The Court of the Midnight King: A Dream of Richard III (46 page)

Tears came. Kate mourned the end of a love that had been sweet and gentle… but she knew that she and Raphael could never cease to love each other, any more than a sister and brother could.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said, crying. “Don’t fear any more. Eleanor will know what to do.”

Auset help us, Kate thought. She had better.

###

Katherine was dreaming. She was sixteen again, labouring to bring forth Robin, every tendon straining until her eyesight turned red. Eleanor laboured with her. In the dream the pain was blunted and held a strange ecstasy, as if she floated serenely as the baby was expelled. Many times she’d seen Eleanor act as surrogate for another woman. Now she did so for her own daughter. In the dream Katherine looked in wonder on her mother’s anguished face, marvelling that she could endure such pain while Kate merely floated…

She woke in a nun’s cell. Their last lodging was an abbey half-a-day’s ride from Lytton Dale. The mixed sense of loss and euphoria stayed with her. She was glad to be going home. Nan and Ursula, though yawning and grumbling as they roused themselves, seemed in equally good heart.

The moment she stepped into the cloister, and saw Raphael’s waxen complexion as he walked to meet her, her mood sank. His face was gaunt. Throughout their journey he’d been calm but wrung out with exhaustion. Kate was glad of Will Shaw’s tireless good cheer. She had nothing left to offer Raphael herself.

“How was your sleep?” she asked tentatively.

“No clear dreams. Only images.”

“Of what?”

“I can’t tell. Lies and hatred.”

Shaw, who’d spent the night watching over Raphael, followed him bearing their baggage. He gave Kate his usual quick, awkward bow of respect. “I’ll see the horses are saddled. Looks like being a fine day.”

Summer was full, the afternoon fair as Katherine and Raphael rode with their entourage towards the red manor in Lytton Dale. Eleanor came out to meet the party, with Martha, Thomas Copper and his son Tom – now a grown man – at her side. Katherine had written to her, saying only that she was bringing a friend in dire need of help. Eleanor’s face was serene, but Kate saw the nuances, her brows arching a little to see outriders in King Richard’s livery.

Kate leapt off Querida’s back and ran into her mother’s arms.

“Who is your sick friend?” Eleanor whispered.

“It’s Raphael Hart.”

“Ohh. So that is Raphael? I haven’t seen him since he was a boy.”

Kate turned. Raphael was still on horseback, looking around and blinking against the sunlight. The welcoming shape of the manor, blending with the soft greens of the gardens and the wooded hills rich with woodlands – he absorbed everything as if he’d been snatched into the land of Faerie.

“No colour in his face,” said Eleanor. “What ails him?”

“A malady of the spirit, not the body,” Kate said. “I’ve fought off priests and doctors wanting to purge him. If he hadn’t been the king’s good friend, they’d have cast him into some dungeon. But he’s not possessed. He’s a visionary, but the visions are driving him mad. If we can’t help him, who will?”

“Kate,” said Eleanor, wincing. She realised she’d been pinching her mother’s arms tighter and tighter as she spoke.

“Sorry,” she said, loosing her grip. “Where’s Robin?”

“In the stables, as usual. I asked him to stay out of sight, in case you haven’t yet told Raphael…”

“I haven’t.” She paused. “It won’t matter now, anyway.”

“Come in, love. Bring him inside. Tom will take care of your escort and their horses. Let Nan and Ursula go with Martha. No doubt they’ve much news to exchange.”

Raphael gathered himself enough to bow and give Lady Lytton a formal greeting. She asked him nothing, only welcomed him and led them through the great hall and up to her private solar. There she sent for food and drink, and left them to rest and eat. Alone, Kate and Raphael made small talk, but he seemed a thousand miles distant.

After an hour, Eleanor returned.

“Raphael, your mother Edith was a close friend of mine. I cared for her until her death. She spoke of you often. To my unending regret, I was unable to tell her you were alive.”

The corners of Raphael’s mouth tensed. He said in a low voice, “My Lady Lytton, the trouble that brings me here is the same trouble that separated me from her. I was lost in hellish visions and didn’t know who I was. By the time I remembered, it was too late.”

“You’re honest,” said Eleanor. “I appreciate that. These conflicts of York and Lancaster made many orphans, and deprived me of my husband.”

“And they’re not over.”

“Is this what troubles you? Speak candidly. Nothing you say will go beyond the three of us.”

Raphael took several breaths. Pain blanched his face.

“I love the king,” he said. “All my life I’ve fought for him, served him, and been as loyal as a man could be. Yet my dreams contain nothing but treason. I see him committing bloody murders that he did not commit. I dream that chroniclers are writing of him in the most iniquitous terms, as if he were the Devil. I saw… another king on the throne, and the queen at his side was Bess, Elizabeth of York.”

Kate gasped. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“I couldn’t.” His voice broke. “I can hardly bear to think of it. Lady Eleanor, it’s not just the dreams but their malevolent tone. They’re nightmares, full of sinister revelation, as if all the demons of hell are about to erupt. Terrible. So yes, I saw this cold-eyed scrawny Lancastrian king on the throne, and I knew he’d killed Richard and stolen his crown.”

“Was it Henry Tudor?” asked Katherine.

“Yes. I’ve never met him, but in the vision, I knew it was him.”

“But he stands no chance. That’s what they say. He has a chaotic bunch of ruffians against a great warrior with a royal army!”

“I saw the battle,” Raphael said helplessly. “I was in it! Some of Richard’s greatest nobles will betray him and go to the enemy. I saw Richard cut down. Overwhelmed, cut down and slaughtered, crying treason. I fought to my last breath to save him, but couldn’t.”

He was shaking his head in despair. Kate seized his hands.

“Raphael, this is your fear of what might happen, not reality!”

“Kate, shush,” Eleanor said crisply.

“I’m not claiming to see the future,” said Raphael. “I don’t know what I’m seeing. Should I warn the king, when I might only be troubling him with phantoms? Shall I stay away, and trouble him no more? I don’t know what to do. I want it to stop, that’s all!”

He pulled his hands out of Kate’s. Her eyes smarted. She remembered how he’d told her their love was over, and how she’d felt guilty relief mixed with her misery. His visions had left him a husk, and at this moment all she felt was pity.

Eleanor was quiet, studying Raphael’s face.

“I can’t give you a quick answer. To learn what these visions mean, I’ll have to come into them with you.” She held out her hand. “Will you trust me?”

Raphael looked apprehensive. He gave a quick nod. “There’s no way to escape them except to go right through the heart of them.”

“Tonight,” said Eleanor. “Rest this afternoon; sleep if you can. It will be a long night. If you’re troubled by visitations, don’t be afraid; only observe, and report them to me. That’s all you are now, Raphael, dear. My observer.”

###

Raphael had no dreams that afternoon. He slept easily in a warm, wood-panelled room and woke feeling calm and subdued.

The early evening sky was golden. He rose and dressed, went out into the garden, plucked an apple and ate it, cold dew and all. Tonight he must walk knowingly into the visions instead of fighting to escape, and not emerge until the truth was known. He was terrified. But for now there was peace; nothing to disturb the green lushness of the world. A thrush piped its song nearby.

“Raphael?”

Kate was looking for him. He saw her in the distance, moving along the edge of the house behind banks of lavender. He withdrew into the orchard. Not that he didn’t want her company; just a brief time alone, to prepare.

He avoided her for a while, watching her through curtains of foliage. She passed out of sight. The world felt deserted.

“Raphael!” Kate’s voice again. This time he left the cover of foliage and saw her approaching in a leaf-green gown, her hair loose. “Oh, there you are. I was worried…”

“That I’d fled?”

“That the faeries had taken you, actually. They’re particularly undiscriminating around here.”

He laughed; she smiled, too, but her manner was serious. “I hope you haven’t eaten anything?”

“One small apple.”

“I don’t suppose that matters. Good. Mother insists that we fast before our journey. If you’re hungry, I’m sorry, but we can eat afterwards.”

“I feel there will be no afterwards,” he said quietly.

Her lips thinned. “Then you won’t have to worry about eating, will you? Come and get ready. You’ll need warmer clothes.”

They were walking back to the house, through the herb garden behind the stables, when Raphael saw the lad. He crossed in front of them, giving Raphael a start of recognition. As they entered the stable yard itself, he appeared again, walking straight towards them.

Raphael’s mouth dropped. It was Richard. A very young Richard; the same dark hair, grey eyes, strong clear face. For a moment he was sure he’d stepped into the wrong world.

“A good evening to you, Lady Katherine, my lord,” he said as he passed with a shy smile. When Raphael turned to watch him, he’d vanished behind a corner of the house.

“Who was that?”

Kate stopped in her tracks. Her face was stone. “Robin.”

“But he looks like… like…”

She flushed scarlet. Her eyes were hard, shining. “He looks exactly like his father, yes.”

“His father?”

“Don’t stand looking at me like a sheep. Who does he look like to you?”

“The king.”

“There you have it,” she snapped.

“I don’t understand. Are you saying he actually is…?”

“Yes, he really is Richard’s son.”

Raphael stood dumb, feeling idiotic. “But how is that possible? What’s he doing here? Richard has never mentioned him. You know he has two natural children, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“Then you’ll know he is kindness itself to them, gives them every preferment. He couldn’t have this boy and never mention him. That’s not like him at all. I don’t understand.”

Kate looked ready to strike him. Raphael’s confusion became foreboding.

“Richard doesn’t know Robin exists,” she said. “I don’t have to explain this to you.”

“No, you don’t. It’s none of my business. But I am very puzzled.”

“I knew you were bound to see him, if ever you came here.”

“Why should it matter if I saw him? Kate? Who is his mother?”

She opened her hands.

All he thought he had known of the world crumbled. He turned, ran, and was brought up short by a dry-stone wall at the edge of the orchard. Reaching it he fell to his knees and dashed his head against the stones.

“That must have hurt,” Kate said, dryly, over his shoulder. “Don’t try it twice.”

He turned and sat slumped against the wall. “This is a dream.”

“You’re wide awake. Look, real blood.”

He put his hand to his temple and looked numbly at his red fingertips. “How could you not tell me?”

She folded her arms tightly around herself. “I’ve barely told anyone.”

“But wasn’t I different? We were friends, lovers! We were going to be married – how could you lie to me?”

“I never lied, since you never actually asked me if I’d had a child by Richard of Gloucester.”

He swung his hand at her; not meaning to hit her, just lashing out at his own pain. She dodged easily, and looked at him with narrowing eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You’d never met Richard until you came to Middleham. You can’t have…”

This was more than jealousy. He’d thought Richard and Kate were indifferent to each other. This was the world turning inside out.

“Of course I’d met him. After Barnet, don’t you remember? And I served Anne’s sister, Isabel. Naturally he came to see his brother Clarence, usually to argue. I tried to avoid him on those occasions.”

Raphael was shaking his head. “That boy is nearly a man. It’s not possible. Richard was a faithful husband, the world knows that.”

“It was when we were both very young. I didn’t even know who he was.”

“You slept with a man you didn’t know?” Raphael laughed in shock.

“Don’t judge me. I am not your wife. You turned me aside. I don’t belong to you, I owe you nothing, least of all an explanation! Raphael.” She crouched beside him in the long grass, her hand on his knee. “I should have told you. Forgive me. No one knows about Robin except a few in this household.”

He remembered something she’d once told him, a fragment of truth.

“
There was someone, once, long ago, when I was young and silly. We didn’t love each other; we barely met. It was a foolish mistake
.”