”

She told him she had come to warn him of this new problem and, having Jack’s permission, told of Elizabeth’s letter. Richard’s mouth dropped open.

“She is naught but a child. She is my niece—’tis incestuous surely. How could she imagine I would love and marry her? ’Tis quite unbelievable.”

“She is no child. She is older than Katherine, and you have already married our daughter to William Herbert. I feel sorry for the girl—she is quite infatuated, it would seem—but it is your position that concerns me and, more nearly, concerns your advisers. ’Twas Jack who begged me to see you and try to make you deny these rumors. He is acting on behalf of the whole council, I assure you.”

Richard sat slumped in his chair, contemplating his tightly clasped hands. “In their great wisdom, what do they suggest I do?”

“They feel it is of sufficient importance to make a public denial.” She paused, expecting another angry outburst. Richard did not let her down.

On his feet again, he shouted at the door, “I am not a puppet! Make a public denial. How dare they! I am not guilty. I have done nothing wrong. ’Tis Bess who should make a public denial, not me. I shall refuse! I am the king!”

Kate could now well understand the reluctance of Richard’s advisers to confront him with this suggestion. What a green girl I am, she thought, watching him stride back and forth, his fists clenched and his head poked forward like an ugly crow. Jack knew what he was doing when he sent me.

“Those lily-livered measles! Sending a woman to do a man’s job. I should dismiss them all!”

“That is foolish talk, and you know it. I do not know the others, but Jack Howard is as loyal a man as you will ever know. He asked me to come for the good of the people—and for your own good. Put down the rumors once and for all. It makes sense to me, too.” She went to him, took the rigid fists into her hands and looked into his eyes, the gray darkened to angry black. “I will go now and let you ponder this. It will not be an easy task, Richard, but I have seen you master more difficult ones. I believe you should do it soon, for none who sees you now can doubt your real grief for Anne. They will have no choice but to know your words are true. I beg you, do not let this rumor fester.”

She felt his hands relax for a moment and then grip hers. He pulled her to him and kissed her full on the mouth. There was no passion in his kiss, just a desperate need for love and acceptance. She put her arms around him, laid her head on his chest and held him close.

“Thank you, Kate. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“I could do nothing less, my dear. Your well-being is my well-being. If you need me, you know where I am.”

She gently pulled herself away from him, took his hand and slid off her ring. “I may have this back?” She looked up at him coyly. “You never know when I might need it again.”

She was delighted to hear him laugh.

“Aye, my rose, ’tis yours, in truth. And in case you have not heard, I can give you something in return. I have pardoned Richard Haute. Ightham is his once more.”

Kate’s eyes gave him the satisfaction he needed. Her loyalty had been repaid.

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
, March the thirtieth, Richard commanded the presence of the mayor and aldermen of London, noblemen, prelates and clergy, and his household officers in the great hall of the venerated Priory of St. John, home of the Knights Hospitallers. In a loud voice, he denied the rumor that he was intending to marry his niece. To some it was a shock; to most a relief. They hoped now Richard would be able to get on with the business of ruling.

“G
OD BE PRAISED
!” Kate cried.

Molly blushed.

“When is it expected?” Kate asked her servant with a hug.

“September, I be thinking, mistress. Harvest time. He should be big and healthy afore winter comes.”

“Aye, Molly, he should be.” Kate smiled at Molly’s certainty she would give Wat a son. “This time we shall take good care of you.”

Although Molly was looking robust, at thirty-eight she was old to be pregnant, especially after failing for so many years following the first child.

“What does that tickle-brained husband of yours think?”

“Oh, mistress. He be that pleased. He swears to hit me no more.”

“He will have me to deal with if he does. Now finish my hair so I may greet my son.”

Molly lovingly brushed the chestnut tresses until they gleamed. She
regretted each day that she was the sole admirer of them. She was proud her mistress had only one or two white hairs; she now had many.

Before Kate left Westminster, Richard had promised he would send John to her. In all the turmoil of the public denial, he had not forgotten. It was typical of Richard, Kate thought. He never forgot a promise. An April shower spoiled her plan to wait for John beneath her favorite willow, so she sat in the window of Margaret’s solar with her nose pressed to the glass. She was full of anticipation at the reunion. She had not seen her son since the coronation, almost two years before. Jack, who had been privy to the patent that named John Captain of Calais, had thoughtfully remembered to recite the exact phrasing Richard had used:
“. . . our dear son, our bastard John of Gloucester, whose quickness of mind, agility of body, and inclination to all good customs give us great hope of his good service for the future.”

Kate kissed Jack for bothering to commit so much to memory. It told her of Richard’s high regard. She did not fret for John’s future—as long as he stays out of battles, she thought.

She rubbed away the condensation her breath had made on the windowpane and then she saw the barge. “Wicked boy. He has borrowed the king’s barge.”

“Has he, now?” Margaret grinned, looking up from her sewing. “I wonder who he aims to impress?”

Kate bobbed Margaret a curtsy and left the room. John was hurrying in from the rain as she descended the stairs. He looked up and saw her. The change from boy to man had been made, and his likeness to Richard astonished Kate. He still had the stocky build of many of the Bywood men, but his more prominent features, coloring and bearing were Richard’s. Only Kate could not see that her beauty had transformed Richard’s pleasant looks into John’s handsome ones. He removed his hat and made her a sweeping bow. She ignored it and ran into his arms.