The Maiden and the Unicorn (32 page)

Richard for once went as scarlet as a summer fisherman and Margery found the courage to smile back at the King of France.

They were dismissed. Richard's gloved hand fumbled for hers. She almost snatched it away as they deferentially backed across the roadway to their previous place. Margery made sure they sank back into the ranks out of view. She was not just angry, she was mortified! Not only had her upstart husband managed to get himself noticed by the King of France ahead of his betters, but to have had the gall to deliberately plan it all! What humiliated her most was that King Louis had seen through his scheming.

"How dared you?" she hissed at Huddleston under her breath, as everyone craned their necks for a glimpse of them. "Of all the pandering, toe-licking, calculating..." Words almost failed her. "Poor Matthew could have been whipped within an inch of his life for letting that beast off." Huddleston was not looking at her but he slid a finger round his neck to ease his collar. His sudden high colour and the beads of moisture on his forehead were traitors. "Is there no end to your ambition?"

His defensive reply revealed he had not parried the shaft entirely: "And you are now an earl's daughter and proud of it so do not prattle to me of ambition, mistress. You were but a bastard tiring woman before I wed you. A little gratitude would not go amiss. Besides, my Errour is the 'prince of dogs'."

"Then go home to Cumbria and sit in a bog and breed the monsters!"

"That is not only what I will breed."

"Oh!" exclaimed Margery in disgust. If she had not been wearing satin shoes, she would have aimed at his shin.

Ankarette tactfully pushed in between them, beaming like a saint in Heaven. Someone half-clapped but was hushed.

"You have three very beautiful daughters,
mon compère
," the King of France was saying in slow French so that the English visitors could get the gist. "And I also. But with
le Bon Dieu
's blessing, France will have a dauphin very soon. Come, messeigneurs!" He held out an arm each to the Duke and to Warwick.

"Did you know Queen Charlotte, who is supposed to be almost bursting with child, is going to meet the Countess at the front door of the chateau like a cheerful farmer's wife?" Ankarette whispered.

"I imagine the effect will be spoilt by her fifteen maids of honour," muttered Richard, clearly out of temper. "If it is anything like the English court, not one will be any more virgin than my wife is."

* * *

It was a long afternoon. When the introductions to Queen Charlotte were done, Warwick and the Duke shared a loving cup with the King and his closest advisers before everyone was invited to take a goblet of wine and raise it to peace and amity. The phrases unsaid were to wish the downfall of the usurper Edward of York. If Isabella had hoped they would drink to the Duke and herself as future King and Queen of England, she was disappointed and could be seen fanning herself, a sure sign in her that she was irritated.

Outside where the ladies were taken to be tempted by sweetmeats while their ears were seduced by sweet music, it was easier to try and forget what it all might mean. Queen Charlotte, round and ripe like a peapod about to burst, wisely left politiking to her husband and was happy to listen to the Countess's experience of childbirth. It gave Isabella good reason to excuse herself, taking her two sisters with her. In her wake, Margery kept a fixed half-smile on her face, while beside her, Anne fidgeted with a lily someone had presented to her. It was no longer England. The banker, the diplomat, the host, was the smiling, busy King of France.

"Do not look so pained, Bella," pleaded Margery. "I am sure your every expression is being noted."

The Duchess sniffed. "Well, no matter, they will think it is because of the loss of my baby."

"If they even know. For my part, I wish we had not come." Anne glanced about to make sure no one was within earshot.

There was an uneasiness among the Neville entourage, Margery sensed. At Valognes the English at least had the semblance of being in charge of their own affairs, but here at the court of Louis XI the reality of their dependence on his good will was revealed.

"Be thankful you do not have the headache as well," snapped Isabella. "I wish I could go and lie down. Babble, babble, babble and I can barely understand a word of it. I suppose it is to be tedious like this from now on. How I shall bear it, I do not know. By Our Lady, one even has to be careful where one walks. Now I know why the Queen is reputed to have so many shoes."

She was right, there were dogs everywhere and the kennelboys discreetly circulating with pans and scoops were not particularly efficient. The Duchess twitched her skirts away from an interested black nose. "They say that six bitches share the King's chamber and not one of them is the Queen."

"Bella! Be careful!" Margery warned. "Some of these ladies may well have a smattering of English. Besides, you will have to be gracious if you want King Louis to lend you money."

"I suppose so. Oh Lord, more French dames with a surfeit of hypocras and doucetes." But since one of the French noble ladies exclaimed over Isabella's brooch, the Duchess was mollified and allowed herself to become the centre of attention once more.

Anne Neville looked around her with a discerning eye. She was growing up fast, thought Margery. "You know what I should like above all? To go back to England and have some say in where I lay my head. Why is it that I have a sense of foreboding, Margery?"

Her half-sister tossed back a ball that had rolled across to her feet. One of the Queen's dwarves grinned. "I feel it too, Anne. A sense of losing control. Oh, why did my lord have to present me to
him
?" As she watched Louis and her father step down into the courtyard, an icy chill ran down her spine and she added softly, "No, I lie, King Louis asked for me to be presented. Anne, he
knew
about me."

"Of course he did. I expect Lord Mennypenny told him about the wedding. I rather thought his Majesty did you great honour. Still, he is said to know everything about everyone which means that he may also know that you and Cousin Ned... oh, I see. Yes, it is unfortunate."

Margery bit her lip. She did not like to confide that she felt danger closing about them, as if they were venturing deeper and deeper into a dark, menacing forest.

"Well, we must survive as best we can," Anne was saying. "If we are sweet to the French, they will lend us arms and we can go home."

Margery frowned, "But what then? Ned has never lost a battle." And she watched Anne's fingers finally snap the stem of the lily.

* * *

Richard found Matthew Long staring hard at the huge beasts in the moat. "A real lion, master! Look at the size of those there claws!"

"And I shall feed you to him, piece by piece, if you deny me an honest answer! What madness possessed you back there?"

Matthew straightened up, his skin a dull red. "It was not the dogboy's fault, sir."

"
No, yours
!"

Long's eyes flickered about them before his huge hands fumbled in his pouch and swiftly thrust a coil of leather into Richard's hands. It was Errour's leash, neatly sliced through at the collar end.

Richard swore. "You saw someone?"

"The lad thinks it was one of the Duke's swine. Says how some rogue cuffed him to the ground from behind and cut the dog loose before he could find his feet. Shall you beat him?"

"No." Richard sighed.

"I think, sir,' twas to punish me for interfering when those plaguey rogues were molestin' the mistress afore your nuptials."

"And now I have lost my dog and my wife thinks I planned the entire incident."

His servant rumbled with laughter. "Shall I enlighten her?"

"Oh no," snarled Richard. "I care not what the wench thinks."

"I think, master, pardon me for boldness, that you should not be talkin' that way. The mistress acquitted herself right well in her finery today an' I think that, given time, you will as likely be pleased, for all her wayward tongue. What with her bein' the Earl's by-blow and having good child-bearing hips, everyone has remarked as how you have probably gotten yourself a fine bargain."

Richard shook his head in wonderment. "Well, Matthew, thank you for sharing that morsel from your vast pantry of philosophy." His face hardening, he clapped a hand upon his servant's shoulder. "Take especial care from now on, Long." And he left him with the lions.

* * *

Margery, making the inevitable visit to watch the feeding of the great beasts, noticed her new servant on the edge of the fascinated crowd.

"Mistress." Long touched his forehead deferentially.

"That was a foolish business with the hound, Matthew."

"Aye, mistress, I said my prayers, I can tell you. One moment the cur was there and the next instant some poxy varmint had hacked through his leash and that did it. There's no stopping the beast when he's loose."

"Hold, Matthew. Are you saying someone else freed Errour?"

"Saints preserve me, you never thought I
let
him off, did you, mistress? Lady, your pardon, but neither my master nor I are that addlepated. Still, all's well. You should see where the great lolloping cur is housed. Better off than I am or many a Frenchman. Packed like piglets in a sow's womb we are, whereas the plaguey hounds are all in a kennel the size of a blessed manor hall with a brick wall at one end and a huge, new-fangled fireplace. Have you seen your sleeping quarters, mistress?"

"Not yet."

"Alys says it is the same—not an inch to scratch."

Well, thought Margery as she followed her sisters into the Great Hall for supper and found to her astonishment that for once she was seated next to her husband, it was definitely a time for a spoonful of ashes and a wisp of sackcloth.

"You must be sad at losing Errour."

His chin was cupped gloomily in his hand while his fingers drew plough furrows on the cloth. "The King is welcome to him. He was a gift from my father but his education was unfortunately neglected. My mother spoilt him."

"And I suppose the King is welcome to me as well. I am not trained either. At least your horse behaves."

He raised an eyebrow and studied her suspiciously. "Is this a kind of apology? I gather Long must have lit a candle of innocence for me on your altar? I told him not to bother."

Margery's eyes sparkled, her lips moist and teasing. It was safe here to provoke and withhold. "Behold me an abject penitent if it please you, sir, but I should warn you my humility is of short duration."

"Then until the next hour bell, lady." He set a goblet in her hand. "Let us be at peace."

"Who cut the dog free?" She tapped the metal against metal. "Your health, sir."

"Truth is hard to come by these days." His green gaze caressed her face but not with gentleness. His voice was low. "Does it matter? Perhaps a certain person lusted after the beast and set an agent to cut it loose, or Long and I have enemies."

Margery glanced around to see if their neighbours had caught his gist but anyone watching would have seen a husband dividing a portion of spit-roasted capon for his wife. She took care not to glance towards the high table. "Surely you jest?" Her fingers trembled as she took the proffered morsel from the tip of his meat knife.

"I should advise you to weigh each one of your words like a miserly goldsmith. The balance is everything—to be seemingly at ease but to divulge nothing. This is Amboise. Have you not observed it holds more cages and dungeons than Valognes?"

Richard noted she could barely swallow the white meat down. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"Because what spatters you with mud now inevitably sullies me. It is a pity there is no trust between us." He summoned a page to refill his goblet with Chinon red.

She spread her fingers across her winecup. "There could be, sir, if you would agree to free me from this foolish hasty marriage of ours."

"And begin again? You want me to woo you like a village maiden, pretend that your Ned never charmed you onto his daybed?"

He knew it was not what she meant. "You do not give up easily."

"Oh, I was trained as a soldier. Failure is unacceptable."

A sigh escaped her. Gauzy lashes fluttered modestly like iridescent insect wings. "I wish I knew why you want me stumbling behind your victory chariot."

"Fishing, lady? Because victory would be sweet and Matthew Long assures me you have good child-bearing hips." She choked on her wine and had to be thumped carefully between her delectable shoulder blades. He let his fingers linger longer than they should, but when she looked up at him her eyes were sparkling with laughter. But what she read in his smoothed the mirth into gravity.

"I can hear the laughter and the music," she said softly, her blue eyes dark as lapis as her gaze flickered across his face like a shadow. "I can see the light of many candles but I am on the outside in the darkness and the porter does not answer. The lord of the house has commanded him to keep the gate shut. Why is that, do you imagine?" Her lips parted, soft, giving.

For an instant Richard was taken aback. Eventually he would have found the right answer but the little witch's face crumpled into mischief and he could not tell whether for a fleeting instant she had been in earnest. His fingers imprisoned her chin and he found he could laugh with her.